ayyam-i-ha and the fasting season

It’s a busy time of year for Bahá’ís, no matter where they are. The joyous festival of Ayyam-i-Há is taking place, a festival of fellowship, generosity, and hospitality. The Bahá’ís in Da Nang have been busy with a campaign of home visits to elderly members of the community. Tonight, Quynh, Kiên and I gathered together with them at a fun musical celebration, and tomorrow we’ll be doing some visits of our own in our neighbourhood, and cutting out some Ayyam-i-Há decorations with some of the local kids.

dawn of a new dayTomorrow evening comes the Feast of Loftiness, which kicks off the 19-day-long Bahá’í Fast, during which Bahá’ís from the ages of 15 to 70 years abstain from eating or drinking from sunrise ’til sunset. The Fast comes to an end with the celebration of Naw-Rúz on March 21st. Falling on the spring equinox, Naw-rúz is a celebration of revival, renewal, and springtime, in both the physical and spiritual senses. Fasting is a period of preparation for this springtime, during which we not only fast physically, but pay special attention to our spiritual life as well, in order to come into a new year with our souls refreshed and strengthened.

Interested in finding sunrise and sunset times for the Bahá’í Fast? Check out the list of Bahá’í Fasting Times for 2014, complete with links to Fasting calendars for major Canadian cities and selected cities worldwide, and a ready-made chart for Ottawa (for the folks back home).

rear this little babe

Quote

Please help us welcome baby Kiên to the physical world!
A wonderful journey awaits…
kiên

O God! Rear this little babe in the bosom of Thy love, and give it milk from the breast of Thy Providence. Cultivate this fresh plant in the rose garden of Thy love and aid it to grow through the showers of Thy bounty. Make it a child of the kingdom, and lead it to Thy heavenly realm. Thou art powerful and kind, and Thou art the Bestower, the Generous, the Lord of surpassing bounty.

‘Abdu’l-Bahá

dear kiên

ultrasound picture of a beautiful babyMẹ Quỳnh wants me to write you a few words to let you know how things were before you were born.

We saw you for the first time when we were in Da Nang, Vietnam. That’s where your mom was born, so it’s a special place for all of us. One of your uncles is a doctor who helps parents see babies before they’re born, and he helped us see you. You were small, but you jumped and moved around a lot. So we gave you a nickname, Tôm nhảy—or just Tôm for short. From the first time we saw you, we loved you. The first time we prayed for you, we cried—not because we were sad, but because we were so happy you were there. We felt as though God had given us a very precious gift: the gift of your presence.

As you grew up inside your mom’s womb, you took up more and more space, and her belly got bigger and bigger. We were so happy, because we knew someone we loved—that’s you—was in there. You were nice, snug and warm inside her womb, even when it was cool outside. We could feel you when you kicked your mom’s belly. You may not remember all the kicking you did, but you did it a lot. You kicked when you were hungry, when you didn’t have enough space, and at other times. Your mom says you tickled her sometimes.

Soon after you began to grow in your mom’s womb, we met a wonderful lady, a midwife. That’s someone who helps babies be born into the world outside the womb. She was very helpful and loving, and she helped us listen to your heartbeat. It gave us so much joy to hear your beating heart. The midwife introduced us to a friend who helped us see you again, only this time you were much bigger. You still moved around a lot, and you looked like you were folded in two, with your feet near your head—like you were doing yoga.

We prayed for you every night, asking God to help you grow up well. You often kicked when we said prayers, so we knew you were paying attention. Every day we would talk to you, and play music for you to listen to. Sometimes we would sing prayers to you, too. They say that music helps babies to grow well and uplifts their souls. Someday, when you grow up, I hope you sing for your children in the same way, so that they grow up well. Your family living far away would call us up every day to hear how you were doing, and they prayed for you too. In fact, there were many people who prayed for you before you were born—people living in many different places, near and far. With all their hearts they asked God to fill your life with blessings, happiness and love.

As time passed and you grew bigger, we prepared the way for you to be born into the big, bright world outside the womb. We learned all about how to take care of you, feed you, wash you and clothe you. It was a lot of work for us, but we trusted that God would help us take care of you and provide everything you would need. We moved into a cozy apartment surrounded with big old trees and a lovely pond. Lots of friends and family helped us get everything ready for you, because they love us, and they love you too. Just like us, they want you to be happy, healthy and comfortable as you take your first steps into this big world.

Soon it’ll be time for us to meet you and introduce you to this beautiful world. We’re looking forward to it so much: seeing your first smile, your first steps, your first words. You will have developed everything you need for this world in the womb, and in this new world you will develop everything you need for the next one. And we will pray together with you every day, just as we did before you were born.

to a thought of hatred, thoughts of love

I charge you all that each one of you concentrate all the thoughts of your heart on love and unity. When a thought of war comes, oppose it by a stronger thought of peace. A thought of hatred must be destroyed by a more powerful thought of love. Thoughts of war bring destruction to all harmony, well-being, restfulness and content. Thoughts of love are constructive of brotherhood, peace, friendship, and happiness.

‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Paris Talks, p.29

Like many people, we live in a residential area, where many people commute to work, whether by car, bus, or bicycle. The other day at noon, a neighbour’s car alarm went off. It seemed the owner was away, because it kept on going—honking for several minutes at a time, then pausing for a minute or two before starting up again. It was still going when I got home, in the late afternoon. Quynh met me outside and told me she had gone to look at the car, and that she’d seen a bunch of handwritten notes stuck on the car’s windshield, with dark, angry messages—insulting and cursing the car’s owner, calling them the worst neighbour in the world, and worse. She didn’t like the noise at all—it gave her a headache—but she also felt bad for the car’s owner, who obviously was away and would have had no idea what was happening. How could people leave such terrible notes?

lined up in the parking lotWe talked about how stress and anger can lead people to lash out against others and to lay blame. Along the way, we met some of the children and youth who live in the neighbourhood, and we continued the conversation with them. Some of them felt annoyed, saying they couldn’t stand the noise any more. We asked them if they had seen the notes that had been left behind. They had. Some of them agreed with the sentiments that were written. But the owner was obviously away, another one said. How would it be fair if we blamed someone for something that was completely out of their control? And how would we feel if we were in the same situation, and we came home from a hard day at work to a windshield full of angry notes calling us names? Terrible, that’s how, and full of despair. Several heads nodded in agreement.

“So what can we do to change the situation?” Quynh asked. It didn’t take long for one of the children to find an answer: replace all the nasty notes with a nice note. The children brainstormed a message together, settling on “Sorry about all the bad notes, tomorrow will be a better day.” After writing it out in black marker on a sheet of paper and decorating it with hearts, stars, and peace signs, they took it and walked together towards the now-silent car. When they got there, they noticed that all the nasty notes had already been removed, so they simply left their positive note under the windshield wiper. All of a sudden, one of the neighbours stepped out of her house, looking exhausted. “So sorry about all the noise,” she said. It was her car. She had just arrived, seen the notes, and disabled the alarm. She looked around at the children, who apologized—as members of the neighbourhood—for all the notes people had left, pointing out the more positive note they had left on her windshield. Her face brightened immediately, as if a veil of misery had been lifted.

It turned out that she had taken her bicycle to work that day to save on gas. She worked across the river in Quebec, so it was a long ride. Late in the afternoon, she explained, she suddenly received a call—from the Ottawa police, who had received a complaint about her car alarm, which had been going off for hours. Nobody could tell what had happened—it might have been an electrical fault that set off the alarm, or a cat, or an actual burglar—but they advised her to come home as soon as possible to shut it off. Shocked, she biked home as fast as she could, only to find all the angry messages littering her windshield. She had just finished getting rid of the notes when the children came to leave one of their own. She thanked them sincerely for their kindness, and the children wished her a pleasant evening—reminding her that tomorrow would be a better day. When we walked back home after meeting, we assured the children that their action had restored hope to that neighbour’s heart.

Whatever happens in life, we always have a choice of how to respond. These choices we make determine whether we will create hatred or love, war or peace, despair or hope. When we create love, peace and hope in our families and in our neighbourhoods, it grows and trickles upwards through our cities, our regions, our nations and our world—that’s why we say world peace starts with us, inside of us. It makes our lives—and the lives of those around us—lighter, brighter, more livable.

ces anges du grand rassemblement

C’est aujourd’hui que commence une grande conférence à Montréal, regroupant des jeunes d’à travers le Québec, le Nunavut, et les provinces maritimes du Canada, “qui aspirent à se défaire de la léthargie que la société leur impose et à travailler côte à côte dans leurs quartiers et leurs villages pour commencer un processus de transformation collective”. Rappellant mes jours de service au Québec, et inspiré par le zèle et l’enthousiasme de la génération présente, j’ai composé quelques versets en leur éloge.

photo de groupe (ti-groupe)Ces jeunes qui quittent leurs foyers,
se rassemblant, se dispersant
tout comme autant d’aigrettes au vent,
parsèment de vie les prés d’été.

Se mêlant parmi leurs compères,
ils soufflent en eux la brise de foi,
et fracassant les chaînes du moi,
s’occupent à récréer la terre.

Voyez comment leur danse est belle!
Ces âmes célestes, esprits de bien,
reserrent les nœuds, renouent les liens,
en répondant au grand appel.

“Voilà des anges,” l’on dira d’eux :
bien qu’issus de lignée mortelle,
mais bénis d’une force spirituelle
propre aux habitants des cieux.

© 2013 Daniel Jones.