Cold and Distant
Avrel Seale has only been a member of the Bahai Faith Community for three and a half years. He says he joined in response to the September 11th attacks on the United States, yearning for a religion that embraced all cultures and beliefs.
“I was thinking about civilization and unity and harmony on a global level,” Seale says. “I had a gut feeling that unity in the world was important and that there needed to be a higher world order that Muslims, Christians, Buddhists, and everyone else could buy into.”
Perhaps it is this acceptance of all cultures and religions that made me feel so welcome at the Baha’i Faith Community of Austin. Before I had even entered the building, a woman smiled and greeted me, introducing me to Seale and the few other people in the building. She didn’t worry about where I came from or what my past was like; she simply shook my hand and let me in.
The humble building has old colorful rugs, cheap paper table cloths and quotes from Baha’u’llah, the faith’s founder, framed in plastic hanging on the walls. The main congregation area holds about 100 people, with two main speakers and a simple microphone. The center was modest and tucked away, but homely.
A tutor was helping an older woman with Parkinson’s disease do an exercise booklet to learn about the faith. The questions in the book were elementary, but the woman digested them with enthusiasm.
The next day, at Great Hills Baptist Church in West Austin, no one was at the front desk, if you could call it a “front” desk. GHBC has three buildings, each individually much larger than the entire Bahai Center, and the main office is in the back. The halls were empty, but if you walk around long enough, you can hear beautiful music. In the main arena, what seemed to be a symphony was rehearsing for Easter services. On the second floor, above the front office, a choir was practicing. And after walking for what seems like a mile, you might find about 75 young students singing Christian songs.
Four televisions, a projector screen, an acoustic guitar, an electric guitar, a bass, drums, a cordless microphone headset, three computers, and black stage curtains were unnecessarily used in this worship service. What these people believed would make a worship service more powerful, made me feel cold and separated. No one spoke with each other; they just watched the screens and sang the songs.
Signs all over GHBC said that “Great Hills Baptist Church exists to evangelize people with the Good News of Jesus Christ.” I sure didn’t feel evangelized.
While it’s all well and good that these people work hard for their religion in preparation for larger events to come, they have lost the need for a community. Christianity has become a self-centered religion, where we tend to attend services and events for our own benefit rather than the benefit of others.
Seale says the Baha’i faith embraces together what could be considered contradictory concepts.
“We celebrate both unity and diversity,” he says. “As small as a community this is, it’s kind of like a little United Nations.” People in the Baha’i community look for unity of beliefs and diversity of cultures, and with that philosophy come and others-centered faith. They seem to have this part right.
Sometimes we can get so caught up in the show, the bigness, and the material things that we forget to welcome our fellow human being in love and faith. Christianity is about community just as much as the Baha’i Faith is, but it has lost its centrality. As Easter approaches, I hope Christians won’t be seen as cold and self-serving in their places of worship, but warm and welcoming.
“I was thinking about civilization and unity and harmony on a global level,” Seale says. “I had a gut feeling that unity in the world was important and that there needed to be a higher world order that Muslims, Christians, Buddhists, and everyone else could buy into.”
Perhaps it is this acceptance of all cultures and religions that made me feel so welcome at the Baha’i Faith Community of Austin. Before I had even entered the building, a woman smiled and greeted me, introducing me to Seale and the few other people in the building. She didn’t worry about where I came from or what my past was like; she simply shook my hand and let me in.
The humble building has old colorful rugs, cheap paper table cloths and quotes from Baha’u’llah, the faith’s founder, framed in plastic hanging on the walls. The main congregation area holds about 100 people, with two main speakers and a simple microphone. The center was modest and tucked away, but homely.
A tutor was helping an older woman with Parkinson’s disease do an exercise booklet to learn about the faith. The questions in the book were elementary, but the woman digested them with enthusiasm.
The next day, at Great Hills Baptist Church in West Austin, no one was at the front desk, if you could call it a “front” desk. GHBC has three buildings, each individually much larger than the entire Bahai Center, and the main office is in the back. The halls were empty, but if you walk around long enough, you can hear beautiful music. In the main arena, what seemed to be a symphony was rehearsing for Easter services. On the second floor, above the front office, a choir was practicing. And after walking for what seems like a mile, you might find about 75 young students singing Christian songs.
Four televisions, a projector screen, an acoustic guitar, an electric guitar, a bass, drums, a cordless microphone headset, three computers, and black stage curtains were unnecessarily used in this worship service. What these people believed would make a worship service more powerful, made me feel cold and separated. No one spoke with each other; they just watched the screens and sang the songs.
Signs all over GHBC said that “Great Hills Baptist Church exists to evangelize people with the Good News of Jesus Christ.” I sure didn’t feel evangelized.
While it’s all well and good that these people work hard for their religion in preparation for larger events to come, they have lost the need for a community. Christianity has become a self-centered religion, where we tend to attend services and events for our own benefit rather than the benefit of others.
Seale says the Baha’i faith embraces together what could be considered contradictory concepts.
“We celebrate both unity and diversity,” he says. “As small as a community this is, it’s kind of like a little United Nations.” People in the Baha’i community look for unity of beliefs and diversity of cultures, and with that philosophy come and others-centered faith. They seem to have this part right.
Sometimes we can get so caught up in the show, the bigness, and the material things that we forget to welcome our fellow human being in love and faith. Christianity is about community just as much as the Baha’i Faith is, but it has lost its centrality. As Easter approaches, I hope Christians won’t be seen as cold and self-serving in their places of worship, but warm and welcoming.
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