Consider this. You’re standing at the end of a street of more than a hundred houses. It looks like it’s going to rain - in fact, you just felt a few drops on your head. There’s a noisy gang of lads working on a white van in front of a house on the other side of the road. You’re about to open a gate and walk through the manicured front garden up to a house with a new front door and double glazing. Through the windows you can see a neat room with new-looking furniture.

You take a deep breath to try and calm your thumping heart and you reach your finger out to poke at the doorbell.

Inside the house a dog barks. A few moments elapse and a figure, vaguely seen through the front door’s reeded glass, reaches for the latch.

What are you feeling?

I know what I felt the first time I did this. Scared! Anxious about how the person who opened the door would react to my intrusion into their privacy.

Knocking on doors out of the blue - cold calling - is not something I would normally do. But then intensive teaching projects are not ‘normal’.

Preparation

A group of us got together for some hours with the project coordinator a few days before the project began. We prayed and we studied the presentation of the Bahá’í Faith that Bahá’ís the world over refer to as “Anna’s Presentation” - from the example presentation that appears in Book 6 of the Ruhi Institute.

As I understand it, the point is not to learn this presentation off by heart, as some have been trying to do, but to become familiar with the concepts in the presentation so that we can present them in right order.

I say “right order”. That doesn’t mean one can only present the ideas and teachings of the Bahá’í Faith in a particular order, but there is a logic to the presentation that seems to work.

Teaching booklet

We also pick up a copy each of the spiral-bound teaching booklet that we are going to use to help us to make the presentation.

Teaching booklet

Prayer - and lots of it

On the days we went out, we gathered in a Bahá’í home at 8 a.m. for 30 minutes of private prayer, followed by an hour of collective prayer.

Now, I usually find it difficult to stay focused for 20 minutes of prayer, so an hour and a half of the spiritual stuff is pretty daunting.

So I was amazed to find that praying together for so long added a dimension and an intensity to my prayers that I’ve only rarely  experienced before. I could hardly get through the Fire Tablet and kept thinking of the small room in the House of Aboud where Bahá’u'lláh revealed the tablet. (He also completed the Aqdas in that room.)

Study

After prayer, breakfast. And then study of passages from the Bahá’í sacred writings about the sacred duty of teaching. And it’s then that we focus on what it is we are setting out to do.

We’re not selling double glazing. We’re not trying to sign people up for a club. We’re seeking a response from the soul of the person we’re talking to.

Consort with all men, O people of Bahá, in a spirit of friendliness and fellowship. If ye be aware of a certain truth, if ye possess a jewel, of which others are deprived, share it with them in a language of utmost kindliness and good-will. If it be accepted, if it fulfil its purpose, your object is attained. IF any one should refuse it, leave him unto himself, and beseech God to guide him. [Bahá'u'lláh]

Hit the streets

Lunch follows study, and walking the streets follows lunch.

We decide to start knocking on doors at 1.30 p.m. and to stop just before 8.00 p.m. It’s a long time!

First door. Deep breath. Smile. Ring the bell. No reply.

Second door. Deep breath. Smile. Knock. No reply.

Third door. Deep breath. Smile. Ring. A short delay. The door opens. A face looks out, enquiring. “Hello, I’m Barney and this is Niamh. We’re visiting homes in the street to offer people the opportunity to learn about the Bahá’í Faith. Have you heard of the Bahá’í Faith?”

Yes? No? What will the person say? Most say no at this point. “I’m not interested.” Or “We have our own faith, thank you.” Or “My partner’s father is a vicar.” This brush-off from a smiling young mother. My partner’s father is a vicar? What’s that got to do with anything?

Time to regroup. Time for a prayer. And on to the next door.

This is the house of a group of Latvian migrants. They invite us in. We begin the presentation and they listen for a time. They ask questions and we work our way around their relatively poor English and our non-existent Latvian. But in the end they don’t want to take the discussion any further and we bid them farewell.

Break

I’m desperate for a cup of tea. The various teams meet up in the coffee shop in Asda to refresh themselves and plan the next section of the day. It’s about 5.30 p.m.

Tea break in Asda

Back to the streets

After our break , we reform into new teaching teams and move on to different parts of town.

My partner and I find ourselves on a street of 1960s terraced houses. A young Indian girl of about 7 or 8 opens the second door we knock at.

“Is your mum or dad in?”

She fetches her mum, who looks to be in her early 30s and who listens to the opening of the presentation before motioning us to enter.

We learn that her name is Madhu, she has a wonderful smile, and she’s from Gujarat. Her English is not strong, but she listens very carefully to the presentation.

The air is full of the wonderful spicy aroma of Indian cooking. The living room looks like it has not been redecorated for many years. The brown wallpaper is torn in places and the furnishings are very simple. But the house has a welcoming spirit. It is a true home. The little girl who opened the door and her younger brother dash in and out as Talieh and I talk to their mother.

Madhu finds a point too difficult to understand and sends the little girl upstairs. A few moments later, the girl returns with a young guy, who turns out to be one of Madhu’s cousins. He looks like he’s just woken up, but he listens as Talieh repeats what she wants to say to Madhu. The cousin says something very brief in Gujurati and Madhu nods.

Shortly he has to leave and go to work. As he goes a young woman comes into the house. She’s another cousin, just returned from her shift at Tesco in St Albans. She listens intently to the presentation and, as she does, the house begins to fill up with cousins returning from work at various supermarkets in Hatfield and St Albans. In the end there are about six cousins in the living room, listening with varying degrees of attention to the presentation.

As each one comes in, he or she greets us as if we are old friends of the family. Is this just politeness? Or are we being genuinely welcomed? It feels genuine, but we don’t want to presume on their hospitality.

After a couple of hours, we’ve repeated the main points of the presentation I don’t know how many times and we’ve arranged to return the next day.

We take our leave. Outside, as we head for the car, another cousin, Parag, comes up and greets us. We introduce ourselves and our purpose in being here. It seems that he will be around when we come back the following day, so we reserve the presentation for then.

Dinner and debrief

We all gather at Niamh and Martin’s for dinner and a debrief. We share stories and try to draw out “the learning” from our experiences. Pretty much everyone has had a similar mixture of joy and disappointment. It is clear that some streets were not at all receptive to this direct approach by Bahá’ís. Others, though, were definitely promising. Nobody had experienced outright rudeness. Those who had turned us away from their doors had generally done so reasonably politely.

Everyone had been apprehensive about knocking on doors; everyone had experienced varying degrees of stress. On the other hand, everyone reported that things went best when they felt able to let go of their fears and to rely on Bahá’u'lláh as they talked to people. And everyone had experienced at least one encounter that they had thought would end in rejection but which turned out to lead to some very interesting and propitious conversations.

Mostly what we learned about was ourselves, our capacity to persevere when we felt discouraged,  and about the importance of prayer and preparation before and during our time on the streetgs.

Is this the right thing to do?

I had my doubts about involving myself in the teaching project in Hatfield. I’m not all that fond of having religious characters knocking on my door to tell me about their particular beliefs or, even worse, to try to persuade me to adopt their faith.

So why would I go knocking on other people’s doors to tell them about my faith? Am I guilty of hypocrisy by doing what I don’t want others to do to me? Am I being a religious imperialist in trying to find those who will respond positively to Bahá’u'lláh’s teachings? After all, in the inter-faith world in which I spend so much of my time, this would be considered poor form. These questions nagged at me every time I approached a front door.

However, as Bill pointed out in his comment on my first post about teaching at people’s door, the answer to this question may have something to do with justice. Bahá’u'lláh’s teachings for the future of the world are strong on social justice, based on a deep realization of human oneness and the reduction of inequality. But those teachings aren’t going to make a whole heap of difference to the world if the majority of people don’t at least have a chance to consider them.

We would never, in the proverbial month of Sundays, meet some of the people we encountered unless we knocked on their doors. They don’t belong to the clubs and associations we might belong to. We’re not part of their family or ethnic networks. They work long hours. And they certainly don’t go to the public meetings we used to organize as our way of meeting people. We have to go to them.

If we believe, as Bahá’ís do, that the teachings and actions of our faith are essential to the transformation of the world from its present troubled state into a civilization in which every individual can develop his or her potential and put that potential to use in service to all our fellow human beings, then we have a pressing obligation to share our message.

Seeking the knowledge of God - deeds and words in harmony

I find the answer to my questions in the message that the Universal House of Justice, the Bahá’í community’s world governing council, addressed to the community at Ridván this year:

Humanity is battered by forces of oppression, whether generated from the depths of religious prejudice or the pinnacles of rampant materialism. Bahá’ís are able to discern the causes of this affliction. “What ‘oppression’ is more grievous,” Bahá’u'lláh asks, “than that a soul seeking the truth, and wishing to attain unto the knowledge of God should not know where to go for it and from whom to seek it?”

Well, if people are going to find what their souls yearn for in the teachings of Bahá’u'lláh, those of us who claim to follow Bahá’u'lláh have to strive for a very high standard of conduct. As the Universal House of Justice says:

So free must be your thoughts and actions of any trace of prejudice - racial, religious, economic, national, tribal, class, or cultural - that even the stranger sees in you loving friends. So high must be your standard of excellence and so pure and chaste your lives that the moral influence you exert penetrates the consciousness of the wider community. Only if you demonstrate the rectitude of conduct to which the writings of the Faith call every soul will you be able to struggle against the myriad forms of corruption, overt and subtle, eating at the vitals of society.

And I find this admonition particularly inspiring:

Only if you perceive honour and nobility in every human being - this independent of wealth or poverty - will you be able to champion the cause of justice.

Technorati Tags: Baha’i, Bahai, teaching, Hatfield, unity, justice, truth, honour, nobility, prayer, study, prejudice

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Sorry to bore you with wedding photos, but once I’d got the album out and started to scan, it seemed a pity not to show what things looked like when Erica and I got wed on 18 July 1970.

Barney and Erica with David Hofman

Meherangiz, Eruch and Jyoti Munsiff

A contingent of Baha'is from South Wales, including Carl and Joyce Card, Rita Bridge (now Bartlett) and Viv Bartlett

Cutting the cake

Going away

Technorati Tags: Barney Leith, Erica Leith, wedding, David Hofman, Meherangiz Munsiff, Jyoti Munsiff, Carl Card, Joyce Card, Rita Bartlett, Viv Bartlett, Baha’i, Bahai

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Oh well, Erica and I failed to celebrate our 38th wedding anniversary! Not, of course, that we forgot our anniversary - although we have done so in previous years - we were just too tired to drag ourselves out to one of the local hostelries for dinner.

Barney and Erica - a happy couple

But here we are 38 years ago. Aren’t we sweet? Haven’t changed a bit!

And here’s the wedding ceremony in the mediaeval Pilgrims’ Hall, behind the cathedral in Winchester (UK) on 18th July 1970. The late David Hofman, at that time a member of the Universal House of Justice, was the MC. I think at this point he was speaking about the significance of marriage for Bahá’ís and the nature of the Bahá’í ceremony.

Barney and Erica's wedding ceremony. David Hofman is standing. Jyoti Munsiff and Marion Hofman at right

Those were our days of innocence. Now we have three children and four grandchildren’s-worth of learning and we do look ever so slightly older.

Technorati Tags: Baha’i, Bahai, Barney Leith, Erica Leith, wedding, marriage, Winchester, David Hofman, Marion Hofman, Jyoti Munsiff

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