SPECIAL FEATURE ...

THE BAHÁ’Í TEMPLES a photographic journey

I am suspended horizontally, hanging from a rope. Underneath me is the Mashriqu’l-Adhkár of North America, the spiritual center of this continent. To my right a blood-red sun is setting on the horizon of the state of Illinois adding fire to the autumn trees, and to my left the moon unveils her crystal-white face from behind a drapery of pastel clouds over Lake Michigan. For an intangible moment creation seems to stand still. Suspended in coloured light, the soul is freed from the gravity of the physical world and - in a flash of eternity - etches an image of true harmony on the memory.

It was during my year of service at the World Centre in Israel that the idea to photograph all the existing Bahá’í temples took shape. I found myself complaining about the lack of one consistent series of images, preferably done by one photographer, and decided to do something about it. The first step on the journey was Chicago where I had been invited to participate in the restoration project of the temple. The year was 1988.

The function of the Mashriqu’l-Adhkár is, simply put, to be the "Dawning Place of the remembrance of God", that is a House of Worship. It is open, both in architecture and in spirit, to all the peoples of the world and welcomes prayer, meditation and the human voice as modes of Worship. And the Chicago temple in Wilmette is particularly inviting to song. Not only is its mere size a factor in its acoustics but the structure of the walls themselves enables the voice of the choir to ascend and descend in an angel-like manner, toning the song with their own nature of quartz-crystal mixed into cement.

In the 1979-1983 volume of The Bahá’í World, Sheriar Nooreyezdan writes "The designing of a Mashriqu’l-Adhkár is a spiritual undertaking, an effort to clothe religious truth in a material garb…The renowned architect of the Wilmette temple, Louis Bourgeois, commenting on his design for this, the Mother Temple of the West, has succinctly recorded: "Its inception was not from man, for, as musicians, artists, poets, receive their inspiration from another realm, so the temple’s architect, through all his years of labour, was ever conscious that Bahá’u’lláh was the creator of this building to be erected to His glory."

The ornamentation of the Chicago temple is the most elaborate in design of the seven standing Bahá’í Houses of Worship. When sitting down inside, the eye is taken on a journey that ultimately leads to the centre of the dome where the inscription "Yá Bahá’u’l-Abhá!" reminds the visitor of the connection he enjoys to his Creator: "O Thou the Glory of the Most Glorious!"

The outside ornamentation is reflective of the inside but more robust. The majestic structural columns that are embedded into the walls on level one are full of symbols of the major religions, and for anyone either with good eyesight or the bounty of being allowed to work on this edifice, the upper levels are yet another journey in decorative design. Particularly the ribs of the dome are a marvel in structural design and give an added emphasis to the symbolism of the edifice as they lead the eye up towards the point of unity at the very top.

One of the travels I made while working in Chicago was to the Panama temple. I arrived late at night, had not announced my arrival properly, did not speak a word of Spanish and basically felt like a "Gringo". I had a map to the temple site and decided to rent a car. But driving on unfamiliar roads in the middle of the night and with signs you don’t understand is an uncomfortable adventure. Then there is also the worry of those that have been told of your coming, but not the time, and lastly there is the friction you cause when you think that you can just drop in on a place to sleep or eat because you are young and confess the Bahá’í Faith! Wrong.

Panama was in the last stages of summer drought when I visited. I found this to be a very proper setting for this House of Worship as I wanted each one of the temples to present itself with a different atmosphere. The dry grass and the cactus were therefore welcomed elements in the photos used to place the temple in the mental map of the audience as a place close to the Equator. The design itself also reflects the situation and possible summer warmth of the place. The dome covers all of the inner hall to keep out the scorch of midday-sun. And the lack of glass in the walls and entrance-doors enable the wind to grace the visitors skin while praying. There is in fact a connection to nature to be felt in this temple quite unmatched by any of the others. And though the House of Worship should free us from the everyday thoughts of the world of toil and sin it is also intended to remind us of how the world should really be.

‘Abdu’l-Bahá writes: "The world of existence may be likened unto this Temple and place of worship; for just as the eternal world is the place where people of all races and colours, varying faiths, denominations and conditions come together, just as they are submerged in the sea of divine favours, so likewise all may meet under the dome of the Mashriqu’l-Adhkár and adore One God in the same spirit of truth, for the ages of darkness have passed away, and the century of light has come." (The Bahá’í World, vol 1968-1973, p634)

The next stop on the journey was Africa. I had been invited to help in the restoration of the temple in Kampala, and so in the fall of ’92 I found myself landing on a hot airstrip in Uganda. To get to the temple-site was my first obstacle and I quickly scanned the airport for a possible hitch-hike. Not only did I get a ride but I was also offered the chance to teach - in the car with me were five Christian missionaries, some newly landed and eager to convert even "a lost soul". The table turned a bit however, when we reached the House of Worship and one of the missionaries uttered how impressed he was with the beauty and serenity of this temple and its surroundings. He was quickly silenced by looks from the others and they left.

But the temple on Kikaya Hill has an attractiveness to it that even draws nuns to enjoy their Sunday picnics in its well tended gardens. And with its mixture of coloured peoples, natives and pioneers, praying inside and celebrating Holy Days in the gardens around it, is living proof of its unifying power and regenerative effect on us all.

The temple was in serious need of restoration. A waterproofing applied years earlier had failed and needed now to be removed. Those of us participating in the project had experience from similar work on the temple in Chicago and thought progress would be rapid. That was before we were acquainted with the bureaucracy of Africa and the ramifications of the word "tomorrow". The project, expected to take some months, finally took more than a year instead.

Since the temple was still black rather than the original emerald hue of the roof-tiles during my one-month stay, I was challenged to take most of my photographs at night. This however was a blessing in that the true inner glow of the Kampala temple comes out at night.

As with the people of Africa, the temple too has a soul that reveals itself freely if you just take the time. In the middle of the night warm light streams through the tinted glass and flows out through the open doors, welcoming you as any African would wish to welcome you into his home and into his heart. "You have come well" he will say.

Jens von Krogh