May Maxwell and the House That Was Blessed

A retelling for children, based on the life of May Maxwell as told in Bahá'í Chronicles.

In the city of Paris, in the year 1898, a young American woman named May Bolles heard something that would change her whole life. A friend, Mrs. Phoebe Hearst, had gathered a small circle of seekers around her, and they were whispering about a wonderful new Faith — and about a Holy Figure who lived far away, across the sea, in a place called 'Akká. They called Him the Master.

May listened, and her heart caught fire. That winter, this little group made a daring plan. They would travel all the way to 'Akká to meet Him for themselves. It would be the very first time Bahá'ís from the Western world had ever made such a journey.

In February of 1899, May set out with a small band of just fifteen travelers. They crossed land and water until at last they reached 'Akká and stood before 'Abdu'l-Bahá. We do not know every word that passed between them. But we know this: May was never the same again. She arrived as a seeker, and she went home a Bahá'í — changed forever.

The Master gave her something to do. On His instruction, she went back to Paris to build the Cause there. So that is exactly what she did. Quietly, patiently, one friend at a time, May taught the Faith in Paris until a whole community grew up around her. People began to call her the spiritual mother of the Paris Bahá'ís.

A few years later, in 1902, May married a kind Canadian architect named William Sutherland Maxwell. Now she had a new last name — Maxwell — and a new home in a faraway country: Montreal, in Canada. And do you know what May did when she arrived? The very same thing she had done in Paris. With that same gentle patience, she began building a Bahá'í community in Canada, too.

The Maxwell house at number 716 on a street called Avenue des Pins became a special place. For forty years, it was the heart of the Faith in all of Canada — a warm house where friends gathered, learned, and prayed.

And then came the most wonderful visit of all. In 1912, 'Abdu'l-Bahá Himself traveled across North America — and for ten whole days, He stayed under the Maxwells' very own roof. Imagine it! The Master, sleeping in their home, sitting at their table, walking through their rooms. Later He wrote to May that her home would be made blessed throughout all time because He had lived in it. What a gift for one family to keep forever.

The Maxwells had a little daughter named Mary, born two years before, in 1910. So Mary grew up in a house that the Master Himself had blessed. That little girl had a remarkable life ahead of her. When she was grown, in 1937, Mary married Shoghi Effendi, the Guardian of the Faith, and became known as Rúḥíyyih Khánum.

As the years went by and Mary grew up, May never slowed down. She kept traveling and teaching — to Quebec, across French Canada, and into the United States — always carrying the message that had set her heart on fire back in Paris.

When May grew old, she did not decide to rest. Even though her health was failing, she set out on one last, brave journey. She would sail all the way to South America, to help start the Faith in countries where no Bahá'ís lived yet — places that had never had a single believer before.

She traveled by train and by boat, growing weaker the whole way. In February of 1940, she reached the city of Buenos Aires. By now she was very ill. Still, she gathered the people who were curious about the Faith and spoke to them. A few days later, on the third of March, 1940, May died in her hotel room, far from home — in the very middle of her work.

When the news reached him, Shoghi Effendi sent a message out to Bahá'ís all over the world. He said that May's grave in Buenos Aires should be a sacred place where future Bahá'ís of Latin America could come on pilgrimage. And he gave her a rare and beautiful title. He called her a martyr of the Faith.

Why such a special honor? Because May Maxwell gave the very last week of her life to a teaching trip, on a continent she had never seen before, for the sake of communities that did not even exist yet. She spent herself, right to the end, helping people she would never meet to one day find what she had found.

That is what a whole life of love looks like: it begins with one spark in the heart, and it keeps on giving — across cities, across oceans, across the years — until the very last day.

This is a retelling for children. For the fuller account, see "May Maxwell: A Mother of the Western Bahá'í Community".

editors, B. C.. *Bahá'í Chronicles*. https://bahaichronicles.org/may-maxwell/