Two Arts

A retelling based on The Diary of Juliet Thompson by Juliet Thompson. Words in quotation marks are as she recorded them.

Juliet Thompson, a painter from New York, was on pilgrimage in 'Akká in the summer of 1909. At night she often went up to the roof of the Master's house with Munavvar Khánum, of His household. A Persian rug was spread on the stones there. On the night of July 3 the two of them sat on the parapet, looking out past the double sea wall to the sea. To their right were the dome and minaret of the mosque and a tall palm; to their left, the Master's garden; behind them, the barracks where Bahá'u'lláh and His family had first been imprisoned in 'Akká.

"I have such a funny little message for our Lord from my mother," Juliet said. "I don't know how I shall ever give it to Him!"

The message was about her art. Her mother wanted her to give up teaching the Faith and devote all her time to painting.

"Well, isn't that funny!" said Munavvar. "That is just what our Lord was saying to me yesterday. He said He had a message for your mother."

He had told Munavvar that Juliet's mother did not understand her giving up everything for the Cause and neglecting her art, and that He was going to speak to Juliet about it.

On July 4, as she was leaving His room, Juliet told Him it was her mother's birthday. "God will bless her. God will bless her," He said. "I have a message for your mother. I will give it to you tomorrow."

On July 5 He sent for her. She took off her shoes, went in, and sat at His feet on His left, the place to which He always beckoned her.

"I am going to give you a message to your mother today," He said. "Now, give Me her message. Speak. Say. Do not be afraid."

She gave it piece by piece. Her mother sent her dearest love. She did not wish Juliet to be a teacher in the Cause. She wanted her to devote her time to her art, which was a gift from heaven. She thought Juliet was not qualified to teach: that she was too sympathetic and entered too far into people's lives, and that she let people make inroads into her home for the sake of what she thought was her duty.

"Is there anything else?" He asked.

There was not.

He sent His best love to her mother and told Juliet to tell her that she was her dear child. Then He answered the question itself.

"As to your art: It is one of the Teachings of Bahá'u'lláh that art is identical with an act of worship. And you must go on with your art and improve in it. And through this very Cause you will be able to make great progress in your art, for you shall be helped from Above."

As for teaching, He said that in a short time her mother would be proud that she was a teacher.

"You must do both. You must be a teacher and go on with your art. And give some time to your mother."

When He spoke of her art, He pressed the palms of her hands. When He spoke of her teaching, He pressed her head and shoulders.

On the morning of July 7 she was in His room again, with Munavvar Khánum and two of her fellow pilgrims, Carrie and Alice. Her hand was in His. Suddenly He smiled at her.

"Do you think your mother will like My message to her?"

"Her heart is so pure she must love it, Lord."

"She will like that part about your art," He said, with what Juliet called His witty smile.

"She said you would straighten out my life."

Then He gave her words to say to her mother in her own name:

"Say to her: I have two arts: one physical, the other spiritual. The physical one is that I draw the images of men. My spiritual art is that I draw the images of the angels, and I hope that at last I shall be able to draw pictures of the Perfections of God. My physical art will at last end, but my spiritual art is everlasting. My physical art can be done by many, but my spiritual art is not the work of everyone. My physical art makes me dear to men, but my spiritual art makes me dear to God. Therefore I work to perfect both of them."

"Thou hast straightened out my life!" Juliet said.

With His smile of light, He answered:

"I am the Heavenly Artist. Although I am sitting here, my pen is working in every part of the world, over the pages of the hearts."

This is a retelling. For the fuller account, see The Diary of Juliet Thompson by Juliet Thompson.

Thompson, J.. *The Diary of Juliet Thompson*.