The Path of Futuwwah: Spiritual Chivalry in the Baha'i Faith

In the Islamic tradition, there is an ancient concept known as Futuwwah (or Jawanmardi in Persian)—often translated as spiritual chivalry, noble manhood, or courtly honor. Historically, it wasn't just a philosophy; it was a living code practiced by guilds, travelers, and seekers who sought to combine practical skill and strength with deep humility, generosity, and moral discipline.

In the Baha’i Faith, this tradition of chivalry finds its complete, modernized renewal. Baha’u’llah explicitly elevates useful labor, everyday courtesy (Adab), and personal integrity to the level of divine worship. To be a modern Fata (a spiritual youth or chivalric practitioner) does not require a sword or a shield; it requires the quiet courage to master one’s own character, take absolute responsibility for one's choices, and serve humanity without seeking recognition.

It is the art of being a center of calm, beauty, and order in an increasingly chaotic world.

Below are Ten Maxims for the Baha’i Fata - a personal code distilled for those seeking to walk the path of spiritual chivalry in daily life:

I. Let Deeds Be Your Adornment

"Let deeds, not words, be your adorning."

— Bahá’u’lláh, The Hidden Words

True spiritual nobility is measured not by the density of your library or the complexity of your titles, but by the tangible integrity and purity of your actions.

II. Master the Micro-Kingdom

"In every aspect of life, purity and holiness, cleanliness and refinement, exalt the human condition and further the development of man’s inner reality."

— ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Selections from the Writings of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá

Before you attempt to bring order to a chaotic world, establish discipline, beauty, and refinement within your immediate physical space.

III. Transform Labor into Liturgy

"In the Bahá'í Cause arts, sciences and all crafts are (counted as) worship. The man who makes a piece of notepaper to the best of his ability, conscientiously, concentrating all his forces on perfecting it, is giving praise to God. Briefly, all effort and exertion put forth by man from the fullness of his heart is worship, if it is prompted by the highest motives and the will to do service to humanity. This is worship: to serve mankind and to minister to the needs of the people. Service is prayer."

— ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Paris Talks

Any task, no matter how humble or routine, becomes accepted worship when executed with meticulous care, courtly grace, and a heart focused on service.

IV. Claim Personal Sovereignty

"O Son of Spirit! I created thee rich, why dost thou bring thyself down to poverty? Noble I made thee, wherewith dost thou abase thyself? ... Turn thy sight unto thyself, that thou mayest find Me standing within thee, mighty, powerful and self-subsisting." 

— Bahá’u’lláh, The Hidden Words

Reject the weakness of shifting blame onto fate or society, taking unyielding responsibility for your choices within a universe governed by free will and order.

V. Walk with Courtly Dignity (Adab)

"O people of God! I admonish you to observe courtesy, for it is above all else the prince of virtues."

— Bahá’u’lláh, Tablets of Bahá’u’lláh

Carry yourself with quiet authority, offering every soul you encounter the patient courtesy, restraint, and deep respect worthy of a spiritual knight.

VI. Guard the Gates of Attention

"Suffer not the world and its vain imaginings, its falsehoods and its ostentation, to encourage pride in your hearts... Know ye that the world and its ornament shall perish."

— Bahá’u’lláh, Gleanings from the Writings of Bahá’u’lláh

Protect your mind from the noisy outrage of popular spectacles by deliberately anchoring your focus in timeless literature, deep philosophy, and quiet truth.

VII. Anchor in the Active Current

"Verily I say, this is the Day in which mankind can behold the Face, and hear the Voice, of the Promised One... It behoveth every man to blot out the trace of every idle word from the tablet of his heart, and to gaze, with an open and unbiased mind, on the signs of His Revelation..."

— Bahá’u’lláh, Gleanings from the Writings of Bahá’u’lláh

Honor every stream of ancient wisdom that forged your path, but draw your daily illumination and ultimate authority from the Baha'i Writings. 

VIII. Harmonize the Quest

"All the divine prophets have spent Their lives in preaching unity and harmony among the children of men... We must follow Their example and pursue Their path."

— ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, The Promulgation of Universal Peace

Unite the discipline of your past trials, the reverence of holy tradition, and the depth of mystic seeking into a singular life of chivalric purpose.

IX. Be a Center of Sanity

"Be ye as a tree that yieldeth fruit. Rest not, be not quiet for a moment... Be an ornament to the countenance of truth, a crown on the head of fidelity... a light to them that walk in darkness..."

— Bahá’u’lláh, Tablets of Bahá’u’lláh

Refuse to wait for the world to become noble before you live rightly, choosing instead to stand as an unshakeable pillar of calm and elegance wherever you are placed.

X. Live for Selfless Service (Service Désintéressé)

"Blessed is he who preferreth his brother before himself."

— Bahá’u’lláh, Tablets of Bahá’u’lláh

The ultimate end of all study, physical discipline, and personal refinement is not individual pride, but the quiet, active lifting of humanity’s burdens.

Book Review: Algerian Chronicles

Algerian Chronicles by Albert Camus
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

In this volume, a heartbroken but hopeful Camus pleads for a new Algeria. It is an Algeria freed from colonialism but with strong ties with France and the West. Spiritually, it maintains it's Mediterranean and Eastern diversity. All Algerians, Arab, French, and Berber would share the homeland in harmony and brotherhood. In these pages, he also begs for the lives of innocent civilian victims of whatever race. Unfortunately, his voice was not heard or he was laughed to scorn by the fanatics on both sides of the Algerian Crisis. Perhaps it is well that his life was cut short in 1960 in a car accident. Had he seen the satanic horrors of 1962, he probably would have died from grief.

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Christmas by Sir John Betjeman

The bells of waiting Advent ring,
The Tortoise stove is lit again
And lamp-oil light across the night
Has caught the streaks of winter rain
In many a stained-glass window sheen
From Crimson Lake to Hookers Green.

The holly in the windy hedge
And round the Manor House the yew
Will soon be stripped to deck the ledge,
The altar, font and arch and pew,
So that the villagers can say
'The church looks nice' on Christmas Day.

Provincial Public Houses blaze,
Corporation tramcars clang,
On lighted tenements I gaze,
Where paper decorations hang,
And bunting in the red Town Hall
Says 'Merry Christmas to you all'.

And London shops on Christmas Eve
Are strung with silver bells and flowers
As hurrying clerks the City leave
To pigeon-haunted classic towers,
And marbled clouds go scudding by
The many-steepled London sky.

And girls in slacks remember Dad,
And oafish louts remember Mum,
And sleepless children's hearts are glad.
And Christmas-morning bells say 'Come!'
Even to shining ones who dwell
Safe in the Dorchester Hotel.

And is it true,
This most tremendous tale of all,
Seen in a stained-glass window's hue,
A Baby in an ox's stall?
The Maker of the stars and sea
Become a Child on earth for me?

And is it true? For if it is,
No loving fingers tying strings
Around those tissued fripperies,
The sweet and silly Christmas things,
Bath salts and inexpensive scent
And hideous tie so kindly meant,

No love that in a family dwells,
No carolling in frosty air,
Nor all the steeple-shaking bells
Can with this single Truth compare -
That God was man in Palestine
And lives today in Bread and Wine.

Agricultural Caress by Sir John Betjeman

 

Keep me from Thelma's sister Pearl!

She puts my senses in a whirl,

Weakens my knees and keeps me waiting

Until my heart stops palpitating.

The debs may turn disdainful backs

On Pearl's uncouth mechanic slacks,

And outraged see the fire that lies

And smoulders in her long-lashed eyes.

Have they such weather-freckled features,

The smooth sophisticated creatures?

Ah, not to them such limbs belong,

Such animal movements sure and strong,

Such arms to take a man and press

In agricultural caress

His head to hers, and hold him there

Deep buried in her chestnut hair.

God shrive me from this morning lust

For supple farm girls if you must,

Send the cold daughter of an earl -- 

But spare me Thelma's sister Pearl! 

Two Poems by Sir John Bentjeman

Slough

Come, friendly bombs, and fall on Slough
It isn't fit for humans now,
There isn't grass to graze a cow
        Swarm over, Death! 

Come, bombs, and blow to smithereens

Those air-conditioned, bright canteens,

Tinned fruit, tinned meat, tinned milk, tinned beans

        Tinned minds, tinned breath.

Mess up the mess they call a town--

A house for ninety-seven down

And once a week a half-a-crown

        For twenty years,

And get that man with double chin

Who'll always cheat and always win,

Who washes his repulsive skin

        In women's tears,

And smash his desk of polished oak

And smash his hands so used to stroke

And stop his boring dirty joke

        And make him yell.

But spare the bald young clerks who add

The profits of the stinking cad;

It's not their fault that they are mad,

        They've tasted Hell.

It's not their fault they do not know

The birdsong from the radio,

It's not their fault they often go

        To Maidenhead

And talk of sports and makes of cars

In various bogus Tudor bars

And daren't look up and see the stars

        But belch instead.

In labour-saving homes, with care

Their wives frizz out peroxide hair

And dry it in synthetic air

        And paint their nails.

Come, friendly bombs, and fall on Slough

To get it ready for the plough.

The cabbages are coming now;

        The earth exhales.

The Heart of Thomas Hardy

The heart of Thomas Hardy flew out of Stinsford Church

A little thumping fig, it rocketed over the elm trees,

Lighter than air it flew straight to where its Creator

Waited in golden nimbus, just as in eighteen sixty,

Hardman and son of Brum had depicted Him in the chancel,

Slowly out of the grass, slitting the mounds in the centre

Riving apart the rocks, rose the new covered corpses

Tess and Jude and His Worship, various unmarried mothers,

Woodmen, cutters of turf, adulterers, church restorers,

Turning aside the stones thump on the upturned churchyard.

Soaring over the elm trees slower than Thomas Hardy,

Weighted down with a Conscience, now for the first time fleshly

Taking form as a growth hung from the feet like a sponge-bag.

There, in the heart of the nimbus, slowly revolved the corpses

Radiating around the twittering heart of Hardy,

Slowly started to turn in the light of their own Creator

Died away in the night as frost will blacken a dahlia.

Book Review: Sumo - A Pocket Guide

Sumo: A Pocket Guide by Walter Long (C.E. Tuttle Co., Rutland, Vt., 1993, ©1989)
This is a good brief introduction to sumo. I read the 1989 first edition, so it's a little outdated in terms of some of the rikishi mentioned who were active at the time of writing. Chapters cover the history of the sport, life in the stables, the climb to the top, the Grand Tournament, the role of the yokozuna, the meanings of names, the referees and judges, salaries and other compensations, and tips for watching sumo. It also includes a glossary of sumo terms, addresses of "chako-nabe" (the stew that is the staple food of sumo wrestlers) restaurants, and the addresses of the stables (outdated information by this time). It's the first book on sumo I've read so I can't compare it to any others, but I would gladly recommend it as it stands for a good introduction to the national sport of Japan.

Book Review: The Archer by Paulo Coelho

The Archer by Paulo Coelho
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This one is not really a novel per se, but it is in story form. It's a very short book that is concerned with the transmission of wisdom. I can only assume that it is based on the author's own experience. Whether or not the author actually studied traditional Japanese archery, I do not know. The tale is about an old carpenter who used to be a great archer. He is visited by another archer who knows about his past and wants to test him. After proving his ability, the old man begins to instruct a boy who is there about the main lessons he learned as an archer. Obviously, the lessons can be taken a metaphors for life situations. The book can be interpreted in many ways. In this way, it reminds me of "The Book of Five Rings" or "The Art of War". Apparently, these martial classics have guided the decision making of Japanese executives and CEOs. (I can't see it myself, having read both of those. But that's what they say.) This book of "wisdom literature" could be put in the same category with some of Paulo Coelho's other books that are similar: "Manuscript Found at Accra" and "Warrior of the Light: a Manual". Overall, I found the book quite enjoyable. As I was reading it, I was reminded about another small book: "Zen and the Art of Archery" by Eugen Herrigel. I was not surprised when I saw that Coelho mentions both the work and the author in the acknowledgements at the end of the book.

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