Work In Progress:  Battle Creek

We travel across the USA on a rainy day
We reach Battle Creek on the third of May.
Students on a journey to learn
About race and prejudice in our city streets.
Richmond, Virginia is where we plan to meet.
(Shhh! Keep it to yourself. Just call it Urban Studies instead.)

In Battle Creek we find Uncle John’s Pancake House
On Michigan 94 and we find out that
It’s rainy in Battle Creek and we are soaked.|
A day to dream and maybe, just maybe,
To find out what Max Weber really knew.

We sit, syrup raised to battle stations,
And wage our pogrom against stacks
Of buttermilk pancakes,
Unaware that corn flakes were born here.

Bellies full and caffeinated, too,
We find out that the Road to Find Out
Is a vast and endless venture of signs,
True and tall tales, and the story of Kellogg corn flakes.

Searching deeper we find Potawatomi and Ottawa
People gathered on the Coguagiack prairie.
Mending wounds from earlier attacks in 1774
To form a village in peace around the lake. 

Here on this Road to Find Out,
the US army saw a chance to gain ground
For eastern settlers to claim the fertile soil.
Holding up food supplies from the tribes,
A theft caused a serious wound and the Potawatomi
Lost their land.  Life is cruel to some;
Trust intruders and find out who’s the fool.

Then came the sawmill and a small log cabin school.
Then a factory to make bricks. 
See how progress comes when the victor knows the tricks.

Freed from slavery Sojourner Truth made her home here
On the Road to Find Out; Battle Creek became a stop,
The underground railroad’s secret, safe spot for slaves
Fleeing to Canada in the north.

Ellen White's Adventists found here a place to convene in 1863:
William Miller had the Christ Return set for 1844,
But had the wrong country as the place to be
As Shiraz was the place he really should have longed for.

Dr. John Harvey Kellogg blended health, eugenics
And the betterment of race;
As long as it upheld a separate but equal face.
A twist to keep races apart with his social calisthenics
Roads to Find Out often took ugly turns and strange ones too.

His hapless brother, W.K., wandered on The Road to Find Out.
He sold brooms in Oklahoma boom towns,
But they were not a place for him to be.
Still a loser, W.K. returned on the Road to Find Out
To assist his brother’s sanitarium. There he chanced to spill
Liquefied cornmeal on a heating device and gave a shout.
He added milk and fed it to residents: corn flakes were born!
“Cereal City” had a destiny selling corn.

On the Road to Find Out we find out that race hate follows
Some white folks wherever they go
Like the time boxing Champ Jack Johnson
Was arrested here for marrying a white woman
And carrying her across state lines. The times didn’t seem to change
On the Road to Find Out.

Thousands of dough boys passed through
For training in WWI and WWII for army life
And prepare for their first taste of combat strife.
Later hundreds of wounded arrived in the second world war
Amputations, Neurosurgery, and plastic artificial eyes and surgeries galore.
Battle Creek was the first American city to install
Wheelchair ramps on sidewalks, ya’all
For the wounded to enjoy downtown life.
Every general knows that war has its rewards.
Train the troops and inter German Prisoners of War.

Wear black skin and the law could stop and frisk. 
That’s the risk one took to enjoy a walk to the store
Or to a park or going home from work. 
Dr. King came and spoke here, as did Muhammad Ali.
The Black Recondos made schools hire black teachers,
Officials too, or every black child would leave the school.
Black bodies filled seats that brought federal funds
And the school board would find what federal money was all about.

We’re on the Road to Find Out.We were on the Road to Find Out.
(At that time, we did not know the history around us
The stories of Battle Creek like layers of fallen leaves
In the rain-soaked ground that surrounded us.)

We sat, syrup raised to battle stations
And waged our pogrom against stacks
Of buttermilk pancakes at Uncle John’s Pancake House
On Michigan 94 still looking for the betterment of race.
Naïve about who wins and who finishes in last place.

C. S. Cholas, May 3, 1974, Battle Creek, Michigan

 

Street Preacher on Leigh Street

Inside city jails, inside city hall
Make wages at the bus line
Haul on to the Silver Coach for lunch.
Taste the honey suckle scent
  As it drifts through the humid afternoons.

MLK Jr. watches
From a large poster on the living room wall.
Packing books now; a new approach and call
For a family man of four
Whose wife is seriously a clown;
   A professional clown.

Ease the nerves, humor the tired eyes,
Give to children a joyful surprise
Make some funny sense out of Richmond
Clown face to deflect the social lies.

The street preacher studies in Virginia Union halls
His heart firm with God and his mind justly wise
In a city split by segregated walls
His voice a fiery call for the just to arise.

Street preacher’s firm face a godly fire for Truth.
Sweet teacher’s Clown face a godsend in smiles.

                                                C. S. Cholas
                                                May 13, 1974, Richmond, Virginia
                                                Remembering Rev. Linwood and Mary Corbett

 Rev. Linwood "Bishop Benjamin Israel" Corbett Sr.

 

 

Meeting Monita Ben Jorkan by Chris Cholas

In the spring of 2018 a notice from the National Baha’i Center came to the Baha’is on the Big Island that a believer from the Marshall Islands had moved to the island and wanted to connect with Baha’is. We had her name, but unfortunately, the contact information that she had given to the National Baha’i Center didn’t work. We had little idea of where she might be on the Big Island. One option left was to search for her on Facebook, and there we found her Facebook page where we sent her a welcoming message. There was no reply for a while and then, suddently, a message showed up saying that she was sorry not to contact us earlier, but she very seldom was able to go where she could use the Internet. Via Facebook, Monita told us where she lived and that she had little contact by phone or the internet. She was living basically off the grid with family members in Oceanview. We arranged a date to visit her in Oceanview. My wife and I picked Kerry Pitcher up in Pahala and off we went to finally meet Monita. The directions to her home were vague and we ended up stopping at a realtor's office and asked where Marshallese families lived. Through the realtor we found a small settlement where a Marshallese family lived, but they didn’t seem to know her. One of the men directed us to another address where we found some of Monita's relatives, who told us that Monita lived up the road a short distance away. Kerry and Linda strolled up the road and a short while later returned with Monita. It was a very joyful meeting and we arranged to return soon. She was happy to know there was a Baha’i community in Ka’u. It was one of the best home visits we ever experienced.

On a subsequent visit, in addition to getting to spend time with Monita and her 4-year old son, Ben, we met some of her relatives. They greeted us with Allah'u'Abha even though they were not Baha'i's. She told us that she taught them to say the Greatest Name for protection. She had to go to Kona regularly to see her cardiac specialist. Her on-going health issues with her eyes and heart kept her from being as active in the Faith as she would have hoped. She wanted to take Book 3 and start a children’s class in Oceanview for some of the Marshallese children there.

Monita was a special believer, very dedicated to the Faith. She was a certified nurse and midwife. She was from Majuro and had been living in Washington State before moving to the Big Island. She moved to HOV on the Big Island to be with family and to teach them the Faith. She knew some wonderful Baha'i songs. Her parents were very active believers and her father, Ben, had served on the National Spiritual Assembly of the Marshall Islands. Both parents had passed away before Monita moved to Oceanview.

We are saddened to learn of her passing and offer our prayers for the progress of her soul in the next world, and for the care of her son who is now six years old.

Feb 12, 2020: Thinking how important it is to appreciate the Day we live in, the richness of each day in whatever circumstances around us and within us. If the day is dedicated to service and longing to be free of self, the heart is full with bountiful grain. Thinking back on the many bus rides I was privileged to take from Corozal Town to Belize City during our seven pioneering years in that country. Often while seated on a Bluebird bus with its creaking gears and diesel smell, sometimes riding in stifling humidity on a chosen bus whose windows were stuck closed, or the opposite--riding on a damp night in a rainstorm on a bus whose windows wouldn’t completely close, often a surge of joy would pass through my body in the realization of how fortunate to be on such a weary bus passing by cane fields and making stops along the way in villages such as Ranchito, San Joaquin, Sand Hill and Ladyville. This surge, which occurred almost anytime I traveled in Belize for the Faith, came with a strong feeling of thankfulness of being “allowed” to be a pioneer in Belize, even though I sensed that my shortcomings were engraved across my face.

Teaching Story—Cuba, NM 1973

First of all, back in the 1970’s and 1980’s US Highway 550 was State Highway 44 and noted for many accidents. In fact, there was a popular bumper sticker driver often displayed on the back bumper of vehicles that stated: “Pray for those who drive 44.” 

Per Wikipedia: “In the late 80s and early 90s the accident rates began to increase which prompted New Mexico Department of Transportation to upgrade the entire road from Aztec to Bernalillo from 2-lane to a 4-lane-divided over a several-year period at a cost of $312 million, and once construction was complete NM 44 and NM 544 became an extension of US 550 in 2000.  

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_Mexico_State_Road_44

Our family lived in Durango, Colorado back then and we regularly made the drive on 44 to visit Linda’s family in Isleta Pueblo and we were aware of the need to drive carefully on that mischievous road. The café in Cuba (Probably the Cuban Café) was a nice stopping place to make a restroom and food stop.  

In 1973 the National Spiritual Assembly for the United States arranged for a National Bahá’i Youth Conference to be held in Oklahoma City.  A number of youth, including myself, in the Four Corners Area, were eager to attend. A dear Bahá’í named Tom Powell, who was living in Aztec, New Mexico at the time offered to provide transportation in his camper pickup. It was a long ride from Aztec to Oklahoma City, but the excitement of attending a youth conference with at least one thousand or more youth from around the country gave us the energy to endure the trip in the back of Tom’s cramped camper. 

The Conference was everything one could want in a spiritually uplifting affair.  Hand of the Cause of God William Sears was one of the featured speakers, and special guests, Seals & Croft, were among the musicians performing during the event.

I don’t actually remember who, besides, Tom, did the driving to and from the Conference, maybe his son, also named Tom. I do recall that when we reached Cuba one the returned trip, Tom was too tired to drive the last ninety-five miles without a rest. We pulled into the parking area by the Cubana Café for Tom to get a few hours of rest. It was in the early hours of the morning before dawn and those of us in the camper hull were asleep. 

Around six a.m. Tom woke us and said that the café had just opened if we wanted to get something to eat before heading on home.  Groggily, we slowly sat up as Tom opened the door to the camper shell.  One of the youth from Aztec named Harry woke up very animated. Harry, who was of a small build, recounted a dream that he just had. In his dream Harry had gone into a restaurant and, sitting at the counter stool, began teaching the Faith to the person who sat on the stool next to him. The person was very open and interested in the Bahá’i message. Harry’s dream moved him to want to find someone to teach in the café.

I think there were four or five of us.  We entered the café and Harry immediately saw there were empty stools at the counter. No one was seated in any of them.  Harry said, “I’m going to sit at the counter, and you can find a booth,” and he promptly sat down on the middle stool while the rest of us took a booth within watching distance.  As the café had just opened.  We were the first customers. Gradually a few patrons came in and took booth seats. Harry still sat alone in anxious anticipation. He ordered some food with the counter waitress and we ordered breakfast from the booth.  About the time the food was being served, a large, tough looking Navajo man in work clothes entered the café and immediately took a stool on the right of Harry.  Harry gave us a quick, nervous look, as if to say, “Now what?” The man looked as if he might have once been a heavyweight boxer who had lost a few fights.

The new customer ordered something from the waitress.  He spoke just enough words to make his order and nothing more, nor did he take any notice of Harry.

We could see Harry nervously glance at the big man a few times, as the man’s breakfast arrived.  Halfway through the meal, Harry finally had the courage to greet the man.  We could not hear the conversation, but Harry was speaking to the man and the man was giving Harry his attention and conversing with him. A few minutes later, we watched Harry reach into his backpack and pull out a stack of Bahá’í pamphlets and give the entire stack to the man. The man graciously took the pamphlets, arose, shook Harry’s hand firmly, paid his bill and left the café.  We sat amazed. 

Harry rushed to our table with the story.  He said his heart was beating rapidly with a sudden surge of fear when the man sat next to him.  He thought about skipping the teaching opportunity rather than risking rejection, but the power of his dream made him decide to keep his commitment to teach someone in the restaurant. With a silent prayer in his mind, he got the courage to greet the man, who simply nodded without a reply.  Harry told the man that he was just returning home from a Bahá’í youth conference about the Bahá’i Faith.  The man expressed interest to know more, and Harry gave him a short introduction about Bahá’u’lláh and His Teachings. Harry told us that the man lived far out on the reservation and he told Harry that these Teachings were good, and he knew many families where he lived who would be interested.  He asked Harry for information, and Harry gave me the pamphlets. 

In the afterglow of the teaching encounter, happiness rushed though our limbs. We commended Harry for his courage and determination to keep his promise to fulfill his dream.  The time riding in the camper on the last ninety-five miles was as joyous as the time at the Youth Conference in Oklahoma City. 

We had no way to know what happened to the stack of pamphlets that were carried out to the middle of the Reservation by that gentle man: if they were shared and if shared, did they reach open hearts and help them in some way on their spiritual journeys. It was in God’s hands.

Visit to Ama, Louisiana, Springtime 1975

(Our Urban Studies college study classes from Fort Lewis College, Colorado and Morehead State, Minnesota stopped briefly in the small town of Ama, Louisiana in St. Charles Parish, on the West Bank of the Mississippi River to visit one of our participant’s families. We were heading home after an extraordinary Sociology course in Richmond, Virginia in partnership with Virginia Union College. We were traveling in a car and a van, six in each vehicle with the Sociology professors driving.)

We’re a racially diverse group including an Inuit student from Alaska. After spending a night in New Orleans with its gumbo, Bourbon Street jazz and raucous nightlife, we drive through the lush and humid Louisiana countryside and reach the small town of Ama, where Lisa is from. The air is a rush of elation when Lisa appears from the van and is met with shrieks of excitement by her family. Joyful tears announce that a family member has come home. After greeting Lisa’s family members inside the house, I go back outside with a couple other students in our traveling group to let the family celebrate the moment.  On the porch we meet an older man known as Coon sitting in a chair. A young man with little green-tinted glasses wearing a circular straw hat sits by his side on the porch itself. We enjoy a brief chat.

“Gotta make peace with the Master.” The elderly one says.  The day is heating up and they’re hoping the morning on the porch will keep them cool for a while. “Prices getting’ high,” old Coon continues, “can’t hardly buy nothin’, but I know the Lord’s watching.  Turn to Him and everything be all right.”

            That’s what the old one kept talking about on the porch: the porch of the house he made, bypassing lumber yards and going straight for the trees he made it from.

            “Gotta make peace with the Master,” the younger one with the round, straw hat and little green tinted, wire-rim glasses says.  “Old Coon can talk two weeks about making peace with the Master,” he laughs.  “Old Coon’s something else.”

            Coon greets a passing neighbor, Riley, who responds with, “Morning Coon.”

            “Riley, come on over ‘n’ meet the gang.  Lisa’s home.”

            “Yeah,” Riley says cheerfully, “Well sure, I’ll come right over.”  Riley greets us from the front yard and then begins talking with Coon. 

            While the older two are visiting, the young guy in the straw hat says, “Coon never used to be so much for the Lord ‘til right before he hurt his leg. ‘Bout ten years ago.  Since then, everything’s for ‘the Master’.”  He laughs, but his manner reveals a quiet respect for old Coon.

            Coon says, “Come on in, Riley.  This here’s some of Lisa’s friends from school.  They from Minnesota ‘n’… ah… Colorado.”

            “Well, that’s shore nice,” Riley in his blue work pants and grease-spotted shirt steps up on the porch and greets us, “Shore nice having ya here. Kinda hot here in Louisiana ain’t it?”

            Coon struggles to stand up hopping about on his good leg and welcomes Riley, with one hand holding the back of a chair for support on his bad leg side. Riley moves slowly and drawls out, “Well, that’s shore nice” which he says after anything anyone says, or “Well, that’s shore is something’” whether the talk is sad, or some new gossip is being shared. Then he goes on into the house to meet the others and to give Lisa a hug.

            Lisa’s family is surprised and thrilled to see her, and the house is filled with joyous laughter and chatter.  A couple of the women start rushing about to bring out iced tea and snacks. Lisa hadn’t been able to announce her visit beforehand, and the suddenness of her arrival creates a festive feeling. 

            That joyful suddenness gives way to another, different kind of suddenness when two social workers, a man and a woman, drive up and insist that they need to meet with Lisa’s grandmother about her welfare status.  No, they cannot come back another time; it’s the annual renewal for her benefits. The one blurts out.  The other tries to soften it by swearing it will only take a few moments of the grandmother’s time.  The air stops and feels heavy and sad as a silent scream of resentment flows through the house, but the grandmother is very patient and acquiesces to do the interview in the living room while we move to the dining area. I sense that the grandmother has been in this situation before and knows the routine.  Be tight-lipped and play the game, or risk losing what little benefits you might be entitled to.   

            The two sociology professors are checking their watches and indicate we have a long way to go to reach Lake Charles before nightfall where we will stay with another student’s family for the night.  Lisa is home now and can catch up with all the news of her family while she’s been away to college.  We each give Lisa a farewell hug and interrupt the interview to thank her grandmother for the hospitality.  Outside, Coon sits alone on the porch chair.  Riley and the young man with the green-tinted round glasses and straw hat are no longer there.  They slipped away when the social workers arrived.  Coon looks peaceful with no sign of anger, resentment or discontent. Everything will be okay. He’s made his peace with the Master

I lay resting around midnight listening to piano jazz and then

The night air carried me back to the Dog of My Childhood Days

When, as children, while rain fell on Smith Street,

We played in puddles that pooled in the gutters in the cool afternoon.

On Smith Street by oak trees, whose large roots pushed

The sidewalk into uneven squares of cement

Lining our front yard, and our black dog,

Tess, a Labrador/Doberman mix, watched,

Ready to save any one of us if we fell into trouble.

We children grew up raking leaves into autumn piles,

Taking turns to run and jump into the rustle of dying leaves.

Packing hard winter snowballs to wage war between

The white, frozen walls we hid behind,

And playing red light/green light

With neighbor kids on those summer nights

Until one day I came home from school

And dad reported that Tess died of a cancerous tumor

Just moments before dad prepared to put her to sleep

At the vet lab where he worked.

The Epilogue to my Black Dog

We recall that spirit as if the dog had a soul

That will lick us when we die and enter

The next realm ready to brush that black coat

Until it shines in heaven, until we understand

How much a watchdog formed our lives.

Tess, who came alive to hear our voices

When we came home from school,

When we brought out the evening dinner scraps,

When we shared our daily burdens with her

On the front porch steps where we

Wondered what growing up would be like.

The black dog knew who we were and how we felt

Not needing any words; her broad tongue licking our hands,

Her soft eyes raised to ponder ours.

It was enough to make us human again

For a while at least.

            -- C. S. Cholas, February 24, 1999

Dear Friends:  more notes from a pilgrim      14 April 1996

  One of the first visitors to arrive in Akká in hopes of attaining the presence of Bahá’u’lláh was an elderly Persian believer named Ustad Isma'il, who was half blind.

He had traveled by road from Mosul, Iraq hundreds of miles away to reach the high walls of Akká at a time when no one was allowed to enter the prison to see Bahá’u’lláh.  Unable to meet his Beloved within the prison walls, Ustad Isma'il made his residence in a remote cave on Mount Carmel.  According to '‘Abdu’l-Bahá, that early pilgrim "obtained a tray in which he displayed a few inexpensive rings, thimbles and pins.  With these wares he walked the streets (of Haifa) from morn till noon."  He made very little money but had enough "to eat his meager meals and to praise and magnify the Name of his Lord.  He was always contented and thankful."  The patience of Ustad Isma'il was eventually rewarded with his being able to attain the presence of his Lord, Bahá’u’lláh.

  Another early pilgrim was Haji Amin, who was "the first to reach Bahá’u’lláh after His imprisonment in the prison of Akká."  Somehow Haji Amin was able to pass by the guards and enter the prison, and it was arranged by one of the Bahá’í prisoners for him to see Bahá’u’lláh only in the public bath with the condition that "he should see Bahá’u’lláh without approaching Him or giving any sign of recognition."

  Indeed, life was not easy for those first pilgrims, many of whom had already suffered afflictions and imprisonment themselves for their belief in Bahá’u’lláh.  However, several months after the passing of Mirza Mihdi, the Purest Branch, within the prison walls in 1870, the prison officials relaxed the restrictions and allowed Bahá’ís and others to enter the prison for the purpose of meeting Bahá’u’lláh.  Bahá’u’lláh, as you know, had offered to save His youthful son, the Purest Branch, from death after he had fallen through a skylight on the prison roof one night while pacing the roof in a state of prayer. The Purest Branch, instead, offered up his life as a ransom so that those who wished to attain the presence of his Father would be able to do so.  

  Today thousands of Bahá’ís make their pilgrimage each year. We arrive usually by jet airplanes, ride in air-conditioned taxis and stay in comfortable hotels. We are officially greeted by the Universal House of Justice in the reception hall of their magnificent building, the seat of the Universal House of Justice. The members of that supreme institution then mingle with the pilgrims and warmly welcome us to the Most Holy Land.  During the nine days, we are assisted by loving Bahá’í guides, cared for by gracious

servants in the pilgrim houses and given enough love to last a lifetime.  I feel that we owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to Mirza Mihdi, the Purest Branch, for they spiritual bounty of pilgrimage.  He sacrificed his very life, so the door of pilgrimage would be open to Bahá’ís around the world.

  And that's not all.  After each wonderful day of prayer and visits to some of the many historic and holy Places of our Faith in the area, we would gather at the pilgrim house close to the Shrine of the Báb and often find Hand of the Cause of God Mr. Furutan or Hand of the Cause of God Dr. Muhammad Varqa (or both of them!) waiting to share their marvelous wisdom and experiences with us from 5:30 p.m. until 6:30 p.m.  With such love these precious souls would speak about the Guardian, Shoghi Effendi, or about

teaching the Faith and serving it. 

  Then, at 8:00 p.m. (after a brief pause to eat and rest) the evening presentation would begin.  One night a Counsellor member of the International Teaching Centre would speak; the next night a member of the Universal House of Justice would come, and so on during the pilgrimage.  Those presentations lasted but a quick hour, but I can tell you that by the end of that hour all those in the pilgrim house would be filled with a joy and a new dedication to serve. 

  Here are a few comments and stories that I wrote down, which are not authoritative statements in any way, but are my "pilgrim notes":

Dr. Farzam Arbab, member of the Universal House of Justice, spoke about Joy. He described it as a spiritual quality and not simply an emotion.  A spiritual quality, he noted, is independent of what happens in the world, whereas emotions respond to what happens in this world.  In this sense, Joy as a quality of God has nothing to do with healing or sickness, of being rich or poor, free or imprisoned.  The source of joy is recognition of Beauty. Dr. Arbab emphasized that as the world is increasingly governed by hopelessness, the Bahá’í life should express joyfulness, because the world is losing its capacity for joy.  If we are not the bringers of joy, he asked, what do we have to offer humanity?  This is what humanity needs.  Dr. Arbab suggested that we pray to become a source of joy.    He told us that the next Plan (the Four-Year Plan) has only one aim -- a considerable advance in the process of entry by troops.  There is no other distraction. Teach and bring in people.  To do this we need to sit back and rethink our own activities and the way one teaches.  The question to ask ourselves is:  What do I have to do now in the simplest basics to be a teacher of the Cause?  Success means enrolments.  One does not teach so no one becomes Bahá’ís.  The purpose of teaching is to have people become Bahá’ís and join us to learn capacities and build a new world.  If we can answer the question, how can I become a bringer of joy? then we will have the answer to the other question, “How can I be a teacher of the Cause?”

Dr. Peter Khan, member of the Universal House of Justice, spoke about the present state of the world and the needs of the Faith.  As to where the Faith is in relation to the world, Dr. Khan mentioned three things: 1) the unprecedented disorder in the world has made it difficult for the Faith's administration to function in some countries; 2) that the Faith is experiencing growth in receptivity to the Teachings; and 3) the first signs of opposition to the Faith warned about in our Teachings are being evidenced.

As to the needs of the Faith, Dr. Khan mentioned teaching, the education of children and to have a conscious effort to become familiar with the spiritual nature of the Arc Project, which he said, is not a material concept just to beautify the mountain.  

As to teaching the Faith, Dr. Khan suggested that we contact people we've taught before even if they didn't previously show interest, because those same people may now be receptive; that we relate the Teachings to the problems causing concerns to the people around us; and that we need to do a lot more to encourage Bahá’ís doing studies in colleges and universities to relate what they are learning to the Bahá’í Teachings.

Mr. Kiser Barnes, member of the International Teaching Centre, spoke one evening about the gifts of God and particularly the gift of service and the gift of teaching.  Different people and different cultures understand things differently.  He said that we should teach people to their understanding and he shared a story told to him by a professor in Nigeria to illustrate the point:

Once in London an Englishman came to a cemetery to pay respects to his father with roses for the grave.  Not far from his father's grave, he saw a Chinese man sprinkling rice and seeds on another grave, the grave of the Chinese man's father.  The Englishman was a bit surprised to see this and so he asked the Chinese man, "When do you think your father will appear to eat the rice and seeds?"  The Chinese man humbly replied, "At the same time that your father will appear to smell the flowers."

Mr. Barnes also emphasized that it takes determination to serve God and determination to express gratitude to God for His gifts.  This determination has to be realistic or we become frustrated. (Such as in setting teaching goals.)  We should be determined to teach a few souls and to have constancy in our teaching.

The only time that it was universally forbidden to teach the Faith was the brief time when the Báb told Mulla Husayn that he should not tell anyone about the Báb until the remaining Letters of the Living accepted the Báb by their own powers. Mr. Barnes told us that the greatest danger is inactivity. 

Mr. Donald Rogers, Counsellor-member of the International Teaching Centre, spoke about the Art of Teaching and the importance of summoning the people to Bahá’u’lláh.

Before he spoke, he invited Dan Seals, a noted country singer from the US who was also on his pilgrimage, to sing for us, which he did beautifully.    The "Art" of teaching includes 1) understanding the nature of teaching, 2) the condition of the teachers, and why are some so successful and others who make effort don't seem to be so effective; and 3) the art of teaching, which requires practice.  The Guardian referred to the art of teaching and told us we could improve as teachers through practice.  We don't give enough attention to practicing the art of teaching.

Mr. Rogers told us that around you are probably several hundred people who know you and have a high regard for you.  A percentage of these would become Bahá’ís if you would pray for them and invite them to embrace the Faith.  

Mr. Rogers said that the Faith is scientific but also supernatural. Proclamation is to let people know of the existence of the Faith; Teaching is confirming souls!  The sooner you get the new believers involved in teaching the better.  Make of your home a center of learning.  The nucleus of institutes can be your own home. 

  Of course, the above only gives a taste of the talks from some of the distinguished speakers.  Always there is so much to digest and more importantly, to try to put into action.  As Hand of the Cause of God Dr. Varqa told us one afternoon: "To arise and serve is up to you.  It doesn't matter if you are children, youth or adults.  We are the elements."                                       With warmest Bahá’í love, Chris

1996 Pilgrimage Report

Chris S. Cholas

1609 W. Schunior St. #405

Edinburg, Texas 78539 USA

April 5, 1996

Beloved family and friends,

            We've returned safely from our adventures, spiritual and physical, to the Holy Land and to London.  Having Roshan and Rahmat with me made the journey very special.

            In view of recent bombings in Tel Aviv and in Jerusalem, we expected security to be tighter than it was, and for the people to be perhaps more pensive and tenser than they seemed.  Everywhere we were met with friendliness and courtesy, qualities so often missing in large cities.  Our travel arrangements worked out fine, and aside for the fact that most things in Israel are expensive relative to the US, we made out well.

            We arrived in Tel Aviv just moments before President Clinton was scheduled to deboard from his United States Presidential plane which we saw stationed out on the tarmac, so the airport was being quickly cleared for his entrance.  However, security did take time to scrutinize Rahmat a bit, due to his Arabic name and the fact that his US passport was issued in Belize, but as soon as we showed our invitation letter from the Bahá'í pilgrimage Office in Haifa, they smiled and waved us through. 

            Police and soldiers lined the way all along the one-hour route to Jerusalem, as our sherut (a shared taxi) drove just moments ahead of the diplomatic motorcade bringing the President to Jerusalem for a 24-hour visit. 

            The only unfortunate thing about our timing was that the following day many roads were closed in Jerusalem, so we had to cancel our hope to ride the famous Jerusalem tour bus 99, which takes tourists around the city's main historical sites and museums for five dollars a day.  We spent our first full day in Jerusalem wandering the Old city where we entered in the Armenian section by the Jaffa Gate.  Better weather could not have been prescribed, as the air was cool and fresh from recent rains.  We visited the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, then Roshan and Rahmat climbed up the spiral staircase of the old Lutheran Church to get a panoramic view of the area.  After that we passed through the maze-like, narrow pathways of the Jewish and Muslim sections of the old city, stopping to shop from time to time.  We walked along part of the Via Dolorosa which is believed to be the way Jesus passed burdened with His cross to the Crucifixion.  Various Christian tour groups speaking French, German, Spanish, Japanese and English would slowly move through the streets from time to time.  It seemed kind of like blood being pumped through the arteries from the heart; the groups would move for a while and then pause while their guides explained something, then the mass would flow together down the chosen path again, until another point of interest was reached. 

            We reached the entrance to the plaza on top of the ancient Temple of David, where the Dome of the Rock and the Aqsa Mosque stand, just as noonday prayers for the Moslems finished.   The mosques are closed to non-Moslems during prayer, so we waited until the believers left the area and visitors were again permitted to enter.  Once by the Dome of the Rock, I waited outside while Roshan and Rahmat ventured in, their shoes removed, to see the inside of the famed mosque, which they reported was quite beautiful, as are the exterior dome and mosaic-tiled sides. 

            From the Dome of the Rock we wound our way to the Wailing Wall where Jews of many sects come to offer their prayers.  We then returned back through the Muslim section to the Jaffa gate where we had begun hours before.   In an Armenian restaurant we rested over freshly squeezed orange juice and delicious coffee, while sharing what we had seen and learned by our homemade tour.

            The next day we went by bus to the Museum of Remembrance dedicated to the victims of the Holocaust.  The museum serves as a solemn reminder of the brutal depths that men can sink to on the one hand, and as a testimony to the incredible endurance that human beings under siege and torture can manifest.

            As Shabbat, the Jewish Sabbath, was nearing at sunset, we returned to the vicinity of our hotel looking to buy food before stores closed.  We found a "hole-in-the-wall" restaurant packed with people.  The smell was so grand that I couldn't resist going in with Roshan and Rahmat.  They were serving their Friday special with lamb, beans and rice with homemade bread!  The owner, so gracious and friendly, gave us samples of the food before we ordered to insure our satisfaction.  This was one of the best meals we were to have in our entire trip, and I think the three of us ate for around twelve dollars with drinks.  

            In our room that evening we turned on the television just as the excellent movie about Helen Keller, "The Miracle Worker" was starting.  It was a nice finishing touch on our Jerusalem stay.   

            The next day at noon our taxi arrived to carry us to Tiberias (Teveria) on the Sea of Galilee.  The route, which now bypasses the ancient town of Jericho, winds through land, dry and desolate, but still inhabited by nomadic Bedouins with their goats and camels.  Our right side was lined with barb-wired fence much of the way, denoting the Jordan border.  The closer we came to Tiberias, the greener became the terrain.  By the time we arrived to the southern shores of the Sea of Galilee, 696 feet below sea level, spring was in full bloom!

            We spent two nights in the Hotel Galilee overlooking both Tiberias and the Sea, taking walks along the shores during the day.  One morning we decided to visit the hot springs a couple of miles out of the city.  We asked a man at a bus stop which bus to take and before we knew it, he stopped one of his friends who was driving by and had us special delivered to the door of the old hot springs.  I offered the driver some money for the ride, but our new-found friend, who escorted us on the ride, emphatically refused it and told us to enjoy our stay.

            There are two hot springs open to the public; an old one and a modern, new one.  A third hot springs, built in the style of the old Turkish baths, was closed for renovation.  We particularly wanted to visit that very old one, as we understood that 'Abdu'l-Bahá had come to bathe there several times after he was released from prison in the early part of this century.   After wandering in the two opened facilities, we chose to bathe in the old one, which was slightly less expensive.  Women and men have separate bathing pools, and the men's side seemed to be extra hot.  Roshan verified later that the women's side was several degrees cooler.  Five minutes was about the maximum time I could wade in the water without getting out for a while.  I felt thoroughly refreshed by the time I showered and dress and returned outside to see the lovely hills that surround Galilee.

            On route back to our hotel we spent more time in the promenade area of central Tiberias.  Later Roshan and Rahmat bought some carry-out lamb kabob for us to eat in the hotel, while we watched figure skating championships from Russia on our hotel television. 

            Monday morning, March 18, we ate breakfast and anxiously prepared to check out.  Our friend from Haifa, Mrs. Maralynn Dunbar, had told us she wanted to meet us at the hotel and take us to see a few places and deliver us to the Bahá'í pilgrim house in Haifa after lunch for our pilgrimage orientation.

            Mrs. Dunbar drove us to the beautiful Church of the Beatitudes on the northern side of Galilee at the site where Jesus gave the Sermon on the Mount.  While entering the eight-sided temple, a rain began to fall.  Everything glistened in the fresh wetness.  Ironically, Mussolini, the terrible Italian dictator, had commissioned the construction of this church, which is cared for by an order of nuns. 

            Our second stop with the ancient fishing village of Capernaum, where Saint Peter hailed from.   Jesus had visited Capernaum various times.  The ruins of this lovely place still carry a special, ethereal feeling.  I could understand why many Christians consider this their favorite of favorite places when they visit Israel.            

            We passed by Nazareth from a distance.  Our time was short and Maralynn told us that traffic in Nazareth is generally congested, so we decided to visit the Plain of Armageddon instead, as our final pre-pilgrimage tour.  Armageddon is a broad, pasture area behind the range of mountains known as Mount Carmel.

            Maralynn drove us to our hotel on the top of Mount Carmel and waited for us while we checked in, so she could deliver us before we were late to the Pilgrim House halfway down the mountainsides below.  We had reached the biblical Carmel, which means "the Vineyard of the Lord", mentioned in Isaiah 35:1-2:   The wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad for them; and the desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose.  It shall blossom abundantly and rejoice even with joy and singing: the glory of Lebanon shall be given unto it, the excellency of Carmel and Sharon, they shall see the glory of the Lord and the excellency of our God.

            Shoghi Effendi, the Guardian of the Bahá'í Faith, wrote "Within the heart of this planet lies the 'Most Holy Land', acclaimed by 'Abdu'l-Bahá as 'the Nest of the Prophets' and which must be regarded as the centre of the (Bahá'í) world and the Qiblih (Point of Adoration) of the nations (Citadel of Faith, p. 95)."   Aware of this, most Bahá'ís world-wide long to make a pilgrimage sometime in their life to the Bahá'í Holy Places located in and around Mount Carmel, "the Tabernacle of Glory," "the mountain of the Lord to which all nations shall flow." 

            Near Haifa is the crusader city of Akká, which served as a penal colony in the times of the Turkish Ottomans, whose Sultan banished and imprisoned Bahá'u'lláh and his family to this "most desolate place".  Now no longer desolate, one can wander freely through the streets of Akká and see reminders of both the remnants of the crusader times and of the more recent incarceration of Bahá'u'lláh. 

            After nine years of imprisonment in Akká, Bahá'u'lláh, at the begging of both local Muslim and civic leaders, who had become enchanted by Bahá'u'lláh's majesty even under the harshest of settings, left the prison walls to reside in an abandoned mansion in a place known as Bahji "Delight", which was rented by followers and repaired for what would be His last residence.  When Bahá'u'lláh ascended on May 29, 1892, His eldest son, 'Abdu'l-Bahá, buried Him in one of the rooms of an adjacent building used by pilgrims who arrived to attain Bahá'u'lláh's Presence.  'Abdu'l-Bahá informed the Ottoman authorities with a cable that began:  "The Sun of Bahá has set."   That room for Bahá'ís the world over now serves as the Most Holy Place. 

            The majority of Bahá'ís will never have the means to be able to take the physical pilgrimage to the Holy Land, and those who do reach often have done so after years of patiently waiting, working and praying to go.  It's natural, therefore, that by the time a Bahá'í arrives for his or her pilgrimage, that he or she will come anticipating to lay their burdens down in the Holy Shrines, to pray for their particular concerns and needs, and that he or she hopes to be filled with guidance and new life. 

            So it was with the three of us as we entered the pilgrim house located near the always majestic and beautiful Shrine of the Báb.  We had come with long lists of personal concerns, friends and family, projects and things to pray for; we had come for OUR pilgrimage. 

            As we entered the pilgrim house for the scheduled orientation, we were met by dozens of others who had also just arrived for THEIR pilgrimage.  It was in this wonderful flurry of excitement that I began to realize what would become clearer as the nine days unfolded:  that each pilgrim is part of a wave of pilgrims that briefly passes over the shores of the World Centre and then returns to be blended in the sea of humanity again.   During these precious nine days at the World Centre, we explore every Shrine, every corner and room of the Holy Places.  We absorb as much as we can of the delightful talks and exchanges that take place throughout the stay. Every scent from the flowers in the gardens, every melody shared by birds in the trees, every rush of breeze or movement of clouds is special during pilgrimage.  No wonder that even the most stone-faced and objective of men can be moved to tears more than once during their pilgrim visit.

            And just as a sea wave briefly immerses the sand and rocks of the shore with water, each wave of pilgrims brings life-bearing news and joy to the World Centre of our Faith.  We were often told this by members of the Universal House of Justice, members of the International Teaching Centre and staff personnel. The pilgrims bring much needed vitality to the World Centre.

            For nine days we mingled together, pilgrims and servants.  All who serve at the Bahá'í World Centre see themselves as servants, even the members of the Universal House of Justice, or should I say, ESPECIALLY the members of the Universal House of Justice.  The World Centre now has about 700 Bahá'ís serving a growing variety of needs.  Youth volunteers make up a significant part of these servants -- youth from everywhere.  We met youth from diverse places such as Chad, Mongolia, Siberia, Solomon Islands and El Salvador. They usually serve as guards, garden helpers or custodial helpers for a term of 1 year to 2 and 1/2 years.  Their presence is a delight.

            The pilgrimage consists of scheduled visits to different Holy Places with Bahá'í guides, evening presentations by members of the Universal House of Justice and Counsellors, and free time for the pilgrims to return to the Shrines for personal prayer and meditation.

            The most essential purpose of pilgrimage, to pray in the Holy Shrines of Bahá'u'lláh, the Báb and of 'Abdu'l-Bahá, is also the part hardest to share with others, because it is an experience beyond words and is very personal. In consideration to others, we are asked not to pray out loud in the Shrines, but other than that, how we pray is left to us.

            I found that on some of my visits to one or the other of the Shrines, my mind would be filled with people who I wanted to pray for, such as all of my dear family.  On another day during a visit to one of the Shrines, I would just want to meditate on the majesty of the Cause and not have any particular objective to pray for.  On yet another occasion I would find myself groping with those deeply internal parts of my own life that I wanted to change, begging for help from the Divine Source of Help.  

            One free afternoon, Roshan, Rahmat and I went with several Bahá'ís from Albania, India and Canada to the Shrine of Bahá'u'lláh in Bahji.  While inside the Holy Place, a thunderstorm passed over with crackling lightening and deafening thunder.  What an experience! 

            During that same visit (after the storm had gone on its way and the Shrine was exceedingly quiet again) I was seated near the Holy Threshold leading into the room where Bahá'u'lláh is buried.  I had finished my prayers and I sat gazing toward that sacred Spot.  One of the pilgrims, a Persian believer, had also finished his prayers and he peacefully approached the Threshold and prostrated himself with his head on the Threshold for several moments.  Then he raised his head and reached into his coat pocket and brought out a number of photographs of children, which he carefully placed on the Threshold near the rose petals that decorate the Threshold each day. Again, he bowed before his Lord for a few minutes.  Then he gathered the photos together and put them back into his coat pocket, rose and slowly backed away from the Threshold and out of the Shrine.  We each come with our special needs, concerns and wishes, and we each receive our share of bounties and grace.  He is, after all, "the prayer-hearing, the prayer-answering God."

            Though there's so much more to share, when the cup is full the rest just overflows and falls away.  I send off this brief report from a pilgrim, a son, a brother and a friend with dearest hopes that each one of you are in the best of health, happiness and spirits. 

                                                I love each of you very much, Chris

Return to Hilo, June 11, 1999

Dear family and friends,

Aloha kakou!

We arrived back in Hilo on Tuesday.  Rahmat's slowly gaining back some strength in his lower body and can walk without a cane.  He'll wear a back brace for several more months while his reconstructed vertebrae mend. Two vertebrae in his middle back were crushed in the accident, so the surgeon fused four vertebrae together and put in titanium rods for support, too, using titanium rivets.  The surgeon used bone taken from Rahmat's pelvic area to rebuild the damaged vertebrae.

Rahmat only spent a few days in intensive care before being moved to a rehab ward in the Flagstaff Medical Center for occupational and physical therapy.  After ten days there, his doctor said he could continue his therapy as an outpatient. We made many friends, both from the staff and fellow "inmates" and Christian and Baha'i friends from the area, who brought flowers and other gifts to keep Rahmat's spirits up.  One Christian family in Flagstaff, who had heard about the accident, came to see Rahmat and offered me a room in their home which was a short 4 block commute to the hospital which I did each day in my wheelchair.  I became quite close to that family and found out on the last day of my stay with them that they had lost their four-year-old son in a bike/auto accident right in front of their home a few years before. 

Once Rahmat was able to travel from Arizona where the accident occurred, I rented a car and drove him to Albuquerque to be near his brother, Aman, and Linda's family in Isleta. We stopped near the site of the accident, outside of Winslow, Arizona on I-40 for prayers.  Rahmat had been a passenger with his roommate and his roommate's friend when his roommate, who was driving, dozed off going 70 mph; their old van literally flew across the median strip and nosedived about 100 feet away.  The youth had just finished their finals at Embry Riddle and were heading out for the summer vacation; Rahmat to his grandmother's home in Isleta, and the other two, nice Christian young men, to their homes in Colorado.  The van hit the

ground so hard that the doors had to be pried off by the rescue crews.  Rahmat was flown via helicopter to the trauma center in Flagstaff for immediate attention and life-saving surgery. 

The attending emergency physician called us (around 9 pm Hawaiian time, which meant it was around midnight in Flagstaff) and we even spoke to Rahmat briefly before he went into surgery that night.  I flew out the next morning and arrived almost exactly 24 hours later.  Aman had taken off from work in Albuquerque and was already with Rahmat.  The Baha'is of Flagstaff gave us lots of support, and one couple came to the hospital regularly to spend time with Rahmat.  Apparently just three weeks earlier a Baha'i university student from Texas had been killed in a car accident in the same area of I-40. 

From Arizona Rahmat received physical therapy at an Albuquerque Rehab hospital for three weeks.  We even fit in a mini-family reunion in Ruidoso for a few days.  Linda flew in fresh from her graduation ceremony at UHH in Hilo.  My folks came down from Colorado. Linda's mother joined us, too.

Brillana and son, Rúhu’lláh (now 1 and 1/2 years old), Bienshirni and son, Santiago (now 1 year old and walking), had coincidently come back from 5 months of Baha'i pioneering in Cusco, Peru, to see family and rest up a bit, so they also were present. 

Roshan, in route to Ecuador and Venezuela for the summer, changed her flight to spend a week with us; and Aman was even able to join us briefly during a break in the ongoing forest fires around New Mexico and Arizona.  He's working on the rappel crew for the helicopter-based fire fighters.  Brillana's husband, Kevin, couldn't join us due to his work schedule in Colorado.  And Athena, fresh from her pilgrimage with husband Aaron, had to stay in Hilo with her two children. 

With my parents and Roshan, I was even able to visit my dear Mescalero friend, Meredith Begay and her husband, Keith, while in Ruidoso.  It had been many years since I had seen that precious one, who had given me much spiritual nurturing in my early days as a Baha'i youth when I was drawn from my Colorado home to the Apache land of southern New Mexico.  Meredith now spends much of her day on a dialysis machine to keep her kidneys running smoothly, but that gentle, deep spirit still radiates from her being. Please remember her in your prayers.

Rahmat is registered to take a summer class at local Univ. of Hawaii at Hilo, and he expects to return to Prescott, Arizona this fall to resume his studies at Embry Riddle Aeronautical University. 

It's hard to see him suffer; the back pain is almost always there, and he has a few other complications, but he has so far handled the sudden change in fate well and has even been able to keep up his good humor and his concern for others.

Your prayers are warmly appreciated. Thanks for your loving concern and messages.  They kept Linda's and my spirits up probably more than Rahmat's, who has stayed fairly calm and optimistic during his ordeal. 

Stay in touch and let us know how you are doing.

With loving regards,

Chris and family

June 11, 1999

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