Me and the Prophet

“Twice I had the honour of being present in His room during the revelation of the Holy Verses. No one was there except His secretary... On these two precious occasions... as Bahá’u’lláh paced the room and chanted verses, I could gaze upon Him and contemplate His luminous face, and behold the vision of the majesty of God and His divine Kingdom. This was indeed a great blessing. As He revealed the verses of God, His face was radiant. Sometimes, He would gesture with His hands while He looked through the window onto the sea.

The verses were revealed sometimes in a melodious voice, and sometimes with majesty and power— depending on the content of the revealed words. For instance, when the subject was prayer, a heavenly melody was heard; while admonitions and words of warning were uttered with the power of the Lord of lords!

Bahá’u’lláh Himself tells us that day and night the verses descended like torrential rain. From this, whoever is mindful will ask: What can He mean, that the verses descended like torrential rain? This means, without thought... without deliberation. At the highest possible speed, without any premeditation, these utterances would be revealed.

This is the first attribute of the holy Manifestations... As the Blessed Beauty [Baha’u’llah] says: ‘This thing is not from Me, but from One Who is Almighty and All-Knowing.’”

Outrageous, right? It’s like someone was there when the Buddha was revealing wisdom to his followers under the Bodhi tree, Muhammad was dictating the Quran or Jesus giving the ‘Sermon on the Mount.’ For me, a member of the Baha’i Faith, for one who believes that the words and revelation of Baha’u’llah were divinely bestowed, this recollection feels incredibly profound.

My father tells the story about one especially patchouli-soaked fellow with dirty blonde tresses and bare feet who sat on the floor. This young hippie was a regular at this and other local spiritual events. When it came time for questions, he raised his hand and asked Mr. Samandari a question.

“Hey maaan, I’m just wondering, what will the world be like in the future?” He listened with his usual gentle deference. Then, Mr. “Ornament- of-God-Phoenix,” beamed at him radiantly and held out his hands in front of him, together, palms down. “Today,” he said, “the world is like this.”

He then turned his hands over, palms up, open to the ceiling. “Tomorrow? It will be like this.”

The room went silent. The attendees drank in the simplicity and profundity of that statement.

Now, I’m sure you’re asking yourself at this point. “Wait a minute here. I thought he was holding you, a bulbous baby, while he spoke. How did he do the thing with the hands without dropping your enormity on the floor?”

Good question, stalwart listener. I have no idea. I might have been in my mother’s arms or put away in a crib at that point. I was probably dreaming of milk and kittens and moonlight in a blissful infantile sleep, unaware of the spiritual conversation around me.

Mr. Samandari passed away less than a year after speaking in our home. He died very near the Baha’i Holy Land in Acco, Israel, a few mere miles away from where he had spent time with Baha’u’llah as a youth.

Oh, and that patchouli-soaked dude with the bare feet who asked the question? Apparently, he became a devoted Baha’i for the rest of his life.

We’re no longer in those crazy, revolutionary, spirituality-fueled “hippie” days. The times are quite different but I honestly believe today, more than even the late sixties, we are in need of a transformation of the world from one of distrust and greed to one of peace and cooperation. It’s true “The Who” sang “We Won’t Get Fooled Again” in response to the hypocrisies of the counter- culture—and we won’t. True change needs to come not through drugs, “hug ins” and generalities about love. We need a plan and some hard, specific work.

Baha’u’llah’s birth two hundred years ago means many things to me. His writings have helped me on my journey from giant infant to slightly overweight middle-aged man—a journey that has been fraught with much pain and difficulty, as all of our journeys have. The Baha'i writings have given me solace as well as purpose.

I’m honored to witness my fellow Baha’is all around the globe, humble people of every race and class, working for unity and love and fighting for the rights of the downtrodden—helping the palms of humankind turn from down to up. The meek actually inheriting the Earth. I am, most of all, honored to have been the fat baby on the tiny lap of that gentle man, Samandari, who spent time with Baha’u’llah, the Glory of God.