The Minister Who Gave Up His Pulpit

*A retelling for children, based on **Portals to Freedom** by Howard Colby Ives, who tells the story himself.*

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Every Sunday morning, for years and years, the same man climbed the steps of the same pulpit in a little church in Brooklyn.

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His name was Howard Colby Ives, and he was a minister. The pulpit was his — the high wooden platform at the front of the church where the minister stands to speak. He had stood there more Sundays than he could count, looking out at the same rows of faces, the people he had served for so long. He thought he knew that church inside and out. He thought he knew exactly what it was.

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He was about to find out that he was wrong.

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For Ives had spent some weeks in the company of a remarkable visitor — 'Abdu'l-Bahá, who had come all the way from the East to America that spring of 1912. The more time Ives spent near Him, the more something inside the minister began to change. And so he had a bold idea. What if 'Abdu'l-Bahá came to *his* church? What if Ives stepped aside, just this once, and let his honored guest speak from his own pulpit?

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It was not an ordinary thing to ask. Ives's church was small, and it had never before welcomed a speaker from a faraway land like this. He went to the trustees — the people who helped look after the church — and asked them. They talked it over. And at last they agreed.

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The Sunday morning came, and the sky was clear. 'Abdu'l-Bahá arrived in the small motor-car that had been lent to Him during His stay in New York. Word had spread, and visitors had come to join the regular congregation, so that the little church was full — every pew packed with people waiting.

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Ives stood with his guest in the entryway while the music played. Then he did something he had never done on a Sunday before. He walked 'Abdu'l-Bahá all the way up the center aisle to the front of the church — and instead of climbing the pulpit himself, he sat down in the very first pew, like one of the listeners. He gave the pulpit away.

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'Abdu'l-Bahá climbed the steps. There He stood, in His flowing Persian robes, in the exact spot where Ives had stood every single Sunday for years. And He began to speak.

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He could not speak in English, so an interpreter said His words aloud for the congregation to understand. He spoke about something wonderful: that all the great Teachers God has sent to the world carry the same light. The same light, He said, had shone through Moses long ago, and through Christ, and through Muḥammad — and now, in this present age, that light was shining over the world once more.

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And down in the front pew sat Ives, listening like everyone else. It felt so strange to him. This was *his* church, *his* pulpit, *his* congregation — and yet, as he listened, the church he thought he had known for all those years suddenly seemed like a different place altogether.

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But here is the surprising part. What 'Abdu'l-Bahá was saying did not knock down anything Ives had taught from that same pulpit. It did the opposite — it made it bigger. Ives had spoken about one God before. 'Abdu'l-Bahá used those same words about God — and then placed them inside a larger picture, one with room for the great Teachers of every age. It was like a hint Ives had been reaching toward for years, and now, in that quiet voice, it was being completed.

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Then the blessing was given. The organ played. And the people rose and filed out into the bright Brooklyn morning — some puzzled, some quietly stirred deep in their hearts. Later on, several of those very people would become Bahá'ís.

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And Ives? By the time the church door closed that morning, the minister was already half-decided about something big. In the months that followed, he would leave the ministry he had known and give the rest of his life to serving the Cause he had discovered.

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Sometimes the bravest thing a person can do is step aside and make room for the truth — even in the place they thought belonged most of all to themselves. Ives gave up his pulpit for a single morning, and in doing so, he found something far greater than he ever expected.

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*This is a retelling for children. For the fuller account, see ["The Master in the Unitarian Pulpit: Brooklyn, 1912"](/stories/pf-pulpit-of-ives-church).*

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