Course:Meetings for teaching/Life of Prophets/Jesus/Dialogue

Miriam: David, I’ve been reading deeper into ’Abdu’l-Bahá’s writings, and honestly, a lot of what he says about unity and ethics really resonated with me. But then I hit a wall. In several talks, he directly appeals to Jews to accept Jesus, and I just felt this deep resistance rise up. I want to have a completely open, candid conversation about it, because from where I stand as a Jew, that step isn't just difficult—it feels like an impossibility.

David: I appreciate you bringing this up so directly, Miriam. It is an emotionally and historically heavy subject, and I’d love to walk through it together with total honesty. What was the first thing that triggered that resistance?

Miriam: Firstly, as Jews, our foundational commandment is the Shema: we worship God alone. The absolute oneness of God is non-negotiable. Yet Christians deify Christ and profess the Trinity. How could we as Jews ever accept that without betraying God? The Torah explicitly warns us about this in Deuteronomy 13:

If a prophet, or one who foretells by dreams, appears among you and announces to you a sign or wonder, and if the sign or wonder spoken of takes place, and the prophet says, “Let us follow other gods” (gods you have not known) “and let us worship them,” you must not listen to the words of that prophet or dreamer. The Lord your God is testing you to find out whether you love him with all your heart and with all your soul. It is the Lord your God you must follow, and him you must revere. Keep his commands and obey him; serve him and hold fast to him. That prophet or dreamer must be put to death for inciting rebellion against the Lord your God, who brought you out of Egypt and redeemed you from the land of slavery.

— Deuteronomy 13:1–5

If a figure points people to worship someone or something other than the One God of Israel, we are commanded to reject them—regardless of what signs they perform.

David: That passage in Deuteronomy is sacred protection against idolatry, and Bahá’u’lláh completely affirms that premise: God is absolute, unapproachable, and has no partner or equal. The Bahá’í Writings explain the station of Christ using the analogy of a polished mirror and the sun.

Imagine a pure, flawless mirror held up to the sky. The mirror perfectly reflects the light, warmth, and image of the sun. The sun itself hasn't descended from the heavens or squeezed into the glass; it remains transcendent. Yet, if someone looks at the reflection and says, "There is the sun," they speak the truth regarding the light being revealed. That is how we understand Christ saying, "He who has seen me has seen the Father." He was the mirror reflecting God’s divine attributes to humanity. Over centuries, theological traditions concretized that mystery into literal flesh-and-blood deification and complex dogmas. But in His essential reality, Christ was calling humanity back to the single, unsearchable God.

Miriam: That is a plausible explanation to me. But I'm not fully persuaded about Christ. When ’Abdu’l-Bahá argues that Christ’s extraordinary divine power is proven because His message conquered the Roman Empire, it seems to me to overlook plain historical sociology. While many were inspired by Christ's teachings, look at the actual sociopolitical dynamics: Emperor Constantine’s conversion, the adoption of Christianity as the official state religion, Paul’s strategic framing to appeal to Gentiles, and the practical logistical infrastructure of Roman roads and trade routes. Isn't that earthly politics rather than pure divine triumph?

David: There’s no question those material factors existed. Spiritual power always interacts with the mundane world; God works within history, through geography, institutions, and human choices. But historical forces alone don't explain the initial spark. Think of it as a kind of spiritual punctuated equilibrium. Long before Constantine, when being a Christian meant facing the Colosseum or utter ruin, an unlettered, impoverished group carried a message that completely remade human values and conscience across pagan Rome. Roads and emperors provided the channels, but the moral fire that swept through those channels came from a singular, transformative Educator.

Miriam: Okay, but the Messianic prophecies in the Hebrew Bible are about much more than an inspiring moral teacher. In Judaism, the proof of the Messiah isn't spiritual influence or religious expansion. It requires the concrete realization of prophetic milestones: universal world peace, the beating of swords into plowshares, the end of all warfare, the ingathering of the Jewish exiles to their homeland, and the rebuilding of the Temple. None of that happened after Christ. In fact, our exile deepened, and the Second Temple was razed to the ground.

David: That’s a fair and vital distinction. Bahá’ís understand biblical prophecy through two lenses. First, many prophecies are spiritual and figurative rather than physical—the "Temple" can signify the living sanctuary of the divine Covenant, and the "sword" can represent human hostility transformed by love.

Second, we believe Hebrew scripture foresaw multiple distinct epochs. Some prophecies did point to the suffering and spiritual renewal inaugurated by Christ, but the grand visions of universal peace, the gathering of the exiles, and the establishment of international order were destined for a later, culminating age. In the Bahá’í view, those global promises find their historical dawn in the contemporary era with Bahá’u’lláh: the physical return of the Jewish people to their ancestral land, the emergence of global human rights frameworks, and the hard, necessary work of building collective international peace.

Miriam: But that brings me to another major obstacle. Why does ’Abdu’l-Bahá speak so readily about Christ "abrogating" the Mosaic Law? In Genesis 17:7, God promises Abraham:

I will establish my covenant as an everlasting covenant between me and you and your descendants after you for the generations to come, to be your God and the God of your descendants after you.

— Genesis 17:7

The Torah says "everlasting Covenant." The mitzvot are our identity. We can’t just abandon them and still maintain our heritage.

David: From our viewpoint, your heritage is profoundly spiritual, not merely ethnic or ceremonial. God's bond with humanity isn't confined to physical descent; we all share in that divine heritage. As you probably know, Jesus himself said in Matthew 5:17:

Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them.

— Matthew 5:17

Miriam: Yes, which makes it all the more jarring when ’Abdu’l-Bahá plainly uses the word "abrogated."

David: Think of it like education across generations. When students move from one grade to the next, a new teacher arrives and updates the classroom rules. Looked at from one side, the old classroom rules have been set aside—abrogated. But looked at from a deeper perspective, the new teacher isn't destroying the old teacher's work; they are carrying its fundamental purpose forward to a higher stage of development. The foundational moral law—justice, compassion, reverence for God—is never canceled; only the temporary social regulations and external ceremonies are updated to suit a changing world.

Miriam: Still, you have to appreciate our wariness. With how ruthlessly Jews have been persecuted throughout history—very much including by Christians—we aren't eager to embrace a message that claims to "fulfill" our heritage by asking us to surrender our traditions.

David: That weariness is entirely justified. While the persecution of Bahá’ís in Iran doesn't match the immense scale, centuries of duration, and modern horror of the Holocaust, it gives us a shared reference point. Despite being martyred, imprisoned, and denied basic rights by the Islamic regime in Iran, Bahá’ís still wholeheartedly accept the divine truth of the Prophet Muhammad and the Qur’an. We separate the divine light of a Messenger from the horrific actions done later in His name by fallible followers. To seek truth means recognizing the sun wherever it rises, regardless of who claims to own it. That's the objectivity ’Abdu’l-Bahá was inviting Jews to embrace.

Miriam: Speaking of that persecution, though, I was also troubled by ’Abdu’l-Bahá’s statement that "the first to arise to destroy Him were the Israelites." To any Jewish ear, that echoes the dangerous anti-Semitic charge of deicide—the claim that Jews collectively killed God, the old "His blood be on us, and on our children" (Matthew 27:24-25) related libel that fueled pogroms for centuries.

David: ’Abdu’l-Bahá utterly abhorred the abuse of the Jewish people and spent His life tearing down those prejudices. When He passed away in 1921, His funeral on Mount Carmel was attended by thousands of people from every background, with eulogies delivered side-by-side by Jewish, Muslim, and Christian leaders mourning Him as a true father and protector, testifying to such a commitment to removal of prejudices.

The Bahá’í teachings unequivocally reject the notion of collective hereditary guilt or permanent deicide. No generation inherits the sins of their ancestors, and individuals are accountable solely for their own choices. At the same time, scripture across all traditions—most notably the Hebrew prophets like Jeremiah and Isaiah—frequently describes moments of spiritual crisis and collective chastisement when a community strays into empty formalism. As ’Abdu’l-Bahá wrote:

...it is recorded in the Torah and confirmed in history that when the Jews became fettered by empty forms and imitations, the wrath of God became manifest.

— ’Abdu’l-Bahá, The Promulgation of Universal Peace, p. 363

He was speaking to that same prophetic pattern found throughout the Tanakh, not justifying hatred or laying blame on subsequent generations.

Miriam: Hearing that distinction helps. But what about his characterization of Second Temple Judaism as being "entirely confused and corrupted"? Historically, that period wasn't some dark age of utter degradation. It was the fertile soil of the Mishnah, vibrant rabbinic scholarship, and universal moral maxims, like Hillel’s famous teaching.

David: That’s a very valid point. ’Abdu’l-Bahá frequently employed strong, sweeping rhetoric to emphasize a stark spiritual contrast—a common oratorical style in the East. He was intimately aware of the noble teachings preserved in Jewish tradition, such as Hillel's famous words:

What is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow: this is the whole Torah; the rest is the explanation; go and learn.

— Shabbat 31a:6, Babylonian Talmud

His core concern wasn't that Jews lacked wise scholars or ethical thinkers, but that human debate, however brilliant, can never take the place of fresh, living divine guidance. Over time, purely human institutions risk getting weighed down by rigid ritualism, obsolete social codes, and sectarian friction. His argument was that Jesus was a supreme Luminary who emerged from within the heart of Israel. In his eyes, recognizing Christ’s contribution isn't a betrayal of Jewish heritage—it's acknowledging a son of Israel who shaped world history, while retaining the true spiritual essence of your roots.

Embracing this doesn't mean erasing your ancestry or your pride in Jewish heritage. Shoghi Effendi, the Guardian of the Bahá’í Faith, addressed this directly when an individual of Jewish descent asked how they should identify themselves:

You certainly, as your father feels, should never wish to disassociate yourself from a group of people who have contributed as much to the world as the Jews have. On the other hand your actual religion today is Bahá’í, and he feels that Jews should, when they become Bahá’ís, always give this as their Faith, but as their racial descent they should give 'Jewish'.

— From a letter written on behalf of Shoghi Effendi to an individual believer, March 15, 1948, in Lights of Guidance, no. 1819

Miriam: That distinction between religious allegiance and enduring ancestral identity is clarifying. It takes the conversation out of "erasing" our peoplehood, even if the theological hurdles around divine law and prophetic fulfillment remain significant to wrestle with.