Pilgrimage is very hard to describe and impossible to convey in words so this account is not really a description - it is rather a flow of thoughts. I write in the hope that it may be a source of encouragement and/or thought to one or two who read it.

Pilgrimage is a spiritual journey, signposted by joy and pain. Its ultimate outcome is nearness to and eventual reunion with the Beloved (by whichever name you call God).

In one sense, our pilgrimage begins the moment we are conceived, that moment in time when a new being comes into creation and proceeds through birth and life with all its faces - love, loss, pain, separation, unity - until we die, (which understood as being similar to our birth is like a bird being released from a cage - the bird being the individual essence or soul and the cage being the body). And on this path, faith seems to be a key - not a blind faith, but a belief/knowledge confirmed by eventual certitude that this path does lead somewhere and the highlights and obstacles along it are deliberately set up to assist us, to ennoble and strengthen our inner reality, a certainty that God will be there every step of the way even though He may not always be apparent.

“And now I shall give you a commandment which shall be a covenant between you and Me - that ye have Faith, that your faith be steadfast as a rock that no storms can move, that nothing can disturb, and that it endures through all things, even to the end; even should you hear that your Lord be crucified, be not shaken in your faith: for I am with you always, whether living or dead. I am with you to the end. As ye have faith, so shall your powers and blessings be. This is the balance, this is the balance, this is the balance.” (Abdu’l-Baha)

On another plane, more relevant here, is the pilgrimage that takes a person on a quest to worship and offer prayers at physical places that are spiritually significant to them. As a Bahá’í, this journey took me to Haifa and Akká (which is just across the bay) , in the Israel, where the twin founder prophets of the Bahá’í Faith are buried. Haifa is located on the slopes of Mount Carmel about 30km south of the border with Lebanon on the shores of the Mediterranean Sea. On the east-facing sea side of this sacred mountain on which the Old Testament prophet Elijah had lived and dreamed, nestled in among some of the most beautiful, simple and immaculately tended gardens, is the Shrine of the Báb which is crowned with a golden dome. The remains of the Báb are interned here. As I approach along a cream pebbled path the scent of roses and frangipani fill the air, and a great quietness descends on my soul. The closer I get, the greater is the feeling of peace and serenity until at last, having left my shoes at the door and standing within the Holy Precincts, I am overcome by a wave of peace that is so great the tears just roll down my face, and I am overcome. It is a place of prayer and meditation, a place of beauty and worship, a place where one stands spiritually naked.

The Shrine of the Báb is seated at one end of the Arc Path on which four buildings have just been completed. These four buildings, designed by architect Husayn Amanat, are based on the traditional Greek design, in the manner of the Acropolis in Athens, but have taken modern lines in their curves and symmetry. A set of 19 terraces that link the top and bottom of the mountain have just been competed and there is a major international opening celebration on 23 May this year which 19 New Zealanders will be attending along with fellow believers from all around the world.

As one stands on the Mount Carmel and looks out to sea, across the Bay is located the city of Akká (also known as Acre, or Akko), an ancient fortified city. Beyond its walls, the second prophet of the Bahá’ís is buried, Bahá’u’lláh, at a place known as Bahji. Rather than being on the side of the mountain, the land here is flat. The Shrine itself is a small, humble building set among acres of garden which stretches out in a wide circle around it. The paths are paved with the same small, creamy pebbles and some with broken terracota tile. Words cannot describe the sheer beauty of Bahji. The gardens are full of cypresses, olive trees and red geraniums and as I first looked at them they reminded me of the blood of the many thousands of martyrs who have been killed as a result of believing in the Báb and Bahá’u’lláh.

Walking around the gardens, my step is tempered by the pebble and tile paths, and the sound of my own footsteps acts like a mantra (a repetitive word used in some forms of mediation). It is a time of soul searching, of examining and assessing motivation, pondering on priorities, and evaluating integrity.

Bahá’í pilgrimage, which is nine days in length, also offers the opportunity to visit sites which are sacred to the followers. In Israel, this includes buildings in which Bahá’u’lláh was imprisoned by the Ottoman Empire during the second half of the last century. At the time Akká was its furthermost place of banishment, a prison city, and has been described as a place where “if a bird flew over, it would drop dead from the stench.” The early Bahá’ís would come on pilgrimage to visit Bahá’u’lláh walking from Persia (now Iran), a journey which would take months. They were not permitted into the prison, and would stand at the outer edge of the moat, a distance of several hundred metres, hoping for a glimpse of Bahá’u’lláh through the prison windows.

Akká has remained largely unchanged throughout the centuries. The caravanserais which were the hotels of long ago, stand unchanging, their large central courtyard with the water well in the centre, the local traders selling freshly squeezed orange and grapefruit juice from a mobile stall and the lower level of rooms which once would have housed the camels and other pack animals now used as storerooms. The old cobbled streets and rough stone buildings, the ancient crumbling walls and large gateways with metal studded doors, stand the tribute to the test of time, and, especially in the evenings when the bustle of activity dies down, whisper secrets of thousands of years ago.

There were 120 other pilgrims while I was there, from countries as diverse as the Seychelles, Swaziland, Finland, the United Kingdom, Scotland, the Pacific, Italy, the United States among others. Spending nine days together I formed new and lasting friendships.

It is encouraging to think that in the middle of this tiny, war-ravaged country that is indeed the Holy Land to peoples of so many religions, there is such a sanctuary of peace and unity, open to peoples of all backgrounds, races and creeds, unsullied by the economics and partisan politics that divide us all.


Margot Macphail