History is a vital part of our inheritance. It exists at different levels; personal, family, town or village, national and international. All of them are of interest to posterity but the one we are concerned with here is local history - Bahá’í local history, that is.

The Faith has been with us now for upward of a hundred and sixty years and historians are turning their attention more and more to writing biographies of well-known early Bahá’ís. As local communities grow and develop, their histories, too, are becoming interesting to know about. One of the most useful sources of information for would-be authors in this field is local archives: correspondence, photographs, programmes, notices of meetings, letters to the Press, newspaper reports and so on. To know something of their history gives a community a sense of identity, of belonging. For local believers it provides very useful and illuminating information as to what proved successful in the teaching field, what victories were achieved, what problems or difficulties were faced and how they were solved or overcome.

Often there is no attempt by the local community to store these archives in any systematic way. Individuals may keep photographs and any of the other items mentioned above but when they die, pioneer or leave the area for whatever reason, or when there is a change of secretary, these precious documents can be lost, destroyed or otherwise disposed of, especially if, in the case of a death, relations who are not Bahá’ís do not realise their importance and look upon them as so much junk to be got rid of.

This article, therefore, is an appeal to all local Spiritual Assemblies and Groups and even isolated believers (who are of course living where there will one day be an Assembly), to appoint a local archivist whose job it is to organise and keep safe all such vital sources of information. If you are alone, have an eye to the future and do it yourself!

If there is a local Bahá’í Centre, ideally these items should be kept there. Filing and storage will largely depend on the space available and what has to be stored. A filing cabinet is useful but strong cardboard boxes or cartons are perfectly acceptable as long as the contents are recorded legibly on the outsides. The archives should be stored in an area which is entirely free from damp, mice and other ravages of time. There is no one way of storing archives. They can be filed in chronological order or they can be arranged according to subject matter. Minute books should have the period in question clearly marked on the front cover (and on the spine, too, if there is room, especially if they are being stored upright, like books on a shelf). If minutes are typed out they should be put in files and the files clearly marked. Other items such as photographs, cuttings from newspapers and so on, should be stuck into a scrapbook. In this way they will not become dog-eared, torn or otherwise defaced. If a scrapbook is kept, it is vital to write alongside every item all relevant information date, provenance (i.e. which newspaper, periodical, etc. it appeared in) and so on and with photographs, the names of the places and people appearing on them and the event of which they are a record.

The job of the archivist is to store and look after the archives. He or she does not have to make them. One member of the community can be appointed to write up a "Diary of Events", describing briefly what happened on a particular occasion (with the exception of local Spiritual Assembly meetings, of course, these being recorded in the minutes and confidential to the Assembly members), who was present, etc. This can be done as an accompaniment to a scrapbook, either in the scrapbook itself or in a separate book.

Just as we now have in hand the collecting of individual Bahá’í histories (the "Bahá’í Histories Project"), so there should also be a determined attempt on the part of local communities to assemble and preserve their own archives.

Madeline Hellaby

There’s hidden sweetness in the stomach’s emptiness.

We are lutes, no more, no less.

If the soundbox is stuffed full of anything, no music.

If the brain and the belly are burning clean with fasting, every moment a new song comes out of the fire.

The fog clears, and new energy makes you run up the steps in front of you.

Be emptier and cry like reed instruments cry.

Emptier, write secrets with the reed pen.

When you’re full of food and drink, an ugly metal statue sits where your spirit should.

When you fast, good habits gather like friends who want to help.

Fasting is Solomon’s ring.

Don’t give it to some illusion and lose your power, but even if you have, if you’ve lost all will and control, they come back when you fast, like soldiers appearing out of the ground, pennants flying above them.

A table descends to your tents, the Lord’s Table.

Expect to see it when you fast, this table spread with other food, better than the broth of cabbages.

Jalalli-din Rumi

Bright is the morning, fair is the day,

Creation is clothed in festive array:

Petals of plum confetti the sky,

Banners of cloud are waving on high.

Springs a-singing join the rejoicing,

Dawn chorus voicing an anthem of praise,

While blossoms dressed brightly,

With breezes dance lightly,

Remembering Ridván’s glorious days!

Bright is the morning, fair is the day,

The nations are gathered, gladsome and gay.

Sumptuous the banquet bountifully spread,

Fruits of Anisa, heavenly bread;

Wine divine flows forth like a fountain,

God’s holy mountain its vintage displays,

The memory of Ridván’s glorious days!

Chris Johnson This can be sung to the folk-tune "Lilliburlero", the signature theme of the BBC World Service news.

March The old year has gone,

This last, past Fast has passed fast.

It’s party time, guys!

April The Nightingale sings.

They piled rose petals so high.

Paradise garden.

May Sunset when two men meet.

Old era is finishing,

So new age is born.

July Dragged through streets in chains,

His new companion stayed.

Martyred without cause.

October Gate born in Shiraz.

John the Baptist has returned.

Happy Birthday, Báb.

November Was born in riches.

Manifestation of God.

Birthday remembered.

Anis Finn (aged 11)

When Karen finds out that another baby is on the way, she does what she can to help her three-year-old son, Michael, prepare for a new sibling. The new baby was going to be a girl, and day after day, night after night, Michael sings to his sister in Mummy’s tummy.

The pregnancy progresses normally for Karen, an active member of the Panther Creek United Methodist Church in Morristown, Tennessee. But complications arise during delivery. Finally, Michael’s little sister is born. But she is in a serious condition. With sirens howling in the night, the ambulance rushes the infant to the neonatal intensive care unit.

The days crawl by. The little girl gets worse. The pediatrician tells the parents, "There is very little hope. Be prepared for the worst." Karen and her husband contact a local cemetery about a burial plot. They have fixed up a special room in their home for the new baby; now they plan a funeral.

Michael keeps begging his parents to let him see his sister, "I want to sing to her," he says.

Week two in intensive care. It looks as if a funeral will come before the week is over. Michael keeps nagging about singing to his sister, but children are never allowed into the ward. But Karen makes up her mind; she will take Michael whether they like it or not. If he doesn’t see his sister now, he may never see her alive.

She dresses him in an oversized scrub suit and marches him into ICU. He looks like a walking laundry basket, but the head nurse recognises him as a child and bellows, "Get that kid out of here now! No children are allowed."

The mother in Karen rises up, and the usually mild-mannered lady glares steel-eyed into the head nurse’s face, her lips a firm line. "He is not leaving until he sings to his sister!" Karen tows Michael to his sister’s bedside. He gazes at the tiny infant losing the battle to live. And he begins to sing. In the pure hearted voice of a three-year-old, Michael sings: "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey... "

Instantly the baby girl responds. The pulse rate becomes calm and steady. "Keep on singing, Michael", Karen urges. "You never know, dear, how much I love you, Please don’t take my sunshine away... " The ragged, strained breathing becomes smooth as a kitten’s purr. "Keep on singing, Michael", Karen repeats.

Michael’s little sister relaxes as rest, healing rest, seems to sweep over her. "Keep on singing, Michael", Karen whispers. Tears conquer the face of the bossy head nurse. Karen glows. "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. Please don’t take my sunshine away."

Funeral plans are scrapped. The next day the very next day - the little girl is well enough to go home! Woman’s Day magazine called it "The Miracle of a Brother’s Song." The medical staff just called it a miracle. Karen called it a miracle of God’s love.

Author Unknown

An explanation of spiritual healing from ‘Abdu’l-Bahá

"When at the bedside of a patient, cheer, and gladden his heart and enrapture his spirit through celestial power. Indeed, such a heavenly breath quickeneth every moldering bone and reviveth the spirit of every sick and ailing one." (1) "Of the two other kinds of healing which are spiritual - that is to say, where the means of cure is a spiritual power - one results from the entire concentration of the mind of a strong person upon a sick person, when the latter expects with all his concentrated faith that a cure will be effected from the spiritual power of the strong person, to such an extent that there will be a cordial connection between the strong person and the invalid. The strong person makes every effort to cure the sick patient, and the sick patient is then sure of receiving a cure. From the effect of these mental impressions an excitement of the nerves is produced, and this impression and this excitement of the nerves will become the cause of the recovery of the sick person. So when a sick person has a strong desire and intense hope for something and hears suddenly the tidings of its realisation, a nervous excitement is produced which will make the malady entirely disappear.

In the same way, if a cause of terror suddenly occurs, perhaps an excitement may be produced in the nerves of a strong person which will immediately cause a malady. The cause of the sickness will be no material thing, for that person has not eaten anything, and nothing harmful has touched him; the excitement of the nerves is then the only cause of the illness. In the same way the sudden realisation of a chief desire will give such joy that the nerves will be excited by it, and this excitement may produce health." (2)

1) ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Selections from the Writings of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, p151 2) ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Some Answered Questions, p255

Isolated believer Debbie Tibbey and her sons keep the pattern of Bahá’í life with their 19-Day Feasts

Having long bemoaned the fact that, as an isolated believer with a non-Bahá’í husband and two small children, it was nigh-on impossible to get to the nearest Feast, it dawned on me one day that I could be my own host.

Alexander, (aged three), and Matthew, (aged one) eagerly helped to tidy the living room (the mention of biscuits had only a little to do with it). We put on "Songs of the Ancient Beauty" to set the mood and settled down for the Devotional.

Alexander has now mastered the art of folding his arms, scrunching up his eyes and saying "O God, Guide Me" with a big smile on his face. Matthew managed to sit very quietly on my knee while I sang "Blessed Is The Spot", then we all sang "O God, Guide Me", twice, at Alexander’s request. The guitar came out for "We are Flowers", which I played and Alexander sang with great gusto while Matthew danced and clapped.

Then came the Consultation -

Mummy: Is anything bothering you or making you sad? Alexander: No, Mummy. Mummy: What makes you happy? Alexander: When it’s a sunny day! Mummy: Are you OK, Matthew? Matthew: Aaarr!

So, no major problems there, then. On to the Social part of the Feast. Cunning timing meant that it was tea time, so we had Mummy’s Special Spaghetti followed by Jammy Dodgers, bananas, milk and a cup of tea. Silly conversations, more songs.

We are now counting off the days until the next Feast and hoping that one day it will fall on a weekend when Daddy will be at home too.