The Bahá’í World
Volume 1 : 1925-1926
 IMPRESSIONS OF HAIFA81
The rearing of this temple in the east has been a great source of strength to the Bahá’í people the world round for through thus expressing their unity through sacrificing to build this temple of God, the Bahá’ís of the Orient have become stronger and more united than ever before. Who can estimate the effect that is produced by this building? It is the cause of great strength and unity among the Bahá’ís of the world, being the House of Unity open to all peoples, it is a haven of rest to many a soul and a beacon to guide those who seek the Kingdom of God.
IMPRESSIONS OF HAIFA
By Alaine Locke
WHETHER Bahá’í or non-Bahá’í, Haifa makes pilgrims of all who visit her. The place itself makes mystics of us all,—for it shuts out the world of materiality with its own characteristic atmosphere and one instantly feels one‘s self in a simple and restful cloistral calm. But it is not the characteristic calm of the monastic cloister,—it is not so much a shutting out of the world as an opening up of new vistas,—I cannot describe it except to say that its influence lacks the mustiness of ascetism, and blends the joy and naturalness of a nature-cult with the ethical seriousness and purpose of a spiritual religion.
Every thing seems to share the custody of the message—the place itself is a physical revelation. I shall never forget my first view of it from the terraces of the shrine. Mount Carmel, already casting shadows, was like a dark green curtain behind us and opposite was a gorgeous crescent of hills so glowing with color,—gold, sapphire, amethyst as the sunset colors changed,—and in between the mottled emerald of the sea, and the gray-toned house-roofs of Haifa. Almost immediately opposite and picking up the sun‘s reflection like polished metal were the ramparts of Akká, transformed for a few moments from its shabby decay into a citadel of light and beauty. Most shrines concentrate the view upon themselves,—this one turns itself into a panorama of inspiring loveliness. It is a fine symbol for a faith that wishes to reconcile the supernatural with the natural, beauty and joy with morality. It is an ideal place for the reconciliation of things that have been artificially and wrongfully put asunder.
The shrine chambers of the Báb and ‘Abdu’l-Bahá are both impressive, but in a unique and almost modern way: richly carpeted, but with austerely undecorated walls and ceilings, and flooded with light, the ante-chambers are simply the means of taking away the melancholy and gruesomeness of death and substituting for them the thought of memory, responsibility and reverence. Through the curtained doorways, the tomb chambers brilliantly lighted create an illusion which defeats even the realization that one is in the presence of a sepulchre. Here without mysticism and supernaturalness, there is dramatically evoked that lesson of the Easter visitation of the tomb, the fine meaning of which Christianity has in such large measure forgotten,—“He is not here, He is risen.” That is to say, one is strangely convinced that the death of the greatest teachers is the release of their spirit in the world, and the responsible legacy of their example