Antigua:  Two stories from 1979

By Chris Cholas

           

Don’t believe in no Bahá’u’lláh!  On my first trip to the Caribbean in 1979, I went teaching with another travel teacher, Mel Allen Silva, and we were in a small village explaining the Faith using a teaching album.  Our hearer was a woman, who showed keen interest as we stood in front of her home. 

          The Bahá'ís in Antigua had been running a weekly TV series about the Faith, and most people whom we met, such as this woman, were eager to learn something firsthand about Bahá'u'lláh and His Teachings.

          Halfway through our presentation, however, another woman came walking down a path shouting, "Don't worship no Bahá'u'lláh! Don't believe in no Bahá'u'lláh!"

          Of course, we halted our presentation with this boisterous interruption and the three of us watched the agitated intruder, who continued to shout, "Don't believe in no Bahá'u'lláh!" walk to where we stood.  Her remarks were meant as a warning to the lady to whom we were speaking.  As the heckler approached us, she looked at her fellow Antiguan sternly and then to us, "I worship only the one God Almighty! I don't worship no man named Bahá'u'lláh."

          We asked her why she thought that Bahá'ís worshipped a man and she remarked, "The pastor in my church told us that the Bahá'ís worshipped a man named Bahá'u'lláh, and we should beware of them."

          We asked her if she had ever seen a prayer revealed by Bahá'u'lláh and she answered, "No."

          Opening the teaching album to the last page which had the midday obligatory prayer, we gently explained to her, "Here's a prayer that Bahá'u'lláh told us to recite every day so that we never forget God.  Would you like to see it?" 

          The curious agitator couldn't resist and came closer, her lips already mouthing the beautiful words, "I bear witness, O my God, that Thou hast created me to know Thee and to worship Thee..."  After she finished reading the prayer, the lady paused in deep reflection for a moment.  Then, her face changed from anger to humility and with an assertive sense of righteousness she told us, "I'm sorry.  I didn't know what the Bahá'ís believed.  I was only following what the pastor said, and he wasn't telling us the truth."  The lady became our friend, as did the other receptive woman. 

          That moment demonstrated to me the power Bahá'u'lláh's Words have to change a heart. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Can I speak with you about a problem?  On the same trip to Antigua, we stayed in the home of a wonderful believer named Mrs. Francis.  She noted that there were a number of Bahá’ís living in her area (on the south side of Antigua), including a fairly new young believer below Mrs. Francis’ house who lived with her parents. Her father was a fisherman, Mrs. Francis informed me. She pointed out some of the homes and suggested that while I was in the area I might get a chance to visit some of the friends. 

Later that day, I decided to take a walk (I used crutches and braces then), and before I had walked very far, a man coming from the house below where the fairly new Bahá’í youth lived, approached me with a greeting and asked,

“Are you a guest at Miss Francis’s home?

“Yes,” I replied.

“So I assume you are a Bahá’í?” he inquired.

“Yes, I am,” I answered.

Then in a most somber tone of voice, he asked,

 “Can I speak with you about a problem?” 

          I could feel my neck tighten up as I looked into the serious lines on his face. My first thought was, “Oh no, he’s got a gripe about some Baha’i’s misconduct.”  I didn’t really want to discuss a personal problem, or hear any backbiting, but the man seemed very intent on presenting his problem to me, so I told him, “Of course.”

          The man paused and looked toward his feet, carefully choosing his words.  Then he looked straight into my face,

          “What can we do,” he asked deliberately in complete seriousness, “to help the persecuted Bahá’ís in Iran?”

          Wow!  I hadn’t expected that!  A simple fisherman living on this small island of the Caribbean, and who is not a Bahá’í himself, concerned about how he could help the Bahá’ís in Iran!  Suddenly it became clear that the gravity on the man’s face that I mistook for anger was actually sincere concern immersed in a humility I seldom came across in my homeland.  I don’t recall how I responded, but the impact of that man’s question has stayed with me throughout the years.