I grew up with a very critical father; and then, guess what, I became a critic myself. Not too surprising, right?

My dad had a harsh life. His father, an immigrant from Scandinavia, was sold into indentured servitude as a child, because his family couldn’t feed all their children. He worked as a slave to a farmer for five years, from the age of 10 until he was 15, when he escaped.

That experience scarred my grandfather for life, as you might imagine. He became a carpenter, had a family and lived a relatively normal life in America, but I can’t remember him ever being a happy person. He believed in punishment, and he severely punished my father, the oldest son in the family, for every infraction.

We all tend to parent like we were parented, I suppose, so my father took the same approach with me. When I was born, my father had spent his youth and early adulthood as a U.S. Marine, fighting in World War II. His upbringing from my stern, strict grandfather and the trauma he suffered during the war convinced him that he had to raise his own son the same way he was raised—with criticism, military discipline and physical abuse.

I didn’t take well to that approach, and ran away from home at 14. But as a young child, I suffered. I always felt, after the daily barrage of criticism and punishment over why I didn’t measure up to my father’s expectations, that I would never be what he wanted me to be. Finally, I rebelled, deciding that I would be who I wanted to be. As an adult I tried to take a spiritual path, and raise my own sons in a more peaceful, understanding way.

But, as the old Biblical adage goes, the son inherits the sins of the father, and I became a journalist and a literary critic. My job? Read books, find faults and pass judgment on them, in much the same way that my father and his father passed judgment. Ironic, right? In a way, I had become what I despised—a person who found fault with others and their works. Yes, I do think critics can serve a useful public service by alerting the culture to great art, film and literature—but they can also crush careers, destroy reputations and decimate the tender feelings of artists who are trying their best.

As a Baha’i, I really struggled with the job. I realized I didn’t feel very good about myself when I wrote disparagingly about the literary efforts of others. When I “panned” a book—gave it a negative review—it reminded me of all the criticism I had withstood as a child. I thought about the author of the book reading my review, and how it had the potential to hurt that writer. All of this affected my spirit, and I began to think about finding another line of work.

One day, as I was interviewing a terrific American author named James Lee Burke, I asked him a pretty mundane question: “Who are your influences, your favorite authors?” He said “I respect and admire anyone who has the patience and fortitude to write down their true thoughts and feelings.” That one sentence struck me with the force of a hurricane. It reminded me of that famous droll quip, variously attributed to Ernest Hemingway, Red Smith and Thomas Wolfe, when someone asked if writing was hard: “There’s nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein.”

I resolved, then and there, never to write a negative review again. From that day on, if I read a book I didn’t appreciate or couldn’t wholeheartedly recommend, I declined to review it. I no longer wanted to find fault, disparaging the work, the intent or the motivations and perceptions of other writers. I took a new position, heavily influenced by the Baha’i teachings, by deciding to only write positive criticism—to look at the good qualities of the books I read, focusing on the merits and the beauty of the work.

Essentially, I took my advice from Abdu’l-Baha, in a letter he wrote to an American physician named Dr. M. G. Skinner in 1913:

I hope that the believers of God will shun completely backbiting, each one praising the other cordially and believe that backbiting is the cause of Divine Wrath, to such an extent that if a person backbites to the extent of one word, he may become dishonored among all the people, because the most hateful characteristic of man is fault-finding. One must expose the praiseworthy qualities of the souls and not their evil attributes. The friends must overlook their shortcomings and faults and speak only of their virtues and not their defects.

It is related that His Holiness Christ—May my life be a sacrifice to Him!—one day, accompanied by His apostles, passed by the corpse of a dead animal. One of them said: “How putrid has this animal become!” The other exclaimed: “How it is deformed!” A third cried out: “What a stench! How cadaverous looking!” But His Holiness Christ said: “Look at its teeth! How white they are!” Consider, that He did not look at all at the defects of that animal; nay, rather, He searched well until He found the beautiful white teeth. He observed only the whiteness of the teeth and overlooked entirely the deformity of the body, the dissolution of its organs and the bad odour.

This is the attribute of the children of the Kingdom. This is the conduct and the manner of the real Baha’is. I hope that all the believers will attain to this lofty station. – Abdu’l-Baha, Star of the West, Volume 3, p. 192.

Needless to say, my editors didn’t always agree. Any critic who only writes positive reviews doesn’t often develop a discerning reputation in our current culture, which delights in rampant and even vicious criticism. In fact, the most famous, celebrated and best-compensated literary critics today are often the savage attackers, the ones who write extremely negative and even cruel reviews.

Perhaps that comes from the frequently malign influence of the web, which seems to give everyone license to belittle others, demean their motives and disparage their work.

I decided that I didn’t want to be that person—that it would take too great a toll on my spirit. Instead, I decided to try to be this person:

One must see in every human being only that which is worthy of praise. When this is done, one can be a friend to the whole human race. If, however, we look at people from the standpoint of their faults, then being a friend to them is a formidable task. – Abdu’l-Baha, Selections of the Writings of Abdu’l-Baha, p. 169.

If you think of the finest inner qualities of the best people you work with, you’ll realize they’re forbearing, kind and steadfast.

These essentially spiritual characteristics serve us well in our inner lives, but they also serve us especially well in our work lives. People with those qualities usually succeed in the workplace. They make true friends and allies. They build fellowship and unity. They’re peacemakers and progress creators. They’re trustworthy, helpful and genuine.

So how do we go about developing those admirable, attractive and amiable characteristics? The Baha’i teachings have some recommendations.

Be Forbearing

The Baha’i teachings urge us all to be forbearing with one another—to control ourselves when provoked. Baha’u’llah taught the principle of forbearance: “Should anyone wax angry with you, respond to him with gentleness.” – The Most Holy Book, p. 75.

Abdu’l-Baha further explained that the principle requires immediate forgiveness of the offender: “If someone commits an error and wrong toward you, you must instantly forgive him.” – The Promulgation of Universal Peace, p. 8.

Forbearance instructs us to let any hostilities, any aggression or any insults and slights die with you. The standard goes beyond gritting your teeth and bearing an insult—it also encourages us to not take any offense, as you cannot be offended and forgive the offender at the same time. Neither can you forgive with conditions or lingering resentment. This forbearing behavior can convince others that you bear them no ill will.

Of course, some workplaces commonly have open hostility and aggressive exchanges. (Perhaps you should just leave those jobs.) Many have passive aggression, and most all have well meaning but inconsiderate people, or simply poor communicators, who can provoke conflict. A common expectation is that if you don’t stick up for yourself in workplace conflicts, the problem is yours.

Keep a Kindly Tongue

When someone shouts at you at work, or you receive a flaming email, it may seem like you just have to react defensively—or be diminished. There is a middle way, however, and it starts with not contributing to the problem. Baha’u’llah wrote:

Defile not your tongues with the cursing and reviling of any soul, and guard your eyes against that which is not seemly. Set forth that which ye possess. If it be favourably received, your end is attained; if not, to protest is vain. Leave that soul to himself and turn unto the Lord, the Protector, the Self-Subsisting. Be not the cause of grief, much less of discord and strife. – Baha’u’llah, Tablets of Baha’u’llah, p. 27.

Keeping a kindly tongue does not mean that you can’t say whatever you need to say, it just means that you wouldn’t be wise to say it however you want to say it. A kindly tongue maintains a high standard of communication with careful messages and active listening. Sometimes poor communication is part of a company culture. Have you ever gotten a terse email that could be read in more than one way? We all have—but that doesn’t mean we have to respond the same way.

Many organizations coach employees to “assume positive intent.” Whether you’re an employee, a partner or the boss, assuming positive intent is a good tool for changing your frame of reference. You can use this tactic to go from feeling like you must defend yourself, to assuming that there must be a perfectly innocent and reasonable explanation for the other person’s challenging behavior. What a great way to avoid workplace conflict! Commit to yourself that whenever you feel attacked, you will first check in with your assailant in an open and accepting way. You’ll be amazed at how that approach defuses hostility and creates lasting friendships and alliances.

The modern workforce operates as a team. In healthcare, software development, food preparation, factory jobs, agriculture, and just about everywhere else, teamwork is paramount. That’s because, when working together, a team of people produces more than the potential sum of each individual’s effort. As a leader or member of a team, the unity of the team must be paramount—because nothing kills productive potential faster than hostility, harmful behavior or hurt feelings.

When working with a team of people, and especially in any leadership role, you have great responsibility to keep a kindly tongue. Baha’u’llah wrote:

In truth, the hearts of men are edified through the power of the tongue, even as houses and cities are built up by the hand and other means. – The Most Holy Book, p. 77.

Be Steadfast

The culture of the workplace functions just like any other culture: it will support behavior in agreement with the accepted norms, and challenge behavior outside of those norms. This can make going against the grain difficult, requiring steadfastness. Demonstrate an open mind, call yourself to account, offer forbearance and a kindly tongue—and do not relent. Stick to your principles. Own it when you fall short of these standards, and resolve to keep at it. You may not be able to single-handedly dictate your company culture, but you can always endeavor to be someone you are proud to be:

Be ye confident and steadfast; your services are confirmed by the powers of heaven, for your intentions are lofty, your purposes pure and worthy. God is the helper of those souls whose aim is to serve humanity and whose efforts and endeavors are devoted to the good and betterment of all mankind. – Abdu’l-Baha, The Promulgation of Universal Peace, p. 449.

In contrast to most institutionalized religions, the Baha’i Faith teaches that theology is logical and reasonable, if we look deeply enough.

In fact, the Baha’i teachings say we should all examine our religious beliefs with the same rational faculties and rigorous standards of fairness and justice with which we probe the phenomenal world. From this point of view, questioning is not deemed heretical but as an essential tool for acquiring belief:

The essence of all that We have revealed for thee is Justice, is for man to free himself from idle fancy and imitation, discern with the eye of oneness His glorious handiwork, and look into all things with a searching eye. – Baha’u’llah, Tablets of Baha’u’llah, p. 157.

One indication of the respect the Baha’i Faith holds for such independent investigation of truth as an aid to understanding spiritual reality is the fact that the major works of Baha’u’llah, the prophet and founder of the Baha’i Faith, are derived from His responses to questions, whether from believers or nonbelievers.

For example, The Book of Certitude, the central repository of Baha’i belief, is Baha’u’llah’s response to “questions addressed to Baha’u’llah by the as yet unconverted maternal uncle of the Bab,” the prophet and founder of the Babi religion and Herald of Baha’u’llah. Likewise, one of the greatest compendiums of succinct statements of Baha’i beliefs about foundational theological and philosophical matters is Some Answered Questions, which contains the responses of Abdu’l-Baha—Baha’u’llah’s eldest son and successor—to many questions posed to him by Laura Clifford Barney, an early American Baha’i.

Similarly, a great deal of the valuable guidance available to individuals and to Baha’i communities and administrative bodies are answers to questions sent to Shoghi Effendi, the designated Guardian of the Baha’i Faith. The major compilations of his letters are his studied responses to the volumes of mail he received daily from the worldwide Baha’i community. Likewise, the supreme governing and legislative body of the Baha’i Faith, the Universal House of Justice, regularly publishes collections of its answers to questions raised by individuals and Baha’i administrative institutions.

In short, one major method by which Baha’is are urged to attain conviction or “enter the City of Certitude” is to consider thoughtfully the logical basis for accepting the teachings of the Baha’i Faith.

For only through study and reflection—a process which necessarily results in thoughtful questions—can religious belief or any other sort of knowledge become a reliable basis for understanding reality and our relation to it. Therefore, where some religions have established a body of learned clerics or scholars who interpret religious scripture and teachings for the laity, Baha’u’llah abolished the clergy and commanded that each individual investigate truth independently:

Immerse yourselves in the ocean of My words, that ye may unravel its secrets, and discover all the pearls of wisdom that lie hid in its depths. – Baha’u’llah, The Most Holy Book, p. 85.

Yet in spite of all this encouragement that Baha’is consider the rational basis for belief, one essential question rarely gets asked—not because it is forbidden, not because the answer is unavailable in the Baha’i writings, but probably because most people do not think to ask it.

The question concerns physical reality—why it exists and how it works in a universe created, so Baha’i scriptures affirm, by a loving and caring Deity whose sole objective as Creator is to devise a means by which human beings can come to know and worship Him and benefit therefrom.

This critical question is sometimes dismissed with a self-evident but inwardly unsatisfying response: Since God fashioned physical reality and since it is His intention that we develop spiritually, then physical reality must be a benevolent creation that somehow facilitates spiritual development. Another frequent but no less inadequate response to the purpose of physical reality is that our physical experience is a period of testing wherein we acquire spiritual attributes by means of dealing with difficulties and suffering and, ultimately, with the deterioration of our own physical bodies.

These answers may be true. On some level they may be initially comforting, but they do not penetrate to the heart where the question is conceived in the first place. They do not really satisfy us by responding to the paradox of why, if we are essentially spiritual beings, we are ordained to begin our lives in a physical environment that most of the time seems antithetical to all we proclaim the Creator to be and to all we proclaim the Creator would have us become.

To some, the Baha’i writings themselves may appear enigmatic and even contradictory concerning what should be our attitude about physical reality. For example, in one passage Baha’u’llah seems to admonish us to become detached from physical things:

Abandon not the everlasting beauty for a beauty that must die, and set not your affections on this mortal world of dust. – Baha’u’llah, The Hidden Words, p. 26.

But in another passage he asks us to become thoroughly involved in the physical world, even to the point of suggesting that mundane physical actions are the most important gauge of spiritual achievement:

The best of men are they that earn a livelihood by their calling and spend upon themselves and upon their kindred for the love of God, the Lord of all worlds. – Ibid., p. 51.

Clearly these statements regarding physical reality are not necessarily contradictory. The first passage cautions us not to allow attachment to physical reality to distract us from our primary goal in life—to become ever more refined as human beings. Furthermore, Baha’is believe that Baha’u’llah has provided humankind with those laws and institutions essential to guiding us in establishing the appropriate relationship with and utilization of physical reality in the various aspects of our daily life. Therefore, the question of why there is a physical reality might seem somewhat unnecessary or superfluous. Indeed, it could be that the very comfort these guidelines and boundaries offer us helps explain why the question about the purpose of physical reality rarely gets asked.

But the question does not go away. Whether articulated or not, the question resides within us, either as some constant background noise, like static on a radio, or as some discomfiting pain that we can, for the most part, largely ignore most of the time. But whether or not we have become acclimatized or accustomed to this lingering question, we will confront it face to face if we live long enough. The gradual decline of our physical bodies will ensure that we do. If we have neglected to consider the question, let alone arrive at some relatively satisfying answers, we might find ourselves a bit devastated.

In the next essay in this series, we’ll see if we can find a way to seek justice and avoid that devastation.