Stories from various sources including:
- Teaching Children’s Classes (The Ruhi Institute),
- Portals to Freedom (Howard Colby Ives),
- ‘Abdu’l-Bahá in Their Midst (Earl Redman), and
- The Flame: the Story of Lua (William Sears & Robert Quigley).
Light
As we drove up Broadway, glittering with its electric signs, He spoke of them smiling, apparently much amused. Then he told us that Bahá’u’lláh had loved light. “He could never get enough light. He taught us,” ‘Abdu’l-Bahá said, “to economize in everything else but to use light freely.”
Juliet Thompson’s Diary, April 19, 1912
Generosity
One day, Bahá’u’lláh sent ‘Abdu’l-Bahá to inspect the work of the shepherds who were taking care of His sheep. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá was a small child at the time, and the persecutions against Bahá’u’lláh and His family had not yet started. Bahá’u’lláh then had a good deal of land in the mountains and owned large flocks of sheep.
When the inspection was finished and ‘Abdu’l-Bahá was ready to leave, the man who had accompanied Him said, “It is your father’s custom to leave a gift for each shepherd.” ‘Abdu’l-Bahá became silent for a while, because He did not have anything to give them. The man, however, insisted that the shepherds were expecting something.
Then ‘Abdu’l-Bahá had an idea: He would give the shepherds a few sheep from the very flock they were tending.
Bahá’u’lláh was greatly pleased when He heard about ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s generous thoughts towards the shepherds. He humorously remarked that everyone had better take good care of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá because someday He would give Himself away. Of course, this is exactly what ‘Abdu’l-Bahá did for the rest of His life. He gave everything He had, each and every moment of His life, to humanity, to unite us and bring us true happiness.
A Pure Heart
‘Abdu’l-Bahá could always tell what was in a person’s heart, and He greatly loved people whose hearts were pure and radiant. There was a lady who had the honor of being the guest of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá at dinner. As she sat listening to His words of wisdom, she looked at a glass of water in front of her and thought, “Oh! If only ‘Abdu’l-Bahá would take my heart and empty it of every earthly desire and then refill it with Divine love and understanding, just as you would do with this glass of water.
This thought passed through her mind quickly, and she did not say anything about it, but soon something happened that made her realize ‘Abdu’l-Bahá had known what she was thinking. While He was in the middle of His talk, He paused to call a servant and said a few words to him in Persian. The servant quietly came to the lady’s place at the table, took her glass, emptied it, and put it back in front of her.
A little later, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, while continuing to talk, picked up a pitcher of water from the table, and in a most natural way, slowly filled the lady’s empty glass. No one noticed what happened, but the lady knew that ‘Abdu’l-Bahá was answering her heart’s desire. She was filled with joy. Now she knew that hearts were like open books to ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, who read them with great love and kindliness.
Love
While `Abdu’l-Bahá was a prisoner in `Akká, there was a man in that city who behaved very badly towards the Bahá’ís. He thought that `Abdu’l-Bahá was not a good man and that God did not care how badly the Bahá’ís were treated. In fact, he believed that he was showing love for God by showing hatred to the Bahá’ís. He hated `Abdu’l-Bahá with all his heart. That hate grew and festered inside him, sometimes spilling out of him the way water spills out of a broken pot.
In the mosque, when people came to pray, this man would cry out against `Abdu’l-Bahá and say terrible things about Him. When he passed `Abdu’l-Bahá on the street, he would cover his face with his robe so that he would not see Him. Now, this man was very poor and had neither enough to eat nor warm clothes to wear. What do you think `Abdu’l-Bahá did about him? He showed him kindness, sent him food and clothes, and made sure he was being taken care of. For example, once when this man became very ill, `Abdu’l-Bahá sent him a doctor, paid for his medicine and food, and also gave him some money. He accepted the gifts from `Abdu’l-Bahá, but did not thank Him. In fact, this ignorant man held out one hand to the doctor to take his pulse, and with the other hand, covered his face so that he would not have to look upon the countenance of `Abdu’l-Bahá. And so it went for many long years. And then, one day, the man’s heart finally changed. He came to `Abdu’l-Bahá’s house, fell at His feet and with a very heavy heart and tears flowing down his face like twin rivers, cried, “Forgive me, Sir! For twenty-four years I have done evil to You. For twenty-four years You have shown only goodness to me. Now I know that I have been wrong. Please forgive me!” Thus did the great love of `Abdu’l-Bahá triumph over hatred.
Hopefulness
There was once a man with no home, who lived alone on the banks of the River Thames in London. He was very sad and had lost all hope for happiness in life. One day, he walked past a shop and a photograph in a newspaper caught his eye. It was the face of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. The man stood frozen, staring at the face. He had never seen ‘Abdu’l-Bahá before and did not know who He was, but he was certain that he must meet Him. The address of a house was given in the newspaper, so the man started walking, hoping to find Him there. It was a very long distance—thirty miles—but he kept walking until he reached the house. The man was tired and hungry when at last he arrived, and the lady of the house kindly invited him in, gave him some food, and let him rest for a while. As he rested, he told his story to the woman and then asked her whether ‘Abdu’l-Bahá was there. “Will He see me?” he asked. “Even me?”
Just as the woman replied that she was certain ‘Abdu’l-Bahá would see him, the Master Himself appeared at the door. The man stood up, and ‘Abdu’l-Bahá stretched out His arms to greet him. It was as though the man was an old friend whom ‘Abdu’l-Bahá had long been expecting. He welcomed him with love and compassion and asked him to sit down next to Him. Then ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, who always knew how to bring lost joy back into people’s hearts, began to speak to the man. He encouraged him to let go of his sadness, reminding him that he was rich in the Kingdom of God! As ‘Abdu’l-Bahá showered the man with compassion, His comforting words began to heal his heart and give him strength. Little by little his sadness drifted away. Before he departed, the man told ‘Abdu’l-Bahá that he would not let his poverty bring him sadness anymore; instead he would find work in the fields and save his money so that he could buy a bit of land, on which he would grow violets to sell in the market. His despair had been changed into hope.
Learning How to Pray
During His travels in America, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá once accepted to teach a very devoted Bahá’i how to pray. He told him to come to His residence at daybreak the next day. The believer’s heart was filled with joy. He rose at dawn and rushed to the residence of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. When he entered the room of the Master, he found Him already in prayer. Realizing that he could not ask the Master any questions, he decided to do the same. So, he kneeled on the floor and began to pray. He prayed silently for his relatives, for his friends and for himself. When he finished, he looked up and saw that ‘Abdu’l-Bahá was still deep in prayer. So he decided to pray some more. He repeated all the prayers he knew over and over. Still there was no movement from ‘Abdu’l-Bahá.
Now, the believer noticed that one of his knees was beginning to ache and that his back was feeling uncomfortable. Next he heard the birds singing outside. Glancing around the room, he observed a large crack in the wall. Then he looked at the Master again, and all of a sudden, the expression on ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s face created in him a strong desire to pray. He forgot everything else. The only desire in his heart was to be close to God and to converse with Him. He began to pray in a way that he had never prayed before. The Master had taught him how to pray.
At that very moment, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá arose, approached him with a smile and said: “When you pray, you must not think of your aching body, nor of the birds outside the window, nor of the cracks in the wall! When you wish to pray you must first know that you are standing in the presence of the Almighty!”
Changing a Heart
In the days of Bahá’u’lláh and ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, many of the people of ‘Akká had been misled about the Bahá’ís and felt it was all right to be against them. But ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, with His great wisdom and love, changed the hearts of many of these people. He showed kindness to the people of all religions and helped them become united.
There was a Christian merchant in ‘Akká who, like his fellow citizens, did not respect the Bahá’ís. One day, outside the gates of the city the merchant saw a camel-load of charcoal that belonged to the Bahá’ís. He stopped the driver and said, “This is better charcoal than I can get!” Without paying any money, he took the charcoal for himself.
When ‘Abdu’l-Bahá heard of this incident he went to the merchant’s shop to ask for the return of the charcoal. The merchant did not pay Him any attention, but ‘Abdu’l-Bahá sat there and waited. Finally, after three hours, the merchant turned to Him and asked coldly, “Are you one of the prisoners? What have you done that you were imprisoned? ‘Abdu’l-Bahá replied that His crime was the same one for which Christ was persecuted. The merchant was surprised. “What do you know about Christ?” he asked. Then ‘Abdu’l-Bahá calmly and kindly began to talk to him about Christ and His teaching. As ‘Abdu’l-Bahá spoke, the merchant’s heart began to melt and his pride and arrogance disappeared. Finally he said to ‘Abdu’l-Bahá that unfortunately the charcoal was gone, but he would gladly pay for it. Then ‘Abdu’l-Bahá rose to go. The merchant also rose and walked with Him into the street, treating Him with great respect and honour.
To Serve God
Lua Getsinger, one of the early Bahá’is of America, tells of an experience she had in Akká. She had made the pilgrimage to the prison-city to see ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. One day He said to her that He was too busy today to call upon a friend of His who was very poor and sick. He wished Lua to go in His place. He told her to take food to the sick man and care for him as He had been doing.
Lua learned the address and immediately went to do as ‘Abdu’l-Bahá had asked. She felt proud that ‘Abdu’l-Bahá had trusted her with some of His own work. But soon she returned to ‘Abdu’l-Bahá in a state of excitement. “Master,” she exclaimed, “You sent me to a very terrible place! I almost fainted from the awful smell, the dirty rooms, the degrading condition of that man and his house. I left quickly before I could catch some terrible disease.”
Sadly and sternly, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá gazed at her. If she wanted to serve God, He told her, she would have to serve her fellow man, because in every person she should see the image and likeness of God. Then He told her to go back to the man’s house. If the house was dirty, she should clean it. If the man was dirty, she should bathe him. If he was hungry, she should feed him. He asked her not to come back until all of this was done. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá has done these things many times for this man, and he told Lua Getsinger that she should be able to do them once. This is how ‘Abdu’l-Bahá taught Lua to serve her fellow man.
To Serve Others
There once was a very proud man who did not understand the Station of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. One day, he approached the Master in the street and said, “So, You are called the Servant of God.” ‘Abdu’l-Bahá replied that, indeed, that was His name. The name ‘Abdu’l-Bahá means “Servant of Bahá” or Servant of God.
“Well,” said the man proudly, “I am Moses.” Now, the man was referring to the Prophet of God, Moses, and it was not really his name at all. Moses was one of the Messengers of God that came long before Bahá’u’lláh. The man was trying to annoy ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, but the Master did not respond to his jest. Instead, He told the man to meet Him the next morning at the same spot on the street, and they would go together and serve the people like the great Moses had done.
The man agreed, and the next day from morning to evening he accompanied the Master as He visited the sick and the suffering, served the needy and met with the people who were thirsty to receive His love and His wise counsel. By evening, the man who called himself Moses was extremely tired. Yet, he would not let go of his pride, and when ‘Abdu’l-Bahá asked him to accompany Him the next day, he accepted.
Again by the evening of the second day the man was exhausted, but he accepted to accompany ‘Abdu’l-Bahá for yet another day. On the third day when they returned from their arduous work, the man could not bear the thought of working so hard, not even for another minute. He had learned his lesson and had caught a glimpse of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s greatness. So as they went to part ways, and before ‘Abdu’l-Bahá could invite him for another day of work, the man said with great humility: “ ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, tomorrow morning I will no longer be Moses.”
Silence
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.
And when, under His encouraging sympathy, the interviewer became emptied of his words, there followed a brief interval of silence. There was no instant and complete outpouring of explanation and advice. He sometimes closed His eyes a moment as if He sought guidance from above himself; sometimes sat and searched the questioner’s soul with a loving, comprehending smile that melted the heart.
And when He finally spoke, and that modulated, resonant voice of music came, the words were so unexpected, often, so seemingly foreign to the subject, that the questioner was at first somewhat bewildered, but always, with me at least, this was followed by a calmness, an understanding which went much deeper than the mind.
Laughter
‘Abdu’l-Bahá spoke at length to the press representatives [in America], answering all their questions about peace, war, the rights of women, freedom of the press, education, true liberty and true religion.
‘Abdu’l-Bahá displayed wisdom, love and a sense of humour as He chatted with the press reporters in His stateroom. He recalled an incident from the previous winter when a young Christian was about to set off on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. The pilgrim was worried, feeling that he did not have the right spirit and sense of reverence.
“The proper spirit in which to visit places hallowed by remembrances of Christ,” ‘Abdu’l-Bahá told His young visitor, “is one of constant communion with God. Love for God will be the telegraph wire, one end of which is in the Kingdom of the Spirit, and the other in your heart.”
“I am afraid my telegraph wire is broken,” the would-be pilgrim complained.
“Then,” said ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, laughing heartily, “I told him: ‘You will have to use wireless telegraphy.”’
Humour
[‘Abdu’l-Bahá said]: “Strange indeed that after 20 years of training in colleges and universities man should reach such a station wherein he will deny the existence of the ideal or that which is not perceptible to the senses. Have you ever stopped to think that the animal already has graduated from such a university? Have you ever realized that the cow is already a professor emeritus of that university? For the cow without hard labor and study is already a philosopher of the superlative degree in the school of nature. The cow denies everything that is not tangible, saying, “I can see! I can eat! Therefore, I believe only in what is tangible!” Then why should we go to the colleges? Let us go to the cow.
Writing about this, Mahmud-Zarqáni commented, “When the Master uttered these words, everyone burst into laughter. This kind of humor, delivered in such a lighthearted manner, is popular and accepted by the Americans and so brought smiles and joy to the audience.” His assessment seems to have been correct, for Lua wrote to Agnes Parsons about this story: “We’re laughing yet!”
Humility
“‘Abdu’l-Bahá had expressed His wish regarding where He should be buried, …He had said to an early believer that if something should happen to Him and He should pass away, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá wanted to be buried under the sands between Haifa and Akká, which He described as the pathway trodden by the loved ones and the pilgrims.”
In a prayer composed by ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, recited by visitors to His resting place, He expresses this supplication to God: “Make me as dust in the pathway of Thy loved ones.” This idea in the prayer is one of the organizing principles of the design.
To See
Once ‘Abdu’l-Bahá was asked, “Why do all the guests who visit you come away with shining countenances?”
He said with a beautiful smile: “I cannot tell you, but in all those upon whom I look, I see only my Father’s Face.”