Faith & Reflection: Voices from the Black Church and Beyond
- State persecution targets the Baháʼí minority in Iran, including coerced confessions and scapegoating during unrest.
- Prayer sustains families and inspires hope, but must be paired with concrete actions to support vulnerable communities and raise awareness.
- Everyday acts like loving neighbors, educating children, contributing to welfare embody meliorism and create tangible change.
- Global injustices affect everyone; move beyond thoughts and prayers to meaningful advocacy, solidarity, and informed action.
As a second-generation Iranian migrant, I’ve been suffocated by helplessness over the past two months as my spiritual brothers and sisters in Iran fight for a sense of freedom in their home country. Now, as war hits the region, millions of Iranians living around the world watch with trepidation, praying for peace in the face of yet another harrowing conflict.
My family fled just before the Iranian revolution in 1979. We are Baháʼís – members of the largest non-Muslim religious minority in Iran. Bahá’ís have been persecuted since the faith’s inception in the mid-19th century, and in times of unrest, things get worse. We can only imagine what is in store.
Before this war, authorities in Iran had already started targeting the Baháʼí community again and using them as scapegoats, blaming them for the protest movement that has swept Iran since December. As Baháʼís, we know this happens every time Iran is in a period of crisis. The Baháʼí faith, established in 1844, has faced continuous and intense persecution in Iran, marked by violence, discrimination and a systematic denial of rights. Followers have experienced mob violence and various forms of state-sanctioned oppression, which worsened after the Islamic revolution.
Last month, two young Bahá’ís were featured on-air delivering false and coerced confessions in the presence of an “interrogator-journalist”. The program portrayed them as members of an alleged terrorist network, linking their identity to foreign-backed violence despite their complete innocence. Human rights activists have warned that forced confessions, while in themselves a human rights violation, are often used as evidence for executions in Iran.
I asked my grandmother what she thinks about what is happening in her homeland. She said: “All I can do is pray.” It is this reliance on prayer that has kept her firm in the face of adversity and has retained her faith in humanity.
When she fled Iran more than 40 years ago, authorities had started looting and burning the homes of the Baháʼís, blaming them for a crime committed against a local person. My grandfather, street-smart in his own way, knew it was only a matter of time before the situation worsened.
Within a couple of months, he organised passports and sent his family to Spain until he could sell his business and belongings and join them.
Decades on, we watch from a safe distance as those within our religious community are once again used as scapegoats during a time of unrest. We watch as our Iranian kin suffer in their struggle for peace. We pray and hope for a positive outcome.
As a person of faith, prayer has informed my reflections, decisions and actions my entire life. In times of joy and duress alike, I, like my grandmother, turn to prayer for strength and reassurance. I believe there is more power than we know in these words.
My friends and family often come together to say prayers for peace, for the healing of the country, for a common cause. But it’s important that these prayers be coupled with tangible action. These can’t just be empty words being sent into the ether.
These words are a mantra for what we are all striving for – unity, inclusivity and the strengthening of our communities. They help us create a habit of positivity and inspire our actions under all circumstances – good and bad.
And when things seem beyond our control, at least we are still able to make a positive change in our little corner of the world – through contributing to the welfare of our communities, raising awareness through our work, through loving our neighbour, through the education of our children.
The injustices unfolding in our own back yard and abroad are everyone’s business. The situation in Iran is just one example of the increasingly troubled global landscape.
But being a source of light takes more than typing “thoughts and prayers” and reverting to the comfort of our couches. It takes the acknowledgment that the suffering of one is the suffering of all, and that each action, negative and positive, has an impact.
I learned a new word the other day: meliorism. It’s the belief that we can contribute towards positive change through acts of love, creativity and compassion. During this time of pain for Iranians everywhere, prayer and devotion can be our source of solace, hope and inspiration.
As we look anxiously to the future, these words can empower us to act for good – no matter where in the world we are – and in the name of those who cannot.
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