SHRINES AND GARDENS
BY BEATRICE IRWIN
THE summit of Mount Carmel overlooks one of the choicest shrines of earth—the Holy Land, and a portion of it, that is vibrant with records precious for all time.
Here great civilizations have known their ebb and flow, the turning point of their tides marked by such names as David, Moses, Solomon, Alexander the Great, Xerxes, Pythagoras, Hadrian, Herod, Elijah, and Jesus of Nazareth. The later days are starred by such names as ‘Umar, Richard Cœur de Lion, Napoleon, Saladin, and Bahá’u’lláh of ‘Akká.
These master builders, secular and sublime, have all passed through Palestine and left some seal of their splendor in the archives of human and spiritual power.
Scripture records that Carmel was the center of the great struggle that occurred between the prophets of Jehovah and the priests of Baal, culminating in Elijah’s triumphant invocation of celestial fire which consumed the offering on the altar! On the Western slope of the Mount, one sees the rock cave from which this prophet is supposed to have made his ascension, and the Bible refers to Carmel as a place of Sanctuary and fertility: “Thine head shall be upon thee as Carmel,” “like Carmel and Bashan shake off their fruits” (Song of Solomon).
Today, golden sandstone, pine, olive, cypress and banners of wild flowers, cyclamen, anemone and orchid commemorate the drama of the past, and form a vivid and aromatic background for the fateful present, fateful because Palestine has entered upon a new era in her history.
At the foot of Mount Carmel lies the modern town of Haifa with more sloping and red-tiled, than flat oriental roofs. The new harbor now under British construction overlooks a bay which curves in a sickle of golden sand to ancient ‘Akká built on a promontory some miles distant.
At sunset her battlements blaze like the burnished shields of the Crusaders who have made her famous in history. Between Haifa and ‘Akká lies the green valley of Kishon, a vast prairie whose spring verdure unmarred by human dwellings breathes a primeval calm, and above this pastoral panorama of the Carmel Range, in the distant ether, Mount Hermon raises an altar of eternal snows.
In spite of modernization and colonization the Holy Land still exhales an ineffable calm, and the deep gladness of unutterable things. Here the mysteries of spirit and matter mingle, and are poised in a balance that presages a new world order.
Historically, mystically and humanly, Haifa and ‘Akká seem to be appropriate dawning points for a new spiritual drama whose outline is already dimly discerned in the world today.
Not so long after the invincible walls of ‘Akká repulsed the cannon of Napoleon, a Persian of noble ancestry and his family were sent as Turkish prisoners to the fort on charges of sedition, political and spiritual. The name of this prisoner was Mirzá Ḥusayn ‘Alí of Tihran, known to his followers as Bahá’u’lláh, or the “Glory of God.” His disciples claim that he came in fulfilment of many prophecies in the sacred books and also in confirmation of the teaching of one who was known as the “Báb," also a Persian, who in 1844 proclaimed himself as the forerunner of a divine Messenger. In 1863, in a garden outside Baghdád, Bahá’u’lláh announced himself as the "Promised One,” who had come to abolish the bitter differences of creed and color and to establish an age of universal religious tolerance, peace and international solidarity.
This declaration resulted in a forfeiture of all worldly possessions, and an imprisonment and political parole of forty years. Incarcerated at first in Constantinople and
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Dr. Ludwik Zamenhof, author of the Esperanto Language. 15 December 1859—l4 April 1917.
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Adrianople, this prophet
finally reached ‘Akká where for 23 years
his prison life and spirit commanded such
respect, that he was eventually granted
permission to inhabit a
mansion some miles outside the town, and
here he spent his remaining years in
writing the many books which form the basis
of his teaching today.
He was buried in the garden adjoining his home, in a peaceful bower of fragrant flowers and trees, devoid of pomp, set in the stillness of deep meadows, starred by cypress and olive and framed by the turquoise of the sea. All the mines of Persia could not produce the tribute of a rarer blue.
Close to Bahjí which is the name of this shrine, meaning delight, Bahá’u’lláh caused another garden to be built, where he sometimes retired, and taught a chosen few.
This garden is comparatively small in area, but unique in setting and style, for it constitutes an almond shaped islet around which the historic Belus flows. In this river bed shells of the murex have been found, from which the royal Tyrian purple was formerly extracted.
At one end of the garden stands a small two-story wooden house, where the prophet rested. It overlooks a grove of pomegranates which leads to the central section, where a fountain, two great mulberry trees, and a semicircle of low carved wooden benches form an intimate arena. Beyond this lies a long straight stretch of lawn puncuated by giant Arocarias and bordered with paths and beds of roses, pansies and freesia; this landscaping having been recently planned by Shoghi Effendi, the great grandson of Bahá’u’lláh.
This spot is called the Riḍván, in commemoration of the garden outside Baghdád in which Bahá’u’lláh pitched his tent (April, 1863) and in which he first proclaimed his message. The first plan of the Riḍván near ‘Akká was originated by Bahá’u’lláh’s eldest son, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, who with many other disciples actually carried the foundation earth from neighboring places to this spot. Pilgrims also walked from Persia on foot bringing rare plants, and many offerings were sent from Egypt and America. As one roams in the fragrant calm, one is grateful for the human love and labor that have created this oasis of beauty and memory, musical with the sound of flowing waters and wind—swept trees.
To Bahá’ís the Riḍván is another point of pilgrimage, and in a sense, the first earthly point of liberation for the message of Bahá’u’lláh, who, emerging from the grim fortress of ‘Akká, lived on parole at Bahjí, but in the Riḍván was freed from worldly settings and restrictions, and encircled only by the verdant immortality of nature, and the inspiration of his own thoughts.
It is recorded that this messenger greatly loved gardens and the radiance of natural retreats, and that resting one day in a circle of cypress trees more than half way up the slopes of Mount Carmel, he conceived the vision of that second shrine and garden, which now guards the mortal remains of the Báb, and ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, better known to Bahá’ís as the “Master,” and to the world as Sir ‘Abdu’l-Bahá ‘Abbás of Haifa, knighted by the British Government for his rare services of help and conciliation during the difficult period prior to, and following the British occupation of Palestine.
For in 1909 ‘Abdu’l-Bahá was permitted to come and live in Haifa with his children and grandchildren, and to carry out, in a program of memorable public service, the progressive and humanitarian ideals which are the basis of his Father’s Revelation.
The writer was privileged to meet him daily for six months in Paris, and to marvel at the universality of his knowledge in response to the questions of all sorts and conditions of men, and to the breadth and depth of his sympathy with the realities of existence.
Of all the works founded by ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, possibly the building of this shrine on Mount Carmel is the most poetical, mystical and universal in appeal—a beacon of spiritual progress, set on the very spot where the prophets of Jehovah confounded the priests of Baal, and surrounded by the fragrant fertility for which Mount Carmel is famous, the shrine and its nine terraced gardens are already recognized by travelers of all denominations, as one of the inspiration points of Palestine, a haven of beauty
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Night—view of the Shrines on Mount Carmel.
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that interprets death in
terms of larger life and creative growth.
The plan executed by
‘Abdu’l-Bahá presents a square edifice of
simple lines built in golden sandstone
quarried from Mount Carmel, and divided into
nine chambers of lofty proportions—six of
these chambers are completed, the remainder
are approaching fulfilment. During the
early days of construction the Turkish
Government, suspecting ‘Abdu’l-Bahá of
erecting a fort, imprisoned him again
for a while, but the integrity of his
purpose established, he was permitted
to complete the work, and himself performed
the ceremony of descending into the vault
and placing the remains of the Báb in a
marble sarcophagus brought from Rangoon for
this purpose; the original box having
been transferred from
Ṭihrán by gradual stages and with much
caution and difficulty.
In November, 1921, the body of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá was placed in the adjoining vault, and the life work and example of this great teacher was eulogized in funeral orations by prominent members of every religious sect in the community! In the gardens planned by his love, nature still offers her poems of perfume and praise.
At the time of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s ascension, the gardens were only in their initial stage of development, but in an incredibly short time, under the direction and devoted zeal of his grandson, Shoghi Effendi, they have attained to their present mature beauty; Shoghi Effendi appointed by ‘Abdu’l-Bahá as the Guardian of the Bahá’í Faith in the world today, has brought the brilliance of a cultured mind, and the wisdom of a loving judgment to the creation of this verdant memorial, which holds infinite promise for the future, as well as a stable satisfaction in the present. Supported in service and executive authority by the world body of Bahá’ís, he has unfurled this richly embroidered banner above the blue bay of Haifa where the port is also rapidly nearing completion. There seems to be a psychologic kinship between these two new gates of peace and progress, which the modern world will become increasingly aware of.
The gardens at present cover an area of several acres in which 2,500 trees of various varieties have already been planted, predominance having been given to palm and cypress which border the four graduated avenues by which one approaches the shrine.
These short terraced avenues are broken by eleven flights of steps, and bordered with crimson geraniums—to the right and left of these avenues lie terraced retreats, in which lines of roses, stocks and other flowers bloom, in company with olive, almond, fig, apple, orange, loquat and pomegranate trees.
The shrine occupies a semicircular eminence clasped by broad green lawns that command a view of the harbor and country for miles around, with the prison fort of ‘Akká running out its white arm of remembrance in the blue distance. Behind the shrine on a slight elevation towers the circle of ancient cypress trees, under whose shadow Bahá’u’lláh conceived and commanded the execution of these gardens, as a suitable resting place for the remains of the Báb. They are now an oasis of joy for all creeds, classes and nations. Travelers on the great ocean liners which anchor in the port seldom miss a visit here, the gates are open day and night, and towards dusk shepherds and Arab women carrying their babies on their hips stroll through the dewy fragrance chanting their prayers, or fragments of song. One afternoon within the space of an hour, the writer, who was sitting reading in the gardens, was addressed with inquiries by no less than six nationalities: two student groups—Russian and German, a party of Arabians, two Turkish ladies, a Jewish professor and his wife, and a group of American archeologists. All unanimous in their appreciation of this common meeting ground, they seemed to embody the hope and promise of Bahá’u’lláh for the fulfilment of universal peace, international solidarity, and the foundation of a new day in which the truth of his own words will come to pass. “Ye are all the leaves of one tree, the drops of one sea,” and “let not a man glory in this, that he loves his country, but rather in this, that he loves his kind.”
