Childhood

I was born to rather young parents—my mother had just turned 20 and my father was 22, in Gjøvik, Norway. My father, an entrepreneur at heart, built a successful business around providing parenting information to new parents, which grew into a publishing house with children’s books distributed to parents all over Norway and later also to other countries. Like many Norwegians, religion had no place in our household. My father viewed religion as something oppressive. My grandmother, however, was somewhat interested in Catholicism.

My First Glimpse of Faith

One of my earliest memories of feeling something greater than myself was when I was about six or seven years old. I went to church with my grandmother, and as the congregation sang “Nearer, My God, to Thee,” I felt a deep sense of longing. I didn’t understand what it was at the time, but it was powerful.

Spiritual Experience

When I was nine, I had a strange experience. I can’t recall if it was a dream or if I was awake, but I was confronted with the concept of death. I saw a flat, black wall—a matt black hole that sucked everything into it, leaving only nothingness. I realised this was where my life would end, and I was terrified. But suddenly, I was lifted up into a vast, beautiful darkness dotted with stars. It wasn’t an empty space; it was comforting, like velvet. I felt incredibly small, like a speck of dust, but surrounded by an overwhelming presence of love. I was in a fetal position just floating about, totally content in this sea of love suspended in the cosmos. I tried to find out where the source of this love came from, if I moved in different directions would I get closer? But the presence of love was the same, everywhere. I was totally content, just longing to dissolve to be part of this love and not have any other existence.

Suddenly I was asked to open my eyes and look down. And there I saw time. I saw the earth, and time, rolling fast along – I could see civilisations rise and fall, cities built and crumbling, time racing forward.

I was given an insight, that even when I died existence would continue, and I would remain part of it, I would know about it, I would see it, just on a different level.

When I awoke, I knew with certainty that God existed. And that I never had to fear death, as life would not end.

Faith v Doctrine

At the age of 14, my father asked if I wanted to be confirmed, a custom in Norway. It was mainly a social event but when I told him that I actually believed in God, he was surprised. Instead of dismissing my feelings, he offered me wise advice. He said, “If you truly believe in God, you need to go to the priest and study Christianity seriously. You must not be a hypocrite.”

I joined the confirmation class at the local church and began studying the Bible. I found that I believed in Jesus and the Bible, but I struggled with the church’s doctrines. I had so many questions—particularly about the idea that Jesus was the only way to God. What if I was born in a Hindu environment and didn’t know about Jesus? The priest told me there was no other way but through Jesus, but that didn’t make sense to me.

Questions left me at odds with the church, even though my love for Jesus and the Bible remained.

The Path to the Faith

Around the same time, when I was 15, my father introduced me to a 25-year-old woman named Margun, who became my guitar teacher. We quickly became close friends. During our lessons, we talked about everything, including existential questions. I shared with her my frustrations about believing that there was only one path to an All Merciful God. One day, she told me she was reading a book about the Baha’i Faith, a religion that believed there was only one God and that all religions were part of the same spiritual story to aid an evolving humanity towards the coming of age. I was astonished. Could there really be such a religion?

Not long after, I arrived at her house for my lesson and her house was decorated with yellow flowers and Easter lilies. I thought it was her birthday but she told me no – she had decided to become a Baha’i! She invited me to attend my very first Baha’i gathering, a Naw-Rúz celebration. When I arrived, I was handed a beautiful card made from pressed flowers covered with contact paper, with the Hidden Words of Bahá’u’lláh inscribed on it. I still have it…

What struck me the most at that Naw-Rúz celebration was the people and their interactions. For the first time in my life, I saw people of all ages, races, and backgrounds coming together in a way I had never seen before. There was an old Norwegian grandmother cradling a black baby, and I remember thinking, “What is this place?”

I was overwhelmed. I had never seen adults and children, elders and the young from many different backgrounds, all sitting together, singing together, talking together. I was so moved that I left the main room and sat outside in the hallway, crying.

Almost immediately I began teaching. Back at my high school I asked to give talks about the Faith in the religious classes and I was given several opportunities. I remember I was wondering why this Faith was not in the headlines of the newspapers and why so few people knew about it. I also remember I asked the Baha’i friends in the community about this, and they smiled.

Pedaling to the Divine

From that point on, I couldn’t stay away from Baha’i gatherings. I was still young, and though I hadn’t officially declared my faith, I cycled around town to events. Not being a Baha’i yet meant that I wasn’t allowed to attend the Nineteen Day Feasts and had to wait outside for the social part. I later found out that while I was outside, they were inside praying for me to one day declare.

Declaration

My first exposure to the Word of God, aside from the Hidden Word I had received, came when Margun lent me Bahá’u’lláh and the New Era. I remember I was in my bedroom reading and I came across a passage with the Writings of Baha’u’llah. I don’t remember exactly what passage it was, but reading it shook me to my core. I felt as if my body was on fire and I just kept repeating; “Oh my God, this is the Truth, this is the Truth!” I threw the book away – totally overwhelmed, and could not read anymore. The power of those words went deep into my heart and it took me several attempts over some time to be able to read the Word of God without an almost violent reaction to them.

During this time, I continued my studies and I also traveled a bit around Europe. I went through some challenging times and a period of emotional uncertainty. At one point I consulted another Baha’i friend and the advice I was given, with perspectives as to the purpose of life and of pain and suffering with reference to the Teachings, made me realise that I not only believed in Baha’u’llah as a Manifestation of God, but that I needed to belong to a community of believers that would help the application of His teachings in my life.

So, at 17 I formally enrolled.

When I told my father, he immediately pulled out an encyclopedia and looked up the Faith. The entry outlined twelve principles, and from a logical standpoint, he couldn’t find anything to disagree with. Though he was puzzled by my decision, he advised me to take my beliefs seriously and if I was going to be a Bahá’í, I should formally have my name removed from the church records. He even prepared me for how I should answer uncomfortable questions from the priest, should they arise.

Nervously, I went to the church in the city, expecting a difficult conversation. To my surprise the priest was very understanding when I explained I had decided to become a Bahá’í and he removed me from the church records. It was an amazing moment of my life.

Regardless, my parents were not thrilled. We struggled with the various perspectives of atheism and religious beliefs. At one point when I was around 21, it led to me being given an ultimatum – I had to choose between my family and my faith. I prayed for a whole night and realised that it was an impossible choice, I couldn’t live without either. Both were essential and unremovable, even if I claimed otherwise. My parents somewhat accepted this in the end.

Looking back, I think that my youthful zeal and enthusiasm probably didn’t help assuage their fears and they worried I would impose these beliefs and standards on others, like they saw other religions do. I now understand their reluctance more and in time I would learn to practice wisdom. But it wasn’t always easy.

Fjords to Fordham Park

At the age of 20 I left Norway and moved to New Cross, London, to study anthropology and psychology at Goldsmiths College, after having spent a year at the university of Bergen. This marked a major turning point in my life. For a girl from Norway, it felt like stepping into a completely different world. I rented a room in a large Victorian house on Tresillian Road, overlooking Lewisham.

The house had only gas heaters, and the cold London winters often made it feel much colder than in Norway where we had triple glazing and central heating. I remember waking up during the fasting period, shivering as I rushed to the kitchen to turn on the gas stove, trying to warm up the room a little before dawn prayers, watching the sun rise over the rooftops.

During this time, I was committed to my studies and it was also easy to teach newfound friends at the university. I experienced a different openness and curiosity and the diversity of the environment around me was exhilarating. Both friends and professors were curious about the faith, and we often had deep discussions about the Baha’i teachings. I would use copies of Gleanings and The Hidden Words as there was no Institute Process like today. One beautiful Scottish housemate started saying the Obligatory Prayer as a help in navigating life, and later declared her Faith. Many, many prayers and many conversations were had about the Teachings of Baha’u’llah during these three beautiful years in New Cross.

I was also lucky to be invited to attend “the Thomas Breakwell Youth College” at Imperial College in London over a period of time. This was an amazing opportunity to obtain more knowledge about the Faith and also introduced me to other Baha’i youth, some of whom became lifelong friends. Up until this point I had not met many other Baha’i youth in my life.

I was in my early 20s when Dr Ridvan Moqbel invited me to join a committee aimed at working with other youth organisations concerned with some of the same principles of the Faith like peace, the environment, equality and so on. It was led by Counsellor Sohrab Youssefian and I remember the exhilaration of the consultations and the vision of what we would try to do with a real youth movement teaching in Europe. I truly felt out of my depth as all the other members serving on this committee had a lot of experience and knowledge, but the kindness, vision and creativity demonstrated by these beautiful souls was something I will forever treasure as a highlight of my life. The fruit of it became a movement called “Peace Moves”, including 5 “Peace Moves conferences” scattered across Europe with many forms of arts, talks, workshops, buttons, t-shirts and balloons. The wonderful opportunity to be engaged in this service introduced me to meet many other Baha’is, including Vafa Ram, whom I would later marry.

Reflections

Before the Institute Process, there was no systematic way to deepen new Bahá’ís. Many Bahá’ís were important to my spiritual journey, but my primary deepening method was reading the Writings and the experience I gained through personal teaching efforts.

After I got married, I moved to Surrey and started a family. We had two wonderful children, Mateen and Tala, and after my second marriage, I was blessed with another beautiful daughter, Bella.

My father was instrumental in guiding me towards the Faith, even though he didn’t fully understand it at the time. Afterall, it was him who introduced me to Margun. And it was he who, though reluctantly, supported my declaration. In his later years, as he neared the end of his life, he came to acknowledge and respect my choice after he, by coincidence, came with me to a neighbourhood in Oslo where a more intense learning process was taking place.

My mother, who had initially resented my involvement in the Faith, at one point – albeit shortly – and unbeknown to me – declared her Faith in Baha’u’llah. She used to say she envied my ability of devotion.

It has remained the greatest love story of my life.

Kitt Sandvik in conversation with Naim Rastani

October 2024 (181 BE)