#Ask a Bahá’í

[spokanefavs]

Daniel Pschaida writes today for our 'Ask a Bahá’í series,' and how Bahá’í believes there is only one religion.

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[swiftsnowmane]

Archives of Bahá’í Persecution in Iran

This Archive, which records the persecution of Bahá’ís in Iran, has been established by the Bahá’í International Community in response to rising interest both internationally and within Iran to understand the depth and breadth of this persecution. The documents shed light on the decades-long, systematic, and ongoing persecution of the Baha’is, instigated by the clergy and by the government.

"The website, available in both English and Persian....covers a wide range of incidents including systematic discrimination, arrests and imprisonments, physical violence and executions, economic oppression and deprivation, exclusion from education, acts of property destruction and cemetery desecration, and propaganda and incitement to hatred.

This unique collection now contains more than 10,000 documents, images, and audio and video records of instances of persecution in Iran dating back as far as 1848, although the great majority of cases represented in the archive relate to the most recent wave of persecutions that has occurred since 1979. These records, which include copies of government and judicial documents, clerical fatwas, newspaper articles, and other accounts, are presented not only as images of original documents but, importantly, have also been transcribed and made available in text format in Persian and with English translations. The monumental work undertaken to date means that this site has now developed into a resource of unparalleled significance, not only for historians, researchers, film-makers, journalists, and human rights advocates, but also for individuals who may wish to learn about and remember the sacrifices made by their own friends and family members.

The Universal House of Justice has asked us to formally bring the existence of this website to your attention as a resource to assist the worldwide Bahá’í community in defending the rights of the Bahá’ís in Iran and to support a more effective communication of the scope and severity of the persecution to governments, civil society, and the media.

The upsurge in the persecution of the Bahá’ís in Iran in recent months has given rise to countless expressions of concern and support from leaders of thought, politicians, human rights advocates, and many others. The current social turmoil enveloping Iran has also demonstrated that the oppression which has been suffered by the Bahá’ís for generations is now being visited upon a broad cross section of the Iranian people, with the result that the example of constructive resilience as well as patience which the Bahá’ís have demonstrated throughout the many decades of persecution is becoming increasingly recognized and examined."

—The Universal House of Justice, Department of the Secretariat

The Bahá’í Faith was born in 19th century Persia with the appearance of two prophetic figures—the Báb and Bahá’u’lláh. The Báb’s mission was to prepare the way for the coming of a Promised One foretold in all the world’s religions.  Bahá’u’lláh claimed to be that Promised One with a divine mission to usher in a new stage of humanity’s unity as a single entity living in a common homeland.  His teachings outlined a framework for the emergence of a global civilization that would advance both the spiritual and material dimensions of life.  Among those teachings are the oneness of the entire human race; the independent search after truth; the abolition of all forms of prejudice; the harmony which must exist between religion and science; and the equality of men and women.  For more information about the Bahá’í Faith visit the official website.  

[sunflower-spirit]

The Baha’i Faith is an anti LGBTQ religion. With my wife realizing she is trans, I have finally confronted my remaining Baha’i friends about the religion’s rigid, conservative, intolerant stance on LGBTQ issues, in hopes that they didn’t know the extent of how deep these issues run. They did, and I was met with justifications. The Faith does not allow openly LGBTQ members and the National Spiritual Assembly will denounce you from the religion if you enter a gay marriage. This religion pretends to be tolerant (when I joined, I was asked to work to remove all prejudice from my heart). Yet, it habors some of the most rigidly conservative values and a harshly judgmental community I’ve ever come across. For context, I participated in the Faith from 2012-2014, and my wife was raised in the Baha’i Faith.

Here are some Baha’i writings regarding LGBTQ issues.

• “The question of how to deal with homosexuals is a very difficult one. Homosexuality is forbidden in the Bahá’í Faith by Bahá’u’lláh; so, for that matter, are immorality and adultery. If one is going to start imposing heavy sanctions on people who are the victims of this abnormality, however repulsive it may be to others, then it is only fair to impose equally heavy sanctions on any Bahá’ís who step beyond the moral limits defined by Bahá’u’lláh. Obviously at the present time this would create an impossible and ridiculous situation.

He feels, therefore, that, through loving advice, through repeated warnings, any friends who are flagrantly immoral should be assisted, and, if possible, restrained. If their activities overstep all bounds and become a matter of public scandal, then the Assembly can consider depriving them of their voting rights.”

(From a letter written on behalf of the Guardian to the National Spiritual Assembly of the United States)

• “Both you and your Bahá’í friend must first recognize that a homosexual relationship subverts the purpose of human life and that determined effort to overcome the wayward tendencies which promote this practice which, like other sexual vices, is so abhorrent; the Creator of all mankind will help you both to return to a path that leads to true happiness."

(From a letter written on behalf of the Universal House of Justice to an individual believer)

[pastorhogg]

We Asked Hindu, Muslim, Sikh, Jain, and Bahá’í Leaders to Pick Their Favorite Bible Verses

http://dlvr.it/T0S0g6

[journey-to-the-goddess]

What inspired you to follow goddess spirituality / archetypes?

Another great question! 

🌺 My journey to the goddess truly began when I was sitting on a beach in South Indian back in 2012. I had just completed a 3 week intensive training in classical Indian dance-theater in Bangalore. I was so taken by the way that Hindu religion, ritual, and theater intertwine in Indian culture—up until then I had never truly understood the sacredness of theater. The presence of the Goddess is everywhere in India—it’s a bit hard to describe. She is worshipped in multitude of goddess forms, but she is also literally everywhere and in all things. And it is palpable when you are in India. At least it was for me.

**I want to also mention here that India is very diverse and hosts many religions. There is Islam, of course, which is the 2nd largest religion in India and Christianity, which is the third largest religion. I have been told that Indian Christians trace their Christian lineage directly back to the Apostle Thomas. There is Buddhism, Jainism, Sikhism, Zoroastrianism, the Bahá’í faith, Judaism, and I am sure many, many more religions including a variety of local Indigenous religions. And, Hinduism itself is quite diverse. From what I understand there are three main branches: Vaishnavism (devotion to Vishnu as the Supreme being or principle), Shivaism (devotion to Shiva as the Supreme being or principle), and Shaktism (devotion to the Goddess as the Supreme being or principle).**

I digress. Back to the beach. So I was sitting there on that beach, reading a book about Mother Mary and the Gnostic Sophia and all I could think of was how incredible it felt to see and experience the presence of the divine feminine. But I longed to experience the divine feminine through the lens of the culture that I grew up in. I realized that she had been missing in my experience of the sacred, and it was as if I could finally name that missing part as the exiled divine feminine.  

A few months later I was still on my quest to find Her—I didn’t know what that meant or how it looked. One night I was sitting in meditation after finishing a book on Mary Magdalene when I suddenly felt a feminine presence. It took me only a moment to realize that the presence was Mary Magdalene. She has been my guide, my “guru”—my Shakti—ever since.

For some time after, I was still struggling to understand my passion for the divine feminine. I kept trying to do the things from my old life and just kept hitting road block after road block. Then one day I finally said, “I give up, I completely surrender to you [Mary Magdalene]. Please show me the way”. From that moment on, everything began to flow again and 6 months later I was in France for a month-long solo Mary Magdalene pilgrimage. That was by far one of the most profound experience of my life, and definitely the beginning of the rest of my life as a devotee of the Goddess. 

Of course, when I got back to NYC, I still wasn’t fully committed. I was heartbroken. I wanted to be in France with the mythical Mary Magdalene forever, literally for the rest of my life. Soon after, I was again in meditation and had a powerful vision of the Sumerian goddess Inanna. She revealed to me answers to some questions I had been asking about the divine feminine, but more important, she offered me a clue to the next phase of my journey: graduate school. Yes, I had been dreaming about attending this particular graduate school for a couple of years prior to enrolling, but I never thought I would actually go. And certainly not for Mythological Studies.But at this point, it was so clear and nothing, literally nothing, stood in my way. The path was certain.

Up until my solo pilgrimage I had been devouring books on Magdalene and the Divine Feminine. After my encounter with Inanna, I realized that I had been craving a community and structure in which I could fully immerse myself in the wisdom of the goddess. Graduate school has been perfect for that. The years I have spent in graduate school not only deepened my connection to the divine feminine (and Mary Magdalene) but also taught me about what it means to be a woman in an embodied and rooted way. The path has not always been easy—in fact there have been many dark moments. But I have found empowerment in feminist theories and critiques of religion/mythology. In many ways, they have set me free. I have learned to analyze myths within their historical context and to look for a psychological meaning—which can be profoundly transformative. In reality, my graduate school experience has literally brought me home to myself. 

It is now six years later and I am nearing the completion of graduate school. I am ending it as I started it, with an initiation by Inanna—only this time around my initiation is a 200 page-ish dissertation in which I remythologize the myth of Inanna’s Descent to the Underworld. Have you read that myth? If not, I encourage you to do so! It is (or can be) a myth about the journey down and within to the lost and forgotten places of our most sacred feminine selves. Inanna leads the way. She is the Initiatrix.

I hope this answered your question. I can of course be much more specific in any area. I did blog about Mary Magdalene quest while in France (May - June 2014). Here is the first post, if you are curious.

**People always ask me how I can afford to travel as much as I do. The path hasn’t been easy. I have “sacrificed” certain creature comforts in order to do the traveling that I do. It has been worth it every step of the way, though I realize this is not the way for everybody. I do know that when you get out of your own way and ask the goddess to guide you, life will unfold in ways you could have never imagined possible. **🌺

[coralandpearls]

I can remember their [the pilgrims] asking my husband, Shoghi Effendi… they would say, ‘What do you forsee for the future?’ Course, they had confidence in his opinion. He said, ‘The immediate future is very dark, but the distant future is very bright.’ And I think that really sums up the whole Bahá’í concept.

Rúhíyyih Khánum, as quoted in The Unforgettable Hands of the Cause by Michael Woodward

[tamlins-stories-and-poems]

hi! i apologize if this is a weird ask. i've began looking into the Baha'i Faith, and a lot of what I've read so far resonates with me. However, I'm bisexual and nonbinary- if I decided to become a Baha'i, would these things interfere with that? I'm very interested in learning more but I'm afraid of growing attached to a religion that I won't actually be able to join and participate in.

Allah’u’abha Friend! I would like to preface this by saying that I am in no way an official source, and that all of our Writings should be read and meditated on for individual understanding.

There is a blanket ban on Bahá’ís having same sex relations, unfortunately, as marriages are assumed to be partnerships to have and raise children with a life long friend and “helpmate,” and Chastity (not having sex outside of marriage) is one of the religious laws. I cannot promise that your local Bahá’í community will be free of biphobia, homophobia, or NBphobia.

However. Tolerance and acceptance and love for one another is supposed to our Big Thing, and quoting memorized passages from the Writings in a non confrontational manner is a really good way to get most Bahá’ís to realize when they’ve not been living up to the teachings we’ve been given. I don’t think there’s any rule stopping you from becoming Bahá’í if you cannot adhere to the rules in the Book of Certitude, but your Local Spiritual Assembly might, if you are in an active same sex relationship, to take a step away from legislative matters like voting in Bahá’í elections. I’m not sure. I assume it’s the same process as someone being known to indulge in semi-frequent drinking?

A Bahá’í friend of mine who I met through mutual fandom friends on tumblr (I also met their cat, but that’s another story) did end up... I’m not sure if they left the Bahá’í faith or just happen to be taking a step back to figure out how their identities interplay. As an Ace (probably Aro too) myself, I can’t truly imagine how either of you might feel where sexuality and codes of conduct clash. As another NB, I can say that souls are stated to have no gender, and our binary differences only exist on this physical plane, not in the spiritual one.

And your fear is entirely understandable, with so many people using religion as a weapon and defense of their queerphobia. If you can’t join the Bahá’í community in person for whatever reason, and I pray that that does not become the case, you deserve to be allowed to join community building efforts and holy day celebrations and feasts and everything, just remember that “to be a Bahá’í simply means to love the whole earth.”

I hope this helped at least a little, and if you want to talk to me more in depth I’m much better at answering specific questions, especially when I’m not deciding to do this at midnight so I don’t forget. I could also give you a link to Bahá’í.fyi, which has both a webpage and a discord server, and several queer server members, many of whom are much better at words than I am.

Have a wonderful day, friend! I hope to hear from you soon!

[archatlas]

Most of your asks are about specific locations so how about one for Santiago, Chile? Pretty please?

We have posted many projects in Chile (here + here) and a feature post (you can see it here).

Here are some of my favorites around Santiago:

Bahá’í Temple Hariri Pontarini Architects

Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes

Plaza de Armas (surrounded by structures like the Catedral Metropolitana de Santiago, the Palacio de la Real Audiencia de Santiago, and the Correo Central)

Bolsa de Comercio de Santiago

Innovation Center UC Anacleto Angelini / Alejandro Aravena | ELEMENTAL

Gran Torre Santiago (worth a visit just for the view)

[mypathofservice]

My path of service

I became a Bahá’í in 1969. In 1971 I moved to Finland as a pioneer. Since then I have served on several committees and Local Spiritual Assemblies. I was first elected to the National Spiritual Assembly of Finland in 1977. I have served as Secretary, Chair and Vice-chair over the years.

In October 1989 our family moved to Estonia to help form the first Estonian Local Spiritual Assembly in the city of Tallinn. We returned to Finland in July 1990.

In 1996 when the Universal House of Justice called for the establishment of Training Institutes, I was asked to serve as the director of the Finnish Training Institute.

In 2015 I was asked to serve as Auxiliary Board Member for propagation because the previous Board Member had been appointed as a Continental Counsellor. This appointment lasted for one year only.

[hwallmart]

Keep Speaking Out for Children of Color

Note: This was written for a Bahá’í blog, which I edit and contribute to, focused on issues of social justice.

It’s been amazing to see so many people stand up for children and families in the last few weeks. Just in my own small circle, I saw people become engaged by sharing information, donating to organizations, attending rallies, calling Congress people, and pointing out propaganda and misinformation, with some even protesting at detention centers or beginning the process of fostering separated children so that they can reunite them with their families. In the back of my mind, though, I kept thinking to myself – this is wonderful, but why doesn’t this happen all the time for all the kids being separated from their families through the machinations of white supremacy?

I’m not casting blame or disparagement. Lord knows there’s more I could probably be doing. But Black, Brown and Indigenous children are being ripped from their families in other ways, irrespective of this hardline immigration policy. This is actually an American tradition, although it’s not something many of us learned in school.

In this country’s history, we saw this during slavery, where family members were sold to the highest bidder.  We saw this in native genocide, with boarding schools, where thousands of native children were taken from their homes and families and abused in order to be ‘civilized’. Families of color have been systematically destroyed for hundreds of years. There are two more recent manifestations of this historical trend that are even more insidious, due to how intricately they’ve become part of our world.

Michelle Alexander, author of The New Jim Crow, notes that, “Today there are more African-Americans under correctional control — in prison or jail, on probation or parole — than were enslaved in 1850, a decade before the Civil War began. There are millions of African-Americans now cycling in and out of prisons and jails or under correctional control. In major American cities today, more than half of working-age African-American men are either under correctional control or branded felons and are thus subject to legalized discrimination for the rest of their lives.”

This was done intentionally for political and economic reasons – politicians learned you could win elections by disenfranchising and vilifying people of color, and private prisons could make a lot of money by incarcerating more and more people. This, combined with the school-to-prison pipeline, in which younger and younger kids are subject to ‘zero-tolerance’ policies that criminalize poverty, and you have kids ripped from their homes and jailed at an alarming rate, or put into foster care when this happens to a parent.

Among native populations the heartbreaking trend of missing and murdered indigenous women is well known, but not commonly spoken of in other circles. One study, cited in the article linked, found that “Indigenous women had a homicide rate three times that of white women.” These women leave behind children, their families being irrevocably changed.

While this is a 500 year-old trend, it has grown in recent times with the construction of oil pipelines near indigenous lands and the establishment of man camps.  As reported on by the Washington Post, the “arrival of highly paid oil workers living in sprawling “man camps” with limited spending opportunities has led to a crime wave — including murders, aggravated assaults, rapes, human trafficking and robberies — fueled by a huge market for illegal drugs, primarily heroin and methamphetamine.”

As with so many distressing truths, we ask ourselves what we can do about these things. For once, that’s an easy question – do everything you’ve done for the families separated at the border. Raise awareness, donate to groups addressing these issues, go to protests and rallies, hold devotionals and prayer vigils, call your Congress people.  Continue to take action and stand up for justice for all.

[jmnau]

Workshop on making decisions collectively - Summercamp Echternach 2021

Workshop on making decisions collectively – Summercamp Echternach 2021

Workshop on making decisions collectively Summercamp Echternach Youth Hostel – Sa 31.7.21 & Mo 2.8.21 from 4-6:30pm I’m Jean-Marie Nau, born in 1962, live in Steinsel, teaching Luxembourgish in adult education. I was delighted to be asked whether I could do a workshop with you today & Monday and what I would like to do. Bahá’í consultation is a topic that is close to my heart and that I wish to…

[spokanefavs]

How Do Bahá’ís Get Clergy? Daniel Azim Pschaida answers in today's Ask a Bahá’í.

Those who follow the Baháí faith pray directly to God. They do not have a sacrament in which a priest is required to consecrate bread or wine into the body and blood of Jesus Christ.

"We bring ourselves to account each day for the quality of our choices and efforts to live by our inmost values."

[c-estlevide]

Bahá’í Gothic (work in progress)

A bent old Persian man reaches out his withered arm. You think he may be your grandfather. Or no--your friend’s. No matter, you lean into him all the same.

“It’s a simple rose oil recipe,” Elham smiles, “Good for Riḍván!” You miss her so much, you think as you crush the roses, spill the oil. The floor is dry. There is no oil. There are no flowers. Riḍván is not for months.

You’re at feast, a child singing “Blessed is the spot, and the house, and the place, and the city, and the heart, and…” and...and..and. These are the only words there are. They used to mean something, you think.

You’re at feast, which month is it? Jalál, azamát? No, you remember, startled by the certainty of it. It is Kalimát, the month of words.

Prayer books, and rooibos, and rugs fill the room and you fall onto pillows bursting with laughter, the song of a nightingale flooding your ears like the bass at a rock concert. You turn to the window. It’s a crow.

Mrs. Taheri grips your arm as she tells you there’s a fire in the house. You look around. No fire. Her eyes still speak of Iran--there is a fire in every house in Iran. You calm her. Ask her to chant that prayer again--how did it go? O Son...O Son...

Sickness creeps through you like the cracks in a stone, like creases in the pages of a holy book. At night you awake crying “!يا طبيبي” You crawl to the door and knock but the doctor is out.

I bear witness I bear witness I bear witness. You are a witness...of what, again? Or, of whom?

One night you are sleeping, and that’s when you feel the fish. They grab onto your hair and then they’re gone. When you wake up your pillow is wet.

The Ceylon is bitter, but you grit the sugar between your teeth. “Hmmm...see?” Dominique says, “one bit of sugar turns the whole cup sweet.”

[bahaiworldfai0]

Life Histories of Baháí Women Corinne Knight True

Portraits of Bahá’í Women – Corinne Knight True

Corinne Knight True was born in Kentucky [1-4] during the Civil War, the oldest child of Martha Thomas (Duerson) Knight (1839-1901) and Moses Greene Knight (1819-1903) [1-vi]. Skillful real estate investments in Chicago downtown property made Moses Knight prosperous, but when the Great Chicago Fire of 1871 swept the city, followed by the 1873 depression, Knight had to sell all his Kentucky property and move his family to Chicago to preserve his investments [1-7]. Financial success enabled Knight to send his daughter to Miss Mary Baldwin’s finishing school in Virginia. A few months after graduation, on November 24, 1882, Corinne Knight eloped, marrying Moses Adams True (1857-1909), the son of a next-door neighbor [1-10 to 13]. Moses Knight opposed his daughter’s marriage and the resulting bitter divide between father and daughter, who formerly had been close, lasted ten years.

The Trues had eight children in rapid succession: Harriet Merrill (1883-92) [1-14,18]; Lawrence Knight (1885-1906) [1-vii]; Charles Gilbert Davis (1886-1912) [1-vii]; Edna Miriam (1888-1988); Arna Corinne (1890-1975) [1-viii]; twins Katherine (1893-1963) [1-viii] and Kenneth (1893-1901) [1-27]; and Nathanael (1896-1899) [1-21,22]. The family was close and prosperous; they hired a cook and sent the children to private school. The loss of four of the children before adulthood produced a series of successive blows that severely tested Corinne True and turned her thinking toward religion. After Harriet fell down the stone basement stairs and died at age nine, Corinne and Moses True turned away from mainline Protestantism to some newly developed approaches to religion: the Unity School of Christianity, then Christian Science, then Divine Science [1-18]. When the baby of the family, Nathanael, died from complications following diphtheria in 1899 Corinne deepened her religious search. Through a friend she encountered the Bahá’í Faith late in 1899 and accepted it within a few months, at age thirty-eight [1-24]. In contrast, her husband was very sympathetic to Bahá’í beliefs but never formally joined.

When True became a Bahá’í the American Bahá’í community numbered 1500 to 2000 and was five years old. The Bahá’í religion began in 1863 when an Iranian noble named Mírzá Husayn-`Alí (1817-92), known as Bahá’u’lláh, founded a new religion based on such principles as the oneness of God, the spiritual unity of the world’s religions, the oneness of humanity, independent individual search for truth, and the equality of the sexes. A practical religion, it quickly spread beyond Iran and attracted Jews, Christians, Zoroastrians, and Buddhists as well as Muslims. When Bahá’u’lláh died his son `Abdu’l-Bahá (1844-1921) became head of the Faith.

It is not known what attracted True to the Bahá’í Faith, though its universal nature and inclusiveness were probably factors. She immediately became one of Chicago’s most active Bahá’ís. When, in May 1901, the Chicago Bahá’ís elected an all-male governing body to run the community and a women’s Auxiliary Board to assist, True became corresponding secretary of the latter [4-49-50]. In March 1902 True delivered a talk at the Chicago Bahá’í Sunday program titled “Fundamental Points of Behaism [sic]” and its contents indicate True’s understanding of the Bahá’í Faith was as good as any of the other Chicago Bahá’ís’ at the time [paper in Chase Papers, National Bahá’í Archives].

True wrote `Abdu’l-Bahá about the exclusion of women from the Chicago Bahá’í governing body on 25 February 1902, noting that “many” felt it should be a “mixed board” because “women in America stand so conspicuously for all that is highest & best in every department.” [3-23] In his response `Abdu’l-Bahá stated that while “in the sight of God, the conduct of women is the same as that of men” and there was “no difference” between the sexes, nevertheless the “House of Justice” had to consist only of men and that the “reason will presently appear, even as the sun at midday.” [3-25]

True accepted `Abdu’l-Bahá’s ruling–which also affirmed the equality of the sexes–and poured her energy into the Chicago Bahá’í women’s organization, which `Abdu’l-Bahá highly praised [3-21]. For the next eight years Chicago had two parallel Bahá’í organizations, one confined to men, the other to women. True served as president or secretary of the women’s body at different times. By 1903 she had been instrumental in establishing the first Bahá’í communities in Michigan–in Muskegon and Fruitport–near her family’s summer residence. She also traveled to Wisconsin to speak about the Bahá’í Faith. [4-140]

In 1903 the Chicago Bahá’ís heard about the construction of the world’s first Bahá’í House of Worship, in what is today Turkmenistan. They wrote `Abdu’l-Bahá asking for permission to build a temple of their own [4-118-19]. `Abdu’l-Bahá not only sent them two encouraging letters in response, but wrote True and encouraged her to get involved in the effort [1-41] [4-119]. She was surprised, as previously she had not been interested. read more here

Human Equality Bahá’í Women – Corinne Knight True

The post Life Histories of Bahá’í Women – Corinne Knight True appeared first on Bahai Journal.

from https://bahaijournal.com/life-histories-of-bahai-women-corinne-knight-true/

from https://bahaijournal.weebly.com/blog/life-histories-of-bahai-women-corinne-knight-true from https://bahaiworldfaith0.blogspot.com/2020/11/life-histories-of-bahai-women-corinne.html

[my-bahai-faith]

Bahá’u’lláh’s Banishments and Some of His Writings

In today's post, I want to share just a little more of Bahá’u’lláh’s history and then share some of the more important writings that He revealed to the world. It must be understood how much suffering this blessed soul underwent, and yet I doubt that anyone could possibly imagine such suffering that He experienced.

 Bahá’u’lláh was exiled to several countries before and exiled forever from His native Iran. The first journey of exile He and His family were sent to Baghdad.  

 At the end of April 1863, shortly before leaving the environs of Baghdad for Istanbul Bahá’u’lláh and His companions resided for twelve days in a garden which He named Ridván, meaning “Paradise”. It was there that Bahá’u’lláh declared Himself to be the One heralded by the Báb—God’s Messenger to the age of humanity’s collective maturity, foretold in all the world's scriptures.  

 Just three months after departing Baghdad, Bahá’u’lláh and His fellow exiles reached Constantinople. They remained there for just four months before a further banishment took them to Adrianople, which was a arduous journey undertaken during one of the coldest of winters. In Adrianople, their accommodation failed to protect them from the bitter temperatures.

 In the late 1870s, Bahá’u’lláh was still a prisoner, but restrictions were relaxed such that He was allowed to move about the city.

 April 1890, Professor Edward Granville Browne of Cambridge University met Bahá’u’lláh at the mansion near ‘Akká where He had taken up residence.

 Browne wrote of their meeting: “The face of Him on Whom I gazed I can never forget, though I cannot describe it. Those piercing eyes seemed to read one's very soul; power and authority sat on that ample brow…No need to ask in whose presence I stood, as I bowed myself before one who is the object of a devotion and love which kings might envy and emperors sigh for in vain.”

 Bahá’u’lláh passed away on 29 May, 1892. In His will, He designated ‘Abdu’l-Bahá as His successor and Head of the Bahá’í Faith — the first time in history that the Founder of a world religion had named his successor in a written irrefutable text. This choice of a successor is a central provision of what is known as the “Covenant of Bahá’u’lláh,” enabling the Bahá’í community to remain united for all time. It is for this reason that Bahá’ís look to ‘Abdu’l-Bahá as the perfect exemplar of the writings of His father, Bahá’u’lláh. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá is often referred to as the Master, or the Mystery of God. Source material for this can be found at https://www.bahai.org/bahaullah.

I will close today's post by sharing some key writings of Bahá’u’lláh.

To every discerning and illumined heart it is evident that God, the unknowable Essence, the divine Being, is immensely exalted beyond every human attribute…Far be it from His glory that human tongue should adequately recount His praise, or that human heart comprehend His fathomless mystery.

(The Kitáb-i-Íqán)

The door of the knowledge of the Ancient of Days being thus closed in the face of all beings, the Source of infinite grace…hath caused those luminous Gems of Holiness to appear out of the realm of the spirit, in the noble form of the human temple, and be made manifest unto all men, that they may impart unto the world the mysteries of the unchangeable Being, and tell of the subtleties of His imperishable Essence.

(The Kitáb-i-Íqán)

These sanctified Mirrors…are, one and all, the Exponents on earth of Him Who is the central Orb of the universe, its Essence and ultimate Purpose. From Him proceed their knowledge and power; from Him is derived their sovereignty.

(The Kitáb-i-Íqán)

Led by the light of unfailing guidance, and invested with supreme sovereignty, They are commissioned to use the inspiration of Their words, the effusions of Their infallible grace and the sanctifying breeze of Their Revelation for the cleansing of every longing heart and receptive spirit from the dross and dust of earthly cares and limitations.

(Gleanings from the Writings of Bahá’u’lláh)

This is the changeless Faith of God, eternal in the past, eternal in the future.

(The Kitáb-i-Aqdas)

Verily I say, this is the Day in which mankind can behold the Face, and hear the Voice, of the Promised One.

(Gleanings from the Writings of Bahá’u’lláh)

I am the Sun of Wisdom and the Ocean of Knowledge. I cheer the faint and revive the dead. I am the guiding Light that illumineth the way. I am the royal Falcon on the arm of the Almighty. I unfold the drooping wings of every broken bird and start it on its flight.

(Tabernacle of Unity)

I was but a man like others, asleep upon My couch, when lo, the breezes of the All-Glorious were wafted over Me, and taught Me the knowledge of all that hath been. This thing is not from Me, but from One Who is Almighty and All-Knowing. And He bade Me lift up My voice between earth and heaven, and for this there befell Me what hath caused the tears of every man of understanding to flow.

(Summons of the Lord of Hosts)

The All-Knowing Physician hath His finger on the pulse of mankind. He perceiveth the disease, and prescribeth, in His unerring wisdom, the remedy. Every age hath its own problem, and every soul its particular aspiration. The remedy the world needeth in its present-day afflictions can never be the same as that which a subsequent age may require. Be anxiously concerned with the needs of the age ye live in, and centre your deliberations on its exigencies and requirements. 

(Tabernacle of Unity)

This is the Day in which God’s most excellent favors have been poured out upon men, the Day in which His most mighty grace hath been infused into all created things. It is incumbent upon all the peoples of the world to reconcile their differences, and, with perfect unity and peace, abide beneath the shadow of the Tree of His care and loving-kindness.

(Gleanings from the Writings of Bahá’u’lláh)

That which the Lord hath ordained as the sovereign remedy and mightiest instrument for the healing of all the world is the union of all its peoples in one universal Cause, one common Faith.

(Summons of the Lord of Hosts)

Consort with the followers of all religions in a spirit of friendliness and fellowship.

(Tablets of Bahá’u’lláh, Bishárát)

Ye are the fruits of one tree, and the leaves of one branch. Deal ye one with another with the utmost love and harmony, with friendliness and fellowship. He Who is the Daystar of Truth beareth Me witness! So powerful is the light of unity that it can illuminate the whole earth.

(Epistle to the Son of the Wolf)

The earth is but one country, and mankind its citizens.

(Tablets of Bahá’u’lláh, Lawh-i-Maqsúd)

The first duty prescribed by God for His servants is the recognition of Him Who is the Dayspring of His Revelation and the Fountain of His laws, Who representeth the Godhead in both the Kingdom of His Cause and the world of creation.

(The Kitáb-i-Aqdas)

O SON OF SPIRIT! My first counsel is this: Possess a pure, kindly and radiant heart, that thine may be a sovereignty ancient, imperishable and everlasting.

(The Hidden Words, Arabic no. 1)

Regard man as a mine rich in gems of inestimable value. Education can, alone, cause it to reveal its treasures, and enable mankind to benefit therefrom.

(Tablets of Bahá’u’lláh, Lawh-i-Maqsúd)

Only when the lamp of search, of earnest striving, of longing desire, of passionate devotion, of fervid love, of rapture, and ecstasy, is kindled within the seeker’s heart, and the breeze of His loving-kindness is wafted upon his soul, will the darkness of error be dispelled, the mists of doubts and misgivings be dissipated, and the lights of knowledge and certitude envelop his being.

(The Kitáb-i-Íqán)

Be generous in prosperity, and thankful in adversity. Be worthy of the trust of thy neighbor, and look upon him with a bright and friendly face. Be a treasure to the poor, an admonisher to the rich, an answerer to the cry of the needy, a preserver of the sanctity of thy pledge. Be fair in thy judgment, and guarded in thy speech. Be unjust to no man, and show all meekness to all men. Be as a lamp unto them that walk in darkness, a joy to the sorrowful, a sea for the thirsty, a haven for the distressed, an upholder and defender of the victim of oppression. Let integrity and uprightness distinguish all thine acts. Be a home for the stranger, a balm to the suffering, a tower of strength for the fugitive. Be eyes to the blind, and a guiding light unto the feet of the erring. Be an ornament to the countenance of truth, a crown to the brow of fidelity, a pillar of the temple of righteousness, a breath of life to the body of mankind, an ensign of the hosts of justice, a luminary above the horizon of virtue, a dew to the soil of the human heart, an ark on the ocean of knowledge, a sun in the heaven of bounty, a gem on the diadem of wisdom, a shining light in the firmament of thy generation, a fruit upon the tree of humility.

(Epistle to the Son of the Wolf)

[easyfoodnetwork]

Author Adib Khorram Is Always Looking for His Next Meal

Khorram talks to Eater about writing food scenes, the concept of the “cultural iceberg,” and tea — and reads an excerpt from his YA novel, Darius the Great Is Not Okay

In Adib Khorram’s novel Darius the Great Is Not Okay, protagonist Darius Kellner, a self-described “Fractional Persian,” visits Iran with his mother, father, and younger sister. There, he comes to terms with his identity and his place in his family, he strikes a new friendship with Sohrab, and he eats a whole lot of food. Darius also loves tea — it’s a ritual that calms him, and one he can share with his dad, with whom he doesn’t necessarily see eye to eye.

Like Darius, Khorram loves food and tea too, which is why it plays such a large role in his first novel, as well as the sequel, Darius the Great Deserves Better, which comes out on August 25 and is currently available for pre-order. In the new book, there’s plenty of food scenes — “food plays a big role because as always, I was hungry when I was writing,” says Khorram, and he teases that, yes, there’s plenty of Iranian food, tea, and even breakfast for dinner. (Khorram also has a children’s book, Seven Special Somethings, coming out next spring, all about Nowruz.)

During Eater Book Club, Khorram shared that he likes Harney & Sons and Steven Smith Teamaker as tea brands, and for Iranian tea, he suggests a mix of Assam and Earl Grey, or looking for Iranian tea blends. He recommends people who want to cook Persian food for the first time start with the cookbook New Food of Life by Najmieh Batmanglij. His favorite local bookstores are Rainy Day Books in Fairway, Kansas, and the Raven Bookstore in Lawrence, Kansas.

Below, find an excerpt from Darius the Great Is Not Okay, which Khorram read live for Eater Book Club on Instagram Live with host Sonia Chopra on Thursday, April 2, as part of the Eater @ Home virtual event series.

I gave the horseshoe knocker three quick raps. Mahvash Rezaei answered. There was a smear of white powder across her forehead, and some had gotten into her eyebrows, too, but she smiled when she saw me—that same squinting smile she had passed down to her son.

“Alláh-u-Abhá, Darioush!”

“Um.”

I always felt weird, if someone said “Alláh-u-Abhá” to me, because I wasn’t sure if I should say it back—if I was even allowed to—since I wasn’t Bahá’í and I didn’t believe in God.

The Picard didn’t count.

“Come in!”

I pulled my Vans off and set them in the corner next to Sohrab’s slender shoes.

There was a wooden partition separating the entryway from the rest of the house, with shelves covered in pictures and candles and phone chargers. The rugs were white and green with gold accents, and they didn’t have little tassels on them like Mamou’s. The house felt cozy, like a Hobbit-hole.

The air was heavy with the scent of baking bread. Real, homemade bread, not the mass-produced Subway kind.

“Have you eaten? You want anything?”

“I’m okay. I had breakfast.”

“Are you sure?” She steered me toward the kitchen. “It’s no trouble.”

“I’m sure. I thought I should come visit, since it’s the day after Nowruz.”

I felt very Persian.

“You are so sweet.”

Darius Kellner. Sweet.

I liked that Sohrab’s mom thought that about me.

I really did.

“You are sure you don’t want anything?”

“I’m okay. I had qottab before I came.”

“Your grandma makes the best qottab.”

Technically, I had not tasted all the possibilities, but I agreed with Mahvash Rezaei in principle.

“She sent some with me,” I said, holding out the plastic container I’d brought.

Mahvash Rezaei’s eyes bugged out, and I was reminded of a Klingon warrior. Her personality was too big and mercurial to be contained in a frail human body.

“Thank you! Thank your grandma for me!”

Khanum Rezaei set the qottab aside and went back to the counter by her oven. It was dusted with flour, which explained the mysterious white powder on her face.

Her sink was overflowing with whole romaine lettuce leaves, bathing under the running water. I wondered if it was for the bread. I didn’t know of any Iranian recipes that involved baking romaine lettuce into bread, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any.

“Um.”

“It’s Sohrab’s favorite,” Khanum Rezaei said, nodding toward the sink. “He and his dad love it.”

Sohrab’s dad.

I felt so bad for him.

Also, I felt confused, because I didn’t know anyone whose favorite food was romaine lettuce.

Sohrab Rezaei contained multitudes.

“Can you take it outside for me?” Mrs. Rezaei scooped the leaves into a colander, banged it on the sink a few times, and handed it to me. “Put it on the table. I’ll go get Sohrab.”

The Rezaeis’ garden was very different from Babou’s. There were no fruit trees, no planters of jasmine, only long rows of hyacinths and a collection of huge pots filled with different herbs. The largest was right next to the kitchen—it was nearly two feet across and three feet high—and it was being assimilated by fresh mint.

Mint is the Borg of herbs. If you let it, it will take over each and every patch of ground it encounters, adding the soil’s biological and technological distinctiveness to its own.

There was a charcoal grill in the middle of the garden, the big round kind that looked like a miniature red Starbase. The only table was a Ping-Pong table, close to the door where I stood holding the dripping romaine leaves.

“Khanum Rezaei?”

There was no answer.

Was the Ping-Pong table the one I was supposed to put the romaine on?

Did Iranians say Ping-Pong, or did they say table tennis?

We didn’t cover the history of Ping-Pong/table tennis in Iran during our Net Sports Unit in physical education, which now seemed like a ridiculous oversight.

Khanum Rezaei popped up behind me. I almost dropped the lettuce in fright.

“I forgot this,” she said, squeezing behind me and flapping a giant white-and-blue tablecloth over the Ping-Pong table. It tented up over the little posts for the net. “You can spread the leaves out to dry some.”

“Okay.” I did what she asked, spreading the leaves out so they overlapped as little as possible. The water seeped into the tablecloth, turning it translucent.

“Darioush!”

Sohrab grabbed me around the shoulders from behind and swayed me back and forth.

My neck tingled.

“Oh. Hi.”

He was wearing plaid pajama pants so huge, he could have fit his entire body down one leg. They were cinched around his waist with a drawstring. I could tell because he had tucked his green polo shirt into his pants.

As soon as Sohrab saw the lettuce, he let me go and ran back inside, talking to his mom in Farsi at warp 9.

I had become invisible.

As I watched Sohrab through the doorway, he seemed younger somehow, swimming in his pajama pants with his shirt tucked in.

I knew without him saying it that he was missing his dad.

I felt terrible for him.

And I felt terrible feeling sorry for myself. Another Nowruz had come and gone for Sohrab without his father, and I was worried about feeling invisible.

But then Sohrab looked back at me as I watched him from the doorway, and his eyes squinted up again. His smile was a supernova.

“Darioush, you like sekanjabin?”

“What?”

“Sekanjabin. You’ve had it?”

“No,” I said. “What is it?

He pulled a short, wide-mouthed jar out of the fridge, said something quick to his mom, and came back outside. “It’s mint syrup. Here.” He unscrewed the jar, shook the water off a piece of lettuce, and dipped it in the sauce.

If his face was a supernova before, it became an accretion disc—one of the brightest objects in the universe—as soon as he tasted his lettuce.

I loved that Sohrab could be transported like that.

I took a tiny leaf and tried the sauce. It was sweet and minty, but there was something sour too.

“Vinegar?”

“Yes. Babou always adds a little.”

“Babou made this?”

“Yes. You never had it?”

“No. I never heard of it before.”

How did I not know my grandfather made sekanjabin?

How did I not know how delicious sekanjabin was?

“He is famous for it. My dad . . . He always grew extra mint, for Babou to use when he made it.” He gestured out to the garden. “You saw our mint?”

“Yeah.”

“Now it grows too much. Babou hasn’t made it for a while.”

“Oh.”

Sohrab dipped another leaf and then passed me the jar.

It was perfect.

“Thank you for coming over, Darioush.”

“It’s tradition to visit your friends the day after Nowruz.” I took another leaf to dip. “Right?”

Sohrab squeezed my shoulder as he inhaled another piece of lettuce. He nodded and chewed and swallowed and then squinted right at me.

“Right.”

After I helped Sohrab polish off every piece of lettuce on the table—two whole heads—he ran to get dressed, while I watched Khanum Rezaei make her bread. She pounded out the dough with her floured palms, then sprinkled a mixture of dried herbs and spices on top.

“Do you like this bread, Darioush-jan? Noon-e barbari?”

“Um. Yeah. Mom gets it from the Persian bakery sometimes.”

“You don’t make it at home?”

“Not really.”

“I’ll make some for you. You can put it in the freezer and take it home with you.”

“Maman!” Sohrab had reappeared in the doorway, dressed in real pants and a white polo shirt. He said something to his mom in Farsi, something about dinner, but it was too quick. “Come on, Darioush. Let’s go.”

“Um. Thank you,” I said to his mom. I followed Sohrab to the door and laced up my Vans.

There was something he wanted to show me.

Excerpted from Darius the Great Is Not Okay by Adib Khorram, (c) Penguin Young Readers.

Buy Darius the Great Is Not Okay: Penguin Random House | Amazon | Bookshop

Pre-order Darius the Great Deserves Better: Penguin Random House | Amazon | Bookshop

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/2UYTcoT https://ift.tt/2xLIbPX

Khorram talks to Eater about writing food scenes, the concept of the “cultural iceberg,” and tea — and reads an excerpt from his YA novel, Darius the Great Is Not Okay

In Adib Khorram’s novel Darius the Great Is Not Okay, protagonist Darius Kellner, a self-described “Fractional Persian,” visits Iran with his mother, father, and younger sister. There, he comes to terms with his identity and his place in his family, he strikes a new friendship with Sohrab, and he eats a whole lot of food. Darius also loves tea — it’s a ritual that calms him, and one he can share with his dad, with whom he doesn’t necessarily see eye to eye.

Like Darius, Khorram loves food and tea too, which is why it plays such a large role in his first novel, as well as the sequel, Darius the Great Deserves Better, which comes out on August 25 and is currently available for pre-order. In the new book, there’s plenty of food scenes — “food plays a big role because as always, I was hungry when I was writing,” says Khorram, and he teases that, yes, there’s plenty of Iranian food, tea, and even breakfast for dinner. (Khorram also has a children’s book, Seven Special Somethings, coming out next spring, all about Nowruz.)

During Eater Book Club, Khorram shared that he likes Harney & Sons and Steven Smith Teamaker as tea brands, and for Iranian tea, he suggests a mix of Assam and Earl Grey, or looking for Iranian tea blends. He recommends people who want to cook Persian food for the first time start with the cookbook New Food of Life by Najmieh Batmanglij. His favorite local bookstores are Rainy Day Books in Fairway, Kansas, and the Raven Bookstore in Lawrence, Kansas.

Below, find an excerpt from Darius the Great Is Not Okay, which Khorram read live for Eater Book Club on Instagram Live with host Sonia Chopra on Thursday, April 2, as part of the Eater @ Home virtual event series.

I gave the horseshoe knocker three quick raps. Mahvash Rezaei answered. There was a smear of white powder across her forehead, and some had gotten into her eyebrows, too, but she smiled when she saw me—that same squinting smile she had passed down to her son.

“Alláh-u-Abhá, Darioush!”

“Um.”

I always felt weird, if someone said “Alláh-u-Abhá” to me, because I wasn’t sure if I should say it back—if I was even allowed to—since I wasn’t Bahá’í and I didn’t believe in God.

The Picard didn’t count.

“Come in!”

I pulled my Vans off and set them in the corner next to Sohrab’s slender shoes.

There was a wooden partition separating the entryway from the rest of the house, with shelves covered in pictures and candles and phone chargers. The rugs were white and green with gold accents, and they didn’t have little tassels on them like Mamou’s. The house felt cozy, like a Hobbit-hole.

The air was heavy with the scent of baking bread. Real, homemade bread, not the mass-produced Subway kind.

“Have you eaten? You want anything?”

“I’m okay. I had breakfast.”

“Are you sure?” She steered me toward the kitchen. “It’s no trouble.”

“I’m sure. I thought I should come visit, since it’s the day after Nowruz.”

I felt very Persian.

“You are so sweet.”

Darius Kellner. Sweet.

I liked that Sohrab’s mom thought that about me.

I really did.

“You are sure you don’t want anything?”

“I’m okay. I had qottab before I came.”

“Your grandma makes the best qottab.”

Technically, I had not tasted all the possibilities, but I agreed with Mahvash Rezaei in principle.

“She sent some with me,” I said, holding out the plastic container I’d brought.

Mahvash Rezaei’s eyes bugged out, and I was reminded of a Klingon warrior. Her personality was too big and mercurial to be contained in a frail human body.

“Thank you! Thank your grandma for me!”

Khanum Rezaei set the qottab aside and went back to the counter by her oven. It was dusted with flour, which explained the mysterious white powder on her face.

Her sink was overflowing with whole romaine lettuce leaves, bathing under the running water. I wondered if it was for the bread. I didn’t know of any Iranian recipes that involved baking romaine lettuce into bread, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any.

“Um.”

“It’s Sohrab’s favorite,” Khanum Rezaei said, nodding toward the sink. “He and his dad love it.”

Sohrab’s dad.

I felt so bad for him.

Also, I felt confused, because I didn’t know anyone whose favorite food was romaine lettuce.

Sohrab Rezaei contained multitudes.

“Can you take it outside for me?” Mrs. Rezaei scooped the leaves into a colander, banged it on the sink a few times, and handed it to me. “Put it on the table. I’ll go get Sohrab.”

The Rezaeis’ garden was very different from Babou’s. There were no fruit trees, no planters of jasmine, only long rows of hyacinths and a collection of huge pots filled with different herbs. The largest was right next to the kitchen—it was nearly two feet across and three feet high—and it was being assimilated by fresh mint.

Mint is the Borg of herbs. If you let it, it will take over each and every patch of ground it encounters, adding the soil’s biological and technological distinctiveness to its own.

There was a charcoal grill in the middle of the garden, the big round kind that looked like a miniature red Starbase. The only table was a Ping-Pong table, close to the door where I stood holding the dripping romaine leaves.

“Khanum Rezaei?”

There was no answer.

Was the Ping-Pong table the one I was supposed to put the romaine on?

Did Iranians say Ping-Pong, or did they say table tennis?

We didn’t cover the history of Ping-Pong/table tennis in Iran during our Net Sports Unit in physical education, which now seemed like a ridiculous oversight.

Khanum Rezaei popped up behind me. I almost dropped the lettuce in fright.

“I forgot this,” she said, squeezing behind me and flapping a giant white-and-blue tablecloth over the Ping-Pong table. It tented up over the little posts for the net. “You can spread the leaves out to dry some.”

“Okay.” I did what she asked, spreading the leaves out so they overlapped as little as possible. The water seeped into the tablecloth, turning it translucent.

“Darioush!”

Sohrab grabbed me around the shoulders from behind and swayed me back and forth.

My neck tingled.

“Oh. Hi.”

He was wearing plaid pajama pants so huge, he could have fit his entire body down one leg. They were cinched around his waist with a drawstring. I could tell because he had tucked his green polo shirt into his pants.

As soon as Sohrab saw the lettuce, he let me go and ran back inside, talking to his mom in Farsi at warp 9.

I had become invisible.

As I watched Sohrab through the doorway, he seemed younger somehow, swimming in his pajama pants with his shirt tucked in.

I knew without him saying it that he was missing his dad.

I felt terrible for him.

And I felt terrible feeling sorry for myself. Another Nowruz had come and gone for Sohrab without his father, and I was worried about feeling invisible.

But then Sohrab looked back at me as I watched him from the doorway, and his eyes squinted up again. His smile was a supernova.

“Darioush, you like sekanjabin?”

“What?”

“Sekanjabin. You’ve had it?”

“No,” I said. “What is it?

He pulled a short, wide-mouthed jar out of the fridge, said something quick to his mom, and came back outside. “It’s mint syrup. Here.” He unscrewed the jar, shook the water off a piece of lettuce, and dipped it in the sauce.

If his face was a supernova before, it became an accretion disc—one of the brightest objects in the universe—as soon as he tasted his lettuce.

I loved that Sohrab could be transported like that.

I took a tiny leaf and tried the sauce. It was sweet and minty, but there was something sour too.

“Vinegar?”

“Yes. Babou always adds a little.”

“Babou made this?”

“Yes. You never had it?”

“No. I never heard of it before.”

How did I not know my grandfather made sekanjabin?

How did I not know how delicious sekanjabin was?

“He is famous for it. My dad . . . He always grew extra mint, for Babou to use when he made it.” He gestured out to the garden. “You saw our mint?”

“Yeah.”

“Now it grows too much. Babou hasn’t made it for a while.”

“Oh.”

Sohrab dipped another leaf and then passed me the jar.

It was perfect.

“Thank you for coming over, Darioush.”

“It’s tradition to visit your friends the day after Nowruz.” I took another leaf to dip. “Right?”

Sohrab squeezed my shoulder as he inhaled another piece of lettuce. He nodded and chewed and swallowed and then squinted right at me.

“Right.”

After I helped Sohrab polish off every piece of lettuce on the table—two whole heads—he ran to get dressed, while I watched Khanum Rezaei make her bread. She pounded out the dough with her floured palms, then sprinkled a mixture of dried herbs and spices on top.

“Do you like this bread, Darioush-jan? Noon-e barbari?”

“Um. Yeah. Mom gets it from the Persian bakery sometimes.”

“You don’t make it at home?”

“Not really.”

“I’ll make some for you. You can put it in the freezer and take it home with you.”

“Maman!” Sohrab had reappeared in the doorway, dressed in real pants and a white polo shirt. He said something to his mom in Farsi, something about dinner, but it was too quick. “Come on, Darioush. Let’s go.”

“Um. Thank you,” I said to his mom. I followed Sohrab to the door and laced up my Vans.

There was something he wanted to show me.

Excerpted from Darius the Great Is Not Okay by Adib Khorram, (c) Penguin Young Readers.

Buy Darius the Great Is Not Okay: Penguin Random House | Amazon | Bookshop

Pre-order Darius the Great Deserves Better: Penguin Random House | Amazon | Bookshop

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