Journey to Tabríz
It is Thursday, the 6th of July, 1950. It is the day of
Istijlál, the day of Qudrat, the month of Rahmat, of the year Javáb, of the
sixth Váhid of the first Kull-i-Sbay'. The group of travelers has set out as
pilgrims, in a spirit of humility and penitence and great love, going to the
place of the Báb's last agony. They are traveling to that spot whose very name,
some thousand years ago, set fire to the heart of Muhammad's descendent the
Imám Muhammad-Báqir, so that he spoke these words of it: "Inevitable for
us is Adhirbáyján. Nothing can equal it ... "
They are traveling to see the place with their physical
eyes, but also to weep over the anguish of that Lord of men in the Country of
Sorrows itself, where earth and air, mountains and lakes, streams, trees, and
stones bear witness to the wrong that was done Him. They will pour out for Him
as a libation something of the sorrow of their hearts.
The bus goes fast. Again it slows. It fulfills the promise
as to the Day of the Lord and the coming of the Kingdom when, Scripture says,
the earth will be rolled up. All along our talk is of the passion of the Báb.