leila July 28th, 2008
I sat down this morning, with my glass of Lady Grey, scanning the pages of the New York Times, guiltily avoiding writing the sequel to my last post. My editor’s voice haunted me, with the words “deadline” and “Sunday” echoing in my head. I sleepily rubbed my shoulder, feeling tense from the day’s depressing headlines, trying to re-ignite the cheery tone with which I had left off in my previous post.
The disintegrative forces — those old, oppressive, corrupt phenomena in the world — were, no doubt, getting me down.
Sometimes, it seems as if oppression, corruption, and injustice are King. Sometimes, it seems the change brought about by the integrative forces is painfully slow.
As I scanned the news, it seemed all hope was lost: a bomb in Istanbul, soaring fuel prices, and the inevitable snarkiness that surrounds the U.S. presidential elections.
Then, hidden among the headlines, I found a gem of a story. It spoke of a music program at a woman’s prison in Venezuela. The women — some thieves, some drug smugglers, and even a Malaysian law student who claimed she was wrongly imprisoned — participate in a voluntary orchestral program that offers classical training. In this program, the women find hope and purpose. One participant remarked, after her three daughters watched her performance, “I finally felt useful in this life.”
This, to me, is an example of the integrative forces arising in the world. Sometimes small, sometimes quiet, but altogether a reflection of a changing attitude in the world.
It’s easy, though, to look at these integrative efforts with a sense of cynicism. I often hear, from my peers or in my own mind, lamentations about how the U.N. is mired in stagnation, or that the millions of dollars the World Bank pours into development hardly produces equivalent results. Or, that successful and well-meaning endeavors in social and economic development are too small to make any kind of true impact.
Our generation is an eternally impatient one, and tends to seek quick-fixes. If we only stopped to reflect on how much we’ve accomplished in the past century, and how much more, as our consciousness expands, humanity will inevitably grow.
In order for humankind to progress, though, it is imperative that we reflect on the nature of the world, on the failures and successes of present institutions, and then act accordingly. Shoghi Effendi, the Guardian of the Bahá’í Faith, wrote:
The world is in great turmoil and its problems seem to become daily more acute. We should, therefore, not sit idle, otherwise we would be failing in carrying out our sacred duty. Bahá’u'lláh has not given us His Teachings to treasure them and hide them for our personal delight and pleasure. He gave them to us that we may pass them from mouth to mouth until all the world becomes familiar with them and enjoys their blessings and uplifting influence.
– Shoghi Effendi, Bahá’í News, no. 73 (May 1933), p. 2
Bahá’ís believe that Bahá’u'lláh’s teachings, rooted in the concept of the oneness of humanity, are not only those that will help solve the world’s ills in the future, but are already beginning to do so. Bahá’u'lláh was imprisoned and placed into exile for most of His life — yet His teachings have already manifested themselves in ways both small and large, and millions of individuals around the world, on all continents, have embraced His Faith.
And I’d venture to assert that as a steadily growing cohort of individuals who engage in sustained social action emerges, beginning from the grassroots, and based on the spirit of Bahá’u'lláh’s teachings, our adolescent world will, ever steadily, blossom into the calm of maturity.
So, while my awkwardness personally never ended after adolescence, my adherence to Bahá’u'lláh’s teachings makes me certain that humanity’s will.
Tags: integration/disintegration, maturity, oneness, politics
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Abdu’l-Bahá
Meet the oldest schoolboy on the planet, 88-year old peasant farmer Kimani Maruge. Displaced by the recent Kenyan crisis and living in a refugee camp, Mr. Maruge still rises each morning, puts on his uniform and walks 4km to his primary school. His perseverance is astonishing. In his quest for knowledge, neither his advanced age nor his limp prevent him from making the daily journey to and from school:
