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"The earth is but one country, and mankind its citizens."
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"The earth is but one country, and mankind its citizens."
141 stories on this theme.
In *Bahá'u'lláh and the New Era,* J. E. Esslemont preserves the testimony of those who heard 'Abdu'l-Bahá in London in 1911 — that the Master's manner was *quiet, untheatrical, most convincing,* and that the simplicity of His speaking, more than any rhetoric, carried the weight of His Father's revelation.
A short paraphrase from the Baha'i Stories Blog about a brief encounter on a Chicago streetcar: the Master, traveling in the ordinary way among ordinary people, and the small Bahá'í child who recognised Him before her mother did.
A short paraphrase from the Baha'i Stories Blog about a small encounter from the Master's New York days: a Greek immigrant greengrocer who would not accept payment, and the Master's gentle insistence that the gift be reframed as an exchange of friendship.
A short paraphrase from the Baha'i Stories Blog about a small encounter on a Washington sidewalk: a blind beggar at the corner of the boarding-house street, the Master's daily greeting to him, and the small daily coin pressed into his palm.
A brief paraphrase from the bahaistories.com archive on the small recurring practice of 'Abdu'l-Bahá in His American cities: the warm conversation with each cab driver who carried Him, the personal inquiry into the driver's family, and the larger tip than the fare required.
On an April night in 1912, 'Abdu'l-Bahá came to the Bowery Mission to address three hundred of New York's destitute men — and then stood at the door and pressed a coin and a gaze into the hand of every one of them. A retelling from the Diary of Juliet Thompson.
Juliet Thompson's mother carried a grief — and a quiet resentment of her daughter's new Faith. Then she knelt at 'Abdu'l-Bahá's bedside, and a few gentle words changed everything. A retelling from the Diary of Juliet Thompson.
In *The Diary of Juliet Thompson* the painter records the evening in 1912 when 'Abdu'l-Bahá visited her dying friend Marjorie Morten in her sickroom — and the strange peace that, by the next morning, had taken the place of the household's prepared grief.
In *The Diary of Juliet Thompson* the painter records an evening in New York in the summer of 1912 when, after one of the great public meetings, she found herself walking beside 'Abdu'l-Bahá through the dark streets — and the silence in which the most carrying conversations sometimes pass.
At a glittering embassy dinner in Washington, a skeptical diplomat sat across from 'Abdu'l-Bahá with tears in his eyes. A solemn question about spiritual power drew from the Master a reply that made the whole table smile. A retelling from the Diary of Juliet Thompson.
Three hundred poor men crowded into a hall to meet 'Abdu'l-Bahá. He gave each one a coin — but He gave them something even more precious too.
An old woman could not walk, and she longed and longed to meet 'Abdu'l-Bahá. She thought she never would — until one day there was a knock at her own front door.
Leaving a grand mansion full of important guests, 'Abdu'l-Bahá asked to see someone else first — the cooks and the maids who worked behind the scenes.
When 'Abdu'l-Bahá first stepped off a great ship onto American shores, reporters crowded close to ask why He had come — and His answer was about peace for the whole world.
Only a handful of friends gathered in one little parlour, but 'Abdu'l-Bahá came to them anyway — and told them that keeping the Faith in a quiet place is one of the most important jobs of all.
When 'Abdu'l-Bahá came to Boston, He found a city whose people had been waiting and getting ready, in their own way, for a very long time.
A famous university built its biggest hall for 'Abdu'l-Bahá's talk — but so many people came that He decided to step outside and speak to everyone at once.
On a great ship crossing the wide Atlantic Ocean, 'Abdu'l-Bahá sailed all the way to America to meet His friends — and to share the truth with a whole new land.
On a winter afternoon by a great ship, 'Abdu'l-Bahá said goodbye to His friends and left them with one beautiful idea to carry forever.
One believer carried a plain little stone all the way to a cold, muddy field — and 'Abdu'l-Bahá chose her stone to begin a great House of Worship.
At a fancy gathering in Brooklyn, a famous explorer who had reached the North Pole turned to 'Abdu'l-Bahá and asked Him to speak — and with no notes at all, He held the whole room spellbound.
A train stopped for just one hour in a city called Cincinnati — and 'Abdu'l-Bahá used that hour to step outside and greet the friends who came to meet Him.
'Abdu'l-Bahá crossed the mountains by train to two new cities — one loud with steel mills, one quiet with friends in their homes — and showed both the same warm welcome.
At a great university in New York, 'Abdu'l-Bahá taught a hall full of students and professors why a person needs both science and religion — just as a bird needs both of its wings to fly.
In a living room full of women working to win the vote, 'Abdu'l-Bahá explained why the world needs women and men to be equal — like a bird that needs both of its wings to fly.
After many busy weeks in the big cities, 'Abdu'l-Bahá went up into the green hills to rest, to walk among the pine trees, and to welcome everyone who came up the road to see Him.
When two visitors from Japan came to see 'Abdu'l-Bahá in San Francisco, He was filled with joy — because two people from opposite ends of the earth had met as friends.
In a huge, busy city, 'Abdu'l-Bahá went looking for a little corner where He could sit, eat, and talk with people in the language of His old home.
Standing before a huge crowd in a great synagogue, 'Abdu'l-Bahá asked one gentle, brave question that no one there had expected to hear.
A few friends in the very middle of America asked if 'Abdu'l-Bahá's train could stop for just one afternoon — and to their joy, He said yes.
When it was time to say goodbye to His friends in Minneapolis, 'Abdu'l-Bahá gave them one last wish — not to remember Him, but to go and care for others.
When mealtime came on His big American journey, 'Abdu'l-Bahá did something His guests never expected — He served them with His own hands, and cleared the dishes too.
Wherever 'Abdu'l-Bahá went, He always stopped what He was doing to welcome the children — and He kept sweets in His pocket just for them.
'Abdu'l-Bahá crossed half a country to spend just two days with a tiny group of friends — and told them a wonderful secret about how big things grow from small beginnings.
'Abdu'l-Bahá sailed down a river to an old farmhouse, stood quietly at a great man's grave, and taught His friends the hardest, bravest thing a powerful person can do.
Many people sent stones for the very first stone of a great temple — but on the big day, only the stone a poor seamstress had dragged across the whole city had actually arrived.
'Abdu'l-Bahá stood quietly at a great roaring waterfall and heard, inside all that noise, something wonderful — a kind of prayer.
Only about ten friends waited at the train station in Omaha — but 'Abdu'l-Bahá told them their tiny group held seeds that would one day grow into something great.
'Abdu'l-Bahá visited a big church in a city named for love, and gently invited everyone to share that love with the whole world.
In a city full of busy factories and very rich men, 'Abdu'l-Bahá stood up and gently explained the one thing money is really for.
One night 'Abdu'l-Bahá set aside His busy plans to visit four hundred poor men, calling each one His brother and pressing a coin into every hand.
On a train climbing over the great mountains, 'Abdu'l-Bahá looked out at the new railway and saw something wonderful — a world that could one day be joined together like one big family.
Nothing famous happened on this ordinary spring day with the Master — and that is exactly why someone thought it was worth writing down forever.
After many long months of traveling all across America, 'Abdu'l-Bahá came back to the friends in New York who had been waiting and waiting to see Him again.
In a busy hotel ballroom in Seattle, 'Abdu'l-Bahá told two hundred people of many different faiths one simple, beautiful idea — that goodness shines like light, no matter which lamp it burns in.
The train would stop in Spokane for only half an hour — just long enough for a few friends with armfuls of flowers to meet 'Abdu'l-Bahá on the platform.
Only a handful of friends gathered in a quiet hotel room to meet 'Abdu'l-Bahá — and He gave them a job big enough to last for many, many years.
Almost two thousand young students filled a great hall to hear 'Abdu'l-Bahá — and He told them that being kind to everyone is one of the oldest ideas in the whole world.
In a beautiful green garden, 'Abdu'l-Bahá suddenly began to cry — and the reason why tells us how much He loved His Father.
A great crowd of friends came down to the harbor to wave goodbye to 'Abdu'l-Bahá as His ship sailed away — and He gave them something to keep forever.
A woman was warned she might be walking into a trap when she went to meet 'Abdu'l-Bahá — and with a smile, He told her the wonderful kind of trap it really was.
In a church packed with two thousand people, one crying woman reached out and held the hem of 'Abdu'l-Bahá's robe — and He stopped just for her.
On a train crossing all the way to the ocean, 'Abdu'l-Bahá kept His prayers, watched the wide land roll by, and learned the names of the men who worked aboard.
A tiny group of friends from Canada could not bring 'Abdu'l-Bahá to their city, so they made a long journey by boat to go to Him instead.
Powerful people from many rival countries sat down to dinner together, and 'Abdu'l-Bahá showed them that the friendship of the whole world can begin at one quiet table.
When the head of a famous university invited 'Abdu'l-Bahá to speak to its smartest scientists and thinkers, He told them that science and religion are like two wings that lift us up together.
A man crossed the whole city to ask 'Abdu'l-Bahá one big question — and got his answer in a way he never expected.
A boy stood at the edge of a crowd, sure that no one would notice him — until 'Abdu'l-Bahá lifted His hand and called him something beautiful, loud enough for everyone to hear.
A tired man carried a heavy worry he had never said out loud — and over a small cup of tea, 'Abdu'l-Bahá answered the very question hiding in his heart.
On a sunny Sunday in a little garden, 'Abdu'l-Bahá bent low over the lilies and laughed with the children — and a man named Howard never forgot how that afternoon smelled.
On the evening before 'Abdu'l-Bahá sailed away from America, a man named Howard sat close to Him and heard the most important thing he would ever try to remember.
A man climbed the stairs of a tall hotel with a long list of hard questions in his pocket — and discovered that the answer he truly needed was waiting for him in a single, warm hello.
A man knelt for one last blessing and placed 'Abdu'l-Bahá's hand on his own head — and what he felt taught him what true greatness really is.
After a long day of talking to crowd after crowd, 'Abdu'l-Bahá came home so tired He had to be helped inside — and then, fifteen minutes later, His strong voice rang out again.
A group of friends in New York sat talking and planning, until 'Abdu'l-Bahá stopped at the door and asked them one small question they never forgot.
A poor boy from the roughest part of New York came to meet 'Abdu'l-Bahá, sure that no one would notice him. He was wrong — 'Abdu'l-Bahá noticed him most of all.
On a windy field by a great lake, 'Abdu'l-Bahá knelt down and dug into the earth with His own hands — beginning a beautiful temple that still stands today.
Friends came from a dozen faraway countries to one happy wedding — and 'Abdu'l-Bahá told them all the secret of the strongest power in the whole world.
A grumpy visitor came to 'Abdu'l-Bahá with lots of complaints. 'Abdu'l-Bahá told him a funny little story about a dog — and the man went away happy.
Mahmúd's Diary records the first hours of 'Abdu'l-Bahá in America: the SS Cedric pulling into New York harbor on April 11, 1912; the rush of newspaper reporters at the dock seeking to know His purpose; and His steady answer that He had crossed an ocean for *the unity of humankind*.
Mahmúd's Diary records a brief stop in Baltimore in November 1912 — chiefly a day of rest in transit between Washington and New York, but with a small evening reception at the home of one of the city's three Bahá'í families.
Mahmúd's Diary records 'Abdu'l-Bahá's days in Boston in late July and August 1912, including His talk at the Free Religious Association and the unusually warm reception of Boston's Unitarian ministers. Boston, the city of Emerson and the Transcendentalists, recognised in the Master a kindred root.
Mahmúd's Diary records that during the May 1912 visit to Boston, 'Abdu'l-Bahá addressed audiences at Harvard University in Cambridge — including a memorable open-air talk on the lawn before Sanders Theatre when the hall could not accommodate the crowd that had come.
Mahmúd's Diary records the long Atlantic crossing of 'Abdu'l-Bahá and His small party aboard the S.S. Cedric in March and early April 1912 — the ten days at sea during which the Master, in His sixty-eighth year, prepared for the great American tour by simple devotions and long conversations with His attendants.
On December 5, 1912, Mahmúd's Diary records, the SS *Celtic* lay at her berth in New York harbor as 'Abdu'l-Bahá addressed the small band of friends who had come to see Him sail. He left them with one sentence that summarised the eight months of His American teaching: the whole earth is one globe, and all nations one family.
Mahmúd's Diary records that on May 1, 1912, 'Abdu'l-Bahá travelled from Chicago to the small lakeside village of Wilmette to dedicate the cornerstone of the future House of Worship of the Western world. He laid the stone with His own hand and invited each delegate of the gathering to place upon it a stone of his own.
Mahmúd's Diary preserves the moment in early June 1912 at a Unity Club gathering in Brooklyn when Admiral Robert E. Peary, the polar explorer, unexpectedly invited 'Abdu'l-Bahá to address the room — though the Master had been there only as a guest. The talk, given without notes, brought the distinguished gathering to a complete stillness.
Mahmúd's Diary records that on the journey from Chicago to Washington in early November 1912, the Master's train made a long change of cars at Cincinnati. Word had been telegraphed ahead. A small group of Ohio believers came to the station for the hour the train was held there.
Mahmúd's Diary records the spring of 1912 when 'Abdu'l-Bahá travelled west of the Alleghenies for the first time, holding meetings in Cleveland and Pittsburgh and then continuing to Chicago. In Pittsburgh the smoke of the steel mills hung over the talks; in Cleveland the believers gathered in private homes.
Mahmúd's Diary records 'Abdu'l-Bahá's visit to Columbia University in New York on April 19, 1912. The Master spoke to the assembled faculty and students on the immortality of the soul and the inseparability of scientific investigation from spiritual enlightenment.
Mahmúd's Diary records a women's gathering arranged in Denver in late September 1912 — a meeting at the home of one of the city's prominent suffragists, where 'Abdu'l-Bahá spoke of the spiritual basis for the equality of women and men.
Mahmúd's Diary preserves the final weeks of July and the opening weeks of August 1912, when 'Abdu'l-Bahá retired from the cities of the East Coast to the small artists' colony at Dublin, New Hampshire. The mornings were spent in dictation; the afternoons in walks through pine and fir; and the evenings in talks for the summer residents who came up the road to listen.
When two Japanese believers came to call on Him in San Francisco, 'Abdu'l-Bahá called the meeting historic. That an Iranian and a Japanese should sit together in love, He said, was itself a sign of a new power loose in the world. A retelling from Mahmúd's Diary.
An elderly woman, unable to walk, longed with all her heart to meet 'Abdu'l-Bahá. When He heard of it, He did not wait for her to be carried to Him — He went, Himself, to her door. A retelling from Mahmúd's Diary.
Leaving a great mansion in California, 'Abdu'l-Bahá did not say His farewells to the wealthy guests first. He called for the cooks, the maids, and the butler — and the room of elegant onlookers fell silent. A retelling from Mahmúd's Diary.
Mahmúd's Diary records that during the New York stays of 1912, 'Abdu'l-Bahá would occasionally direct His carriage to the small Syrian-Lebanese quarter of Lower Manhattan, where He would dine in modest immigrant restaurants and speak Arabic with the proprietors and patrons.
On October 12, 1912, 'Abdu'l-Bahá addressed an audience of approximately 2,000 at Temple Emanu-El in San Francisco — the largest synagogue on the Pacific coast — and asked the gathered Jews, with all the courtesy of a guest and all the firmness of a prophet's son, why they had not yet honoured Christ and Muḥammad as the heirs of Moses.
Mahmúd's Diary records a brief stop in Kansas City on the westward leg of 'Abdu'l-Bahá's American tour — a small reception arranged at short notice by friends from the Missouri-Kansas border who had heard the Master would pass through.
As 'Abdu'l-Bahá prepared to leave Minneapolis, the friends gathered around Him in sorrow. His parting counsel was not about Himself, but about the orphans, the hungry, and the poor. A retelling from Mahmúd's Diary.
On April 23, 1912, after speaking at Howard University in the morning, 'Abdu'l-Bahá was the principal guest at a diplomatic luncheon at the home of Persian chargé d'affaires Ali-Kuli Khan. One hour before the hour, the Master sent for Louis Gregory — the African-American Bahá'í who had not been invited — and seated him in the place of honor.
Mahmúd's Diary preserves, alongside the public talks, the ordinary domestic hours of 'Abdu'l-Bahá's American journey: the meals He ate, the way He served the friends with His own hand, the laughter He brought to a tired room, the way He cleared the table afterwards.
Mahmúd's Diary preserves a recurring theme of the 1912 American tour: the Master's particular attention to the children who came with their parents to the meetings. He would pause the proceedings to greet them. He would set them on His knee. He would ask their names, kiss their cheeks, and send them away with a sweet from His pocket.
Mahmúd's Diary records 'Abdu'l-Bahá's brief visit to Minneapolis and St. Paul on September 19-20, 1912, including a public talk at the Plymouth Congregational Church and an evening meeting with the small but devoted Bahá'í community of the Twin Cities.
Mahmúd's Diary records 'Abdu'l-Bahá's visit to Mount Vernon — the Virginia plantation home of George Washington — on April 25, 1912. The Master walked through the house and grounds, paid respects at Washington's tomb, and remarked on the meaning of the place for the American Republic.
On May 1, 1912, 'Abdu'l-Bahá traveled north of Chicago to lay the cornerstone of the first Bahá'í House of Worship in the West. Many stones had been sent from Bahá'í communities for the ceremony. Only one — found in a builders' rejection pile and dragged to the site by Nettie Tobin, a Chicago seamstress — had actually arrived. The Master asked for hers.
Mahmúd's Diary records that on September 9, 1912, after the intensity of His talks at Buffalo, 'Abdu'l-Bahá was driven to Niagara Falls. He stood for a long time at the lookout, said little, and afterward observed that the roar of the falling water was a kind of prayer.
Mahmúd's Diary records the brief stop of 'Abdu'l-Bahá's party at Omaha on September 21, 1912 — a single afternoon in the great cattle-and-rail city of the central plains, with a brief talk in the parlour of a downtown hotel and the next morning's departure westward.
Mahmúd's Diary records 'Abdu'l-Bahá's brief visit to Philadelphia on June 9, 1912, including His afternoon address at the Baptist Temple on Broad Street — a great evangelical Protestant pulpit then known for its commitment to the social gospel.
Mahmúd's Diary records 'Abdu'l-Bahá's reception at the Schenley Hotel in Pittsburgh on May 7, 1912, where the Pittsburgh Bahá'í community had organised an afternoon gathering of friends and inquirers that included a number of the city's prominent industrialists and ministers.
Mahmúd's Diary records that on the evening of April 19, 1912, 'Abdu'l-Bahá interrupted His program of formal receptions to go in person to the Bowery Mission in New York. He spoke to four hundred poor men, distributed coins to each from His own hand, and returned to His hotel near midnight.
Mahmúd's Diary records the long train journey of 'Abdu'l-Bahá and His party from Salt Lake City to Portland in early October 1912 — the steady westward crossing of the Rockies and the Cascades, the Master's hours of conversation in the parlour car, and the slow preparation for the Pacific coast portion of the journey.
Mahmúd's Diary preserves the small domestic record of an ordinary day in the New York apartment of Mr. and Mrs. Edward Kinney — the Master at His correspondence, at His tea, in brief conversation with the household, the rhythm of the hours unmarked by any public event.
Mahmúd's Diary records 'Abdu'l-Bahá's return to New York in late November 1912, after the long western swing — the re-engagement with the established New York friends, the receiving of a long backlog of pilgrims, and the preparation for the journey home.
Mahmúd's Diary records 'Abdu'l-Bahá's brief stop in Seattle during the western leg of October 1912 — a public address in a downtown hotel ballroom, attended by some two hundred guests arranged through the local theosophical society.
Mahmúd's Diary records a brief station stop at Spokane, Washington, on the northern transcontinental route taken by the Master's party in October 1912 — a small group of friends meeting the train and a brief exchange in the station hall.
Mahmúd's Diary records the brief stop of 'Abdu'l-Bahá in St. Louis on 1 November 1912 — an evening reception in the parlour of the Statler Hotel and a meeting with the small community of Missouri believers who had asked Him to come.
On October 8, 1912, Mírzá Maḥmúd records, 'Abdu'l-Bahá addressed an audience of approximately 1,800 students and 180 professors at Leland Stanford Junior University in Palo Alto — the largest single audience of His American journey, gathered in the university chapel to hear a Persian teacher speak on universal peace.
Leaving a green and beautiful estate outside New York, 'Abdu'l-Bahá looked at the lush grounds — and suddenly wept. His thoughts had flown back across the years to His Father, and to all that the Blessed Beauty had borne. A retelling from Mahmúd's Diary.
On a December day in 1912, the believers crowded aboard the steamship that would carry 'Abdu'l-Bahá away from America for the last time. As the ship pulled out, a weeping crowd stretched as far as the eye could see. A retelling from Mahmúd's Diary.
On a May morning in 1912, on a windswept plot of land north of Chicago, 'Abdu'l-Bahá knelt and turned the first earth for the Mother Temple of the West with His own hands. A retelling from Mahmúd's Diary.
A woman came to 'Abdu'l-Bahá and admitted, a little nervously, that a friend had warned her she might be walking into a trap. With a smile, the Master agreed — and then told her exactly what kind of trap it was. A retelling from Mahmúd's Diary.
Two thousand people filled the Church of the Ascension in New York to hear 'Abdu'l-Bahá. But as He left, it was a single weeping woman, clutching the hem of His robe, who received His fullest attention. A retelling from Mahmúd's Diary.
Mahmúd's Diary records the long quiet stretches of the transcontinental train journey from Chicago to the Pacific in September-October 1912 — the Master at His prayers in the parlour car, the night plains rolling past, the small acts of hospitality to the train staff.
Mahmúd records a brief reception with the small group of Vancouver and Victoria believers who travelled south across the Canadian border to meet 'Abdu'l-Bahá in Seattle in October 1912 — the Master's only direct encounter with the believers of British Columbia.
Mahmúd's Diary records the formal reception in honor of 'Abdu'l-Bahá given at the Persian Legation in Washington on April 23, 1912 — the small diplomatic occasion at which the Master, the guest of the Iranian state He had Himself never been allowed to visit freely, met the Washington diplomatic corps under the patronage of the ambassador Ali-Kuli Khan.
A visitor from Russia came to 'Abdu'l-Bahá full of complaint about his homeland. Instead of arguing, the Master told him a small story about Christ and a dead dog — and the man went away saying he had found salvation. A retelling from Mahmúd's Diary.
Mahmúd's Diary records that on May 22, 1912, 'Abdu'l-Bahá visited Clark University in Worcester, Massachusetts, at the invitation of its president, G. Stanley Hall. He delivered an address to the faculty and students on the order of being and the unity of all truth.
In 1912 'Abdu'l-Bahá laid with His own hand the foundation stone of the first Bahá'í House of Worship of the Western world, on the shore of Lake Michigan at Wilmette. Over the next forty years a community of working people — giving in dimes and dollars, across two world wars and a great depression — raised above that stone a temple of lacelike grandeur, a gift that most of its builders gave knowing they would never see it finished.
From His sickbed in Haifa, near the very end of His life, 'Abdu'l-Bahá gave Agnes Parsons a single charge: to arrange in Washington a convention for unity between the white and the coloured people. In May 1921, in a city still bound by segregation, some fifteen hundred Americans of both races gathered together for the first such convention ever held — and into it the Master sent a message declaring that no more important gathering had been held since the beginning of time.
Louis Gregory, an African-American attorney born to emancipated parents, and Louisa Mathew, an Englishwoman, met on pilgrimage to 'Abdu'l-Bahá. At a time when interracial marriage was outlawed in most of the United States, the Master quietly encouraged their union — and on 27 September 1912 they became the first interracial Bahá'í couple, a living sign of the human family made one.
A Unitarian minister who had spent his life hungry for a reality his own theology could not give him met 'Abdu'l-Bahá in New York in 1912. Recognition did not strike him like lightning; it dawned, slowly and against his own resistance, over months of inner struggle — until the light he had been looking for all his life rose at last, and he walked out of one ministry into another.
Howard Colby Ives crossed New York to ask 'Abdu'l-Bahá one earnest question about renunciation. The Master seemed to talk of everything but that — until, in His room, He turned and asked the question back. A retelling from Portals to Freedom.
In *Portals to Freedom* Howard Colby Ives recalls a moment in New York in 1912 when 'Abdu'l-Bahá publicly greeted a Black boy in a crowd with the loud, unmistakable proclamation that he was *a black rose* — a phrase that, in the racially stratified America of the day, was a small revolution.
In *Portals to Freedom* Howard Colby Ives recounts an evening in May 1912 when, having sat through one of the great public meetings, he was invited into the Master's private room for a small cup of tea — and a quiet conversation that addressed, without his having spoken them, the very fears he had carried in.
In *Portals to Freedom* Howard Colby Ives describes a Sunday afternoon in 1912 when 'Abdu'l-Bahá received the believers in a small New Jersey garden — and the way the smell of lilies, the ordinary furniture of the house, and the laughter of children combined into what Ives later called the *fragrance* of the Cause.
In *Portals to Freedom* Howard Colby Ives describes the Sunday morning in 1912 when he invited 'Abdu'l-Bahá to speak from his own Unitarian pulpit in Brooklyn — and the strange experience of standing in his own church and watching his own congregation be addressed by the man whose presence had reorganised his ministry from within.
In one of the closing chapters of *Portals to Freedom,* Howard Colby Ives describes the gathering on December 2, 1912, in the days before 'Abdu'l-Bahá sailed from America. The Master's parting counsel — to manifest complete love and to count no soul beneath one's own — fell on Ives, he writes, like a *stream of spiritual energy* he could almost not bear.
When the ragged boys of the Bowery came to meet 'Abdu'l-Bahá, one of them — a Black boy of about thirteen — hung back at the edge of the room. What the Master did next no one present ever forgot. A retelling from Howard Colby Ives's Portals to Freedom.
Howard Colby Ives was reading on a crowded trolley to Newark when a young woman beside him began, silently, to read along. By journey's end her whole face had changed. A gentle retelling from Portals to Freedom.
In *Portals to Freedom* Howard Colby Ives describes the first morning in April 1912 when, summoned to the Ansonia Hotel in New York, he climbed the stair and entered the room where 'Abdu'l-Bahá was receiving — and found that all the arguments of his Unitarian ministry suddenly fell silent.
On a summer day in 1912, 'Abdu'l-Bahá Himself rose to bless the marriage of two believers, with friends gathered from a dozen cities of the world. A warm retelling from Howard Colby Ives's Portals to Freedom.
At the last farewell aboard the ship, Howard Colby Ives knelt and placed 'Abdu'l-Bahá's hand upon his own head. What he felt in that hand — and saw in that face — became his lasting picture of true humility. A retelling from Portals to Freedom.
After a day of speaking that would have flattened a younger man, 'Abdu'l-Bahá returned so exhausted He had to be helped from the car. Fifteen minutes later His voice rang out, stronger than ever. A retelling from Howard Colby Ives's Portals to Freedom.
'Abdu'l-Bahá sat quietly through half an hour of an 'executive committee' meeting in New York. Then He rose, paused at the door, and asked one gentle question that the members never forgot. A retelling from Howard Colby Ives's Portals to Freedom.
On April 19, 1912, 'Abdu'l-Bahá addressed the men of the Bowery Mission in lower Manhattan — several hundred of New York's poorest, many homeless, gathered in the Mission hall for the evening service. The Master spoke to them as the equals of any king and gave them, at the close of the address, a silver quarter from His own hand.
On May 1, 1912, 'Abdu'l-Bahá addressed a public gathering at Handel Hall on East Randolph Street in Chicago — one of His earliest Chicago talks. The Master spoke of the necessity of an international consciousness as the antidote to the prejudices of nation, of class, and of race that had been the burden of human history.
At a reception given in His honor by the New York Peace Society at the Hotel Astor on May 13, 1912, 'Abdu'l-Bahá took the platform with one of His most quoted sentences: peace is light, war is darkness — and asked the assembled American peace movement to lead the world into the new century as the century of lights.
On May 4, 1912, 'Abdu'l-Bahá called at Hull House in Chicago, the pioneering settlement house founded by Jane Addams in 1889 in the immigrant West Side district. He addressed the assembled residents, social workers and immigrant neighbors in the small main hall and later took tea with Miss Addams herself.
On September 19, 1912, 'Abdu'l-Bahá addressed a gathering of the Twin Cities Bahá'ís and inquirers in the parlour of the Leland Hotel in downtown Minneapolis. He spoke on the Holy Spirit as the living, active, present-tense bond between the human soul and the Divine reality.
On the morning of May 6, 1912, 'Abdu'l-Bahá arrived by train at the Cleveland Union Station and was received by the small Cleveland Bahá'í community. He addressed them on the platform itself with a brief but characteristic speech: that the spirit of the Cause is carried not in great gatherings but in the small, faithful community of two or three friends.
At the dedication of the Mashriqu'l-Adhkár grounds in Wilmette on May 1, 1912 — the same gathering at which Nettie Tobin's stone was laid as the cornerstone — 'Abdu'l-Bahá spoke about the future Houses of Worship that would arise across the world, and gave the specific architectural instruction that the building must be *circular,* never triangular.