Across the world, from East to West, thousands of Baha’is have turned their hearts this year towards one single woman called the ‘Maid of Baha’. In conferences they have stood before multitudes to speak of the ‘Scion of Baha’, the ‘Remnant of Baha’. In solitude they have all found themselves speechless to describe adequately this ‘archetype of the people of Baha’. ‘Abdu’l-Baha Himself refers to her in a way that recalls all that cannot be said: ‘I dare make no mention’, He wrote, ‘of the feelings which separation from her have aroused in my heart. ...’ ‘I do not know’, He continues, ‘in what words I could describe my longing for my honoured sister.’
Shoghi Effendi, writing about his great-aunt after her
passing in July 1932 also acknowledged that words could not adequately convey
all that she was: ‘Not even a droplet of all thine endless love can I aspire to
fathom, nor can I adequately praise and tell of even the most trifling out of
all the events of thy precious life.’
How can we hope to encompass anything of her nature,
therefore, when those who give us the words remind us that they will not
suffice? How can we contain her when all our lives put together cannot
comprehend the least trifling of the events she witnessed, the suffering she
endured? It must be with feelings of awe that we approach this subject and with
a sense of wonder that we ask: who was this ‘Maid’, this ‘Scion’, this ‘Remnant
of Baha’ who must remain for all of time our ‘archetype’.
‘Verily, We have elevated thee to the rank of one of the
most distinguished among thy sex, and granted thee, in My court, a station such
as none other woman hath surpassed.’
During the ministry of ‘Abdu’l-Baha her station was
similarly exalted. Shoghi Effendi described her as a ‘staunch and trusted
supporter of the peerless Branch of Baha’, ‘a companion to Him beyond compare’,
‘His competent deputy’, ‘His representative and vicegerent with none to equal
her’. Shoghi Effendi also describes how much she meant to him during the first
years of his own ministry, until her passing. He says she was ‘my sole earthly
sustainer’, ‘my most affectionate comforter’, ‘the joy and inspiration of my
life’.
The Greatest Holy Leaf had a subtle bond with Baha’u’llah,
‘Abdu’l-Baha and Shoghi Effendi, a kinship that was infinitely tender and
powerful. To Baha’u’llah she was far more than a daughter for she was like a
mirror in which His good pleasure was exquisitely reflected. He says to her,
‘How sweet to see thy presence before Me, how sweet to gaze upon thy face.’ To
‘Abdu’l-Baha she was far more than a sister, for in letters of consuming
tenderness He writes to her as ‘O My sister in the spirit and the companion of
My heart, the beloved of My soul’. After her passing the secretary of Shoghi
Effendi wrote of what she meant to the Guardian saying that the spiritual
attachment he felt for her was ‘a bond so strong as to defy description, nor
can the mind encompass that exalted state’.
Perhaps it is not presumptuous, therefore, if we should say
that this subtle and mystic bond is still present with us today working through
the Covenant of God, through the divinely ordained administrative order of God,
and that her loving care and protection are with us still. Indeed, it can be no
coincidence that the Universal House of Justice should have summoned the Baha’i
world to remember her, fifty years after her passing, at a time which coincides
with the year in which the House of Justice is itself advancing toward the
plenitude of its powers, entering its Seat on the slopes of Mount Carmel,
occupying a building set like a jewel on that arc at whose hub and centre lies
enshrined the monument of the Greatest Holy Leaf. That subtle bond was a legacy
given to us fifty years ago when she passed away. Today we receive that legacy
again and none of us needs feel portionless or orphaned.
The following cannot pretend to be an historical account and
is not intended as a source of biographical detail. Instead it will attempt to
consider the degree of suffering experienced by the Greatest Holy Leaf, her
service that gradually widened its sphere of influence as a result of that
suffering, and finally the nature of the symbol that she is for us, not only as
individuals but as members of institutions. The greatness of her station can
only be measured by her obedience and her love for the Covenant of God. Her
obedience and love for the Covenant is what ensured her proximity to the Centre
of the Covenant throughout her life, and that proximity surely cannot be
measured except by some reflection on the degree to which she suffered.
The Greatest Holy Leaf was an initiate of suffering,
schooled in sacrifice, and she learned everything there was to know about loss.
From the earliest years of her life she was deprived not only of home and
security, but also of her dearest Father, when He was thrown into the
Siyah-Chal and later when He removed Himself for two years from the community
in Baghdad. Separation from Baha’u’llah and exile from her home: such were the
experiences that marked the beginning of her life. In His letters to her later
we read how ‘Abdu’l-Baha’s was one of the educating voices that trained her in
the school of sacrifice and instilled in her the capacity to endure. He wrote,
‘If thou dost not bear these hardships, who would ever bear them?’ And this is
what makes of her such a poignant symbol for us today. He counsels her at times
of loneliness with words such as, ‘However great the distance that separates
us, we still feel as though we were seated under the same roof, in one and the
same gathering, for are we not all under the shadow of the Tabernacle of God
and beneath the canopy of His infinite grace and mercy?’ Through her,
therefore, we learn from Him.
During these early years of separation and sacrifice during
which she lost one brother, and later in ‘Akka lost yet another, Mirza Mihdi,
she played the role of auxiliary in the household, assisting her mother. Most
of her services were internal, within the household. She served tea. We can
imagine how much she must have learned from the mother who was so dear to her,
with what joy she must have prepared for the return of Baha’u’llah from
Sulaymaniyyih. She was herself never married, but that training she received as
assistant to her own mother made of her a symbol of such maternal love as we
cannot conceive, for she was entirely unpossessive in her mothering. When she
died Shoghi Effendi wrote that we were orphaned, left destitute, for the whole
Baha’i world at that time seemed under her protective care.
If we think of this quality in relation to individuals we
see how often we may be called upon to be mothers to each other, no matter who
we are. When we think of this quality in relation to the institutions of the
Faith we realize that we surely have in our Assemblies a parent whom we can
turn to with absolute trust if those institutions could also evince the
characteristics of such gentle mothering. However the institutions need to be
cared for also, and mothered, for this is the infant Faith of God. And
modelling ourselves upon the Greatest Holy Leaf we, too, can try to extend that
mothering, that generosity, that nurture, that nourishment to the infant
institutions that are growing up all over the world.
In 1892 she had to face the ‘supreme affliction’, the
passing of Baha’u’llah, and the degree of that suffering was what nerved her to
enter an even wider arena of service to the Cause. Her condition at that time
was such that ‘Abdu’l-Baha wrote, ‘My sister for a considerable period, that
is, from the day of Baha’u’llah’s ascension, had grown so thin and feeble and
was in such a weakened condition from the anguish of her mourning that she was
close to breakdown.’ But it is such a lady who was nevertheless able to stand
as the supporter and companion of ‘Abdu’l-Baha at a time of severe crisis. Her
role in the Baha’i community at this point was much more significant, for she
had to receive on His behalf the wives of the dignitaries who came to visit the
World Centre. Still she conducted the household affairs but the scope was now
wider. Shoghi Effendi writes of how far-reaching was her generosity and
compassion for the people of ‘Akka at that time and how, in spite of this, she
was met with rejection and denial and was given no relief at the time of her
own great grief.
During the last years in ‘Akka, before the collapse of the
Ottoman Empire, when circumstances were so difficult and the life of
‘Abdu’l-Baha was under threat, it was the Greatest Holy Leaf who was trusted by
Him, who was the custodian of His will, who was responsible for the safe
keeping of His testament. She it was in whose room the casket of the Blessed
Báb was kept for ten years because she was so trusted by ‘Abdu’l-Baha. In this
way, surely, she is also a model for us not only within our individual lives
but through our institutions, for where else could we turn in a world so sadly
shaken? Where else but toward the solace of those divinely appointed
institutions? To which other haven could we turn and put our trust and
confidence?
The Greatest Holy Leaf was an extremely practical person.
Indeed, due to the extraordinary multiplicity of her capacities we owe her a
faithfulness in this attempt to convey the diversity of her nature. It is too
easy for us to create a myth about her, to impose upon her the weight and
strain of our twentieth-century interpretations which are inadequate for the
duration of this mighty dispensation. She was truly sensitive and finely tuned
but she was also immensely practical. There is a description drawn by an early
pilgrim which shows her as the housekeeper of ‘Abdu’l-Baha, a role which she
also performed during the early years of Shoghi Effendi’s ministry:
“One day we caught a glimpse of her in the kitchen seated on
a low stool, her firm capable hands busy with a large lamb that had just been
brought in from the market. Quickly dividing it, she directed which part was to
be made into broth, which part served for the evening meal, which part kept for
the morrow, and which sent to those poor or incapacitated friends who were
daily supplied from ‘Abdu’l-Baha’s table.”
It is fitting that we should consider the Greatest Holy Leaf
as a model not only for our individual lives but for the qualities of service
and the kind of obedience to the Covenant which can stream through our
institutions, when we think of her in this capacity of practical housekeeper.
Our institutions are dealing with our lives. It is human beings that are
passing through the hands of our assemblies. We must have not only tender
compassion for them but be immensely practical in our manner of dealing with
community affairs so as not to cause harm or hardship or waste.
During the trials that affected ‘Abdu’l-Baha, during the
threat on His life, the capacities of the Greatest Holy Leaf as housewife and
mother enabled her to support ‘Abdu’l-Baha. In a much deeper sense than mere
external practicality, she evinced a stability that was rooted in steadfastness
to the Covenant. Shoghi Effendi says of that period, ‘Suffice it to say that
but for her sleepless vigilance, her tact, her courtesy, her extreme patience
and heroic fortitude, grave complications might have ensued and the load of
‘Abdu’l-Baha’s anxious care would have been considerably increased.’ It was an
element of her very practical nature that she did not wish to burden
‘Abdu’l-Baha any more than was necessary, and protected. Him with her
discretion.
What joy it must have given her when the imprisonment was
lifted and her beloved brother was permitted to be free and travel to the West!
This was one separation the cost of which she surely did not mind paying, for
the letters that streamed back to her from Europe and America must have filled
her heart with happiness. The victories of the Faith were great recompense for
all her previous suffering. And when He left her in Haifa, ‘Abdu’l-Baha gave
her a much wider role. In His absence she had to deal with many of the affairs
in Haifa which had been His responsibility. Everything which did not require
interaction with the male world was left to her, because we must remember that
this was the Middle East and it would not have been fitting for a lady such as
the Greatest Holy Leaf to deal with business affairs; such matters were taken
care of by the male members of ‘Abdu’l-Baha’s household. But nevertheless her
sphere of influence was wider and she received both men and women dignitaries
and officials, spoke to the pilgrims on behalf of ‘Abdu’l-Baha, inspired them,
gave her assistance to the poor and offered her medical services to the sick.
Shortly after ‘Abdu’l-Baha returned to the Holy Land after
His travels in the West, World War I broke out. The Greatest Holy Leaf was in a
position to offer some needed help to the local community. Shoghi Effendi
writes that ‘her words of cheer and comfort, the food, the money, the clothing
she freely dispensed, the remedies which by a process of her own she herself
prepared and diligently applied, all these had their share in comforting the
disconsolate.’
Here again we might consider how much she is a model for us
not only as individuals but as institutions. She was a natural healer. She not
only had compassion for the sick but insight into the nature of their sickness
and she offered remedies which she prepared, as Shoghi Effendi said, by ‘a
process of her own’. We might bear this in mind when we think of how often our
Assemblies need to be a source of healing for the community, how they are
required to consider each individual case, diagnose the condition, prescribe
the remedies in the same way she did, so that by means of prevention, the
health of the community might be ensured. We are told that she turned to
professionals when necessary; so, too, do the institutions.
Through her own suffering she became attuned to the needs of
the community and the importance of her role increased. The next great blow in
her life came in 1921 with the passing of ‘Abdu’l-Baha. The One Who had always
been there to comfort her was now gone, and now she became the comforter. It is
at this point in her life that we begin to hear her own voice speaking in the
beautiful tablets which have been translated by the Universal House of Justice
for us this year. Among them there is one prayer that rises from the depths of
her anguish and in it she becomes a spokesman for the suffering masses of the
world. She speaks in the language of the heart on behalf of all who have been
downtrodden, who have been suppressed, who have experienced a separation and
loss of such magnitude that she alone could understand their plight:
‘O God, my God!
‘Thou seest me immersed in the depths of grief, drowned in
my sorrow, my heart on fire with the agony of parting, my inmost self aflame
with longing. Thou seest my tears streaming down, hearest my sighs rising up
like smoke, my never-ceasing groans, my cries, my shouts that will not be
stilled, the useless wailing of my heart.
‘For the sun of joy has set, has sunk below the horizon of
this world, and in the hearts of the righteous the lights of courage and
consolation have gone out. So grave this catastrophe, so dire this disaster,
that the inner being crumbles away to dust. ...’
Where else could we find a spokesman who could so speak on
our behalf about our deepest anguish? We know now why she has been offered to
us as an intercessor, as one to whom we might turn at times of great despair.
It seems most fitting that we reach toward her first, beg her assistance, ask
for her compassion, because she has so keenly felt the pain of being human. She
was no mediator between man and God, nor a mystery given by God to man, but
simply a woman whose voice calling upon God seems universal in its truth and
its sincerity. So, too, our institutions might echo that voice of compassion
for us, might speak on our behalf when we feel downtrodden, might raise up the
cry for the oppressed among humanity. Only the institutions of God can do that
and be truly heard.
The passing of ‘Abdu’l-Baha which was so dire a catastrophe
nevertheless left the Greatest Holy Leaf standing responsible for a Cause that
needed its Guardian. This truly was her ultimate role for at that time she was
the one who cabled the Baha’i world, who arranged for the funeral of ‘Abdu’l-Baha,
who held us and contained our broken hearts until Shoghi Effendi was ready to
shoulder the burden of his ministry.
Her letters that went out to the East and West at that time
are among the most wonderful teaching letters that we have. She taught the
Baha’is about the importance of the Covenant. She taught them to revere and
love their Guardian. She taught them about the nature of the Will and Testament
of ‘Abdu’l-Baha. She encouraged them to be united and warned them against
disharmony. These letters show her truly as a teacher of the Cause, another of
the roles set as a model for us.
In one of these letters she uses the metaphor of healing to
teach, and she reminds the friends in very simple and direct language, without
wasting words, that when a patient is ill he needs a potent remedy. Since the
world had sustained a violent shock at the passing of ‘Abdu’l-Baha she writes,
‘Now it devolves upon every well-assured and devoted friend, every firm and
enkindled believer enraptured by His love, to drink this healing remedy [she
was referring to Shoghi Effendi] at one draught, so that the agony of
bereavement may be somewhat alleviated and the bitter anguish of separation
dissipated.’
She was always trying to help us endure separation, but her
own separations were not completely over, for during the first three years of
the ministry of Shoghi Effendi she had to endure many partings from him too.
Among her letters there is one so touching that it awakens us to remember how
keenly she must have felt these separations in her declining years:
‘It is the hope of this writer that the friends of God will
put forth such efforts, and will so radiate their love for Him, as to light up
the world; a love that will make the heart of the Guardian leap for joy, and
then, God willing, he will soon come back again, so that before I close my eyes
upon this life, the separation I endure will be over, and I can bid you all
farewell with a happy heart.’
Through him we first learned of her contributions to the
Baha’i world and at her passing he conveyed to us, through the memory of her
life, ‘a legacy that time can never dim’. But he does even more on our behalf,
for he invites us to stand with him, at the threshold of her passing, and make
a solemn promise. It is a promise so binding that fifty years after that event
we recall it with awe and a dawning comprehension. It is a promise that reminds
us not only of the legacy we have received but of the legacy we must pass on to
the future. It is a promise that inspires us to rededicate our lives once more
and revive within our institutions those qualities evinced by the life and
service of the Greatest Holy Leaf.
‘Whatever betide us,’ is his solemn oath, ‘however
distressing the vicissitudes which the nascent Faith of God may yet experience,
we pledge ourselves, before the mercy-seat of Thy glorious Father, to hand on,
unimpaired and undivided, to generations yet unborn, the glory of that
tradition of which thou hast been its most brilliant exemplar.’
(The Baha’i World vol. 18)
