Response to Roy Hilbinger (2)

In my last entry, I responded to some of the issues Roy Hilbinger raised in his blog entry "No going back" and said I had more to say. This time I want to respond particularly to this comment of Roy's: "there is in the writings of Baha’u'llah an advocacy of blind obedience".
What I was trying to say last time, and probably didn't drive home properly, was this: that Baha'u'llah isn't like an ordinary human being claiming to have authority over others and to lay down the law; for example, he's not like a politician or religious leader. Baha'u'llah is saying that his voice is the voice of existence; that is, the voice of nature and of reality. So when he says 'obey me no matter what I decree', there isn't any choice in the matter because, as they say in climate change circles, there's no negotiating with nature. Countries may be facing issues with their economies and pressure from interest groups, but nature will not compromise. Like or lump it, we must knuckle under and reduce emissions, make the necessary cultural and ethical changes that are required. To accuse nature of blind obedience is a category error, for one would not call the sun a despot because it regulates our whole existence by disappearing for half the day. In fact, we are so conditioned to its rhythm that we celebrate its patterns. We can see benefits in it, such as the chance to wind down and rest at night. Perhaps we've turned a negative - the sun's 'oppression' - into a positive.
I want now to go back to the ordinary, the usual, meaning of blind obedience, which is requiring a person to act according to another's instructions even if this means - and it usually does - acting against one's own conscience. First of all, I want to say that, contrary to Roy's assertion that Baha'u'llah advocates this, in fact Baha'u'llah forbids it absolutely. I will cite a couple of passages that I think make clear Baha'u'llah's uncompromising position on this.
I start with the well-known passage from the Arabic Hidden Words, in which Baha'u'llah links justice with conscience. He admonishes us to be just and explains that this involves us seeing with our own eyes and knowing with our own knowledge.

"O son of spirit! The best beloved of all things in My sight is Justice; turn not away therefrom if thou desirest Me, and neglect it not that I may confide in thee. By its aid thou shalt see with thine own eyes and not through the eyes of others, and shalt know of thine own knowledge and not through the knowledge of thy neighbor. Ponder this in thy heart; how it behooveth thee to be. Verily justice is My gift to thee and the sign of My loving-kindness. Set it then before thine eyes." (Baha'u'llah, Arabic Hidden Word no 2)

But there is another, lesser known passage from Surah of Sacrifice:

"Say: O people, act not as did the people of the Qur'an, and never surrender the reins of your insight into the hands of anyone else. Seize upon the grace proffered you in these days and see with your own eyes. Turn not upon your heels when the verses of your Lord are recited, nor be of those who reject the signs of God and hurl derision from where they sit." (paragraph 11)

You can see here that the word is "never"; never surrender the reins of your insight into the hands of another. I don't know, how clearer can it be?
The challenge inherent in what Baha'u'llah is saying can't be overstated. For example: we know from personal experience and from what we hear on the TV that there is a vast religious world out there that is the Muslim world. It's huge and has a powerful influence on the world. Muslims believe that Muhammad is the seal of the prophets and so refuse to give the time to day to Baha'u'llah's claim to be a prophet after Muhammad. But here is Baha'u'llah, seemingly against the odds, asking Muslims to look at his claims with an open mind, which is an enormous thing to ask of a believer who has been raised with the idea that his claim is heresy and should never be given the time of day.
But the challenge isn't just meant for Muslims. Just as there is a Muslim world, with its unique beliefs, customs and identity (whether scripturally based or not), there is an American culture with these too. It has beliefs, customs and an identity that is just as ingrained as the Muslim one. So what Baha'u'llah is saying here, when he asks us to see with our own eyes, is to see his claim without the rose-tinted glasses our culture has given us. I know that Roy genuinely believes he is seeing with his own eyes; nevertheless, he is seeing through the values of his culture: "The progressive social agenda is just a facade over something much darker; there is in the writings of Baha'u'llah an advocacy of blind obedience, and a condemnation of things that we as Americans hold as basic truths." This statement tells me that Roy's religion is American nationalism; it's to this pool of ideals that he appeals for his standard of truth. I doubt his interest in neo-Paganism would fundamentally challenge this standard.
There are other passages in which Baha'u'llah forbids blind obedience, but I'll not bother with them for I don't believe that citing passages will convince many of Baha'u'llah's sincerity in the matter. Instead, the point I want to make is that advocating blind obedience is against Baha'u'llah's system of thought. If Baha'u'llah is indeed the voice of existence, as he claims, then it's to the very heart of reality that he wants us to turn. Let's face it, as I have argued above, he is up against it asking people to do this; in addition to our cultural milieu, there are powerful influences such as family, love and work that pull our attention and alliances this way and that, depending on vested interests. Nevertheless, the principle is sound: in order to see reality, we must look at it with our own eyes. It is impossible to see reality in any other way; relying on others is indeed blind obedience. Therefore, if Baha'u'llah is the voice of reality and he wants us to see him, then we must blind ourselves to all else and gaze upon what stands before us - reality - with the faculties the Lord has placed within us; that is, with our own senses and mind. Independent action is, in this way, a fundamental requirement of Baha'u'llah's claim and teachings.

Response to Roy Hilbinger

On the 30 November, Roy Hilbinger wrote a blog entry, "No going back", in which he gave his reasons for no longer believing in Baha'u'llah. Initially, I decided against responding, but one night, a response came to me and so I have decided to pursue it. I do not respond in order to convince Roy to change his beliefs. I don't blame him for getting irritated at Baha'is who hassle him to do so. I respect his decision and wish him well on his journey. Rather, I express here alternative ways of seeing the passages he quotes, which have put him off the writings, and explain the concepts that I believe underlie those passages and give them a different light. Having said that, I agree with some of the criticisms Roy makes, but do not see them as critiques of Baha'u'llah.
Roy says that he is particularly disturbed by the passages in which Baha'u'llah says there must be limits on liberty. He sees Baha'u'llah's position as "anti-democratic" and "almost cultic". (My initial reaction was to wonder if Roy had read Juan Cole's book Modernity and the Millennium, in which Juan shows how Baha'u'llah defended democracy at a time when to do so meant risking one's life. But that's not the approach I want to take here.) Roy quotes several passages; here's two, to give a flavour of what concerns him.

"Regard men as a flock of sheep that need a shepherd for their protection. This, verily, is the truth, the certain truth. We approve of liberty in certain circumstances, and refuse to sanction it in others. We, verily, are the All-Knowing." Kitab-i-Aqdas, para 124

"It is incumbent upon them who are in authority to exercise moderation in all things. Whatsoever passeth beyond the limits of moderation will cease to exert a beneficial influence. Consider for instance such things as liberty, civilization and the like. However much men of understanding may favourably regard them, they will, if carried to excess, exercise a pernicious influence upon men." Tablets of Baha'u'llah, p 169

Roy says he gets particularly upset at the second passage above: "This one always bothered me a lot; how can civilization be considered excessive?" Well, I would argue that the kind of thing Baha'u'llah had in mind would include our global troubles with the finance sector. As I understand it, the global financial crisis was caused by people who control a large proportion of global wealth not following prudent financial practices and taking extreme risks in order to make fortunes. I think this is an example of the liberty offered by civilisation being carried to excess. The finance sector is a good thing and is an important development for our civilisation, but its players have been allowed to go to extremes and we've all paid dearly for that. Governments the world over are now talking about how to regulate more closely those in the finance sector; that is, reduce their liberty; have them act in moderation. The Reserve Bank of New Zealand, for example, is taking extra measures to ensure that New Zealand banks are sufficiently cashed up to cope with a crisis like the one we've just had. Also, new legislation gives the Reserve Bank the power to regulate non-bank deposit takers and insurance companies. (For an excellent article on what caused the global financial meltdown, see "The financial crisis: whodunnit?" by Howard Davies, which was published in the September 2009 issue of the New Zealand Reserve Bank Bulletin.)
Another example of civilisation being carried to excess, I suggest, is climate change. As I understand it, the heart of the problem is that we use more carbon than we store. Here's a summary in layman's terms - one I can follow in any case:

"Carbon drives the world. Energy from the sun is captured by plants and, through the process of photosynthesis, is combined with carbon dioxide taken from the atmosphere. Carbon and energy are trapped as carbohydrate, which can then be used in plants to make fibre, protein, fats and oils. We can eat the carbohydrate directly to fuel our bodies, or we can let animals do the first processing then eat the meat.... These days, however, the demand for energy is not just for food, but also for transport, power and industry. Every year... we humans burn a million years' worth of energy stored through previous photosynthesis. The burning process releases carbon that had been locked up in oil and coal into the atmosphere as carbon dioxide." -- "Does the answer lie in the soil?" by Jacqueline Rowarth, in New Zealand Listener, 12/12/09 p23

And so we have key aspects of our civilisation, such as transport and industry, using huge carbon reserves to run our civilisation, but not putting anything back. We are not acting sustainably. Our whole civilisation depends upon using resources to excess, and this is having a lethal effect on us. I think Baha'u'llah's principle - that the liberty enjoyed as a part of our civilisation, if carried to excess, will have a pernicious influence - has proved prophetic. Perhaps one might also claim that Baha'u'llah was the first to suggest we act 'sustainably'. But, surely, it is also common sense. Everyone must accept limits on their freedom; a person without them is a blight on society - generally, a bully or a criminal. Baha'u'llah has simply pointed out that, like individuals, society/civilisation must also accept limits on what it can do - and this, for its own sake, not Baha'u'llah's.
It is common for people to get concerned about the passages Roy cites. In addition to the ones above, he also quotes passages in which Baha'u'llah points out that God does as God wills and that we must obey God. Roy says: "One of the more common phrases in Baha’u'llah’s writings is 'He doeth what He willeth'; that God is supreme and will do whatever he wants and we mere humans have no option but to obey." And he sees other passages as a limit on our freedom of conscience too.
I think how one interprets Baha'u'llah comes down to how you see who and what he is. I can understand where Roy's concerns come from. I used to be able to see those passages in the light that he does. But I've made a big shift in my understanding, which leads me to try and shed a different light on them. Going by what Roy says, he seems to view Baha'u'llah as a kind of leader, a politician, or high-ranking religious leader like the pope, or, more to the point, an ayatollah - yes, like Ayatollah Khomeini. He is the best example because Roy accuses Baha'u'llah of advocating blind obedience. And if you put that together with a passage from Baha'u'llah like this - "Whenever My laws appear like the sun in the heaven of Mine utterance, they must be faithfully obeyed by all, though My decree be such as to cause the heaven of every religion to be cleft asunder. He doeth what He pleaseth" - well, it's clear that you have a guy whose ego has run amok, a cultist, a religious nutter bent on taking over the world and imposing his ideas on all.
Except that Baha'u'llah isn't a politician or a religious leader in the sense of a pope or an ayatollah. He is a manifestation, or prophet, of God, which I know is just words to most people, and so I want to give an idea of what it means and why it's different. I'll start by using the truth that Roy says has always appealed to him and which he turned to when he left the Baha'i community. He says "When I first left the Baha’i Faith to strike out on my own, I mostly hung out with neo-Pagans because the idea that all creation, including ourselves, is sacred appeals to me." Touché. Baha'u'llah says everything in creation is a sign of God and that humans are made in the image of God and their spirit is a place of revelation. But how does Baha'u'llah know this? And how does Roy know that all creation is sacred? Roy knows it because he senses it within himself and his sense is confirmed by what he reads in books. Baha'u'llah, on the other hand, knows it because he is the voice that speaks within every atom of existence. If Roy gazes upon creation and senses that it is speaking to him, then he is hearing the voice of Baha'u'llah. A good illustration of the magnitude of Baha'u'llah's claim here is that he says it was his voice that spoke to Moses from the burning bush. (The prophets are one in essence, but their revelations differ in intensity in this world: "Some of the Apostles We have caused to excel the others."(Qur'an 2:253)) Here is an example of Baha'u'llah's voice calling to us from the heart of creation:

"Say: My creatures are even as the leaves of a tree. They proceed from the tree, and depend upon it for their existence, yet remain oblivious of their root and origin... Say: My creatures are even as the fish of the deep. Their life dependeth upon the water, and yet they remain unaware of that which, by the grace of an omniscient and omnipotent Lord, sustaineth their very existence. Indeed, their heedlessness is such that were they asked concerning the water and its properties, they would prove entirely ignorant." Summons p40

Again, this will just be words to most. But I think that delineating Baha'u'llah's claims in this way does make clear the difference between Baha'u'llah and a politician or religious leader. For example, if you are the voice within all existence, why on earth would you want to be a politician or religious leader? The power that these leaders temporarily have is a parody of the power that Baha'u'llah claims to have. If you give effect to your will through all existence, then you write the fortunes of these worldly leaders, you don't want to be one. Nor would you be interested in oppressing people in the way that leaders like Saddam Husayn or Hitler did. If you have the power to determine the fate of all, why aspire to be a tinpot bully? Instead, Baha'u'llah's purpose is to offer himself as a lover, in a world that it is outside the experience such leaders have ever known.
When I read a draft of this blog to Steve, he dryly suggested that Baha'u'llah's extraordinary claim to be the voice of existence might be even more horrifying to people than a claim to be a worldly leader. I had to confess that I hadn't seen it like that before, but that he was right. For the voice of existence isn't something one can argue with, and if you don't like what it says, then that's not good news. But it makes all the difference for me. For Baha'u'llah's qualities are all-loving, all-forgiving, all-powerful and so forth, and as such, he is the greatest comfort and joy to me. So, yes, he is the Ruler and we must accept him for who he is, but he is also our best-beloved who wants only what's best for us.
I'll end with this quote, which shows Baha'u'llah in a different light to the passages chosen by Roy.

"Say, people of The Bayan: Be fair. By God, your Lord, the All Merciful! Aside from this divine youth, and the immortal manifestations who appeared in this dispensation, consider the Bayan in its entirety, and make your own judgment. Even if you are not, in the end, satisfied with the decree of God and what he revealed, God will nevertheless be pleased with your judgment if it is fair, so that perhaps an eye might be opened by justice and gaze toward God." Tablet of the Son, paragraph 30

I have other things I'd like to say about Roy's blog entry - about blind obedience and names - but this is long enough, so I might raise those issues next time.

Trust in God's providence

Life continues apace. Steve and I expect to move in about three months and we still have heaps of cleaning up to do on this house in preparation for its sale. Everyday, I am focused on this task and it is difficult to focus my mind on writing my blog. Usually, I have quiet time reading and thinking, in which I formulate my ideas for my next blog entry.

Life has become strange for me. It is unusual and mildly unsettling to spend each day dedicated to getting rid of everything in your house bar the essentials, and sorting things out around the property knowing you'll never see them again. They're not activities one does very often in life. Managing a large transition is a full-time project. It provides me with a full-time job while at the same time keeping from a full-time job.

I spend much time thinking about how I will live on the new property: how it will be sitting in each room of the new cottage, how it will be walking around the paddock and trees, how it will be living in a much warmer climate, how it will be living where there are no street lights and the night will be dark and the stars clear, how it will be with no immediate neighbours, how it will be living where plants grow easily and trees fruit readily, how it will be for me for writing?

They say that shifting house is as stressful as getting married. I couldn't understand this until now because the two activities seem like completely different kinds of changes. But what's common to them is that they are permanent changes and there's only so much you can plan for the long-term future. You can't anticipate all the things you'll be confronted with in your new life. You just have to decide that you'll take the plunge and leap into the deep end of the swimming pool and hope that you'll come up breathing.

In fact, this is what Baha'u'llah tells us to do in our spiritual lives. It appears in a couple of places: Gems of Divine Mysteries and the Mathnavi.

"Great God! This sea had laid up lustrous pearls in store;
The wind hath raised a wave that casteth them ashore.
So put away thy robe and drown thyself therein,
And cease to boast of skill: it serveth thee no more"
-- Gems, paragraph 43

"You, likewise, Noah, break the body's Ark
and hurl yourself into the Sea of Light!
Don't seek self-preservation; Drown this self!
then you'll come up for air in God's embrace
Seek out the King's protection, not the ship's
– the King's preserve will then provide refuge"
-- Mathnavi lines 191-3

Both passages talk about the same thing: letting everything go - absolutely everything except Baha'u'llah. I always knew I had never achieved this level of detachment, but the unsettling, uprooting task of shifting house has helped me along the path, and I'm grateful for it. The process has taught me much about learning to rely on God and trust in the Lord's providence. I am getting more out of my devotions now. Consider: what can I do? I am powerless about my future and what will happen to me. I don't expect it to be bad, but it is uncertain and I have only so much control over it (and even that is an illusion).

The more I let go, the more simple life becomes, and the more simple life becomes, the more beautiful it is, and the more beautiful it is, the more I see God in everything. I rejoice in little things all around like I have never done so before. I am the happiest now than I've ever been in my life. It feels like the simple joy of childhood. I feel like I am returning to my Lord and I cannot ever say how glorious he appears to me.

The Lovely Bones

Talk of The Lovely Bones is in the air at the moment, with Peter Jackson's movie coming out now, and so I thought I'd get on the bandwagon. Nice to keep up with popular culture and be relevant.

In anticipation of the seeing the movie, I decided to read the book. Luckily, my daughter's copy had recently been returned to her, so I was able to settle in. I hate getting books out of the library because it takes me ages to read a whole book - more weeks than a library is willing to give me. My daughter said that she had struggled through it; that it was boring. This gave me pause because I'd recently given up on the popular book The Life of Pi because it was boring. I hoped that I wouldn't have to give up on this one. And I didn't. I managed to get to the end, but I did indeed find it boring in the middle.

My principal frustration was with the purpose of the story. When I did my course on writing fiction, it was drummed into me that everything in a story must serve its purpose. It is clear by the end of the book that the story is about how a family learns to let go and allow itself to live beyond a tragedy - to give itself permission to laugh again and enjoy things without reference to the dead daughter/sister Susie. As a goal for a story, I like this very much. I think it's a brave goal, in that not many stories would attempt to find an ending beyond revenge and justice. It is positive and a grasp at real healing.

It captures an aspect of what Baha'u'llah calls detachment. By this, I understand him to mean raising ourselves up out of the story of lives in the world and finding ourselves in the story of the Cause, which is in the spiritual realm and which transcends the worldly story and evaporates it by infusing its components with new meaning. The book uses the transcendent vantage point of Susie's heaven to instill new meaning into the lives of the family members. It gives them and Susie permission to move on and find joy without the weight of a tragic memory chained to their souls.

I applaud author Alice Sebold for aiming at this for her book. She goes about it by filling the story with miniature slices of life from the many characters that are somehow connected with Susie. As expected, much time is given to each family member - mother, who has an affair; father, who is desperate to find the murderer; sister, who has to live with people looking at her and seeing Susie; the brother who is too young to be told anything; and the grandmother, who is an alcoholic. Then there is Susie's true love, Ray, who she's kissed once, and other kids at school. And there are the neighbours and, of course, the murderer, and the cop heading the investigation.

The book opens with the murder, which holds together well enough. But after that, it starts to come apart as it jumps all over the place to capture snippets from the lives of each character. After a while, you lose touch with where the story is going because there is no central theme to hold it together. At gut level, you want the story to take you to the identity of the murderer and sufficient evidence for his prosecution. But it consciously steps away from this and the murderer's story becomes just one of many. The trouble is that no theme strong enough steps in to replace it. The theme of healing through transcendence is an admirable one, but it needs to be anchored in a solid story line - one associated with one character in particular. As it is, there isn't really a main character, apart from Susie. But she is in heaven, which makes her role passive.

For me, things really came unstuck when Susie enters the body of her friend, Ruth, who acts as a medium, and has sex with Ray. This was too much for me. I have no problem with souls in heaven watching us, but when they take over bodies for the sake of a highly stylised scene of redemptive sex, my credibility is stretched too far. I suppose a 14-year-old girl might see romantic sex as union with God, but for me it was 'give us a break'. However, given the slow pace of the story, you find yourself saying: at least we have some action here! But as you can see, Sebold was forced to put Susie into Ruth's body to give her an active part. I think it was a desperate move to inject some life into the story and it shows up a structural flaw. Sebold would have been better to develop the story of someone on earth - Ruth, the medium, say - and make her the main character and wind it all around her.

I have other issues with the book, but these are to do with the style of modern fiction writing. I find it's too 'once over lightly' and much prefer to read the classics because they have more depth. I was listening to a professor of literature on the radio saying that modern fiction is written to a formula dictated by publishing houses, who edit and publish what they think will sell to a common denominator. I don't know enough about it, but this explanation fits with my very limited experience of modern fiction. It reminds me of the way that the administration uses Ruhi to dumb down the revelation. There's an assumption that the common person will not be able to engage with the complexities of the Word of God, and so a very simplified version is presented instead. This assumption is born of arrogance, of course, as Baha'u'llah says in the Iqan.

But back to The Lovely Bones, after reading the book, I assumed that Peter Jackson would have to mess seriously with the story to create a plot with sufficient force to push a movie along. From the interviews I've seen, Peter did say he struggled with the story and finding elements from it that would translate well on screen. One reviewer who has seen the movie says that Peter has greatly changed the focus of the story in the book. The reviews are divided, with some reviewers loving the film and others saying it's mostly a failure. I don't care what they say; having read the book, I'm keen to see what Peter has made of it, good or bad. One reviewer said it was What dreams may come version 2. If that is the case, then I will enjoy it for I like seeing people's imaginative impressions of the next world.

I was very interested to hear Peter Jackson and Susan Sarandon, at the press conference held for the release of the movie, on the subject of the afterlife. Both of them admit to believing in it. But both also stress that they do not have any time for organised religion. The Baha'is should wake up. In my view, Peter and Susan are expressing views that are representative of the middle classes in the West. They are very open to spirituality but not organised religion. Ruhi will never bring them in. It might draw in needy people, but not those who want to stand on their own spiritual feet. The tragedy is that Baha'u'llah's revelation has everything these people are looking for, but they'll never see this in the 'revelation' the Baha'i community sells.

Here's a link to the press conference about the movie.

A mystical look at organic unity

This blog entry gathers together some of my recent thoughts on what organic unity means. I'm not sure where the idea of organic unity comes from. It isn't from Baha'u'llah that I'm aware; from Sen's book on Church and State (the passage on organic unity, pp 249-257), it must be the Guardian. A search on MARS brings up 45 instances of the Guardian using the word 'organic'. I don't want this to be a discussion on the Guardian's use of the term. I'm interested in the concepts from Baha'u'llah that might underpin the concept of organic unity. 

The passage quoted by Sen, and the one Baha'is would most likely point to, is this one:

"Regard ye the world as a man’s body, which is afflicted with divers ailments, and the recovery of which dependeth upon the harmonizing of all of its component elements." (Summons p80)

The fundamental idea seems to be that we should regard humanity as a body. This is backed up by other important passages, such as this one from paragraph 58 of the Aqdas:

"Beware lest the desires of the flesh and of a corrupt inclination provoke divisions among you. Be ye as the fingers of one hand, the members of one body."

From the passage in Summons, we also get the idea that 'health' is a matter of harmony: "the recovery of which dependeth upon the harmonizing of all of its component elements". For me, this is where the idea of 'unity' comes in. A body is 'united' if it is in harmony. This is important because one might think that a body, such as that of a person which is stuck together by skin and bone, is already a 'unity' because it is an indivisible physical unit. But no, just because it is a unit, doesn't mean it is united, because its parts may not be in harmony. And, as Sen forcefully argues in the Church and State passage, unity does not mean that one organ rules the others, but rather that each organ has it own distinct role to play: "the brain cannot become a circulatory system, or instruct the liver to grow according to any pattern other than that 'idea' of a liver that is coded into every cell. It would be unhealthy even to try."(p254)

Baha'u'llah focuses on the idea of harmony in this other quote, which he starts in a similar way to the Summons quote above, but finishes differently.

"Regard the world as the human body which, though at its creation whole and perfect, hath been afflicted, through various causes, with grave disorders and maladies. Not for one day did it gain ease, nay its sickness waxed more severe, as it fell under the treatment of ignorant physicians, who gave full rein to their personal desires and have erred grievously. And if, at one time, through the care of an able physician, a member of that body was healed, the rest remained afflicted as before." (Summons pp 90-91)

This passage underscores again the idea that health means the harmony of parts. It's not sufficient to heal one part, the whole must be healed and put into in balance.

The reason I got to thinking about the meaning of 'organic unity' was due to my recent meditations on gardening and, in particular, the garden of deeds and its fruits. Added to that was the idea of recycling, which has forced me to think about what I do with waste, and also how that ties in with the idea of composting. I think what I want to do is apply the concept of 'organic unity' to our deeds and the way we live our lives; that is, our lives are like a body and our deeds are like the organs. The body of our life is made up of distinct but related deeds, and a 'healthy' life is one in which our deeds are in harmony. A life lived in this state is a united one.

A story that got me thinking along these lines reportedly comes from Abdu'l-Baha (it may not, but that doesn't matter). It is quoted in a book by a German Baha'i therapist called Nossrat Peseschkian in the book "In Search of Meaning. A Psychotherapy of Small Steps". He begins the book with this story, which he attributes to Abdu'l-Baha and titles "About Eternal Life":

"A mighty king wandered for a long time though his kingdom. On a sunny slope he saw a venerable old man bent over, hard at work. Followed by his courtiers, the king came nearer and saw that the old man was planting year-old seedlings. "What are your doing there?" the king inquired. "I'm planting date trees," replied the old man. The king asked in amazement, "You are already quite old. Why are you planting seedlings when you won't see their foliage, won't rest in their shade, and won't eat their fruit?" The old man looked up and said, "Those who come after us planted, and we were able to harvest. Now we plant so that they who came after us can harvest. ..."

The king likes the answer so much, he gives the man a piece of gold. The old man then smiles and says the trees have already borne fruit and the king gives the man another piece of gold. The old man then complements the king for his just rule of the land and the king gives him more gold, then leaves for fear that he will lose all his wealth to the old man.

I was intrigued that this story was supposed to be about eternal life. Why is it about eternal life, I asked myself? Well, I think it has something to do with the fact that the old man, in his planting date trees, understood the reward for perfect deeds. In planting as he did, even though he was old and would not harvest the dates, his sole concern was to ensure that his deeds bore the quality of perfection. This perfection was the thing that attracted wealth, not the nature of the deed itself. I see him as a man whose deeds, and whose life, were in harmony. The wealth he attracted for this was immediate and eternal.

This reminds me of a pilgrim note, which I place much store by. It's from the memoirs of Ali-Akbar Furutan, and is number 60 in his book of memoirs. It gives four qualities of character that Baha'u'llah loved, and the fourth one is to finish what one starts:

The Blessed Beauty often remarked: "There are four qualities which I love to see manifested in people: first, enthusiasm and courage; second, a face wreathed in smiles and a radiant countenance; third, that they see all things with their own eyes and not through the eyes of others; fourth, the ability to carry a task, once begun, through to the end." The Stories Of Baha'u'llah, Compiled and Edited Ali-Akbar Furutan Translated by Katayoon and Robert Crerar with help from friends George Ronald Publisher, 1986, page 51

I often wondered why Baha'u'llah placed so much importance on finishing what one starts. Now I see it in the light of our deeds and life as an organic unity. Having a lot of unfinished tasks is like having a house full of stuff that has not been disposed of in a thoughtful fashion. In the end, the stuff accumulates and we end up living in a mess, or we throw away stuff that is still useful and should not be in landfill.

The habit of not finishing tasks is like society not taking the time to correctly process waste. Both involve a throw-away attitude. And both problems would be solved if we thought more about what we were doing and why, and believed ourselves to be committed to whatever we chose to do. Cleaning up afterwards is as much about doing a task as preparing for it. The loss to ourselves in not cleaning up afterwards is like the loss when we do not compost. Composting organic matter gives us a new rich soil that we can use for feeding and mulching crops in the following year. I think the same applies to finishing tasks: the clean up provides important resources and nutrients for the task we take up next.

The above might help to illustrate what I mean about seeing our lives in terms of an organic unity. The body of our life is healthy when we see our deeds as distinct organs of that body. These deeds need to be nurtured right through the process, from development, to maturity, to decline. All stages need planning, attention, nurturing, time and resources. For this reason, I have slashed by 90 percent the amount of things I try to do. If the fruit of action is in how we act and not in the nature of the act itself, then it is all gain to me to ensure my deeds are done well, rather than doing a million things and never getting any done properly.

I believe that this is having real benefits for my physical health too, which backs up the point that health is about harmony.

Alison's Oscars

The other day, I was on Wiki looking through lists of people's favourite movies. I found that the lists didn't reflect my taste very well. Steve counselled me not to take any notice because the lists are meaningless. But I thought, damn it, my taste in movies is just as valid as the mainstream. So I decided I would take the plunge and stick up for my movies, for there must be others out there who like the movies I do. I am therefore going to hold my own Oscars and give awards to my favourite movies, just for fun.

As for my taste in movies - in general, I guess I watch 'mainstream' arthouse movies. I do like movies to challenge me. Of the movies I've chosen for awards, most of them tell stories (often true) that are harrowing. I also like movies that a mainstream audience would likely consider too slow, too boring and too long. I don't watch movies that the NZ censor gives an R16 or higher rating to on account of violence. I still live with my mistakes, for I can never erase the horrible images from my mind. For example, I went to the 1999 film version of Shakespeare's Titus. I didn't see the censor's warning that it had graphic violence and horror scenes. It was an excellent movie - probably deserves an Oscar - but I have to pass on movies like that.

All these movies have won an Oscar because they had such an impact on me I never forgot them. They are what I'd call Alison's classics. You'll see that my Oscars involve awards not traditionally given at Oscars. I've left out movies that are already popular, such as "Out of Africa", "Singing in the Rain" and "American Beauty", which I would also award Oscars too.

Without further ado, then, I'll get down to it. Steve, envelopes please ...

The award for Best Depiction of the Feminist principle 'the personal is political' goes to ... (drum roll)
"Sunshine" (1999). I saw this movie ages ago, so I can't remember it in detail, but I remember being completely taken by it. "It follows three generations of a Jewish family... during the changes in Hungary from the beginning of the 20th century to the period after the 1956 Hungarian Revolution." By following the family through the political changes in the country, it shows how the personal and the political are interlinked. And, in this way, it also shows how the 'enemy' - ie, the fascist etc - is inside us and not the other guy. It also has some harrowing footage of life in a concentration camp. Unpredictable.

The award for Best Depiction of the Culture of Downunder goes to ... (drum roll)
"The Castle" (1997). It's an Australian comedy, so it's tongue in cheek - but Steve and I think that it captures the general laid-back attitude of Downunder culture, which includes Australia and New Zealand. Although there are important differences between the two countries, this movie captures the similarities, such as the continual fascination with picking up bargains. One of our favourite lines is where the father says to his son, who points out that a lectern is for sale in the paper: "It doesn't come up often". But it cleverly winds through the humour a serious message about property rights, including indigenous rights. Playful.

The awards for Best Comedy and Best Screenplay go to ... (drum roll)
"Intolerable Cruelty" (2003). Steve and I both think that this is the funniest movie out. It screened on TV here last week, and the TV reviewer said it wasn't funny at all. But it's a complex little number and you can't possibly take in all the layers in one sitting. First time around, you're focused on the tricky plot; after that, you learn to look out for the hilarious dialogue. We've watched it over and over and always double up laughing; for example, "'Let NOMAN put asunder' - the National Organisation for Matrimonial Attorneys Nationwide"! A scream.

The award for Best Foreign Language Movie goes to ... (drum roll)
"The Wind that Shakes the Barley" (2006). The movie opens up with some young men playing soccer on a field in rural Ireland. They're shouting at each other as they kick the ball around, but you haven't a clue what they're saying. In short, you need the subtitles. This is a harrowing movie about the Irish resistance in the 1920s. It depicts the moral decline of the central character, who makes increasingly morally dubious decisions in the war-like situations he finds himself in. You come away with a real appreciation of what it was like to live with the English running around controlling you and your country. Tragic.

The award for Best Classic Movie goes to ... (drum roll)
"Zulu" (1964). I first saw this one on pay TV many years ago, and was riveted. It's an amazing movie and should have got an Oscar for Best Picture. The images of the Zulu warriors appearing on the horizon and the fear on the soldiers' faces is something you never forget. You feel like you really are there and about to die. I like the fact that the producers weren't too scared to use silence. There are long periods of absolute silence and it creates a very intense eerie atmosphere. The film also gives you real insight into the way that the British army worked back then. Unsurpassed.

The award for Movie with the Best Sex Scene goes to ... (drum roll)
"Atonement" (2007). This is one of my all-time favourite movies - and yes, it does have a stunning sex scene. But that's not all, it's just a great movie all round. As the title suggests, the story is about coming to terms with a wrong one has done, which has had terrible repercussions on the lives of those involved. The movie was directed by one of my favourite directors, Joe Wright, who also did "The Soloist" (which came out this year and deserves an Oscar too for its portrayal of the mentally ill and homeless in LA.) Passionate.

The award for Best Movie that Proves Tom Cruise isn't just a Top Gun goes to ... (drum roll)
"Born on the 4th of July" (1989). I'll admit it - I was one of those who thought Tom Cruise had nothing in him but a top gun, until I saw this movie. I was amazed to see him carry off a moving portrayal of the Vietnam War veteran who was paralysed from fighting in the war. I always knew the veteran hospitals were bad, but nothing could have prepared me for what the movie shows. It's a scandal: sell them the patriot religion and then leave them to rot. Perhaps the thing that moved me most was the symbolism of it all: there was Tom Cruise, one of the real success stories of the American Dream, portraying a man who is mostly a loser in that dream (despite his sacrifices for it, and the charade of hailing him a hero). Intensely human.

The award for Best Movie Depicting Muslim North Africa goes to ... (drum roll)
"The Sheltering Sky" (1990). If you see it, you'll never forget it. Roger Ebert summed it up: it's about "American intellectuals confronted by an immensity of experience they cannot read or understand." The cinematography is extraordinary. Tiny villages of mud houses, initially indistinguishable, appear gradually out of the dust as the camera zooms in. The movie loses you in this vast, North African moonscape, with one of the main characters who finds herself alone and disorientated in the middle of it after her husband dies of typhoid. She winds up in a harem, locked up in a little hut! Out of this world.

The award for Best Romance goes to ... (drum roll)
"Brokeback Mountain" (2005). It was a scandal that this movie didn't win Best Picture at the Oscars, ahead of Crash. What on earth got into those judges? Do I need to tell anyone how wonderful this movie is? New Zealand is a farming country and I felt some affinity to the culture that was depicted. I used to go to rodeos with my family when I was a child, amazingly. The culture is a prison in that it has narrow socially constructed gender roles, for women as well as men, and offers no more than an empty existence. A serious problem for anyone with genuine feeling or depth. A real love story.

The award for Best Movie Depicting Spiritual Themes goes to ... (drum roll)
"As it is in Heaven" (2005). A Swedish movie with English subtitles. In the movie, a conductor teaches a local choir how to sing together. He begins by teaching them that singing is all about listening; that is, listening to the music that already exists and then drawing it down. This process of drawing down the music is like the one we need to focus on in order to enrich our spiritual lives. Uplifting.

The award for Best Holocaust Movie goes to ... (drum roll)
"The Pianist" (2002). This movie shows you what it was like to be Jewish and living in Warsaw when the Nazis took over. You feel the humiliation of having to wear arm bands, and having to walk in gutters because you're not allowed on the footpath. You wonder what they'll do next. Then the Nazis force all the Jews to live in one area, which they separate off with high brick walls (reminiscent of the wall the Israelis use to keep the Palestinians in) and the people can't get out. They starve. The movie is the miraculous tale of survival of the Polish pianist, Władysław Szpilman. The climax is when the German officer, right at the end, goes out of his way to bring him food and gives him his coat to keep him warm. Providential.

The award for Fabulous Arthouse Movie Mistakenly put out by Warner Brothers goes to ... (drum roll)
"The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford" (2007). Here we go again - I didn't go to this movie because I couldn't decide if it was just another Western. And the title! What was a girl to make of that? But I was aware that critics seemed to like it, although some said it was too long. I bought the DVD and was astounded. It's an intimate psychological analysis of the Jesse James gang set in an Andrew Wyeth painting. A literary masterpiece.

Finally, the prestigious award for Best Picture goes to ... (drum roll)
"Fateless" (2005). This is the standout movie, in my view. It's head and shoulders above them all. It's the true story of a young Hungarian boy who was sent to concentration camps at Auschwitz, Buchenwald, and Zeitz. If you ever really wanted to know what it was like to be in a concentration camp, then this is the movie for you. This movie rearranges your head. You'll never see simple things like carrot soup in the same way again, and you'll never ever think you know what it means to be cold, or what it means to be tired. The only reason I saw it was because it happened to screen here on Maori Television, which is like a public broadcaster and shows movies you don't see on the mainstream channels. I wasn't going to watch it, thinking 'yet another depressing holocaust movie', but I'm really glad I did. I sat the whole time with my teeth clenched. You know, I never understood why people made horror movies - I hate them. If you want to see a horror movie, watch this one. Overwhelming.

Special award

The special award for Best Movie Critic goes to ... (drum roll)
New Zealand movie reviewer, Simon Morris. He does a weekly 30-minute slot called "At the Movies" on Radio New Zealand National. Once a programme has aired, it goes up as a podcast on the web site. So you can listen to Simon as well. I like him because he often sees things the way I do, such as this on Quentin Tarentino: "Quentin Tarentino may be a smart postmodern pop artist with an encyclopedic knowledge of every rotten film ever made, but at heart he remains the emotionally stunted adolescent he's always been." This is found in Simon's programme dated 26 August 2009, in which he reviews Tarentino's "Inglourious Basterds". Go Simon!

The embodiment of deeds

I wrote last time about my new understanding that our deeds, thoughts and words create a spiritual reality and that that reality takes a form in the spiritual world, such as the form of a woman or houri. For me, I like to think of my houri as a garden, because gardens are things that you nurture (or neglect) and, over time, they develop and become fruitful (or wither and languish) and, in this way, are an everlasting source of sustenance. In this way, I now understand Baha'u'llah saying that: "The essence of wealth is love for Me; whoso loveth Me is the possessor of all things, and he that loveth Me not is indeed of the poor and needy." (Tablets p 156)
But I want to address another question about how this system works: what does it mean to say that our deeds take a form, or reflect an image, in the spiritual world? In finding an answer to this question, I discovered that the issue is at the heart of a great deal of Islamic mysticism. My quest has taken me back to Henri Corbin and his writing about the spiritual realm in which these spiritual images appear (for example, in his book "Spiritual body and celestial earth"). I always knew Corbin was famous for his writings on this subject among those interested in Sufism, but I've only just discovered why, as a Baha'i concerned with Baha'i theology and Baha'i mysticism, what Corbin has to say is important for me. In other words, how do I see what Corbin discusses as being related to what Baha'u'llah has to say? Finding that there is a connection has been quite a discovery for me because I've found that, in general, what Baha'u'llah says about mysticism sweeps away the Islamic take on it. That's because Baha'u'llah's revelation brings a fresh meaning to the term 'mysticism', as he explains in Tablet of the Son:

"For if God speaks a word today that comes to be on the lips of all the people, before and after, that word will be new, if you only think about it. Consider the word, "monotheism," about which all the manifestations of the Eternal Truth have spoken in each dispensation, and which all the adherents of the various religions have asserted. Nevertheless, in each dispensation it is an innovation, and its novel character can never be withdrawn from it. God breathes into each word he speaks a new spirit, and the breezes of life from that word waft upon all things outwardly and inwardly." Tablet of the Son, para 9

And this principle applies to the word 'mysticism' too. It is an innovation in the Baha'i revelation.
But I digress. The question is: what does it mean to say that our deeds take a form, or reflect an image, in the spiritual world? For much of the time I have been interested in mysticism - about 15 years - I had never read anything from Baha'u'llah that gave an explanation of images of ourselves appearing in the spiritual realm. The problem was a lack of English translations, I was given to believe. But about three years ago, by the grace of God, a fellow called Mehran Ghasempour was inspired to translate "Tablet of the Right of the People" (Lawh-i Haqqu'n Nas). I thank the Lord for raising him up to do this work, for it has helped me hugely to move forward in my understanding of mysticism.
The tablet came about because someone asked Baha'u'llah the following question: if person A wrongs person B and one person, or both, dies before the wrong is righted, how does God settle the matter in the next world? This is a problem because, as we witness, the world in which the wrong was done - that is, the physical world and its characteristics - ceases to exist for us when we die and, therefore, the means by which the matter could be settled disappears also. Added to this is the following principle: that God has undertaken to settle all matters relating to rights that exist between people. So if someone is wronged, the wrong is guaranteed to be righted by God. God may forgive a wrong done to himself but will settle justly a wrong done to a person. How then is this promise fulfilled in the next world if one or other person dies and the matter cannot be settled in the physical world?
In order to answer this question, Baha'u'llah has to explain how our deeds can 'exist' in the next world so that they can be sorted out; that is, so that right ones are rewarded and evil ones are punished. This takes him into exactly the territory I needed him to go for me to understand how our deeds take on a spiritual form in the spiritual world. Over four short paragraphs, Baha'u'llah gives a basic outline of how it works. The rest of the tablet is taken up with examples to flesh the argument out. For now, I'll deal with what Baha'u'llah says in those four paragraphs. Please bear in mind that the translation has been done by someone for whom English is a second language, so there is some awkward phrasing.

Paragraph 1: "Thus I express to thee that what thou hast seen and heard in this mortal world of limitations, by any name and character and by any form or descriptive attribute, in every one of divine worlds is manifested and witnessed in a manner suitable and proper to each world, which shineth forth and revealeth itself by another name, character, form and descriptive attribute."

This paragraph seems to outline a basic principle, which I'll call the central principle. The central principle states that everything we see and hear in this physical world, no matter what its name, form, character or attributes, has a corresponding name, form, character and set of attributes in every one of the divine worlds; and the features of that thing in the divine worlds is determined by the conditions of those worlds - hence a thing appears in a manner that is suitable and proper to each world. I assume that this principle does not just apply to what we see and hear but to what we experience in this world via all our senses.

What this means - and this is where Corbin comes in in a big way - is that everything we experience takes on a spiritual form or image in each of the worlds of God. I can't overstate how important this principle is - all of mysticism seems to rest on it. I'm just looking now at my garden, and wondering what image it takes in the other worlds of God. Pondering this principle over the last few days caused me to think about the Kitab-i Iqan again. I can see now that all through that book Baha'u'llah is showing us how to look at the participants in religious history - the religious leaders, the prophets, the masses, the martyrs - in symbolic terms. And he teaches us to read some symbols, such as the sun, moon and stars. One could write a whole book on that subject.
In the examples Baha'u'llah gives further on in the tablet to illustrate this principle, he explains that the world of sleep is very like - is the 'brother' of - the world of death - by which, I understand him to mean the world we pass on to when we die. A little further on, he gives the example of the famous dream that Joseph had that illustrated what would happen to him in the future. "Lo! I saw eleven stars and the sun and the moon - I saw them prostrating themselves unto me." (Qur'an 12:4) This dream uses the symbols of the stars, sun and moon, which correspond to Joseph's 11 brothers (the stars), and his father and mother (the sun and moon). Baha'u'llah asks his reader to ponder what is the world in which family members appear as sun, moon and stars, and conversely, what is the world in which sun, moon and stars appear as family members? There is one thing we can say about the world of the sun, moon and stars: it is real; it isn't a product of the chemicals in our brain or a function of our imagination. It is a spiritual reality. (I think this must be the reason that fiction and movies are so popular, because they create a world of images, something we all consiously or unconsciously can relate to - I guess this would be true of all art.)
Corbin famously says we use our "Active (or Creative) Imagination" (that is, Imagination with a capital 'I') to 'see' these images in the spiritual realm - what he calls the 'Imaginal realm'. He gives the word 'imagination' a capital 'I' in order to distinguish it from what we usually mean by the word 'imagination', which is a world of illusion. When I was thinking about this the other day, I was suddenly reminded about this from a hidden word: "Never shall mortal eye recognize the everlasting beauty…" (PHW 10) In other words, to link into the Imaginal realm, on which one will see the 'beauty' of Baha'u'llah, one cannot do so by using one's physical eyes. We have to learn to use the Active Imagination that Corbin talks about in order to see the spiritual image and know how to interpret it.
In paragraph 2 (of the 4 paragraphs I mentioned above), Baha'u'llah says: "This death that thou hast heard of in the world, referreth to the outward appearance and the garment, and not to the truth and the inner essence. Certainly the realities of things, through different appearances and various manifestations, truth after truth, shine forth and reveal themselves in every world. The sages of mature wisdom who have drunk from the mystic choice wine - God requite them - have believed in the embodiment of deeds."
Expanding on the central principle, Baha'u'llah goes on to explain that, when we die, our outer garment dies but not our inner essence and "truth". The realities things - presumably, our essence and truth, plus the reality of our deeds and so forth - appear in each world of God in the form appropriate to them. Then he says that wise people have always believed that our deeds are 'embodied'; that is, they take on a body or form in each of the spiritual worlds. This paragraph seems to take the central principle beyond its initial boundaries; that is, it is not just what we experience via our senses that is embodied in the spiritual realm but also ourselves as a person, for we are a 'thing' in the world, and our deeds, which reflect how we interact with other things in the world. I would argue that the principle also applies to our words and thoughts, which is why it is important that we keep our thoughts pure.
In paragraph 3, Baha'u'llah confirms that each of us is judged according to our deeds: "The All-Glorious saith: 'God will reward them for their attributions!'. The Dawning-Place of revelation, the All-Merciful, hath said that people are recompensed according to their deeds; reward for good and punishment for evil." And in paragraph 4, Baha'u'llah brings his argument together, explaining that our deeds do indeed go with us into the spiritual world so that God can recompense each person according to their deeds.

"Thus it becometh evident that a deed will remain and every attribute will exist until recompense is given according to the deed and attribute itself. Therefore, any deed and any attribute that appeareth from any person hath a form in every world and unveileth itself "that God may reward every soul what he hath earned; verily, God is swift in reckoning."

Here, the central principle seems to be extended again to hold that 'any attribute' from a person is embodied in the spiritual world. This then would include inner things such as aspirations, loves, hates, goals, desires and so on.
Further on in the tablet, Baha'u'llah explains how this process of recompensing people according to their deeds can also take place in the physical world. In a karmic way, things can happen to us as a direct spiritual consequence of our deeds. The example Baha'u'llah gives of this is interesting. He says that, for example, a person may lose their wealth, but this might be an act of kindness on the part of the Lord because wealth is "the garment of fate and afflictions". Moreover, if a robber steals your money, then the only thing the robber has achieved, from a spiritual point of view, is to load themselves up with fate and afflictions. Hence, the recompense for the deed for the robber is hidden in the deed itself.