Eric Farr, a Faiths Act Fellow of the Tony Blair Faith Foundation, reflects on the teachings of the Baha’i faith, Thanksgiving and the famine in Africa.
“My God, my Adored One, my King, my Desire! What tongue can voice my thanks to Thee?” So begins a prayer of Bahá’u’lláh that I regularly turn to in moments of gratitude. It expresses what I think is a fairly common feeling among spiritually-minded folk: the feeling of overwhelming gratitude at the bounties and majesty of God, and the absolute impossibility of offering adequate thanks for those bounties and glimpses of divinity.
I’ve tried on a few occasions to thank my parents in some kind of definitive way for all that they’ve given me during my life. They’ve given me everything. They’ve sacrificed their money, their time, their whole being. They’ve given me and my brother and my sister their lives. No matter how much I mean it, no matter how much I explain it and no matter how much they even believe it, I can’t say “thank you” in such a way that actually expresses the degree of thanks or that feels in any way like a fitting response to their generosity. It’s the same word I use when someone passes the salt, for crying out loud.
