In Their Courses
It is a seeming paradox of the Bahá'í Faith that, in a religion espousing the equality of men and women, exemptions from daily prayer and fasting are made for women "in their courses"--that is, menstruating. How, we might ask upon first encountering these twin principles, can such modern and archaic ideas exist side by side?
I must admit that this article is not the usual sort which appears here. It will deal with a sensitive topic, and an almost exclusively female one, but I hope that my readers will bear with me. If the men want to tag along, we will welcome their company. They are, after all, our husbands, lovers, and the fathers of our children--equal to us--and in each of these roles they encounter our physical natures. We might be surprised at their insights into the female condition.
God hath exempted women who are in their courses from obligatory prayer and fasting. Let them, instead, after performance of their ablutions, give praise unto God, repeating ninety-five times between the noon of one day and the next 'Glorified be God, the Lord of Splendour and Beauty'. Thus hath it been decreed in the Book, if ye be of them that comprehend.
(Bahá'u'lláh, Kitáb-i-Aqdas, p. 23)
In some earlier religious Dispensations, women in their courses were considered ritually unclean and were forbidden to observe the duties of prayer and fasting. The concept of ritual uncleanness has been abolished by Bahá'u'lláh. . . . The Universal House of Justice has clarified that the provisions in the Kitáb-i-Aqdas granting exemptions from certain duties and responsibilities are, as the word indicates, exemptions and not prohibitions. Any believer is, therefore, free to avail himself or herself of an applicable exemption if he or she so wishes. However, the House of Justice counsels that, in deciding whether to do so or not, the believer should use wisdom and realize that Bahá'u'lláh has granted these exemptions for good reason.
(Footnote to the preceding text, Kitáb-i-Aqdas, p. 173)
This sort of exemption, to modern eyes, indeed seems archaic. To some it may recall the ritual uncleanness pronounced in the book of Leviticus. But before we damn our ancestors as woman-hating patriarchalists, let us examine the environment in which they lived. Many historic tribes have isolated women during periods of menstruation and childbirth, but despite whatever religious or cultural reasons may be given for such isolation, logic dictates that we look for a simpler answer, and indeed there is one: blood-soaked items are a dangerous attractant in an environment containing large predators. Bears, wolves, and lions do not discriminate between differing types of blood. By isolating women at these times, societies not only protected the rest of the tribe from attack, they also placed the vulnerable women and newborn infants within an easily-defended structure. Thus a system which initially (in Paleolithic times, perhaps) developed for the protection of the group atrophied into a quasi-religious means of dividing its members.
But most of us don't live near significant numbers of lions and tigers and bears (oh, my!) anymore, so why does Bahá'u'lláh make this exemption? Is it simply one more of the laws that seem transitional in nature, such as the dowry stipulations?
I have considered this question for quite some time and have concluded that the answer is probably no. The exemption from fasting is, again, simple logic, to ensure that women continue to receive adequate amounts of fluids and iron at a time when their body is losing both. No one even notices that pregnant and nursing women receive the same exemption--it's obvious that they should. But the exemption from prayer?
If we look for a physical reason to be exempt from prayer, we probably won't find it, except that I know I wouldn't want to do all the bending and stretching of the Long Prayer on the days when I feel like I'm being sawed in half by a dull blade, and two ibuprofen tablets chased with a cup of chamomile tea just take the edge off the pain.
At some point in the past couple of years, after the exemption stopped seeming just plain weird, I decided I'd give it a try. By now, I don't think I'll ever go back to saying the Noon Prayer on those six days. Although I can only speak for myself, I believe that what Bahá'u'lláh has given us women is even more precious than the obligatory prayers. This simplest of all prayers is an astoundingly powerful tool for meditation on the meaning of womanhood. Placed as it is within the female reproductive cycle, it offers tremendous insight into the significance of our role in the act of God's creation. Its words remind us, most potently, of the majesty and love of God. God as lover--a classic theme of both the Old Testament Song of Solomon and Hindu representations of Krishna and his wife Radha--is invoked, in solitary splendor, within the facets of this single verse.
"Glorified be God, the Lord of Splendour and Beauty"
What a verse! At first it seems almost ironic, doesn't it, ladies?--splendor and beauty, at a time when the vast majority of us want to take God to task for designing us the way He did--but this mantra works like the Long Healing Prayer. Somewhere around forty or fifty repetitions, your body doesn't matter anymore. You're someplace else. If all you had done was said the Noon Prayer, you'd be back to work, wondering when the aspirin was going to kick in. But, "Glorified be God". . . .
Repeating the Greatest Name 95 times does one thing for you. Repeating this mantra does another. My experience has been something like this, inasmuch as words can't really describe what's happening:
"Glorified be God"--now I can focus on the glory of God. I can see what He did in creating the world the way it is. I'm not focused on how awful I feel, I'm focused on the wonder of life, of birth. I'm watching the planets and stars swing around with all the beings the number of which no man can compute. I understand how I fit into the whole. I'm patient and submissive under His decree. I'm forced to give glory to God at a time when I feel like giving glory to absolutely nothing--and this forces me into a prayerful state whether I want to be there or not. Now that I'm in a prayerful state, I'm where I should be, in communion with God.
"The Lord of Splendour . . ."--what a splendid lord God is! I don't know the exact word that's translated as "lord" here, but I imagine it has male connotations in the original. Considering the frequent feminine imagery in Bahá'u'lláh's writings (for instance, the prayer in which God is asked to "grant that this infant be fed from the breast of Thy tender mercy and loving providence" [Bahá'í Prayers, p. 33]), this is important. As I repeat this, I am focused on the "male" attributes of God, and on their reflection in mortal men. I am reminded that God has created everything perfect. Equality is reinforced.
" . . . and Beauty"--Wow. Beauty. At a time when I feel decidedly unbeautiful. And now--everything is beautiful. God is beautiful. I am beautiful. This part of the mantra, especially, reminds me that God is my Lover above all; and, yes, now I can see that reflected in my husband, too. Those medieval mystics ain't got nothing on me!
I'm curious whether other women have experienced anything like this. But I'm certain, now, that the exemption and the revealed verse are there for a reason, and that if we women take advantage of it every month, it can only work for our benefit. Hey, girlfriends, this month it's not just another trip to the women's lodge!