Little by Little, Day by Day

This post is a reflection based on this story of Abdu’l-Baha:

It is quickly becoming evident that the virtue of each reflection is my test du jour.  Trusting in God is the theme of recent days because we are

homeless,

jobless,

and penniless.

The sacrifice of our recent full-time service is being keenly felt now in these days of two digit bank account holdings, scouring the internet for possible jobs and carefully whittling down what we own to fit into the trunk and back seat of a car.

As we sit side-by-side at night and pray, we are grateful. Grateful for our families for taking us in and enveloping us with warmth and food (emphasis on the warmth, as this is our first winter in several years). And grateful for the sweetness of each other’s company in this “we’ll look back at this and laugh in 20 years” time.

You know the saying, “Trust in God but tie your camel”? In this instance as I try my bestest to trust in God and do my utmost to remedy our situation, I think the saying should be amended to “Trust in God but do all in your power to buy, feed, ride and then tie your camel”. Because relying on God is not passive. I think that by working to change your situation you demonstrate that you are putting your reliance on the Almighty; you are more easily guided when in motion. And by reflecting on His words as we work, we become even more attuned to that guidance. The other night my husband read me the following words of the Blessed Beauty:

Were any man to ponder in his heart that which the pen of the Most High hath revealed and to taste of its sweetness, he would, of a certainly, find himself emptied and delivered from his own desires, and utterly subservient to the Will of the Almighty. Happy is the man that hath attained so high a station, and hath not deprived himself of so bountiful a grace.

http://lukebrookesillustration.blogspot.com/2010/12/new-piece-stormy-seas.html

One day a woman came to ‘Abdu’l-Bahá with her sorrows. As she told her story,‘Abdu’l-Bahá tried to calm her and said, “Don’t be sad now, don’t be sad.”

The Woman said, “My brother has been in prison for three years. He should not have been imprisoned because it was not his fault. He was weak and followed others. He will be in prison for four more years. My mother and father are full of sorrow all the time. My brother in law used to take care of us, but he has just died.”

The Master could see the whole human story. Here was a family which was experiencing every form of misery-they were poor, they were weak, they were sad, disgraced, and without any hope whatsoever.

‘Abdu’l-Bahá said, “You must trust in God.”

“But,” the woman cried, “the more I trust, the worse things become!”

“You have never trusted,” said ‘Abdu’l-Bahá.

“But my mother is reading the Bible all of the time,” she said. “She does not deserve that God should leave her so helpless! I read the Bible myself; I say the 91^st Psalm and the 23^rd Psalm every night before I go to bed. I pray too.”

‘Abdu’l-Bahá looked at her lovingly and said, “To pray is not to read the Bible. To pray is to trust in God and accept His Will. You must be patient and accept the Will of God, then things will change for you. Put your family in God’s hands. Trust in God and love His Will. Strong ships are not conquered by the sea; they ride the waves! Now be a strong ship, not a battered one.”

From “Stories About‘Abdu’l-Bahá” by Gloria Faizi.

This post is a response to this story:

Reading this story about Abdu’l-Baha was wonderful, and easy. Trying to listen to others the way that Abdu’l-Baha did, was (and is?) challenging.

With an imagination that runs wild, I sometimes find it hard to focus on the “here and now”, or, as some people refer to it, “reality”. Regardless, I manage to get through the daily run of conversations and communications, without anyone really noticing that I’m sometimes there, sometimes not. When I decided to try and listen to people the way that Abdu’l-Baha did in the story, I was confronted immediately with my own attention deficit. How was I going to be able to listen to people when I couldn’t even focus on a conversation for its duration. I was really scared for the first two days. I felt like such a flake. I realized in the middle of two conversations that I’d actually asked a question, and then thought about something else as the person was giving me a response. I was sick with the realization of the depths of my own inattention. The situation was dire. The darkness was deep. This feeling lasted for a few days.

Then,

All of a sudden, I had to listen. I had to focus on people. I wanted desperately to know every detail of what was being said! Who were these people around me? What was going on?? for the last two weeks, I spent a few moments of every single conversation double-checking the fullness of my focus. I’ve become more diligent with my listening. Still far from listening to people “with their own ears”, but I find I’m far more involved in my conversations, and have to ask for less clarifications. Which is wonderful. However, by far the greatest benefit and improvement which I’ve found after reading this story of Abdu’l-Baha is in my prayers.

In the story, Howard Colby-Ives mentions Baha’u'llah’s words, “When the sincere servant calls to Me in prayer I become the very ear with which He heareth My reply.” About a week after reading this story (and deciding that I was going to listen to people more), this line began to pop into my head after saying my prayers. Often, I say my prayers, and, when I am done, go on to something else in a prompt manner. As if the act of saying the words of a prayer is the whole event. When I heard this line in my mind, I reflected on it (about the third day in a row when it appeared), and realized that I wasn’t listening during the most important conversation of the day. There is a state of ‘openness’ which comes with listening when one is praying and meditating that I now feel I have a small inkling of. The state of openness, in addition to learning to be more generous with my attention in conversations, are things that I consider myself lucky to have had a chance to reflect on, and try to develop.

photo credit: livelovelaugh22 on Flickr

This is written in response to this story of Abdu’l-Baha:

It is easy to be silent and listen when you are experiencing culture shock; when you find yourself wide-eyed in public, stunned by the people around you and by what they choose to say. While living in a country where I did not speak the language, the conservations that occurred around me on the bus, or while I sipped a cappuccino, or stared at the ceiling of my apartment building’s elevator — these words became the birdsongs, the music of my daily life.

But now I can understand. every. single. word.

And it turns out people don’t always talk about poetry. Or botanical gardens. Or their last witnessed sunset. So being silent these last few days has been easy. But in general, silence and I are fair-weather friends.

Within the sanctuary of a loving family, my teen angst rebellion materialized on my tongue. I always had to have the last word. Even when threatened with punishement. I would say exactly what I wanted to say, regardless of how hurtful, rude or ugly my screams were. Once housebound, my statements and my door slamming was never worth it. Around this time I studied the Tablet of the True Seeker in which Baha’u'llah states:

He must never seek to exalt himself above any one, must wash away from the tablet of his heart every trace of pride and vain-glory, must cling unto patience and resignation, observe silence and refrain from idle talk. For the tongue is a smoldering fire, and excess of speech a deadly poison. Material fire consumeth the body, whereas the fire of the tongue devoureth both heart and soul. The force of the former lasteth but for a time, whilst the effects of the latter endureth a century.

This is a test that will shadow me, I’m sure, for the rest of my life for it is one thing to observe silence in during a calm conversation, or when you are culture shocked, and another to be quiet when the person you are speaking with is just downright wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Or when you have the perfect zinger on the tip of your teeth.

In those moments, silence and wise listening are burnished gold. And as I become older, I see more and more flashes of gold in the panning of my personality. Flashes. But at least I am learning: learning to hold my tongue and to open my ears.

Another characteristic always apparent was His silence. In the world of social and intellectual intercourse to which I was accustomed silence was almost unforgivable. From the collegiate with his, or her, “line,” to the lawyer, doctor, minister, statesman–a ready answer, a witty bon mot, a wise remark, a knowing smile was stock-in-trade. They all had their “line,” and it was upon their readiness or unreadiness to meet every occasion verbally that their reputation largely rested.How differently Abdu’l-Bahá met the questioner, the conversationalist, the occasion: To the questioner He responded first with silence–an outward silence. His encouragement always was that the other should speak and He listen. There was never that eager tenseness, that restlessness so often met showing most plainly that the listener has the pat answer ready the moment he should have a chance to utter it.

I have heard certain people described as “good listeners,” but never had I imagined such a “listener” as `Abdul’-Bahá. It was more than a sympathetic absorption of what the ear received. It was as though the two individualities became one; as if He so closely identified Himself with the one speaking that a merging of spirits occurred which made a verbal response almost unnecessary, superfluous. As I write, the words of Bahá’u'lláh recur to me: “When the sincere servant calls to Me in prayer I become the very ear with which He heareth My reply.”

That was just it! Abdu’l-Bahá seemed to listen with my ears.

You see what I mean by saying that I am trying to describe the indescribable. All this may sound to the reader as quite fantastic. Others may not have received this impression in their contacts with Him, but this invariable characteristic of Abdu’l-Bahá is one of my most vivid remembrances and has been the subject of much meditation.

this post is a response to this story:

A list of some things that make me happy:

Finishing a crossword puzzle
A clean bathroom
Clean clothes
Finishing all of my work on time
Ripe mangoes
Small laughing children
Big laughing adults
Red flowers in a blue pot in front of a white house
A&W rootbeer milkshakes
A breeze when it is hot
A patch of sun when it is cold
Really listening to somebody
Having somebody really listen to me
Friends.

Now I just need to follow Abdu’l-Baha’s example and take these moments of happiness and turn it all into a state of joy no matter what is happening in life. That I find very challenging. I think that in many ways I have a very strong attachment to the material world and materially pleasing and beautiful things and this can disable (or handicap even…) us from finding that true joy that Abdu’l-Baha and his companions were able to experience even while in an horrendous prison. But how do you even begin that? It is like the story of Jesus walking with some followers and in a dead rotting dog corpse on the road he comments on the beauty of the shiny white tooth the dog had! Ai! So here I am trying to begin becoming a more joyful person, maybe not just by listing the things that I like, but also finding something to like in everything, everyone and every situation. A good soundtrack for life doesn’t hurt either.

photo credit: Vato Bob on Flikr

This is a reflection on applying lessons from this story:

The story is easy to read, and easy to appreciate, but it is harder for me to see how I could apply what Abdu’l-Baha is doing. First, in a group of people expecting Him to give a speech/lecture, He tells funny stories. Then He explains what laughter is, and why it’s good. Then, He relates a story of finding joy in times of hardship, and just talks to the hearts of the peoples.

So I thought for the first few days about what He did. At first, I thought I might try to apply what is in the story by recounting funny stories with my wife at the end of each day – making sure that we’re oriented to the joyful and positive things that happen to us in the day. It was (and is!) a good thought, but somehow, besides sharing a few things with each other that we appreciated the other doing, we didn’t really tell funny stories, or relate any particularly ‘joyful’ moments.

What made this particular reflection even more challenging is that I’m generally a pretty happy-go-lucky kinda guy…and this week I just wasn’t! I couldn’t explain it. I just wasn’t laughing much, wasn’t smiling much, wasn’t really relating much with others in a joyful way. Happily, that cloudy cover has blown past, but I was left wondering what providential arrangement placed darkness around me when I was looking for light?

It was very difficult to find a joyful thought, though I knew that I was generally content with what was happening in my life. What really brings me a lot of joy is seeing others laugh and smile (which might explain a slight tendency I have to telling jokes, making terrible puns, and recounting tales in a slightly dramatized way to entertain). And it wasn’t until I had the opportunity to just joke with someone, to, as Abdu’l-Baha did, simply tell a ‘mirthful’ tale, and laugh, that I really started to feel joyous again.

I feel like trying to think actively about joy and telling funny stories has sharpened my awareness of the role that humour plays in relieving stress, and easing the challenges of life. I don’t know if it’s quite a solid exploration of joy, but then, I’m not trying to get too serious.

A reflection on this story of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá:

Being exasperated is my schtick —  my stand-up self usually emerges when I am frustrated, angry, disappointed, hurt or teeth-clenchingly challenged. At my wit’s end is often when I’m wittiest. A defense mechanism to prevent me from blubbering and sobbing in front of others? Probably.

But what if I pushed beyond that. What if the source of my suffering was actually a source of laughter — not exasperation and despair. To find something funny in times of difficulty is certainly not easy. But really, what do I know of difficulties? My tests are nothing when I think of stories such as Hají Mírzá Haydar-Alí’s account of being held captive and banished on the back of a camel. He recounts:

On the third day, the guards were changed, and new ones came with camels for us to ride. But chained together as we were, our feet in one stock and our wrists joined by chains, how could we ride on camels? The guards were at a loss for what to do and how to carry us to the next destination. Eventually they brought some long pieces of strong, white cloth. They placed the hands and feet of each pair of us on the saddle, one person hanging on one side of the camel, and the other on the other side. Then they tied our hanging bodies to the camels with the white cloths. A more torturous way to travel cannot be imagined!

Five or six times during the short journey they made the camels kneel down, and we were untied and permitted to have a little rest. The guards apologized to us, saying that previously they had taken a group of thieves and murderers to the Sudan in chains, but that these others had to walk all the way through the desert. Ja’far Pasha had instructed them to allow us to ride, and they could not think of any other way. Although we were in great pain and torture, as we watched each other hanging from the camels, the sight was so ridiculous that we could not help laughing.  (Stories for the Delight of Hearts: The Memoirs of Hají Mírzá Haydar-Alí, p.46-7)

Perhaps finding humour when times are horrible is part of developing the inner sight referred to in the Writings, and being able to “see the end in the beginning” and laugh despite the pain is ultimately a definition of faith. In the words of Amatu’l-Baha Ruhiyyih Khanum: “to smile with weeping eyes – this is faith”. In these coming days of sorrow and joy as I wrap up my work and return to Canada after serving in the Holy Land, I resolve to laugh more. And I smile in anticipation.

Friends,

Here’s the first story through which we will begin to explore some of Abdu’l-Baha’s qualities and capabilities:

In the United States, in August 1912, Mrs Parsons, a devoted Bahá’í of Washington, D. C., invited Him to Dublin, New Hampshire, where she had an estate. During the summer months, many people prominent in the life of the capital visited her resort. Mrs Parsons arranged a luncheon party at her home and asked some twenty people, all outstanding in various walks of life, to meet ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. Culture, science, art, wealth, politics, achievement – all were represented. The hostess was eager that ‘Abdu’l-Bahá  should tell those leaders of society about Bahá’u’lláh and the Faith He had proclaimed to mankind. Probably the guests thought that they were in for a lecture. But ‘Abdu’l-Bahá told them a story which made them laugh. He Himself laughed heartily, and again with them when they, encouraged by the lead He had given, also told amusing stories. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá and his guests were full of mirth throughout the luncheon. It was ‘good to laugh’, He told them; ‘laughter is a spiritual relaxation’.

At this point He referred to His years in prison. Life was hard, He said, tribulations were never far away, and yet, at the end of the day, they would sit together and recall events that had been fantastic, and laugh over them. Funny situations could not be abundant, but still they probed and sought them, and laughed. Joy was not, He told them, a by-product of material comfort and affluence. Were it so, dejections would have ruled every hour of their lives in those days, whereas their souls were joyful. Those Americans, distinguished in public life, had received the impact of truth, often absent from their daily experience, and they looked with new eyes at the visitor from the East, eyes that mirrored deep admiration and respect. And the great heart of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá had enveloped them all. Afterwards He asked His hostess whether she was pleased with Him.

(‘Abdu’l-Bahá: The Centre of the Covenant of Bahá’u’lláh, H. M. Balyuzi, 31-32)

We wish you all a  joyous Day of the Covenant!

In honor of the centenary of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s travels west, and in an effort to learn about how follow His example, bahaireflections.com is shifting focus to host a project called “Little by Little, Day by Day”. Each week, we will post a story from the life of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, or an excerpt from His works. A number of writers from around the world will read the stories and try to apply the capabilities exemplified by ‘Abdu’l-Bahá in their lives. They then share their reflections anonymously with you, our readers, to begin the discussion.

You are welcomed by bahaireflections.com to submit your own reflections, and share your experiences in the process of trying to emulate ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. It would be fitting to post your reflections either as comments under the original story’s post, unless you feel that your experience builds upon the observations of another writer (in which case you’re welcome to post your reflections there as well!).

We are sure that a consistent and active review of the stories of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s life and writings will spur us all on to greater and greater heights of spiritual achievement. In a world where we often are taught to focus on the negative aspects of ourselves and our peers, the prospects of being truthful, just, joyous, humble, loving, and wise seem dim indeed. It is in the face of this great task that ‘Abdu’l-Bahá suggested to a believer that he proceed “Little by Little, Day by Day”. We look forward to the days ahead, when you will join us in learning how we can try, a little everyday, to grow spiritually.