# Kansas Farm Boy

*Exported from [Holy-Writings.com](https://www.holy-writings.com/) on 2026-07-05 — 1 clipping.*

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> Source: Bahá'í Library Online (bahai-library.com), curated by Jonah Winters. Used by permission of the curator. Original citation: Duane L. Herrmann, Kansas Farm Boy, bahai-library.com.
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> 
> Kansas Farm Boy
> 
> Duane L. Herrmann
> 
> Once to Every Man and Nation, pp. 103-108
> 
> George Ronald, 1985
> 
> I grew up on a farm outside Topeka, Kansas, and to people in Topeka, we lived in the sticks. We
> were a devout Lutheran family. There was no question about it. As soon as I was old enough to go,
> my grandmother took me to Sunday School. While my class was being held, she taught one herself,
> continuing until she was nearly eighty.
> 
> Looking back, I can see threads where the Bahá’í Faith had been indirectly woven into my life.
> During the long winter evenings we would beg our father to show the family movies. We had each
> Christmas, each birthday, and other momentous events on film. One movie was of a trip that a
> group of farm wives, including my mother and grandmother, took to see Chicago. The tour stopped
> briefly at the Bahá’í House of Worship. Since 1956 the House of Worship had been in our family
> movies – but no one knew what it was.
> 
> I remember coming home from church some Sundays and watching the last bit of an interesting
> TV show. We only saw the last few minutes and then a man would ‘sweep’ the credits off the
> screen with a broom. Years later, when I read God Loves Laugher, I learned more about the
> mysterious show. It was Bill Sears’ ‘In the Park.’
> 
> While I was junior high age, the Topeka Assembly placed a booth at the local fair. I was drawn to
> the pictures of the Houses of Worship. They looked religious, but they weren’t churches! I didn’t
> recognize the name Bahá’í and wanted to learn about it, but being a shy farm boy, I ran away from
> the kind old lady sitting in the booth.
> 
> The two family farms were next to each other, and before I went to school, I would walk across
> the pasture to Granma’s. Our relationship deepened as I grew, and naturally we talked about
> religion. On summer nights we would stay up past midnight talking. We were sure the end of the
> world was near and that Jesus was on His way. Granma didn’t always agree with the church
> (sometimes I was surprised at how much she disagreed), but she believed in Jesus. She also told me
> so much about her life and family that I feel I have lived the entire century.
> 
> In the seventh and eighth grades, I became fascinated with past civilizations and their beliefs.
> They didn’t have the Bible, since they lived before Jesus. Would God really condemn them for
> living in the wrong time? And what about the books which had been excluded from the Bible? Who
> decided they were no longer holy? I decided to find those ‘lost’ books to determine for myself if
> they were the Word of God. I also wanted to study the Holy Books of other religions. Why should
> someone decide for me that Buddha was a heathen? Or Zoroaster?
> 
> In my Lutheran confirmation class, the minister of the family church explained that after
> confirmation each of us would be responsible for our own spiritual education as adults. That was all
> I needed. I took him at his word and began to study all the religions I could. In Sunday school I had
> learned a lot of Jewish history but nothing of other religions and wanted to make up for lost time.
> 
> In high school I began to build my library, and read the Apocrypha, the Book of Mormon, Worlds
> in Collision, and other books. While continuing my religious education, I did not neglect church
> activities. I ushered and taught Sunday school for four years, was elected president of the youth
> group, and twice wrote the children’s Christmas program. I was a ‘good’ boy and did the ‘right’
> things.
> 
> The dichotomy between my actions and beliefs didn’t bother me since I considered myself a
> liberal unorthodox Christian. With that label, I felt all right about my actions. As an usher, I could
> slip away from the service relatively unnoticed and go to a deserted room in the basement for my
> own service. When the organ began, I returned upstairs and finished ushering. I could do my things
> and theirs too.
> 
> The minister was set against any alteration in the order of the service. He would not even allow
> one youth Sunday a year. I kept my feelings more and more to myself, began listening to the Radio
> Church of God, and stopped taking communion. When I read the Church Constitution one Sunday, I
> realized that I didn’t believe those things at all.
> 
> The Radio Church of God was heavy on the imminent return of Jesus, and my grandmother and I
> fully believed it would happen soon. I would lie awake at night, fearful that I would be ‘asleep’ and
> miss Him when He came. My most ardent prayer was not to miss Jesus.
> In my senior year, the instructor of my speed-reading class told us to obtain books on a topic we
> were interested in. I bought my first books on the occult, and reading them was a journey into a
> fascinating world I had always hoped existed. That year my horizons were expanded out of this
> world! I willed myself to see auras, anticipating events, and interpret dreams, and fancied
> inventorying past lives.
> 
> The summer after high school, I enrolled in a college class: Composition I. It was taught by a
> Bahá’í. This was the turning point. My papers and his comments made for a running conversation
> which ran right to the Faith! He invited me to a fireside, and of course, I went.
> 
> At the fireside, I saw a photo of the House of Worship and I fell in love with it. And I was amazed
> by the people. I knew, from the moment I entered the house, that this little group had something
> special, and I wanted to be part of it. For the first time in my life I felt treated like an individual. The
> Bahá’ís were interested in me (not my family, or school, but me!) and accepted me for what I was at
> that moment. But no one inquired if I wanted to join and I was too shy to ask. They simply kept
> inviting me back, and I kept going.
> 
> I learned a lot in the next six months. I took three versions of the Bible and a Bible dictionary, and
> discovered for myself that Jesus taught that Heaven and Hell were conditions, not places. I learned
> the meaning of several puzzling dreams of long standing. I let go of the occult. With no
> transportation, I couldn’t go to the family church, but visited the ones nearby and become aware of
> the similarities among Christian churches.
> 
> Prior to the first Bahá’í Week in Topeka, in November 1969, I was sent a list of the week’s
> activities. Some weren’t too interesting, but there was to be a free meal. Poverty-stricken at the
> time, that appealed to me. I talked my landlady into going so I could have a ride. Following this
> dinner for the Birth of Bahá’u’lláh, the film, ‘A New Wind’ was shown. I didn’t want the movie to
> end. When a Bahá’í offered me a ride to see it a second time, I accepted.
> 
> Before the second showing, I was invited to dinner with a few Bahá’ís – an evening I will
> remember for the rest of my life. The spirit and laughter were more nourishing and memorable than
> the delicious food. The stories this warm and loving group of friends exchanged gave a whole new
> meaning to ‘family’ and ’community’. God was getting me ready.
> 
> I don’t remember the movie. I don’t remember the talk or the discussion that followed. But as we
> left the building, a Bahá’í from another town, who had seen me once at a fireside, waved from a
> distance and called out, “Good-bye, Duane.” I was stunned! She remembered my name! I was
> barely a fleeting insignificant acquaintance, but she remembered my name!
> 
> My mind did not stop whirling. Later that night in bed, I carefully examined what the Bahá’ís
> believed and what I personally believed. Point by point I went over what I knew, and was a bit
> surprised to find how many of our beliefs matched. I realized that if I were not to be a hypocrite,
> then I was unquestionably a Bahá’í. I had no choice. I wasn’t forced. No one was with me or knew
> what I was thinking. I believed what the Bahá’ís believed – therefore I was a Bahá’í.
> 
> Little did I anticipate the effects of my logical and reasonable conclusion. Some people rock the
> family boat – I think I sank mine. One uncle acted as if I were a fire-breathing dragon about to
> devour his children, and once nearly threw me out of his house. My aunts were sure my soul was on
> its way to Hell. My mother still refuses to say Bahá’í correctly. And I broke my grandmother’s
> heart. Religion is seldom talked about when I’m around.
> 
> Over the years, however, the situation has improved a great deal. My uncle stayed home from
> church one Sunday to watch ‘And His Name Shall Be One’ on TV. He feels I have become a nearly
> normal person, especially since I’ve gotten married and became a father. An aunt has begun asking
> about the Bahá’í trips I take. My mother adores her grandchildren. My grandmother and I looked at
> Bahá’í World, Vol. XIV, page by page. She was impressed by the pictures of so many different
> kinds of people who seemed so happy; she was outraged at the destruction of the House of Worship
> in ’Ishqábád. And nine years after I began going to firesides, my brother embraced the Cause of
> God.
> 
> ---
>
> — *Kansas Farm Boy (Used by permission of the curator)*