(Note the yellow rose beside the Master in photo. My floating yellow rose is inspiring me as I write.)
April 18--What a day!
Mahmud reports: "Besides the individual meetings of the friends with `Abdu'l-Bahá, there were two public meetings held today. One was at the home of Mrs. [Marshall] Emery, where He spoke about the life of the Blessed Beauty, His glory, His many afflictions and hardships and the triumph of the Cause of God despite His imprisonment by His enemies. This account brought tears to the eyes of the listeners and caused them to ponder deeply. Many asked that they might be assisted to serve the Cause.
"The other meeting was held at the Bowery Mission Hall to help and assist the poor and destitute. First `Abdu'l-Bahá spoke on the subject of the station of poverty and gave the men hope for the future. His words were so penetrating that even those who were not poor became envious at `Abdu'l-Bahá's description of the station of poverty. The report of this meeting was publicized in many newspapers. When `Abdu'l-Bahá finished His talk, He said He wished to serve the poor. The chairman announced that `Abdu'l-Bahá would stand near the door so that they could come to Him from one side and then leave from the other. It was an impressive sight. The Master showered His kindness on each one and gave each of them some coins. Because there were about four hundred people, some said that the Master's money would not suffice; there would not be enough for all of them. Instead, some money was left over, which was given to other destitute people and children outside the Bowery."
Allen Ward in 239 Days also notes: " `Abdu'l-Bahá went to a Broadway play that afternoon, The Terrible Meek, which dealt with the crucifixion of Christ. He returned from the play to the hotel where crowds were waiting. Among the visitors was Kate Carew, the reporter for the New York Tribune whose caustic style mellowed in the presence of `Abdu'l-Bahá." (27)
First, can you imagine a Broadway play on such a subject? Carew reports that when someone interrogated Him concerning the mission of the theatre, He was agitated. Then He said that when He saw the acts, He wept, though it had been more than 1900 years since that time. I feel that He was saying something about the power of the theatre to convey and evoke emotion. It seems significant that the Master took the time to see a play. Of course He said that "the stage will be the pulpit of the future" and spoke of how important drama was--and would become--but still, we don't imagine Him attending a Broadway play.
Second, the account of Kate Carew (well worth reading in its entirety--239, pp. 27-34) shows the impact `Abdu'l-Bahá had on her, as she records in detail His meeting with a number of people at the hotel, then He said, "I am going to the poor in the Bowery now. I love them." Mahmud translates this as, "I am in love with them." Either way, it reminds me of Bahá'u'lláh's injunction, "The poor in your midst are My trust. Guard ye my trust."
Carew describes her experience at the Bowery--can you imagine `Abdu'l-Bahá taking a journalist He just met with Him there, "hand in hand,"--and the surprise she got when He gave money away? "Think of it! Some one actually coming to America and distributing money . . . not taking it away. It seems incredible." She ends her newspaper account with this: "As I went out into the starlight night I murmured the phrase of an Oriental admirer who had described him as The Breeze of God." Don't you love that appellation?
Juliet's account is longer, with many other details. She had been there in February, on a night that was "terrible: snowing, sleeting, bitterly cold." She told the men how He had come out of prison full of love for the whole world, even His cruelest enemies. All three hundred men stood when asked if they wanted Him to come speak in April--and 30 stood when the Bowery representative asked how many wanted to study a Bible verse on Wednesday evenings to learn something about the example of `Abdu'l-Bahá. [OK, here's incentive for inviting people to study circles. . . .]
When `Abdu'l-Bahá visited the Bowery, Juliet introduced Him. He spoke, then she what happened afterwards:
"Then down the aisle streamed a sodden and grimy procession: three hundred men in single file. The 'breadline.' The failures. Broken forms. Blurred faces. How can I picture such a scene? That forlorn host out of the depths, out of the "mud and scum of things"--where nevertheless 'something always, always sings.' And the Eternal Christ, reflected in the Mirror of "The Servant", receiving them all, like prodigal sons? stray sheep? No! Like His own beloved children, who "resembled Him more than the rich resembled Him."
"Into each palm, as the Master clasped it, He pressed His little gift of silver: just a symbol and the price of a bed. Not a man was shelterless that night. And many, many, I could see, found a shelter in His Heart. I could see it in the faces raised to His and in His Face bent to theirs."Those interchanged looks--what a bounty to have witnessed them--to have such a picture stamped on my mind forever! . . . Who can tell the effect of those immortal glances on the lives and even, perhaps, at the death of each of these men? Who knows what the Master gave that night?"
There's more--including the story of John Good--see pp. 254–66 or http://bahai-library.com/books/thompson/index.html, chap. 4.
Juliet describes driving up Broadway glittering with electric lights and how the Master loved light. "He told us that Bahá'u'lláh 'could never get enough light. He taught us to economize in everything else but to use light freely." She comments, "It is marvelous to be driving through all of this light by the side of the Light of lights."
That night (can you imagine yet more?) the Master "had a supper for all who had been with Him at the Mission." Juliet saw, as never before, the Glory of the Master. When He ran into the maid He had given the roses to a few days earlier, He instructed Juliet to give her the quarters that were left from the Bowery. The maid broke down in tears, asking Him to pray for her. . . .
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