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.
We pass through Zanján and remember how lightly Hujjat and
his companions tossed away their lives there. Wherever the new road replaces
the old, we turn like compass needles to the abandoned thoroughfare, because it
was there that the Báb passed by.
At Míyánaj we see Him again - in that house with the upper
room. One of the friends calls our attention to the fact that the Báb loved
high places; that even when they were leading Him away to prison, wherever they
would stop, in whatever town or village, and even if there were only one upper
room in the place, it was there He chose to stay. His prisons, too, whether in
Tabriz or Mah-Ku or Chihriq, were always in high places. In His Tablet to
Muhammad Shah, revealed at Mah-Ku, He speaks, however, of His abode as being
still higher than the prison, for He says, "It is as if I were dwelling in
the loftiest Paradise, delighting Myself with the remembrance of God, the Most
Great."
Tabriz, circa 1935 (The Dawn-Breakers) |
Here are people who have never laid eyes on us before,
approaching us with such pleasure. And afterward, when we went away, although
we had been with them only a few days, they wept and so did we. It is this that
is stirring all over the Baha'i world today, because the love of God has
transfigured human nature.
It is two days before the Commemoration. Early on the day
itself, all are to gather at the Haziratu'I-Quds, where a general meeting will
be held; communes will be chanted, the Guardian's letter will be read, and
then, one by one or two by two, the visitors, guided by local believers, are to
circle around the Barracks Square where the Bab was offered up as a sacrifice,
the holy place of which it is written: "The souls of the Prophets and
Messengers do pace about it."
The meetings arranged throughout Tabriz are brilliant.
Absent friends are remembered and missed. We feel that the hearts of all
believers throughout East and West are focused on this city, and this gives
rise to emotions that are best communicated not in words but from heart to
heart.
The Commemoration
Now it is the eve of the Martyrdom. The Bahá'ís are in their
houses; they are gathered in small groups, or quite alone. They are communing
with their Lord. I cannot tell how it is. We recall the aspect of that other
night one hundred years ago:
How Mirzá Muhammad-'Ali surnamed Anís and Siyyid Husayn the
amanuensis remained in the presence of the Báb; the conversation that took
place that night between disciple and Beloved; all this came to mind again. To
emulate the kind of obedience that Anís offered his Lord that night - this is
the ultimate wish of every Bahá’í.
In a commentary the Báb had referred to the circumstances of
His approaching martyrdom in this wise:
"Had I not been gazing upon this secret fact, I swear
by Him in Whose hand is My soul, should all the kings of the earth be banded
together they could not take from Me so much as a single letter of a
word."
And again, in the Tablet to Muhammad Shah:
"All the keys of heaven God hath chosen to place on My
right hand, and all the keys of hell on My left ... "
It was His own unconditioned will to cast down His holy life
in the pathway of the "Remnant of God" -He Whom the Splendor of God
has named "My previous Manifestation, the Precursor of My Beauty." Of
Whom, again, He has said, "I am He, He is I; I am His Beloved; He is My
Beloved."
Could we sleep on a night like this?
Day finally breaks. The appointed time approaches. It is as
if from all the streets and passageways of Tabriz souls are gathering for
Judgment. Yes, it is the Resurrection Day, the rise of the Qá'im and the
Qayyúm. The squares of Tabriz are black with crowds.
"Deliver us, most exalted Beloved . . . forgive us then
our sin and hide away from us our evil deeds." (Qur'an 3: 191.)
The Ark (Citadel) of Tabriz where the Báb was confined (The Dawn-Breakers) |
At the base of the terrifying "Ark," at the
entrance to the courtyard, the Báb has once again demonstrated His power; for
on a structure they have raised here in memory of the dead, we find inscribed
this verse from the Qur'an: "Think not of those who are slain in the path
of God as dead; nay, alive with their Lord, are they richly sustained."
(Surih 3: 163.) It stands as a secret allusion to the Báb's agony and death.
The pilgrims, reading this holy verse, seek leave to enter here, and thus they
pass into the prison with their hearts free from everything except God.
The time has come to attend the meeting in Tabriz. The
program goes forward; it is well arranged and deeply moving. Although the
friends in other areas have been advised not to attend in large numbers,
nevertheless some are here from other parts of Adhirbáyján for this historic
day, and the great auditorium of the Hiratu'I-Quds is jammed; those who cannot
find seats stand in the doorways and in the embrasures of the windows.
Prayers are chanted. Then we listen to the Báb's Tablet to
Muhammad Shah. Today the holy blood of the Bab is coursing through the world,
it is flowering everywhere, and where is Muhammad Shah? We search, but find no
trace of him. That foolish Minister of his has also sunk into his tomb, and
that other Prime Minister, Taqi the Bloodshedder, the Brazen, who condemned the
Lord of the world to death, has vanished in eternal night.
In the Turkish language, the Assembly secretary then speaks.
He tells impressively of the spread of the Faith across the world, and of the
building of the Báb's Shrine on Mt. Carmel. The account of the Martyrdom is
read. A strange spiritual atmosphere prevails; you would say a glimmer from the
world beyond is hovering here. With complete humility, the Visitation Tablet of
the Bab is chanted.
Distance view of the Barracks Square in Tabríz where the Báb was martyred. Photos taken in the dead of winter of a later year (Baha'i Media Bank) |
Close-up view of the Barracks Square in Tabríz where the Báb was martyred (Baha'i Media Bank) |
In the words of 'Abdu'l-Baha, "The groaning of the
Supreme Concourse is lifted up .... The people of Paradise wail and cry out,
their eyes shedding tears, their hearts afire."
At this moment we are conscious of the loving attention of
the Guardian, the beloved Shoghi Effendi, who labors at all times to exalt the
Báb, who spreads His utterances abroad, who is now devoting his nights and days
to constructing the Shrine of the Martyr-Prophet on Mt. Carmel.
The circumambulation is complete. A feast is ready. But it
is as if our bodies had sustained a death wound, and the pain does not lessen
...
During the remainder of our stay a great number of
gatherings are held, each one generating a vivid, never-to-be-forgotten quality
of the spirit.
Visit to Urúmíyyih
The following day we leave for Saysán. Some of the friends
have come out along the way to welcome us while others have repaired and
leveled the road ahead. What is this joy, this feeling of exhilaration? In the
spacious auditorium - I think it measures nine by nineteen meters - of the new
Hazirá a morning and an afternoon meeting are held. The auditorium is packed,
there is no room even to walk through, many are crowding the embrasures of the
windows and the doorways, and others stand outside the building. Prayers are
being chanted.
As the Assembly welcomes us in the accents of Adhirbáyján, we
recall the well-known verse, "When they speak Persian, Turks are
life-bestowers." Two of us, Varqa and Furutan, reply with addresses in
Turkish, telling of victories already won by the Faith, and victories to come.
Labib, famed Baha'i photographer, takes pictures. He has made photographs of
all these places that relate to the Báb in Adhirbáyján, the way-stations on His
journey, the historic sites . . . Food is prepared for us.
The next day we visit the holy sites at Urúmiyyih. We are to
meet the friends of this area on our return. The lake of Urúmiyyih rises before
us, and we recall the Báb's arrival at the city here, Ridá’íyyih.
As one of the friends has said, it is not saddening to visit
these holy places, because outwardly at least the Báb suffered no afflictions
here. He was the guest of Malik Qasim Mirza, who received Him with ceremony and
forbade that any disrespect be shown Him. The room of the Báb, in the upper
story of the prince's house, is like His upper chamber in Shiraz; it lifts the
spirit.
The entrance door and wall of the public bath attended by
the Bab have been preserved; they are just as they were then. Dumbly they
address the pilgrim. The pool of the bath is empty now. The people had carried
away, to the last drop, the water used by the Báb for His ablutions, to bless
themselves with it and keep it as medicine for their ills…
circa 1935,Urumiyyih: House occupied by the Bab (The Dawn-Breakers) |
We cannot forget the meeting with our friends of Ridá’íyyih,
in a house blessed by the Báb with His presence. Here too the invisible hand of
the Báb has been at work - across from the Bath we read the inscription:
"God is the Light of the heavens and of the earth." (Qur'an 24:35)
This verse appears in delicate calligraphy on sky-blue tile, and serves as a
guide post to "the Countenance of God Whose splendor can never be
obscured, the light of God whose radiance can never fade"- words uttered
by the Primal Point Himself concerning His own Essence.
The Mountain of Suffering
It is morning. Our bus leaves for Tabriz. The driver has
agreed to stop alI along the way so that we can meet with local friends, and
some of these have been alerted ahead of time.
The first place where we stop is Sháhpur (Salmás), and a
meeting is held. The pioneers here are solidly established; like their
spiritual brothers and sisters across Persia, they have left their homes and it
is their great joy to have taken part in the extensive teaching campaign; to
have earned the approval of the beloved Guardian who wrote of the Plan:
"It is a vital undertaking of the followers of the All-Merciful, conceived
and established in the opening years of the second century of the Baha'i
Dispensation, and without peer or precedent throughout all the brilliant
history of the first century of this wondrous Cause in that holy land";
and to have assisted in the Plan's successful completion by the Centenary of
the Martyrdom.
They are rendering enviable services and their faces are
nothing but light. Unforgettably now, a woman believer chants; her voice rises,
all lowliness and supplication, so that our hearts are drawn toward God. And
out of that place, Salmas, which lies near Chihriq - and which the poet Háfiz
has named "the abode of Salma," greeting it six hundred years ago and
calling down blessings upon it, saying, "Hail, a thousand times hail, to
thee, O abode of Salma! How dear is the voice of thy camel-drivers, how sweet
the jingling of thy bells!" - out of Salmas, which lies between the
"Open Mountain" (Mah-Ku) and the "Grievous Mountain"
(Chihriq), our unspoken prayers ring out from one mountain to the other.
Surely they are heard as well in the holy worlds of the
Beloved. Suddenly we decide to follow the road taken by Mullá Husayn when, in
Mashhad , he vowed to walk the whole distance that separated him from the Báb,
and come to Him on the mountain of Mah-Ku. We long to visit the spot on the
mountain where the Lord shone forth , as promised by God in the Qur'anic verse
: "When God manifested Himself to the mountain." (Surih 7: 139.)
It so happened that the Guardian's message, sent by
telegraph in commemoration of the Martyrdom and addressed to the long-afflicted
Baha'is of Persia, was dated at this very day and hour.
Mah-Ku, circa 1935 (The Dawn-Breakers) |
Some feel that although they are unable to walk the entire
distance that separated Mullá Husayn from the Báb, [3] they will at least go on
foot from Khuy to Mah-Ku, following in the footsteps of Mullá Husayn's faithful
attendant, Qambar-'Ali. Unfortunately, this cannot be done. It is now almost
half past three in the afternoon, and the bus is leaving for Mah-Ku. Some of
the friends of Khuy are with us. We find ourselves looking up and down the
road, searching for Mullá Husayn and Qambar-'AIi, and we think of those two
holy souls; we consider their humility, their spiritual quality, their
evanescence. Mountains and valleys pass by. The goal nears. Over a wide area around Mah-Ku the plains are black; the
world mourns at Mah-Ku; for mile on mile the land is studded with outcroppings of
glistening black rock. Like ebony planets, these rocks rise out of the land;
they flood it like waves of an ebony sea. Posted haphazardly at the mountain
pass are other, monstrous shapes, terrifying rock formations that guard the
entry. All nature is a prison here, on guard over the Beloved of mankind, over
that Captive of Whom Baha'u'llah has written: "The purpose in creating the
world and making it to flourish was His Manifestation."
We come to a river that boils and clamors through the rocks;
it has cut its way through solid rock and is maybe fifteen feet deep.
We remember how Nabil tells us that the night before Mullá
Husayn and his servitor arrived - it was on the eve of the Feast of the New
Year - 'Ali Khan, the frontier officer in charge of the castle of Mah-Ku, had a
dream. He saw the Prophet Muhammad, followed by a companion, advancing to meet
him from beside the bridge. In the dream, Muhammad was on His way to visit the
castle, to greet the Báb on the occasion of the New Year.
'All khan awoke with a sense of exhilaration. He performed
his ablutions and prayed, dressed himself in his best garments, sprinkled
rosewater on his hands, and went out on foot to receive the Visitor. He further
instructed a servant to saddle and bridle his three best horses and hold them
in readiness at the bridge. But when he met Mullá Husayn there, 'Ali Khan was
told: "I have vowed to accomplish the whole of my journey on foot, to
visit an illustrious Personage who is being held prisoner on top of the mountain.
For this reason I will not ride."
We strain our eyes, but we cannot see 'Ali Khan now, and his
honored visitors. But the memory of this event has, even till our day, made the
hearts of hundreds of thousands of Baha'is all across the world beat faster;
and God alone in His wisdom knows how many billions of other hearts, throughout
the length of the Baha'i Cycle which in the words of 'Abdu'l-Baha is to last
"at least five hundred thousand years," will turn their attention
toward this place.
We are still in the defile. We cannot see Mah-Ku. And then
suddenly, around the bend, there is "the Open Mountain" and the town
of Mah-Ku on its slopes.
You who may read this, believe me: I would swear by Him Who
is the Lord of the mountain that in all the world there is no such terrifying
sight as this. Those who have traveled to the ends of the earth will bear me
out: There is no other mountain like this. It has no like, just as the anguish
of the Báb had no like, so that the Blessed Beauty wrote in the Visitation Tablet:
"I bear witness that the eye of creation hath never gazed upon one wronged
like Thee."
If, as scientists believe, our globe of dust detached itself
one way or another from the sun, and down through the endless ages came at last
to be as we know it, it is certain that wind and cloud, sun, moon, and sky
worked from the beginning that had no beginning to bring about this mountain of
Mah-Ku, in just this wise, to serve as the prison of the Báb. It is not a place
that writers and painters can describe, this spot that was the destined setting
against which the meekness of the Báb shone out. The reader must see the
mountain for himself, and the prison house and the place where the Lord made
Himself manifest, and he must then observe what the sight has done to his own
heart, and meditate on these things through long, wakeful nights and at many a
dawn, and then, if he can, let him write of it.
Mah-Ku circa 1950s (Baha'i media Bank) |
The mountain stretches like a bow, between the entrance and
exit of the pass. It rises, awesome, overpowering, into the sky. It rivals the
moon's heights, and shuts the moon away. At either end of the bow, nature has
piled two massive towers, lifting out of the mountain, up and up into the Milky
Way. From a distance you would say these two are jailers, adding to the cruelty
of the Báb's imprisonment. Or again, that they are minarets from which was
raised the cry, "Hasten ye to salvation! Hasten ye to salvation! I bear
witness that He Who is 'Ali before Nabil [4] (‘Ali-Muhammad, the Báb) is the
Gate of the Remnant of God!"
The city of Mah-Ku lies within the curve of the bow, the
opening of which is several hundred meters across; it clings to the steep
slopes, an almost perpendicular street rises jaggedly from house to house,
leading finally up to the mountain top.
Panting and sweating we climb toward the summit. Not all of
us, however. One or two of the band who set out from Khuy to make this
pilgrimage cannot keep on; the road is too rough, too steep. They cannot reach
that last point of all, the prison of the Báb. They complete their pilgrimage
by the roadside, and who knows, perhaps they show a special reverence in this.
As the Báb writes in the Tablet to Muhammad Shah, the castle
lies in the center of the mountain and there is no higher point. The slope ends
abruptly at the castle and above it there is not a span of earth where anything
could be built or find a foothold. Not jutting straight up in fortress-like
walls, but inverted here in a wide arc, the mountain becomes a great parasol or
cupola sheltering the prison place. Rain and snow cannot fall here; stars and
moon cannot cast down their light; only the cruel cold, the scorching heat can
enter here. For all day long in the heat of summer, the fortress and the
mountain, like a concave mirror, gather in the heat, and all night long, while
in other places people are restfully asleep, they radiate it back. And winter
times the cold is so intense that the water which the Báb used for His
ablutions froze on His face.
It is here that the Monarch of love was beset by the legions
of tyranny, and the Dove of holiness prisoned by owls.
The two towers which nature has planted on the slopes of the
mountain seem from here more vigilant than ever, holding their Captive in full
view. A deep cleft runs crookedly from the summit all the way down the mountain
and across from the prison, like a knotted black cord hanging; thousands of
feet it swings down, a symbol of the anger of God. Perhaps it means that God
desires to pull down the mountain, to crush out nature and man as well. Yet
again, we believe that Mah-Ku, the prison of His Holiness, should exist
forever, that, as the ages unroll, the peoples of the earth may come at last to
understand some hint of the Báb's agony. So it is that the pull of the earth
has not been able to draw down this curving roof-like peak, raised up
"without pillars that can be seen" (Qur'an 31 :9) and that castle and
mountain stand in their place.
This is Mah-Ku . . .
Mah-Ku, more recent |
At this time we bring to mind what Shaykh Hasan-i-Zunuzi
said to the historian Nabil: That as the Báb dictated His Teachings at Mah-Ku,
the rhythmic flow of His chant could be heard by those who lived at the foot of
the mountain, and mountain and valley re-echoed His voice. What a melody that
must have been; how it must have shaken the spirit! Our ears strain now in the
effort to hear it again, or to catch the song of the Kingdom that reverberates
from slope to slope.
After long twisting and turning up the mountain we draw near
to the abode of the Well Beloved. Here is another "oratory" [5] at
the base of the walls; from the heart of the mountain, gushing beneath the
castle, a stream of pity and anguish jets out with a noise like sighs and sobs
and plunges down the mountain, scattering over the surface of a massive rock.
Here is clear delicate water, well-suited to this holy place, for our
ablutions. The friends are very careful not to muddy it.
We come to the castle steps. Step after step, our yearning
mounts. Here then is the prison of the Lord of the Age. Here is the place where
they brought as a captive the Sovereign and Possessor of the earth, of Whom it
is written: "My Lord hath ordained that all which is and all which is not
should belong to the Adored One that liveth forever."
Now we can make out His cell and that of His guards. The
sorrowing voice of the Báb, which could move a heart to its depths, seems to be
ringing against the mountain-side, and the sacred verses He addressed to
Muhammad Shah from this very place speak to our souls:
"I swear by the Most Great Lord! Wert thou to be told
in what place I dwell, the first person to have mercy on Me would be thyself.
In the heart of a mountain is a fortress . . . the inmates of which are
confined to two guards and four dogs. Picture, then, My plight ..."
All of us, in complete humility, praying and supplicating
God, visit the cells and rooms. We take up the dust of the holy place for a
blessing. We chant verses of the Báb:
"O Thou the Consolation of Mine eyes! Verily Thou art
the Great Announcement!" "O Thou Remnant of God! I have sacrificed
Myself wholly for Thee; I have accepted curses for Thy sake, and have yearned
for naught but martyrdom in the path of Thy love."
We call to mind His Manifestation and His longing to offer
Himself up in death. The Visitation Tablet is chanted. As we stand there in the
dark of the night, we remember that the Holy Being spent His nights on the
mountain in total darkness; there was not even a candle for Him here.
Our hearts are heavy; grief bows us down. But suddenly we
are comforted by the words of the Primal Point to His own Essence: "Be
patient, O Consolation of Mine eyes, for verily God hath vowed to establish Thy
glory in every land, amongst all that dwell on earth." Our minds are now
flooded with joy. It is as if from one end of the sky to the other a blinding
light shines down. We see that the Báb - Who in this place out of the very
depths of His captivity and His anguish revealed unnumbered utterances -
completely disregarded the prison, and continued to exercise that all-powerful,
all-pervasive Will, against which no worldly might prevails.
In His Book, the Persian Bayan, written on this mountain
top, from this dark and narrow cell, He alludes to His own glory; and with His
promise of World Order bestows new life on all mankind, and relates the
exaltation of His own eternal rank and station to the spreading awareness of
this Order.
In the heart of this mountain the wrongs inflicted on Him
Whom the world has wronged stand before us. But in the heart of another
mountain, which seems now to rise face to face with this one and in sharp
contrast with this, the sovereignty, dominion and might of the Lord are made
manifest. The Guardian of Baha'u'llah's followers, the "primal
branch" that hath grown out "from the Twin Holy Trees," watches
us here, watches the two mountains. Here is Mah-Ku; and there is the holy
mountain where the Báb's body is laid to rest - named by Prophets thousands of
years back in time, the Mountain of God (Mt. Carmel). The King of Glory has
related that mountain to His own Self. The Heavenly Father has chosen that spot
to hold the dust of the Báb, and has set it apart as the center of His new
World Order.
The Mountain of Victory
Now that we speak of these things here at Mah-Ku in the
Báb's prison, and Mt. Carmel rises suddenly before us, it is not inappropriate
to turn our thoughts toward His everlasting resting place, so that we may note
how the long cruelties, the prison, and at last the bullets - intended, in the
words of the Almighty, to free mankind from the chains of self and passion -
were changed into abiding glory. How Baha'u'llah, in the pathway of Whose love
the Báb sought and found death, fulfilled the promises voiced by the Prophets
of God back through the endless ages, when He named Mt. Carmel as the Shrine of
the Báb. How at His command the blessed hands of 'Abdu'l-Baha reared the divine
edifice; how redemption of the promises set down in the Tablet of Carmel [6]
was entrusted to the mighty arm of Shoghi Effendi, the wondrous, unique and
priceless Guardian.
What is the best way to go on pilgrimage to the City that
has come down from heaven, as the Shrine of the Báb is called in the Tablet of
Carmel; the Shrine which, Baha'u'llah tells us, Mt. Zion circumambulates? Shall
we take the path that leads from the Pilgrims' House all the way to the Tomb
-the house that after its builder is named Ja'far-Ábád? 'Abdu'l-Baha said that
Háfiz referred to this house when he wrote:
Between Ja'far-Abad and Musallá
Laden with ambergris the north wind blows.
Or, as in the case of Mah-Ku, when we looked first at the
mountain itself, shall we contemplate the Shrine from a distance and set these
two mountains against each other and compare them each to each? I think this
last is best. . . .
We follow the Guardian over the flowering slopes of Haifa.
They seem to glitter with colored gems and pearls, like a bride at her wedding,
and we repeat to ourselves the lines, "From every branch within the
blossoming grove, a thousand petals are cast before the king." We observe
the Guardian's gait, and we think that if men's eyes were seeing eyes, this in
itself would be proof enough.
We have watched the sea in the sunset and now we are
returning. We look upon Carmel, heart of the world, and at its center the Báb's
Shrine, heart of Carmel. We see its terraces from far away, burning like lighted
torches before the eyes of its builder. The Guardian smilingly contemplates all
this. His voice, strong and clear, rings down the mountain; he is saying,
"Terraces of light; light upon light."
His words echo back from the slopes and the sea. We think of
the contrast between those long nights on Mah-Ku, when the Báb was denied even
a candle, and now, when the terraces of His Shrine are light upon light, the
face of the building is a solid sheet of light, the whole mountain is to blaze
with light.
We remember two lines that were chanted by 'Abdu'l-Baha:
"Glad tidings, glad tidings! Zion is dancing! Glad tidings, glad tidings!
The Kingdom of God whirls in delight!"
Instead of panting and struggling up the narrow-twisted road
at Mah-Ku, stopping at times because we can climb no more, here we can rest on
every terrace in the midst of gardens and trees, in lovely settings of
mountainside and sea. Pools and fountains are to be built here that will
reflect the sky and heaven. Each terrace is dedicated to one of the Letters of
the Living, and we are received as it were by him.
We forget our sorrows, as we take deep breaths of the
delicate air. No longer is the Báb a captive on Mah-Ku. He rests in the divine
gardens on the Mountain of God. He lies across the Bay of Haifa from His
Well-Beloved, Baha'u'llah, the Point of Adoration, Him Whom God made manifest.
'Abdu'l-Baha, Who had cast aside His turban and wept and
sobbed aloud as, with His own hands, He laid the Báb's body in the heart of
Carmel, Himself rests now beside the Báb. The companion who died with the Báb
has never been separated from Him. Near them are built the tombs of the Most
Exalted Leaf, and of the brother, the mother, and consort of 'Abdu'l-Baha.
From the foot of the mountain all the way to the Shrine, the
nine terraces rise in memory of nine Letters of the Living, and, in accord with
the Guardian's design, from the Shrine to the summit of Mt. Carmel nine more
shall complete the number.
The beloved Guardian, called by the Master "My
Shoghi," was from his early childhood enamored of the Báb. He dreamed of
the Báb, and he was named Rabbani in memory of the Báb's title Rabb-i-A'lá. It
is he who, standing on the heights of the Shrine, drew the geometric designs of
the terraces. He laid out the gardens, and established the International Baha'i
Endowments about the Shrine. He has placed here the International Archives, of
whose treasures Baha'u'llah had promised, "Ere long souls will be raised
up who will preserve every holy relic in the most perfect manner." The
portrait of the Báb, drawn in Urumiyyih and gazed upon by Baha'u'lIah Himself,
is here. Here too are His outer garments and His shirt, soaked in His blood. A
copy of the portrait and locks of the Bab's hair have been sent as a historic
gift to the Baha'i House of Worship in the United States, which has been
completed under the Guardianship of Shoghi Effendi; and the Guardian has
promised a copy to Persia, cradle of the Faith, as soon as the first Persian
Mashriqu’l-Adhkár is built.
The Guardian has added to the Shrine on Mt. Carmel three
rooms built according to the same plan as those already constructed by the
Master. He has extended the length, width and height of the Shrine, and is now
protecting the Edifice like a pearl of great price within the shell of an
arcade and crowning it with a balustrade set with panels, the central one to
the north bearing a great green and gold mosaic of the Greatest Name.
It is the Guardian who has widely spread the works of the
Báb. In "The Dispensation of Baha'u'llah" he has set forth the
exalted station of the Báb. By translating the narrative of Nabil he has
published the days of the Báb across the earth. He has seen to it that in every
area the Centenaries of the Báb's Declaration and of His Martyrdom were
befittingly celebrated. Across over a hundred countries he has added thousands
upon thousands of souls to the company of those who love the Báb, and he is
looking for yet more countries to come.
At this time the Guardian is concentrating his labors on
completion of the Edifice, importing marbles and granite and other priceless
rock materials that had lain in the earth down endless ages until at last they
should serve for the building of just such a Shrine -rock materials in jade and
rose, that are symbols of the Báb's lineage and the way He died. Following the
architect's design (you can see it in color, in the pages of that mirror of
Baha'i activities around the globe, The Baha'i World) , [7] the arcade and
balustrade have been completed, and the Guardian is now working day and night
to direct completion of the superstructure and rear the great golden dome. Then
the light will pour out of this source of light and envelop all mankind, and
the "people of Baha" referred to in the Tablet of Carmel will be made
manifest, and God will sail His ark upon His holy mountain, and the laws of God
will be made known to all men, and the Tabernacle of the Lord of Hosts will be
pitched on the heights of Carmel, and the divine World Order be unveiled; and
there near the resting place of the Most Exalted Leaf (the sister of
'Abdu'l-Baha) and the other blessed ones, and in the neighborhood of the Holy
Shrine, the Universal House of Justice will be established, and the promise
"Then shalt thou see the Abha paradise on earth" will be redeemed.
Let us go into the gardens around the Shrine-Tomb. Let us
walk there on the Mountain of God, and "unravel the mysteries of love from
its windflowers," for "solaced are the eyes of them that enter and
abide therein!" Let us see with our own eyes how "the rose-gardens
that grow around His Holy Tomb have become the pleasure-spot of all kinds and
conditions of men," how the flower beds and fruit-bearing trees cluster so
thick around the Shrine. Visitors, not Baha'is, will tell you these fresh and
green and delicate gardens have no equal anywhere else.
When the famed Orientalist A. L. M. Nicolas, who had longed
to see the Báb's Shrine exalted, received as a gift from Shoghi Effendi a copy
of its design, together with a copy of The Dawn-Breakers of Nabil, he was so
moved that he kissed the bearer's hand. Strangers love this place, how much
more do the friends.
Within the holy precincts we put on slippers and anoint
ourselves with rose water poured out by the Guardian himself, this wonderful
personage who has arisen "with the most perfect form, most great gift,
most complete perfection." His handsome face is so phenomenally bright
that the Master wrote, "His face shineth with a brightness whereby the
horizons are illumined."
Within the Shrine his voice, resonant, haunting, lifts in
the Visitation prayer:
"The praise which hath dawned from Thy most august
Self, and the glory which hath shone forth from Thy most effulgent Beauty, rest
upon Thee ... "
I wonder if I am awake or in a dream. "Bless Thou, O
Lord my God, the Divine Lote-Tree and its leaves, and its boughs, and its
branches . . . as long Thy most excellent titles will endure and Thy most
august attributes will last."
If we observe the Guardian when he places flower petals on
the threshold of the Báb's sepulcher, we shall see as he strews the roses and
violets there how intense are the stirrings of His love.
Today from the mountain of Mah-Ku the anguished cry of the
Báb is raised no more:
"In this mountain I have remained alone, and have come
to such a pass that none of those gone before Me have suffered what I have
suffered, nor any transgressor endured what I have endured!"
With these great victories, these new and mighty
institutions, surely the sorrow of His heart is stilled at last, and out of the
verses of the Bayán He is calling: "Well is it with him who fixeth his
gaze upon the Order of Baha'u'llah and rendereth thanks unto His Lord!"
Today the Báb is not alone on the mountain any more:
"The people of the Supreme Horizon and the presences who dwell in the
eternal paradise circle around His Shrine." The love of the Baha'is around
the globe, from Anchorage to Magallanes, from farthest East to farthest West,
gathered within the shelter of the Branch of the Sinaitic Tree, centers on this
place and is offered up continuously to Him; while the Guardian labors by day
and by night to bring to pass the prophecy of the Master when He said:
"I see the ships of all the kings of the world berthed
at the docks of Haifa. I see the sovereigns disembark. Bareheaded and
barefooted, and carrying on their shoulders vases studded with jewels, they
advance toward the Shrine."
And to fulfill these written words set down by the Pen of
Glory:
"After that which is inevitable shall have come to
pass, these very kings and presidents will follow in the footsteps of the
champions of the Cause of God. They will enter the field of service. They will
fling in the dust the crowns of their perishable sovereignty and place on their
heads the diadems of utter servitude, and in the front ranks of the pioneers
they will labor with all their heart, with all their possessions, with all that
God in His bounty hath bestowed upon
them, to spread this Faith. And when their labors are completed they will
hasten to this sacred place, and in complete humility, supplicating God, bowing
down before Him, in utter lowliness, they will circle round the Holy Shrines,
and lifting their voices will cry out to heaven, extolling and magnifying and
glorifying the Lord, and they will unveil and establish before all the peoples
of the earth the incalculable greatness of this almighty Faith."
In this unfaithful world, this house of grief, where all
things die except the Face of the Beloved, where in a little while there will
be no sign of us left, let us bequeath to those who will come after us an
enduring proof of what we feel. So that they will remember us, who lived in the
days of the first Guardian; so that they will tell one another, for five
thousand centuries to come, how we loved the Primal Point.
[1] Shoghi Effendi, God Passes By, page 53
[2] The Dawn-Breakers, pages 309-310.
[3] Mashhad is in the northeast corner of Persia; Mah-Ku in
the extreme northwest comer.
[4] According to the abjad reckoning, "Nabil" and "Muhammad" are numerical equivalents, the letters
of each word totaling 92.
[5] Musallá, "The Oratory," a favorite resort of
the poet Háfiz near Shiraz, watered by the stream of Ruknábad.
[6] In Gleanings from the Writings of Baha'u'llah, pages 14-17.
(The Baha'i World 1950-1954)