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- Shoghi Effendi:
- Twenty-Five Years of
- Remembering
- Three Accounts of Love
- Sacrificed
- The Human Soul:
- A Bahá’í Perspective
- Raymond Jeffords
- A Tale of Terror in Iran
- Firuz Kazemzadeh
World Order
A BAHÁ’Í MAGAZINE • VOLUME 17, NUMBER 1 • PUBLISHED QUARTERLY
WORLD ORDER IS INTENDED TO STIMULATE, INSPIRE AND SERVE THINKING PEOPLE IN THEIR SEARCH TO FIND RELATIONSHIPS BETWEEN CONTEMPORARY LIFE AND CONTEMPORARY RELIGIOUS TEACHINGS AND PHILOSOPHY
- Editorial Board:
- FIRUZ KAZEMZADEH
- BETTY J. FISHER
- HOWARD GAREY
- Consultant in Poetry:
- WILLIAM STAFFORD
WORLD ORDER is published quarterly by the National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United States, 415 Linden Avenue, Wilmette, IL 60091. Application to Mail at Second-class postage rates is pending at Wilmette, IL. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to WORLD ORDER, 415 Linden Avenue, Wilmette, IL 60091.
The views expressed herein are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the publisher, the National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United States, or of the Editorial Board. Manuscripts should be typewritten and double spaced throughout, with the footnotes at the end. The contributor should keep a carbon copy. Return postage should be included.
Subscription rates: USA, 1 year, $10.00; 2 years, $18.00; single copies, $3.00. All other countries, 1 year, $12.00; 2 years, $22.00; single copes $3.00.
Copyright © 1982, National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United States, All Rights Reserved. Printed in the U.S.A.
ISSN 0043-8804
IN THIS ISSUE
- 2 Shoghi Effendi: Twenty-Five Years
- of Remembering Editorial
- 4 Interchange: Letters from and to the Editor
- 9 Three Accounts of Love Sacrificed
- translated from the Persian by Amin Banani
- 10 The Account of the Martyrdom of Mr. Yúsuf
- Subḥání by Jálál Khánimání
- 14 Report of the Martyrs of Hamadán
- by Zhínús Maḥmúdí
- 32 Letter from Zhínús Maḥmúdí to Her Three
- Children, by Zhínús Maḥmúdí
- 35 We Are One
- poem by Sheila Banani
- 37 The Human Soul: A Bahá’í Perspective
- by Raymond Jeffords
- 46 For Those Who Came Too Soon
- poem by Ian Stephen
- 47 A Tale of Terror in Iran
- book review by Firuz Kazemzadeh
- 48 Authors and Artists in This Issue
Shoghi Effendi: Twenty-Five Years of Remembering
ON THE SCALE of history a quarter of a century is but a moment.
To an individual twenty-five years is a third of a lifetime. A vast
majority of the Bahá’ís in the world today were either unborn or had
not yet joined the Faith when, on 4 November 1957, Shoghi Effendi
Rabbaní, for thirty-six years Guardian of the Cause and leader of the
Bahá’í community, passed away in his sleep.
A quarter of a century is not enough time to assess either the stature of Shoghi Effendi or the magnitude of the loss suffered by the Bahá’ís with his death.
Born in 1897 in ‘Akká, Shoghi Effendi spent his childhood in the semi-confinement imposed on ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s family by Ottoman authorities. Educated in local schools, the Syrian Protestant College (now the American University of Beirut) and Oxford, but, most important of all, by his noble grandfather ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Shoghi Effendi served the Master as secretary, translator, and assistant. The love and trust ‘Abdu’l-Bahá felt for Shoghi Effendi was so evident that few were surprised to learn in 1921 of his appointment in ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s will and testament as Guardian of the Cause and sole interpreter of its sacred writings.
For thirty-six years Shoghi Effendi devoted to the Faith all his enormous energy, his brilliant mind, his indomitable will, and his soaring spirit. While performing his heavy duties as leader, inspirer, and administrator of a growing international community, he somehow succeeded in becoming a builder, a gardener, a social philosopher, an historian, and a supremely gifted translator. In his works he touched and left an indelible mark upon every aspect of the Cause he loved and served.
Shoghi Effendi departed this world, but the Bahá’ís feel his presence. They feel it at large international conferences at which they plan their campaigns and celebrate their victories. They feel it in the deliberations of their administrative bodies that are governed by rules and procedures he so carefully devised. They feel it in their minds and souls as they strive to understand the meaning and significance of the writings of Bahá’u’lláh.
Twenty-five years after his passing Shoghi Effendi’s stature continues to grow as his heirs, the Bahá’ís of the world, come to recognize in ever fuller measure the greatness of him who has justly been called the priceless pearl.
Interchange LETTERS FROM AND TO THE EDITOR
GLENFORD E. MITCHELL, who since 1967 has been the Managing Editor of WORLD ORDER, was in July elected to the Universal House of Justice, the supreme governing institution of the Bahá’í Faith, and will have left the United States to take up his new duties long before this issue goes to press. Managing Editor, as we observed the position from New Haven, meant that Glenford received a package of edited manuscripts from the editors in Connecticut, put mysterious marks on them for the typesetter, sent us galley and page proofs, and a month or two later ensured that printed copies reached our doorsteps.
Of course, when he periodically came to New Haven for Editorial Board meetings, we saw another side of Glenford—but that was the editor’s side. Even when he was tired and had other pressing business on his mind, there would come the flashes of joy in creating issues for the future; the pleasure in an article well written (he read almost everything we received); the disappointment when a good idea got lost in bad prose; the pieces of paper on which he had written, in his inimitable handwriting, notes about articles we should secure, directions we should take, books we should review, new features we should develop (this Interchange column being one of them), all shared in the spirit of leveling up, always up, in order to produce a journal of the highest quality.
We saw the editor’s side, too, in written contributions Glenford made to the magazine: the editorials and the articles. Who can forget his “Literature of Interpretation: Notes on the English Writings of Shoghi Effendi” (Winter 1972-73), written for an issue commemorating the fifteenth anniversary of the passing of the Guardian of the Bahá’í Faith, or his review of The Autobiography of Malcolm X, possibly one of the first reviews of the work?
But it was observing Glenford at work in Wilmette that made us really understand what Managing Editor meant when exercised by one like him. Watching him lay out an issue of the magazine was a crash course in magazine production, both the grand sweep of things (which article goes first, which gets full illustrative treatment, how you get the footnote number and the footnote on the same page), and the myriad small details that make a magazine (the folios, the running heads, the table of contents, the art credits, the judicious use of rules and boxes). Learning why he often had manuscripts we edited in New Haven retyped in Wilmette before they went to the printer was an exercise in economy: messy manuscripts are hard to typeset and tend to ensure an inordinate number of errors on galleys; clean manuscripts, on the contrary, are easy on the typesetter’s eyes and mind and produce cleaner galleys with fewer errors.
And yet there was even more to being
Managing Editor. One of the most illuminating
insights came as we watched
Glenford design the Fall 1971 issue commemorating
the fiftieth anniversary of the
passing of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. The creative interaction
between the articles, the photographs
he selected to highlight them,
and Glenford was something to behold.
The text itself had been a labor of love for
all of us, perhaps one of our finest issues,
[Page 5] but the text alone would never have had
the impact without the Managing Editor’s
sensitive use of photographs. Glenford
still speaks of the electric quality that
charged his dining room while he worked
on the issue.
We could go on and on about instances where he selected photographs to play off the text and where he infused the text with a new level of meaning with his carefully chosen illustrations. In the women’s issue in 1975 there was a photograph that provoked a deliberate chuckle—and a pause for reflection. More recently there is one portraying a familiar object that becomes hauntingly abstract when printed upside down. Yet another is, on a personal level, a poignant farewell, yet, for the reader, a clue to the tone of the issue.
With Glenford go our love and our warmest and best good wishes—and much gratitude for the generosity with which he shared his humor, his honesty, his talents, his high sense of rectitude, and his impeccable taste.
To the Editor
MORE LIGHT ON MORMONISM
I wish to clarify two points which I made in my article “The Bahá’í Faith and Mormonism: A Preliminary Survey” (Fall 1980/Winter 1981).
On page 41 I made the statement, “In Mormonism women do not hold the priesthood and, therefore, do not fill the administrative and organizational offices of the Church.” Mormons have pointed out that this is a highly misleading statement. Although women do not hold the priesthood, they do hold organizational offices in the Relief Society of the Mormon Church, in the Genealogical Society, and so on. Not holding the priesthood only indicates that the women do not have rank and authority in any of the Church offices.
My statements on page 38 regarding the Mormon and Bahá’í concepts of creation deserved better treatment than I gave at the time of writing. In Mormonism, matter is not only eternal but also uncreated. In the Mormon view, God, being an exalted man, is subject to time, as all men are, and is limited to occupying space by nature of His having a body.
In the Bahá’í view, matter is eternal but is also created. Bahá’u’lláh writes, “Know assuredly that God’s creation hath existed from eternity, and will continue to exist forever” (Gleanings, LXXVIII). Yet Bahá’u’lláh also says that God, “out of utter nothingness, hath created the reality of all things,” and “from naught, hath brought into being the most refined and subtle elements of His creation” (Gleanings, XXVII). Shoghi Effendi, when asked about this latter passage, stated that it “should be taken in a symbolic and not literal sense. It is only to demonstrate the power and greatness of God” (Letters from the Guardian to Australia and New Zealand: 1923-1957 [Sydney: National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of Australia, 1970], p. 41). Yet we are led into a paradox with the very acceptance of eternality of matter which is also created. How and when was the matter created if it has always been? In the Lawḥ-i-Ḥikmat, Bahá’u’lláh states, “The world of existence came into being through the heat generated from the interaction between the active force and that which is its recipient” and “there was God, and His creation had ever existed beneath His shelter from the beginning that hath no beginning, apart from its being preceded by a Firstness which cannot be regarded as firstness and originated by a Cause inscrutable even unto all men of learning” (Tablets of Bahá’u’lláh Revealed After the Kitáb-i-Aqdas [Haifa: Bahá’í World Centre, 1978], p. 140).
The clue to a solution of this paradox is
contained in the “time” words in the last-quoted
passage. We Bahá’ís hear the phrase
“the beginning that hath no beginning” quite
often, yet perhaps we are not prone to think
[Page 6] about its meaning. The most facile interpretation
is to accept “beginning that hath no beginning”
and “Firstness which cannot be regarded
as firstness” to mean the infinite span
of time. But I believe that Bahá’u’lláh used
these phrases for more than poetic expression
of infinite time. A beginning that has no beginning
is one which is outside time. A firstness
which is not firstness is a firstness outside
of time.
From what Bahá’u’lláh says, the “inscrutable” cause of creation was something active acting upon something passive. This act took place “before” (?), beyond, outside of time. Those with scientific knowledge will know that one of the conclusions from relativity is that time and space are products of the existence of matter. Without matter, there is no time or space. So when (?) this creative act of God occurred, and matter came into being, God must also have created the entire infinite expanse of time, from infinite past to infinite future, all at once. He, therefore, sustains every moment of that expanse of time by His own Will; matter (and space and time) are therefore eternal—have always existed—except that there was a time (?), place (?) where they were not, and where only God was.
One further note to my article on the Bahá’í Faith and Mormonism: Arthur Hampson, in his fine Ph.D. thesis, The Growth and Spread of the Bahá’í Faith (University of Hawaii, 1980, p. 300) notes that “the Faith has failed to diffuse as rapidly as might be expected in certain parts of the Mormon culture realm. . . . The retardation of diffusion in the Mormon heartland probably can be attributed to that region’s inherent resistance to outside religious influences.” I think that if research were done today, we would find that the statistics would show Bahá’í diffusion in Utah to be approaching if not equal to the rate of diffusion elsewhere, partly because of migration of non-Mormons into Mormon areas.
- WILLIAM P. COLLINS
- Haifa, Israel
ABOUT LSD
I would like to comment on the letter from Mr. Burl Barer printed in the Winter 1982 issue, relating to the use of LSD. I am not qualified to speak about the effects of LSD usage either from a scientific viewpoint or from personal involvement. However, I question the suggestion that the “LSD experience” is truly a “mystical” one, or, for that matter, whether the entire subject of the relationship between drugs and spirituality is a valid topic for discussion, considering Bahá’u’lláh’s strong position against drug use.
As individuals we have a tendency to bring past experiences and values along with us into the Bahá’í community. This becomes dangerous when things are considered in a positive light that are in conflict with Bahá’í Teachings because it clouds issues which should be crystal clear. For example, if there is a legitimate connection between LSD and mystical experience, why should a Bahá’í youth refrain from using LSD as he makes his own personal investigation of the truth of the Bahá’í Faith? Or, to consider a parallel situation, why shouldn’t an individual have the right, drawing from his personal experiences prior to his acceptance of the Faith, to extol the virtues of one political philosophy over another?
This is not to challenge the statement that many individuals experimented with drugs to obtain spiritual understanding, or that some might have acquired a vision which later related to their acceptance of Bahá’u’lláh. Yet, how many other individuals suffered devastating results from this mind-altering experience? I can speak directly of a young friend who was seized by severe depression and pushed to the brink of insanity by persistent flashbacks and other negative effects from just one encounter with LSD. If there are positive results from drug use, this is due to the grace of God rather than through any inherent spiritual value of the drug itself.
Without a doubt each of us charts some course along a side “river” before we reach the “ocean” of Bahá’u’lláh’s Revelation. But upon reaching that ocean the standard through which “truth shall be distinguished from error” is set, and we need no longer confuse the various elements of our spiritual journey with spiritual truth.
- PAUL LAMPLE
- Deerfield, Illinois
Three Accounts of Love Sacrificed
TRANSLATED FROM THE PERSIAN BY AMIN BANANI
WHAT is martyrdom? The coin is debased every day by acts of
mindless zeal and blind fanaticism. In these letters and testaments
from some of the Bahá’í men and women who have been put to death
for their Faith in Iran, we have a reaffirmation of the dignity, sanity, and
humanity of that station. These are not desperate people consumed by
the death wish. They are balanced individuals dedicated to the ennobling
of life through a new world order. They are not superhuman beings but
ordinary men and women whose true humanity is perfected in the fires
of tests and tribulations. If there is an inspiration to be gained from their
experiences and their deaths, it is not one of pathos and grief, but one of
the affirmation of the capacity of human beings for spiritual growth.
The measure of that growth is not only the eternal glory of those who
have died, but also the vital promise for us who live.
It is in the hope for the realization of that promise that I have made these translations. With such examples we should have an easier time rising to our potential and attaining our goal.
All these heroic men and women have ascended the ultimate heights of spiritual attainment; but we are particularly fortunate to have the letters and reports of Zhínús Maḥmúdí, who emerges as a woman of exceptional qualities. Her radiant spiritual growth is matched by a keen intellect, an acute sense of history, and a rare gift of expression, which, I feel, will enrich the annals of Bahá’í history forever. She has been able to capture the full spiritual, emotional, and intellectual impact of the events through which she has lived, and died. It is as if we had letters from Ṭáhirih.
—Amin Banani
1. The Account of the Martyrdom of Mr. Yúsuf Subḥání, 10 June 1980
WRITTEN BY HIS BROTHER-IN-LAW, MR. JÁLÁL KHÁNIMÁNÍ
BEFORE I begin the description of some of what I saw, I wish to relate an incident involving Mr. [Yúsuf] Subḥání. About two months before the revolution I had a meeting with Mr. Subḥání in Ṭihrán. In the course of discussions I suggested to him that in view of difficulties that he might face it would be prudent for him to leave Iran for a while. He summed up his response by saying: “You know, in ordinary times everyone is ready to serve, but it is in such sensitive times that we must redouble our efforts, not fear anything, and not abandon the ramparts. The most that can happen is that I will be killed; but I will have done my duty for the Cause.”
On Monday [9 June 1980] I was in Ṭihrán. At 4 p.m. I went to the airport to fly to Iṣfahán, but was not able to obtain a seat on the 6 p.m. flight. Instead I booked a seat on the 8:15 flight. As we had considerable time on our hands, we returned home, together with Mr. Subḥání’s son, who was with me. I passed the time reading at home until about 7:30. We were about to return to the airport when the telephone rang. There was no one in the house except myself and Gulshan Subḥání. He picked up the phone and spoke for a few moments. When he put the phone down, with an ashen face and agitated voice he said to me: “It was from Ivín prison. They asked for the family of Mr. Subḥání to come for a face-to-face meeting.” Knowing something about the procedures, I knew what “face-to-face” meeting meant—it was the last visit. For a few minutes I was unable to think; I was stunned. Finally, after some ten minutes I was able to gain control over my nerves with the help of prayers and concentration. I asked Gulshan to contact Ivín prison, as I found it difficult to believe this news, and thought that some mischief makers might have made the call. Try as we did, we could not get in touch with the Ivín prison; so we called one of the relatives who lived near the Subḥání house to go and inform Mrs. Subḥání and the rest of the family and have them ready at the house, until notice from us. I went with Gulshan to the Ivín prison, contacted the authorities and realized that the phone call had been authentic. These were extremely fearful and anxious moments for us. At the same time we were worried about how we would face Mr. Subḥání. We were trying to visualize our meeting, and preparing ourselves to face him in such a way that would not cause him grief and weaken his morale.
From outside the prison we called home and asked the family to come. It was about 10 p.m. when Mrs. Subḥání, one of his sisters, and other members of the family, totaling eighteen persons, gathered outside the prison. The condition of Mrs. Subḥání and his sister was extremely poor, and they were disconsolate. The rest of the family were also very agitated and stricken.
First, we had to try and calm Mrs. Subḥání and his sister before facing him
in order not to damage his morale. Here I must confess that the spirit of
Gulshan Subḥání, the son of Mr. Subḥání, was very good, and he succeeded in
carrying out his duty in this critical moment. He said to his mother who was
grieving, “Mother, do you love Bahá’u’lláh more, or father?” His mother said:
“Bahá’u’lláh.” Gulshan said, “Since father is being sacrificed in the path of
[Page 11] Bahá’u’lláh, we should not grieve, we must try and make him happy.” We
encouraged Mrs. Subḥání to say some prayers until she achieved a relative
calm. Somehow, we managed to calm his sister also and made the rest of the
family promise to keep the appearance of composure in order to hearten
Mr. Subḥání. Then we informed the prison authorities that we were ready for
the visit. There were other groups of families who were there before us for
“face-to-face” visits, but, except for the immediate family members, none were
admitted. In our case also they insisted on permitting only the next of kin, and
upon presentation of official identification, but upon entreaties and persistence
on our part they allowed all of us to go in.
All eighteen of us were ushered into a waiting room that is normally used for visits with the prisoners. Everyone was wondering about the state of Mr. Subḥání as he would see us. I positioned myself in such a way as to be able to watch the prison courtyard through the shutters of a window. I saw Mr. Subḥání approaching with several guards. He was walking with firm and long strides— as he always did on his long hikes—and the guards had difficulty keeping up with him. They were half running to keep pace. This was, of course, a brief image, and in a few moments he was in the room with such an extraordinary aspect—accompanied by eighteen guards and officials—that is hard for me to describe. It was an air of joy, courage, and spirituality mixed with a boldness that was filled with total sacrifice.
First, he kissed everyone with warmth and delight. After these greetings he turned with an authoritative air, raised his right hand, and with his finger pointing to the guards and officials who were present, these were the first words he uttered: “I declare to you all, know it, and tell your other friends who are not present here now that I am being killed for my belief alone, and I am proud of that and it is my highest wish. I stated this at the revolutionary court, too. One or two people came and gave false testimony. Soon God will give them the retribution of their deeds.”
One of the officials who was in charge said, “Mr. Subḥání, it is not certain yet. We haven’t been issued any orders yet.” Mr. Subḥání said, “I am absolutely certain. For the last four days I have had divine intimations, and I am waiting. As soon as they returned me to incarceration and told me that I am being transferred to another cell, I was elated. I said farewell to all my cell mates and told them that I was being removed for execution. Go ask them.”
There were enough chairs in the room, and we all sat down. Mr. Subḥání was indescribably joyful. When we saw him in that state and compared it with the condition we were in before we saw him—thinking of ways of giving him courage—we were filled with shame. He had such a spirit that gave us all new power and fortitude. The sorrow that had existed was completely gone. He was constantly joking and laughing with the members of the family. Not for a moment did a smile leave his lips. He gave necessary instructions to all the members of his family. To his wife he said, “Absolutely do not weep and grieve for me; it will disturb my soul. None of you must wear black.” To his wife he said, “Tomorrow I wish you would come to Gulistán-i-Jávíd [the Bahá’í cemetery] in this same dress [she had a very cheerful dress on]. If you knew how happy I am, you would hold a feast for me.”
Then he said: “For four days now my communication with Bahá’u’lláh is
direct, and I am counting seconds for the special appointment. Were it not
[Page 12] contrary to God’s commandment I would will that in place of commemorative
meetings they would hold a party of joy for me. If these gentlemen (pointing
to the guards and officials) would permit, I shall go dancing to the gallows,
and distribute sweets to all of them.”
At this point the meeting developed such an atmosphere that all the guards and officials except for one left the room, and signs of sorrow were visible in their faces. As they were leaving, they were saying to each other: “Pity, a man like that!” “What a man!”
In the course of cheerful exchanges with every one of those present Mr. Subḥání said to one of the sons of Ghulám-Ḥusayn A‘zamí, who had been executed about thirty-five days previously, “Bakhtíár, be very happy. Your father too went with the same spirit. Be proud that you had such a father.” He said such things to this youth who had been very depressed by the death of his father that he achieved an indescribable transformation. The very next day he took off the black garments of mourning and said, “I am relieved. I am happy. Mr. Subḥání gave me the power.” According to the A‘zamí family, this young man’s spirit is totally changed, and he has attained a special quality of faith.
The brother of Mr. Ghulám-Ḥusayn A‘zamí was also present at this gathering. Mr. Subḥání joked a lot with him. He asked him, “Do you keep up your exercises? Do you still go climbing mountains? Keep up your exercises and your mountain climbing. Look what a body I have made for myself. I kept up my exercises regularly. The body that one wants to offer up in the path of Bahá’u’lláh must be healthy.” Laughingly he turned to his own son saying: “Gulshan, get rid of your paunch belly. Do your exercises.”
A very interesting scene developed when he turned to the only remaining official 1n the room who happened to be the commander of the firing squad and said, “Ḥájí Áqá, give my greetings to Mr. Kachú’í [the chief warden of the prison]. I wish I could be taken to him tonight to say good-bye and to thank him. He was very kind to me the whole time. When he realized that I live on a diet of raw vegetables and grains, he made it possible for me to have my special diet.” Again with a laughing, half-joking, half-serious gesture, he pounded his stomach and said, “I have no paunch at all. It’s all muscle. My chest is well developed. Look at my arms.” He raised his arm and flexed his biceps and said, “Do you see, Ḥájí Áqá? Ḥájí Áqá, tell your men to shoot hard so I can feel the pain.” Then laughing, he said: “Ḥájí Áqá, do you see this breast, it is full of love of Bahá’u’lláh. Ordinary bullets will not hurt it. Tell them to shoot hard. Ḥájí Áqá, I myself will give the command to fire, OK?” Ḥájí Áqá said, “Mr. Subḥání, whatever you say.” Mr. Subḥání had spoken those words with such a feeling that Ḥájí Áqá lowered his head and for a few minutes left the room, muttering to himself, “What a man!”
This visit lasted about three quarters of an hour. It was all passion and joy and heroic epic. Not for a moment did he stop laughing or smiling. He was constantly urging everyone to be brave and persevering. He was saying that if we were not to encounter these difficulties the Cause would not progress. These problems have to be faced.
Then he turned to his family members and said, “Beware that you don’t
allow the slightest trace of vengefulness to take root in you for those who gave
false testimony at my trial. I have left them to God. Soon they will reap the
[Page 13] retribution for their deeds.” In the course of conversation I said to him, “Mr.
Subḥání, it doesn’t matter if in the present circumstances a large number of
the Friends are martyred. The number of our martyrs may reach as high as
twenty-one thousand and cause the surging of the Faith throughout the world.”
He laughed aloud and said, “They will kill me and feel relieved. They won’t
kill anyone else.”
In the last moments of our visit he said, “You must tell the Universal House of Justice that I am going with this spirit and happiness, so that it can bring happiness to them.”
As the time drew to a close, one of the guards came in and with politeness and respect said, “Mr. Subḥání, the time for the visit is over.” He again kissed everyone warmly and said farewell. Outside the room he kissed each one of the guards also and said, “I am grateful to all of you. You all showed me kindness.” He also kissed Ḥájí Áqá Sálihí and thanked him.
As I was saying good-bye to him, while I was embracing him and my hand was still in his hand, he said jokingly, “They are killing me, why are your hands so cold? Feel how warm my hand is!”
At this point we were all standing outside the room watching him going away. Every few steps he would turn around and, like people about to start on the most joyous journey of their life, he would raise both arms and wave with enthusiasm. He called out, “Bakhtíár, have you a message for your father? Niját, any messages for your brother? Don’t be shy; give me any message you want to send. In a few hours we will be together.”
He was calling out these words with loud laughter, repeating them as he went. He was walking with such powerful strides, like a victorious commander. This happiness and spiritual force truly amazed all of the guards present. In addition to the original eighteen, there were a number of them eating supper in the courtyard, and they were left stunned and motionless for some time.
This is how our last visit ended. Of course, what I have recorded is just a glimmering of this moving and sobering experience. I now understand and
Yúsuf Subḥání
[Page 14] fully attest that if I read the account of one of the martyrs of the Faith, I can
boldly say that the recorder of the history, no matter how expressive and
skillful he may be with his pen, could not depict the true spiritual state of the
martyrs of the Cause, because much of what one witnesses cannot be put in
any words. How can I, without any learning and writing skill depict such a
spiritual scene that cannot be anything but the creation of Bahá’u’lláh?
The wonder of it all, he generated such a spiritual power in everyone present that when we left the prison we were all genuinely happy, especially his dear wife who had no sign of anxiety when we came out. She was completely normal, as if nothing was to happen. This cannot be anything but the power of the Blessed Beauty [Bahá’u’lláh].
As we had been unable to contact one of his sons, he was not present at the visit. He came home later that night and when he learned of the situation, he went again to Ivín with one of the relatives at about 12:15 and was allowed to see his father for a few minutes. At 1:30 in the morning [10 June 1980] Mr. Subḥání was shot.
Tuesday Morning. Gulshan Subḥání together with one of the relatives went to Ivín to retrieve his father’s identity card. He asked several of the guards who had been present the night before, “How was my father in the final moments?” The guards answered with much feeling and sorrow, “Mr. Subḥání was a true man. He was laughing to the end.”
At the Gulistán-i-Jávíd. There are several things about the events at the cemetery worth noting.
- 1. The serenity and fortitude of the family, especially Mrs. Subḥání and their children.
- 2. After the body was washed, several young children (about ten or twelve years old) ran in the room before he was wrapped and ran out calling happily: “Mother, mother, Mr. Subḥání is alive.” When I entered the room to have a last look at Mr. Subḥání’s face, I saw the children were telling the truth. His face was truly alive. He had a full smile on his lips. His eyes were open in a very normal way. His cheeks were full of color. Nothing had changed. Only he was not speaking. . . .
This is a brief account of what happened and what I saw.
I am happy to have observed a scene of sacrifice of the martyrs of the heroic age who went to their death with such love and passion.
I saw what true spiritual joy is. I understood the meaning of true heroism. I witnessed what the new creations are made of. Happy are they!
2. Report of the Martyrs of Hamadán, 14 June 1981
BY ZHÍNÚS MAḤMÚDÍ
“Pure and sanctified art Thou, O my God. How can the pen move and the
ink flow after the breezes Of loving-kindness have ceased, and the signs
of bounty have vanished, when the sun of abasement hath risen, and the swords
of calamity are drawn, when the heavens of sorrow have been upraised, and
the darts of affliction and the lances of vengeance have rained from the clouds
[Page 15] of power—in such wise that the signs of joy have departed from all hearts, and
the tokens of gladness have been erased from every horizon, the gates of hope
have been shut, the mercy of the supernal breeze hath ceased to waft over the
rosegarden of faithfulness, and the whirlwind of extinction hath struck the
tree of existence. The pen is groaning, and the ink bewaileth its plight, and the
tablet is awe-struck at this cry. The mind is in turmoil from the taste of this
pain and sorrow, and the divine Nightingale calleth: ‘Alas! Alas! for all that
hath been made to appear.’ And this, O my God, is from naught but Thy
hidden bounties.”[1]
HOW heavy are our sorrows, and how great are His blessings in relation
to them. Whatever happens is full of paradoxes and contrasts, full of
grandeur and glory, full of sorrow and joy. How are we able to blend all these
faces of these awesome events? Only God knows. Sometimes the thought
comes over me: how can the eyes see these events, the heart and soul feel them,
the mind and reason comprehend them, and the terrible pressure of these
events not yet burst us limb from limb? How is it that our hearts are not yet
shredded into pieces? And how is it that our veins that carry so much sorrow
and suffering with our heart’s blood to every limb have not yet exploded?
His calamities are dreadful, and yet His grace is mingled with all this pain and suffering. How can I describe what is happening? These words are powerless to relate all these terrifying events; but I know that you want me to tell you, even though it may be a drop of many oceans and but an intimation of this storm that is enveloping everything. But I must, at the outset, express my own powerlessness, lest the greatness and brilliance of the deeds of our heroes lose their brightness in the poverty of my words.
My tongue can never offer adequate thanks at His Sacred Threshold for having decreed in my destiny that for the last three years, as an Auxiliary Board member, I should become a part of the noble family of the Bahá’ís of Hamadán.[2] To form bonds of love with the friends of that city, to get to know the Spiritual Assembly members—who have played such a part in this year 138 of the Bahá’í Era in the bloodstained history of our community— and to cherish the flowering of such rarefied spiritual relationships between us: all that was my lot in the last three years. I became a member of their families, and a proverbial “safety valve” for all of them. On the day when I saw their kindly faces for the first time, I could never imagine what bitter and dreadful days had been decreed for us. I never knew that day by day I should witness their growth and perfection in love and faith, a growing that culminated in the highest degree of human maturity—sacrifice of life in the path of the Beloved and attaining to a station greater than the creations of both worlds.
[Page 16]
Unrelatable is what I have seen and cherish in my memory. Our relations
with these dear ones and their families were ones of love and true friendship.
In all this period I was their partner in everything, in their sorrow and joys,
in the difficult stages of their tests and growth. What truly happy times I spent
with them, and now that this wrenching event has taken place, memories flood
my soul. Whenever I spoke to my colleagues of Hamadán and its Spiritual
Assembly, I was proud of my relationship to them. The prayer book which
they had copied in their own handwriting in the prison for me—for “Dear
Auntie”—that is what they called me in the early days; later I became “Dear
Sis”—and which they all had signed and sent to me to recite for protection,
and which I now know all by heart, is one token of our deep love and attachment
that I used to show everyone with pride. And I had the same relationship
with their wives, children, and relatives, an attachment as if bonded from the
dawn of creation. This, too, was one of the blessings of our revolution that fell
to me. I was a member of their families, and I pray that their dear survivors
will grant me this privilege as long as I am alive.
With these words I wanted to express at the outset the magnitude of my sadness—to say that I have lost seven dear loving brothers at once.
And now to the details of the event. From the first news to the last one, it lasted four days. The first news was that the officials in Hamadán had gone to the homes of our dear friends, taken inventory of their belongings for confiscation, driven away their private automobiles, and padlocked the shop of Messrs [Suhráb] Ḥabíbí, Suhayl [Ḥabíbí], [Ḥusayn] Khándil, and [Ṭarázu’lláh] Khuzayn. And the last news, on Sunday 24 Khurdád [14 June 1981] was of the gruesome martyrdom of those innocent souls. Since we knew that taking inventory of the property of prisoners did not bode well, we were filled with anxiety when we heard that news, and you can imagine how we passed the next four days. All the friends raised their hands in prayer and supplication— anxious for Hamadán. But the result of our prayers was perhaps that our dear ones endured the terrible last moments with greater strength and fortitude.
After they killed Mr. [Mihdí] Anvarí and [Hidáyatu’lláh] Dihqání in Shíráz, they sent the Hamadán files to Ṭihrán, and apparently they were in Ṭihrán until recently. The religious judge of Hamadán was also in Ṭihrán for the past month receiving instructions and special guidance. The day we heard that the files of the Hamadán prisoners had been sent to Ṭihrán, we were very worried, because only the files of those prisoners sentenced to death were to be reviewed and approved by the authorities at the capital. We inquired through the official channels, and we were told that the files of all the prisoners had been ordered to be sent to Ṭihrán, so that local death sentences may not be summarily handed out as in the case of Messrs Anvarí and Dihqání in Shíráz. And we believed them. In March they had taken our friends to court, as they put it, to give them “spiritual guidance” and to force them gently to recant.
One is truly amazed at all this aptitude! How many experiments are
necessary? 138 years? 25,000 martyrs? And experimenting on every one of
them? What can be done, aptitudes are so different. There are differences in
nature. Even after all this time their black hearts pound in the hope of the
moment they can force one of our people to recant, in the hope of the moment
that they can coerce us into the practice of dissimulation with which they have
[Page 17] been brought up. They try every useless strategy, and they bother themselves—
and us!
On that track they had acted with such guile and solicitude that all the families of our prisoners even expected them to be released for Naw-Rúz.[3] They had decked their homes and were expectantly watching the door for their dear ones to come in. When Naw-Rúz passed, and nothing happened, all the hopes turned to despair, and even the new Local Spiritual Assembly was so disturbed that I had to pay a quick visit to them and talk them out of their groundless expectations. What roles we play these days.
On Wednesday the 20th of Khurdád (10 June), when they had gone from the court to take inventory of their property, some well-informed acquaintances told us that the sentence of death had been handed down, and they were awaiting the return of the religious judge. On that same date, at 10 o’clock at night, they were told to gather their belongings in their cell and prepare to go to the revolutionary court. They were prepared. They knew the meaning of all this. All the other prisoners were reduced to tears, and our men were comforting them with smiles on their faces. What wonders! He who is going to face his executioners is the comforter of the onlookers. An hour later the guards came back and said tonight the program is changed. Of course, this kind of activity— taking people to the execution spot and returning them—has been the spice of life for the victims of these courts.
The next day, Thursday, was the usual day of visitation. It was their last visit with their families. They still could not believe it. Their spirits, as ever, were strong, patient, and calm. They were chanting anthems of love and were prepared for every calamity in the path of the Beloved. Friday passed uneventfully. At 10:30 on Saturday night the guards came again and called them to the revolutionary court. This time they needed no time to prepare themselves. They were completely prepared. The other prisoners related that from that morning they were busy with bathing, shaving, pressing their clothes, and making their cell neat and clean. They left with dignity and beauty. They all knew that the altar of love awaited them, and they tried to make themselves seemly even in appearance. The fellow prisoners were once more in tears, but they were happy as they had been two days before—and as they must have been when they faced death. The smiling faces of their blood-stained corpses were a witness to this. Seven bridegrooms, laughing and joyful, leave the place, waving good-bye to the agitated and weeping group of prisoners who had gathered to see them off.
(“And this is by reason of Thine ancient mercy, with which Thou favorest
those servants of Thine whom Thou willest. I swear by Thy might, O God, that
all these calamities are sweeter than any nectar and more pleasing than any delight.
For until the seekers of the Kaaba of reunion have passed the limits of
outer glory, they shall not be gladdened by the manifestation of Thy Beauty;
and until they have quaffed of the cup of total evanescence, they shall not enter
the tabernacle of eternity; and until they have put on the garb of poverty
in the path of Thy good-pleasure, they shall not be honored by Thy resplendent
[Page 18] robe of true wealth; and until they are made sick with the pain of
love, they shall not be enabled to reach Thy healing grace; and until they
pass from this earthly abode, they shall not ascend to their sacred and heavenly
habitation; and until they die in the calamities of endless yearning, they shall
not attain to eternal life; and until they dwell on the dust of abasement, they
shall not find their way to the heavens of glory; and until they taste the poison
of separation, they shall not be nourished by the sweetness of immortality; and
until they traverse the deserts of remoteness and separation, they shall not find
rest in the stations of nearness and reunion”)[4]
Before their departure some friends in the prison tried to telephone their families, but they prevented them, saying: “Let them sleep tonight. Tomorrow they have much to do.” We have no full information of the sequence of events after their departure from the prison. One of the friends happened to be driving on the road leading out of Hamadán to Maláyir—where the Muslim cemetery is located—after 11 p.m. He noticed that armed revolutionary guards had closed the road and were permitting no through traffic. At 2 a.m. their bloody, tortured, and mutilated bodies were dropped off at a small hospital known as Imám Khumeyní hospital. In the morning a Bahá’í nurse at that hospital found out and informed everyone that the great martyrdom had taken place. This is a brief account of the surface of the events. But what is at the core of this heartrending event is the spirit, energy, love, and sacrifice on one side, and the intensity of hatred and hostility on the other. And what is created in our midst with the clash of these opposite states of mind? That is the true reality of the question. It is so vast and so indescribable. It is beyond my powers to express. I only try to give an intimation of it.
The beginning of the problem was ten months ago. In August 1980, ten days before the kidnapping of the members of the National Spiritual Assembly, six of these dear souls: Messrs [Ḥusayn] Muṭlaq, Dr. [Náṣir] Vafá’í, Dr. [Fírúz] Na‘ímí, [Ṭarázu’lláh] Khuzayn, [Ḥusayn] Khándil, and Suhráb Ḥabíbí were arrested and jailed by the Hamadán revolutionary court. In the previous summer also, during June and July of 1979, Messrs Muṭlaq, Khuzayn, and Suhayl Ḥabíbí had been arrested and imprisoned for brief periods lasting from a few days to a month, and released on temporary orders. Drs. Na‘ímí and Vafá’í had also been called in for interrogation. In all these proceedings their interrogator was one of the most prominent members of the Tablíghát-i-Islamí [Propagation of Islam] group and an implacable enemy of the Bahá’í Cause. The accusations brought against them were hiding the files of the Local Spiritual Assembly, membership on the Assembly, efforts to pioneer, and similar charges.
For the second time the above-mentioned six men were arrested on the 9th
and 10th of August 1980. On the 11th they were released with a three-day
pass and asked to surrender themselves at the end of that respite. But immediately
on the 12th, before the expiration of the time allowed, guards broke
into their homes and took them back to prison. Mr. Khándil had just been
elected to the Local Spiritual Assembly at Riḍván of the same year, but his
[Page 19] tireless services in several national and local committees, and the fact that he
was an assistant to the Auxiliary Board were enough pretexts for his arrest.[5]
Again the charges brought against all were the same as in the previous year
but with more emphasis on fundamentals of belief and membership on the
Spiritual Assembly.
The location of their confinement in the summer months was a small cell of about 6 by 7¼ feet, extremely filthy and malodorous, as it was next door to the toilet for the whole prison. There were so many prisoners and so few toilets that an overflow of waste was continuously trickling past their cell door in the corridor. The stench, the heat, all the bugs, and the hardships which they endured in those first days bring to mind the confinement of the Beloved of the worlds in the land of Ṭá.[6] The cell was so small for six persons that they slept by turns. For 137 days in this cell they truly endured trying times with their enormous spiritual strength. But according to the testimony of prisoners in other cells, the loud laughter of Mr. Khuzayn, accompanied by sounds of merriments of others, could often be heard.
During this period they were allowed no Visitors. Only some of the prison guards, who had in the past been the recipients of care and free treatment from Dr. Vafá’í, occasionally brought some news of them to their families. In this whole period, much of which was in the heat of summer, they were not allowed a bath even once. Only rarely when they were let out of their stinking cell into the courtyard they would take their towels to the pool, the quality and cleanliness of whose water needs no description. They would wet the towels in that barely fluid liquid and rub themselves and each other to get some relative relief.
Then they were transferred from the general section of the prison to the
section for political prisoners. All of them were put in a larger cell of approximately
fifteen by eighteen feet. Of course, often one or two additional prisoners
were added to their cell. They were also given rights of visitation from their
families. From that point until their execution they were allowed two visits per
week with their families.[7] Toward the end, the visitors were allowed to spend
the visiting time in their cell. They would all sit around and have a happy
time, while the prisoners prepared tea and served them sweets. No one except
the next of kin was permitted to visit. Several times I wished to see them but the
Local Spiritual Assembly of Hamadán did not deem it wise. Once when even
they approved, and the word got to the prisoners, they warned against it, not
for their own sake—they never thought of their safety—but for my sake. All
during their incarceration they hardly had any thoughts of themselves. Once
the representative of the president of the Islamic Republic went to the prison
for inspection of the prison conditions. He learned of the circumstances of
their arrest and of the charges against them. At the end of an hour-long interview
during which he realized their innocence and was impressed by their
personal qualities and the high level of their knowledge and education, he
[Page 20] asked them what he could do for them. Their response was, “For ourselves we
want nothing, but please find out the whereabouts of the eleven kidnapped
members of our national institutions.”
My contact with them was regular, by telephone or letters. Messages were exchanged via their families, especially through Mrs. Muṭlaq who was both the secretary of the Local Spiritual Assembly and my assistant.
On the 21st of October 1980 Mr. Suhayl Ḥabíbí, who was in Ṭihrán at the time, was arrested by a revolutionary committee and sent to Hamadán. Apparently, they had been after someone else and had arrested him by mistake. They inquired about him from the Hamadán authorities and were told that he was a Bahá’í and that he was wanted there. So he was sent to Hamadán and joined the rest; and, thus, the number seven was completed. What is the hidden meaning in this number seven and its connection with martyrdom?[8]
In February 1981 they were tried at first one by one. Then in mid-March they held a general trial session for all of them. The case prepared against them made it clear that, in reality, it was the Bahá’í Faith that was on trial. They had prepared excellent articles of defense in the prison. At first the Judge of Religious Law thought that they had received aid from outside. When he realized that it was put together in the prison, he asked, “Where did you obtain all these references and documentation?” They had made copious references to Qur’ánic verses in their own defense. They answered, “We have a Qur’án in the prison. We used it.” It is not precisely known whether the court in Hamadán actually issued a sentence or not. Accounts differ. Then we received word that their files had been sent to Ṭihrán. Apparently, they were sent some time in April. On 14 June, after the return of the Hamadán Judge of Religious Law from a month-long trip to Ṭihrán, the sentences of death were carried out.
In the months of their incarceration their demeanor, their knowledge, and
their innocence had captivated all. Everyone who had any contact with them,
be it fellow prisoners or prison guards, had formed bonds of affection with
them. The physicians in the group treated the prison sick. Even the sick family
members of the prison guards used to come to jail to be treated and receive
prescriptions. Their beautiful writing style, especially that of Mr. Muṭlaq, who
had served a long time as the secretary of the Hamadán Local Spiritual Assembly,
and their skill in preparing articles of defense were utilized by the
other prisoners. In truth, they were friends and a refuge for their fellow prisoners.
In the later months they had relative freedom to read and write. Sacred
writings and tablets were sent to them one at a time. They would read and
return them. They studied the whole Kitáb-i-Aqdas.[9] They read these holy
writings together and deepened in the oceans of divine knowledge. They
listened regularly to radio news and kept up with what was happening in the
world. They would even send news and guidance from within the jail to the
Assembly outside and to their families. They would often sit in formal consultation
and make decisions on questions of importance. In the evenings the
[Page 21]
Dr. Náṣir Vafá’í in prison
wardens and prison guards would often sit with them late into the night and
benefit by the wealth of their wisdom and knowledge.
A few months before their death they learned the art of tapestry making
from a prisoner who was a master of that craft. Very quickly they became very
good at it, and each one of them left behind some artistic tapestries. The sensitivity
of their nature was growing each day. What is left of this fleeting
period—the last months of their lives—tells a profound story of the refinement
of their spirits. The tapestries, the necklaces, the beaded bracelets with
the Greatest Name woven in them, all show their refined and nurtured creativity
that had blossomed so quickly and gone through the stages of perfectibility
with such rapidity, so that they arrived at the destination of love
with all that aptitude, refinement, and grace.[10] Outside of jail their multitude
of activities and preoccupations never gave them a chance to manifest their
creativity. It was the similitude of the imprisonment of the Blessed Beauty
that nurtured the refinement of their spirit. The sensibility and sensitivity
manifested itself in a particular way in each one of them. For example, Mr.
Muṭlaq had never written poetry in his life. Only a few months before his
[Page 22] death he began to write verse, and in that short period he wrote some beautiful
poems. Anyone who hears or reads them cannot believe that they have come
from a poetic talent that had only a few months to flower. His wife will
collect these poems so they can show us another sign of the blessings of prison.
The spirit of submission to the will of God and satisfaction with His decree grew stronger in them gradually during the ten months of imprisonment. The changes in them were extremely noticeable—so much so that finally when I was allowed to visit them during the Naw-Rúz holidays this year [1981], I was stunned by the calmness in their faces. About eight months earlier, in the grip of activities of life outside prison, they looked different—active, struggling, impatient, and agitated. And now they were different beings. The serenity of their faces and the signs of submission and satisfaction in the depth of their looks had such an impact that I shall never be able to describe it. I can only say that it was very amazing. It had a profound impact. Waves of a special magnetism radiated from them, such that when I came out of the prison a great attracrion and eagerness to see them again was flaming in my heart. I do not want to liken it to anything—perhaps it was not like anything—but it had a feeling close to that eagerness that consumes one’s being at returning from a pilgrimage to the holy shrines and heightens the desire and the thirst for another pilgrimage. Had I been permitted, I would have gone back to see them that same day; and had I not been worried for them and the consequences of visits from me, I would have managed to get myself to Hamadán for weekly visits afterwards too.
That pull once again took me to their prison a week before their martyrdom. Concerned for them, I had intended not to stay more than half an hour, but the magnetism was beyond imagination. I stayed in their presence—next to them—for two and a half hours. On the blankets, which they had spread on the floor for sitting, I sat next to each one of them; and this time in the span of less than three months between our meetings, I sensed a lifetime of perfecting in their beings. And what was in the depth of their glance shook my very core. I did know what it was. I had never experienced it—experiencing holy beings who are nearing the Source of love. Beings whom Bahá’u’lláh is preparing for the supreme sacrifice—recreating them—like the recreation of Badí, the Pride of the Martyrs.[11]
What shall I say of their state? What shall I say? How should I say it? I thought that this might be my own sensation—coming from a distance as I did. I asked their families and all who had visited them on those last days. They were all agreed that this great transformation could be felt in them. They were so resigned and calm that I could fully see that all of life’s resistance on this earthly planet had been wiped off their existence. Eagerness for flight and for breaking the walls of the prison to reach the altar of love had taken over their whole being.
In the past, before they were imprisoned as well as after that, they sometimes
[Page 23] used to send me messages jokingly, “Ask them when do these events run
their course? Isn’t it enough? Aren’t the calamities coming from six directions
complete?” When I used to laugh in response, or say that no one knows God’s
Will in advance, I could sense impatience in them—or in some of them. But
this time they didn’t even ask. It was obvious that the answer that neither I
nor anyone else knows they knew.
They showed me photographs of themselves that were taken in the prison room, and I saw the smile and serenity on Dr. Vafá’í’s face. I said, “Doctor, you seem very happy and satisfied.” In reply he only laughed, a laughter which was overflowing with this message: “Yes, I am satisfied; and it is I who has reached to this limit of submission and satisfaction with the Will of God.” When you think of the pace of his life and his professional activity on the outside, which sometimes left him little time for sleep, it was easy to see how confinement had affected him in the earlier days. He was very distressed and used to complain often. When he heard news of the martyrdom of the second group in Shíráz—that is, Messrs [Yadu’lláh] Vaḥdat, [Iḥsánu’lláh] Mihdízádih, and [Sattár] Khushkhú—his anxiety and disquiet were heightened—so much so that his wife was very worried. But that evening he had a dream of the Blessed Beauty telling him to recite the Tablet of Fire three times. The next morning he looked frantically for a quiet spot. Where could one find such a place in the prison? Somehow he managed to carry out the command of the Beloved of the worlds. From that day to the end no more signs of anxiety and distress were seen in him.
Oh, how many points and revealing touches of their lives are left. But there is one interesting thing that I cannot omit. On that last day that I saw them the looks of all of them had become the same. It was as if one soul was looking through one eye on the faces of these seven men at our world—with a look of amused disregard for our world—with a world of love for all around them, and with pride and honor in their condition. It was the same glance that kings cast upon small children who are too young to know their station.
With customary love and eagerness they heard the messages of “grandfather” and the “elder brothers.”[12] At the end, when they opened a new box of sweets and offered it to me, I wanted to take nine and carry them to Ṭihrán for the “elder brothers,” but they just took seven for themselves and insisted that I take the whole box. I wish you could taste these sanctified sweets, each one of which had the flavor of love and sacrifice. Of course, we tasted their enjoyment in lieu of all of you.
As for what transpired on Sunday, the 14th of June 1981—that awesome day that the kids say reminds one of Karbilá—it needs a special narration and description.[13]
At nine in the morning word got out that there were seven bodies in the
morgue of Imám Khumeyní hospital. A Bahá’í woman who worked in that
hospital gave out the news. Instantly, anxiety spread to all the families. They
rushed to see for themselves and informed others. It was true. The tragedy had
[Page 24] taken place. Their bloody bodies had been dropped on the floor on top of
each other. At a glance one could easily see the intensity of hatred, cruelty,
and desecration that had been inflicted on their innocent and lifeless bodies.
Around their corpses money was strewn—dropped by Muslims who had come
by earlier and seen them—in atonement for the sins of their fellow Muslims.
What was truly tragic was their tortured, mangled, and torn bodies. In one
hour there was the commotion of the Last Day. It is not clear how everyone
heard the news, including the town populace. Several thousand people—except
for a few hundred Bahá’ís, the rest were Muslim townspeople—gathered at
the hospital. The hospital grounds were filled. They closed the gates. But people
were still coming and, unable to enter the hospital, stood watching through
the fence posts.
Inside the hospital courtyard a different world was unfolding. No one was in control. Whatever was happening was taking place without any plans. In every corner a crowd had gathered around a Bahá’í and with sorrow were asking the reason for this tragedy. Mrs. Muṭlaq, who just like her martyred husband is a pride of our community, stepped on a platform and addressed the crowd. She spoke of the innocence of the victims, of the inhuman hatred visited upon them, and of the greatness of the aims for which they had given their lives. Right now she herself does not recall exactly everything that she said; but the intense impact of the moment had transformed her into a volcano. Without premeditation she had cried out and proclaimed and affected the crowd. (Three nights later the Judge of Religious Law of Hamadán in a television interview decried the “incitement of public opinion by a Bahá’í woman.”
The Bahá’í youth raised their voices in cries of “Alláh-u-Abhá.” At first some non-Bahá’ís responded with cries of “Alláh-u-Akbar”; but then there were only the calls of “Alláh-u-Abhá,” which were shouted in unison by Bahá’ís and non-Bahá’ís. Yá Bahá’u’l-Abhá! What signs and what power there are in this martyrdom; and what grandeur in the triumph of Thy Greatest Name over all other of Thy names and attributes![14]
The friends asked the hospital for an ambulance to carry the bodies to the Bahá’í cemetery. They were refused. They telephoned the mayor and told him that if an ambulance was not provided they would carry the bodies overhead to the cemetery, one by one. When they saw the resolve of the friends, they ordered an ambulance to be provided. Some non-Bahá’ís who were at the scene —including some police officials—were suggesting not to move the bodies right away. They said let them remain on public view so that the extent of the tragedy would become clear to everyone. But there was no need. The curious people of Hamadán had heard the news with unbelievable speed and had come of their own to witness.
Finally, an ambulance was provided. It was a dilapidated old vehicle with
all windows broken and the back gate glass missing. It was their way of adding
[Page 25] another humiliation. But the result was that all along the way thousands of
people could clearly see into the glassless windows of the vehicle and be witnesses
to the extent of the cruelty and oppression inflicted upon those innocent
bodies. The crushed arm and the skinned fingers of Ḥusayn Khandíl were the
first sight that could be seen by anyone looking in. The ambulance driver was
ordered to drive at full speed, but the Bahá’í youth courageously placed themselves
in front and demanded that it move slowly, in pace with the pedestrian
followers. After a short distance the density of the crowd became so great that
there was a virtual standstill from time to time. Several thousands had joined
the mourners. The pace was slowed to the point that the distance that normally
takes ten minutes was covered in two and a half hours. The traffic along
the path came to a stop, and there was no other movement except the vast
throng accompanying the ambulance. In the early stages the police showed
up to control the traffic and, realizing there was nothing they could do, withdrew
from the scene. Some Bahá’í youth had climbed on top of the ambulance
and were chanting “Alláh-u-Abhá” and “Subbúhun, Quddúsun, Rabbiná wa
Rabb-il-Malá’ikatí war-Rúh,” and the crowd joined them![15] Such a grand
caravan. Such an amazing caravan. What was happening? Thousands of non-Bahá’ís
were joining voices with the few Bahá’ís in that great tumult, calling
out the Greatest Name. They would quickly learn the call of “Subbúhun, Quddúsun”
from the Bahá’ís and join in it. These calls and these cries filled the
streets of Hamadán and were carried in waves toward Mount Alvand.[16] On
that day as I was rushing to share everything with my beloved community
of Hamadán, there was such a storm raging within me that when I caught
sight of that defiant mountain of hard stone I addressed it: “O Alvand, how is
it that you stand so stolid and motionless and watch these tragedies at your
foot?” That instant when the majestic waves of the Greatest Name reached her
slopes, however, I felt how downcast and insignificant the mountain is before
this great drama.
The great caravan arrived at the Gulistán-i-Jávíd, which is just outside the
city.[17] They took the bodies to the washing room; but the crowd, excited and
anxious to witness, pressed on. The windowpanes of the room were broken
in the rush. The Bahá’í youth clasped hands and formed a human chain around
the room and somehow convinced the crowd to enter the room two by two
and see the handiwork of their fellow townsmen—the ones with the hearts of
stone and souls full of hatred and fanaticism. In this way, hundreds came in
two by two and witnessed the tortured and desecrated bodies of the Bahá’ís who
had given their pure blood on the path of establishment of the world order of
Bahá’u’lláh. They saw and left and related what they had seen to others. The
burial rites were not yet ended when everyone in the city, young and old,
knew what had been done to their innocent townsmen who had lived a life of
[Page 26] service to their fellows. Some even added stories of their own making to what
they had heard. Those who personally knew these sanctified beings, who had
some knowledge of all the service that they had rendered to the people of
this land, their cries of lamentation were loudest. It was like Judgment Day.
How did it all happen? How had the powerful hand of God, Who had admitted
these seven loving and sacrificed angels to His heaven of sanctity, decreed
the design of this event?
Damage to the bodies was extensive. The sum of all evidence indicated that they had been tortured in front of each other in order to force them to recant their faith. It also seemed that shots might have been fired for the sake of appearances after they were already dead. The rib cage of Mr. Khuzayn, that essence of loyalty and joy, was completely crushed. The middle of his chest was cut with a sharp instrument, and his arms were broken to a pulp. Ḥusayn Khándil, that brave, active, noble young man, had the fingers of his left hand mangled and skinned. On his abdomen, a piece about 5 x 5 inches was cut off by knife and was missing. It was said that it must have been done to destroy the scar of a deep burn. Dr. Násir Vafá’í, that dearly loved physician whose kindness to the poor was well-known in all of Hamadán, and who was a model of gentleness and Bahá’í character—his thighs were cut into shreds, and on his back were deep lacerations. The arm of Suhayl Ḥabíbí, that indomitable knight of the Cause of God, whose command of the Qura’nic verses and courage in teaching were admired by all, was splintered. It was heard that he had raised that hand in protest against the dastardly assaults of the murderers, and they had crushed it. The strong face of Dr. Fírúz Na‘ímí, the much-loved chairman of the Assembly and the tireless servant of the community, was covered with blood; he must have died of bleeding from cuts and mutilations in the lower part of his body. There was a burnt scar in the shape of an iron clearly visible on the back of Suhráb Ḥabíbí, that pure reflection of service. And there were nine bullet holes, shot from different directions, on the chest, back, and groin of Ḥusayn Muṭlaq, that embodiment of spirit and lover of the Cause.
In contrast to all these severe wounds on their bodies, their faces were calm, beautiful, and smiling. As if in those moments of torture the True Beloved had unveiled in their sight such effulgences of His limitless realms that they had experienced neither pain nor been conscious of their wounds. Instead, they had ascended in joy and eagerness, radiant and smiling. They had been the proof of these words of the Beloved of the world: “The heads of Thy lovers seek the taut ropes, and the necks of Thy seekers await the cutting swords. Their breasts, luminous with passion and eagerness, long for the venomous darts. Deadly poison is sweeter to Thy lovers than the draught of eternal life, and mortal wounds are more pleasing than the sweetest nectar.”[18]
The members of the Spiritual Assembly, with the help of the youth, washed
the bodies and recited the prayer for the dead over each one separately. The
friends [the Bahá’ís] recited the prayers in unison and in full voice. The non-Bahá’ís,
who were completely overwhelmed by the grandeur and sanctity of
[Page 27]
The Seven Martyrs of Hamadán: Standing, left to right; Ḥusayn Khándil, Dr. Náṣir Vafá’í, Suhráb Ḥabíbí, Dr. Fírúz Na‘ímí, Ṭarázu’lláh Khuzayn. Kneeling, left to right, Suhayl Ḥabíbí, Ḥusayn Muṭlaq.
the atmosphere, joined in the repeated litany of the prayer. This huge crowd
of non-Bahá’ís who, together with their Bahá’í townsmen were recording these
solemn rites in the history of Hamadán, were hungry and thirsty but did not
abandon our friends until sunset.
At three in the afternoon the third body had just been interred when nature too was moved in protest against this injustice. A sudden and strong wind filled the air with dust, and then large drops of rain mixed with dust and mud fell upon the ground. The reaction of the non-Bahá’í crowd was amazing and loud. They were saying that the sky too is heaping dust on its head[19] and crying tears. When the storm passed, the rites were resumed. The last body was that of Mr. Khuzayn. Hours had passed, and that enormous crowd had gone without food and drink since the morning and were tired. Some people moved to leave, but someone cried out: “This last one had no children to commit him to earth. Let us stay and act as his children.” Everyone stayed. The prayer for the last martyr was said. Still everyone remained silent and motionless. A few Bahá’ís stood on a platform and expressed their love and gratitude to the people and said that these men gave their lives to make the oneness of humanity possible. Finally, they were requested with love and thanks to leave the Gulistán-i-Jcvíd at 6 p.m.
[Page 28]
Oh, how tremendous was that day! May the Eternal Beauty grant enlightenment
to these good but unaware servants of His to know Him, so that
as they shared in our sorrow they may also share with us in His portions of
Divine bounty and grace. Such an atmosphere there was on that day, and such
spirituality. Three years ago when I first came as their Auxiliary Board member,
the friends were saying this town is dead; it’s choked. Its people are
fanatical. It has no spirit at all. And today, what life! What air of love and
emotion! How the pure spirits of the seven martyrs have conquered this city
with the armies of life and holiness!
The seven sanctified bodies of the martyrs of Hamadán in the year 138 [B.E.] were laid to rest forever in adjoining graves by the wall, under the shade of trees, as they had slept together on the ground of the prison for more than ten months. And their great souls have soared in the limitless spaces of the worlds of God, have entered the Divine rose garden, and sat upon the thrones of might and glory.
This great event did not end on that day. Its repercussions were evident for days afterwards. Everything connected with this event had a measure of distinction, some of which I will try to summarize:
1) The stature of these seven men, their educational attainments, their philanthropic and community services, their good character and demeanor were well known in Hamadán among Bahá’ís and non-Bahá’ís.
2) The cruelty of their death had no parallel except in the annals of the Heroic Age of our Faith.
3) The participation of non-Bahá’ís in the funeral procession and the burial rites and the level of their sympathy were unprecedented.
4) The proclamation of the Faith in front of thousands of townspeople was something that had not occurred on that level in Iran.
5) The energy and stirring activity of the friends, particularly the youth, was something to behold. For three days they suspended all their normal activities and coordinated everything with model organization and efficiency; and they were proud to have a share in the work of those days.
6) The complete guidance and command of the Local Spiritual Assembly of Hamadán over the cares and concerns of that tumultuous day was truly inspiring. They were involved in everything, including the washing of the bodies, without any food or drink. It was nearly 7 p.m. when they returned from the cemetery, and from 8 p.m. into the night they held a session of the Assembly. Mr. Qíyámí, our Auxiliary Board member in Kirmánsháh, and I were with them and could see their wisdom and decisiveness in planning for the days ahead.
7) The impact of this event in arousing the curiosity and sympathy of the people of Hamadán was so great, and it gave rise to such a wave of indignation, that four days after the event the Judge of Religious Law in Hamadán felt compelled to appear on television for eighty minutes to justify the killing of the Bahá’ís. He had to resort to such specious arguments and spurious evidence that bore nothing but further disgrace for him and his cohorts.
8) And, finally, but no less significant than the above points, was the
behavior of the close kin and immediate families of the martyrs. One feels
humble before these mountains of faith and fortitude. These amazing people
endured that storm with an awe-inspiring strength. There were no tears in the
[Page 29] eyes of the wives and children; and not a word was heard from them except
in thankfulness. Most of them had smiles on their faces, and it was they who
were giving solace and comfort to others. Visitors and strangers who approached
them crying and disconsolate were stunned by their serenity, dignity,
contentment, and pride.
For the last ten months I was a witness to the tremendous spirit of these families. While their husbands were in jail, most of the wives were elected to the Local Spiritual Assembly and were busy serving the community. Mrs. Khuzayn, Na‘ímí, Muṭlaq, and Vafá’í were on that Assembly as well as the older brother of Suhayl and Suhráb Ḥabíbí, who happened to be the father-in-law of Mr. Khándil as well. The Bahá’í community of Hamadán was truly fortunate in having the leadership of this Assembly. They were a source of courage and strength for everyone. I shall never be able to describe adequately their spiritual strength. While they were under so much pressure, oppression, and separation, not for a moment did they flinch from service. Only on visitation days their time was dedicated to being in prison with their dear ones. Their role in encouragement and uplifting the spirits of their husbands and preparing them for attaining the highest degrees of human development was extremely important. Often after these visits, the men in prison felt, as they put it jokingly, that they “came up owing something.” When I think of these heroic souls and their amazing behavior, I am reminded of the ringing, opening salutation of the beloved Guardian’s letter to the Bahá’ís of Iran on Naw-Rúz of 113 [B.E.]. I ardently wish to sacrifice myself for them, and repeat in my heart: “Blessings be upon you, a thousand blessings be upon you, glory and spirit be with you, . . . glad tidings and praise be upon you.”[20]
These dear souls [the family members] also went through difficult stages of
tests and development. I remember many occasions when they were worried
about the final moments when the outcome of the tests would be made manifest.
Day and night they were praying to Bahá’u’lláh, pleading for strength and
staunchness for their dear ones. Such awful anxiety gripped them. But after the
martyrdoms I saw how calm and relieved they became. It was as if their heavy
responsibility had come to an end at that moment. In some of them this calm
and happiness at the successful outcome of the tests was even greater than
the sorrow of loss and separation. The friends who reached the hospital early
that morning when the bodies were still piled on the floor of the morgue,
related that one of the wives arrived with terrible anxiety and uncontrollably
ran to the body of her beloved husband, lifted his face and for a few moments
looked silently at the smile with which he had hurried to the eternal realm,
and then addressed him aloud, with a smile on her own face, “Thank you, my
dear one.” From that moment on she has not shed a drop of tears. She greets
the guests who come to offer her condolences with such joy and pride as if she
and her family have received the greatest gift. Yet I know how close were the
bonds of love between that husband and wife and how utterly alone she is
now. One truly feels humble before these women. The rest are much the same.
[Page 30] They act as if an endless treasure has been bestowed upon them. They are full
of life and activity, and they leave everyone amazed at their enormous fortitude.
And the children are the same. I did not see any of them crying or not appreciating the significance of their father’s sacrifice. The ten-year-old son of Mr. Khándil was consoling his desolate and crying grandmother by saying, “Why all this crying, Grandma? Don’t you know that the breast of the Báb [the Gate, the Prophet-Forerunner of the Bahá’í Faith] was riddled by 750 bullets? Father received only a few.” And I have heard this comparison from the children of the martyrs in other cities too. The week before their execution when I went to see these friends in Hamadán, I heard that the mother of one of them, who had raised her son with much suffering and hardship, was extremely agitated and in distress. I went to see her. She recounted the sad tale of troubles and difficulties that she had endured in bringing him up; but I found the root of her anxiety in her last sentence: “All that is not important. I fear the dread of the test. I am worried about the terror of wavering.” I felt ashamed within myself for not recognizing the strength of her faith, for thinking that her worry was for separation from her son. After the executions I did not see her crying either. What shall I say, and what can I write of the superhuman strength of those men who gave their lives, and of their families whose feat was no less than theirs.
Commemorative meetings were held for three days in the seven homes of the martyrs. Large groups of people from Hamadán and from other towns came to partake of that spiritual feast. The non-Bahá’í friends were extremely distressed. In the streets and in the marketplace they took many opportunities to express their sympathy and their abhorrence of the executions. On the third day the bazaar merchants stated that they had closed their shops in honor of the seven dead men. The Hamadán Bazaar was, of course, semiclosed for some days earlier for other political reasons. But the very fact that they announced the cause of full closure to be the death of seven respected Bahá’í townsmen, and that most of them spent that third day in the homes of Bahá’í martyrs, showed the extent of their care and kindness.
As for our Bahá’í community in Hamadán—a community that was badly buffeted in the early days of the revolution—the Bahá’ís in its neighboring villages were attacked by mobs and driven away, homes and belongings were burned, some were forced to recant, all Assemblies in the neighboring communities were dissolved, survivors were packed into the city, in the care of the Hamadán Assembly, itself beset by such disorders and dislocations—now, after the sacrifice of its seven heroes, is a firm and strong community. The youth, with heads held high and a magnificent spirit, are ready to become worthy successors of the ones lost. All the Bahá’ís are keenly aware of the blessings that have been allotted to them. The sanctified blood of those noble men has helped to bring about a new creation. It appears that a new era has dawned in Hamadán. The pages of its history have turned. Those who survive are prepared to play their part in the establishment of the new world order of Bahá’u’lláh.
On the fourth day, three of the wives took flowers and sweets to the prison.
First, they went to the warden’s office and thanked him and his staff for
having cared for their loved ones for more than ten months. In that meeting
it was the prison officials who were full of remorse and tears and who told
[Page 31] many stories of the humanity and gentleness of character of their charges.
Then the women asked permission to visit the fellow prisoners of their husbands.
Full of tenderness, they distributed sweets and flowers among the men
who had shared prison with their husbands. With that act the special duties
of those noble servants of Bahá’u’lláh came an an end. Some brilliant new
pages were added to the glorious history of our Cause in its formative age.
How glorious are these times, and how noble are these heroes, nurtured by
His blessed Cause, who create such grandeur. “Blessings be upon you. A
thousand blessings be upon you. Glad tidings upon you . . . and blessings
upon those who emulate your example.”[21]
I shall end these pages with a prayer of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, which the Local Spiritual Assembly of Hamadán recommended and offered for the families of the martyrs and all the Bahá’ís of Hamadán in those days. Perhaps you can find our feelings and our hopes in these precious words:
“O one and only God, O matchless Creator. Praised and glorified art Thou for having placed this splendid crown upon the brow of these helpless ones, and this mantle of eternal glory on the shoulders of these indigent ones. The rays of Thy sanctity fell upon bodies of clay and the lights of the world of eternity shone forth. A flame of Thy bestowal from the enkindled fire appeared and gave the hearts eternal life. Thanks be to Thee for this blessing and this bestowal and this bounty with which Thou hast distinguished these helpless ones. Thou art the Generous, the Merciful and the All-Loving. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá ‘Abbás.”[22]
May I be offered up for all of you,
- ↑ A prayer by Bahá’u’lláh from a collection entitled “The Exalted Words,” translated by the Universal House of Justice.—TRANS.
- ↑ On every continent a number of outstanding Bahá’ís are appointed as Counselors to the community. They are helped in their work by Auxiliary Board members, who perform duties of instruction and encouragement and who work in close cooperation with Local Spiritual Assemblies, local governing bodies of Bahá’í communities.—TRANS.
- ↑ Naw-Rúz is the ancient Iranian festival of spring and the new year. It is also the new year in the Bahá’í calendar.—TRANS.
- ↑ A passage from the writings of Bahá’u’lláh, translated by the Universal House of Justice—TRANS.
- ↑ Auxiliary Board members are aided in their work by assistants.
- ↑ Bahá’u’lláh’s imprisonment in the Síyáh-Chál, or Black Pit, in Ṭihrán, in 1852.—TRANS.
- ↑ Approximately six months later.—TRANS.
- ↑ On many occasions in the last 138 years Bábís and Bahá’ís have been put to death in groups of seven.—TRANS.
- ↑ Bahá’u’lláh’s Most Holy Book, the principal book of the Bahá’í Faith.—TRANS.
- ↑ The phrase “Yá Bahá’u’l-Abhá” (O Thou the Glory of the Most Glorious), referred to as the Greatest Name, is formed into a distinctive design by stylized calligraphy.—TRANS.
- ↑ Badí, a heedless seventeen-year-old youth of no previous accomplishment, was entrusted by Bahá’u’lláh with the task of delivering His message to Náṣiri’d-Dín Sháh. He was so spiritually transformed by this trust that he radiantly accepted torture and death at the fulfillment of it.—TRANS.
- ↑ Code words for the Universal House of Justice and the National Spiritual Assembly.—TRANS.
- ↑ Karbilá, a plain in the Mesopotamian desert where Imám Ḥusayn and his followers were martyred in the year 680 A.D.—TRANS.
- ↑ Alláh-u-Abhá (God is Most Glorious) is a variant of the Greatest Name used as a greeting by Bahá’ís. Yá Bahá’u’l-Abhá (O Thou Glory of Glories!) is another form of the Greatest Name used by Bahá’ís. Alláh-u-Akbar (God is the Most Great) is the traditional invocation used by Muslims.—TRANS.
- ↑ The latter phrase, meaning “Exalting, Sanctifying, our Lord and the Lord of Angels and Spirits” was a cry sounded by some of the early believers as they met their martyrdom.—TRANS.
- ↑ Mt. Alvand is an imposing peak more than sixteen thousand feet high that towers over the city of Hamadán.—TRANS.
- ↑ “The Eternal Rose Garden” is the name by which all Bahá’í cemeteries are called in Persian.—TRANS.
- ↑ From the writings of Bahá’u’lláh, translated by the Universal House of Justice.—TRANS.
- ↑ The traditional gesture of mourning.—TRANS.
- ↑ Translated by the Universal House of Justice. Shoghi Effendi was appointed by ‘Abdu’l-Bahá (the son of Bahá’u’lláh) to be the Guardian of the Cause of God, in which capacity he served from 1921 until his death in 1957.—TRANS.
- ↑ Shoghi Effendi to the Bahá’ís of Iran, Naw-Rúz 113 B.E., translated by the Universal House of Justice—TRANS.
- ↑ A prayer by ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, translated by the Universal House of Justice.—TRANS.
3. Letter From Zhínús Maḥmúdí to Her Three Children, 7 June 1981
MY children, my Nana, Mona, and Tini,
How long is it since I wrote you last? Of course you will forgive me, for Bahá’u’lláh has occupied all my time. Although I am negligent before you, I am proud, too, that my insignificant being and my worthless time, which in those days used to be evaluated with money, is now spent in activities the value of which can never be measured in money and gold.
How I wish I could sit with you awhile and relate to you what is happening and how we are—relating things that sometimes cannot be put into words. And how I wish you could come and, even for a few moments, experience our life with us. . . . Well, my dear children, we are living through inestimable days that produce astonishing feelings in us. This strange life that you cannot count on to last from one minute to the next. Those instances when you step out of the house, and you have to be very alert because you don’t know what plans they have in store for you. Those long hours that you sit in meetings with the National Spiritual Assembly or the Board members and assistants, and you never know if the meeting will reach its natural conclusion or not, but you are totally oblivious to the world, to all those amazing events that occur all around us.[1]
The new creation that has come into being among the followers of His Greatest Name [Bahá’ís] in this land of calamities—and it is very, very new— altogether are not the same people who were before. They have no resemblance to others around them. With faces calm or cheerful, their heads are held high with the pride of the sacrifices of their fathers or sons, and with the pride of suffering hardship for the sake of the Ancient Beauty [Bahá’u’lláh] and in His Name. They laugh when they receive their dismissal notices from their jobs while their whole livelihood depends on that paycheck at the end of the month.
I am not able to describe to you these conditions in one or two or even a hundred pages. There were those who were so remote that we didn’t know them; we didn’t even count on them. But now they affirm their attachment to the Name of the Blessed Beauty with joy and celebration. There were a couple almost at the point of breaking up because the wife was not dismissed from her job and the husband thought that she had failed to state her Faith explicitly. But all was well, and they made up when her expulsion order finally arrived.
They are so prepared that if everything they have is taken from them, they
still smile and go on creating a new epic. Our small children, our flourishing
[Page 33]
Zhínús and Húshang Maḥmúdí
youth, our men and women—each and every one is a hero. It is only in these
days that you can see with your eyes the grandeur of Bahá’u’lláh’s education,
and see the contrast between the people who are created and nurtured and
perfected by Him, and those who have not had a share of His Holy Fragrance.
How different they are! The more difficult things get and the greater hardships
become, the greater is the sense of the grandeur of the Faith, and the patience
and fortitude of these wonderful servants, and the deeper their love.
You should see the solidarity and the concord that exists among us today. With all the difficulties I really wish that you could be here and experience these feelings yourselves; then you could almost touch the purpose of Bahá’u’lláh’s manifestation. You could become acquainted with this new generation that must construct the future civilization of the world.
At the end of this past week I was with the prisoners in Hamadán for two
and a half hours—right there in their jail cell.[2] The thing that you never
sense at all is the existence of the jail itself. It seemed to me that I was at the
best and most cheerful party. And how long they had been there! I cannot
write everything, and anyway with pen and paper it is impossible to describe
all those feelings that come over you. In their calm and smiling faces there
was nothing but the surging of waves of contentment and submission to His
Will. You could not believe that they were in prison. Their cell was neat and
clean. Their bedrolls were all tied up and gathered against the walls. They
spread their blankets on the floor for me to sit on. They offered me sweets,
tea. They showed me their handicraft creations over which they had labored
and made with so much art and delicacy. You cannot believe so much art and
beauty from people who, when they were outside, had not a moment for such
things. Then you ask yourself, what kind of thoughts and feelings can give
[Page 34] birth to such beauty, except serene thoughts and rarefied and beautiful feelings.
Their whole being is replete with love—love for their Beloved and love for
people—the very people who show nothing these days except harshness and
cruelty. It is as if such people had been transformed and only wanted to kill,
to destroy.
Ah, those Hamadán friends—may I offer up my life for all of them, for every one of them, for all their heroism and sacrifice that has set forward the Cause by two hundred years. How I feel insignificant before the greatness of their being. It is the fruit of their lives that has brought about such changes in the world. I and the likes of me on the outside run around, doing the same things we did before. It’s no feat. The heroic feats belong to them, and to those whom we have not seen yet and don’t even know their whereabouts, but whose existence we sense. You may have difficulty understanding this sentence, because I am sure you have not experienced this sensation. But I, my dear children, sense that Daddy exists.[3] Daddy is right around, close by. I sense his existence with a sixth sense, or seventh, or tenth, I don’t know; but he exists. And the rest of them, too, I sense their being. Sometimes I even seem to sense whether on that day they are well and happy or they are in discomfort. I feel that today Daddy is very tired of waiting. I feel they are saying to themselves, why is nothing happening? Why is there no news from anyone? Why doesn’t their waiting come to an end so they can go back to their tasks?
Sometimes I feel that my turn will come too—and why not? It won’t come only if at other times too I should be spared by His Will, as I have been so far. But then, I don’t dwell on such thoughts. They don’t fit in with my difficult and heavy schedule. When that time comes, I’ll adjust myself to it. My feelings, dear children, are complete submission and total dedication. Only one thing counts: to do the work that I must do. And what pleasure is hidden in these tasks, this, too, I cannot really describe for you. Nor can you truly comprehend it, because I, too, had not tasted it until now; and I only wish that He not take this pleasure away from me as long as I am alive. It is higher than kingship—greater than any gratification. You are working with Bahá’u’lláh, and you sense His Being, and you see that it is He Who gives the commands, He Who chooses the paths and Who solves the difficulties, and never leaves me alone.
My dear children, I don’t want to write you more about these matters. I
only want you to know that I lack nothing. There is no sorrow—absolutely
no difficulties. I am content, well, fortunate, assured, serene, full of energy,
and thankful. Whatever should happen, there could be nothing better. I am
sure your Daddy, too, has the same feeling. Many people feel this way today.
I wish that you, too, could comprehend our joys. When I am so full of contentment,
[Page 35] then I am afraid—afraid that my call for working, serving, and
sacrifice may come to an end and my portion be filled. My children, with your
pure hearts pray that what He has given us with His bounty He not take away
with His justice. Don’t you ever think that what has passed with us (or will
come to pass, the grandeur and the intensity of which I sense—and its dread)
was a hardship or an unbearable pressure. No, it’s just the opposite. He has
removed all the pressures from us. He has lightened us so much that we can
soar. And right now we are prepared to endure a hundred times more. Only
pray that we may be worthy to endure.
I love you. The desire to see you—which is an unattainable desire now— whenever it comes over me, it makes my whole being tremble. Who knows, maybe it can happen some day. Every night and morning I say special prayers for you; and this selfishness is my only selfishness. . . .
- ↑ The National Spiritual Assembly is the national governing body of the Bahá’ís in a given country. On each continent a number of outstanding Bahá’ís are appointed as Counselors to the country. They are helped in their work by Auxiliary Board members and their assistants, who perform duties of instruction and encouragement and who work in close cooperation with Local Spiritual Assemblies, local governing bodies of Bahá’í communities.—TRANS.
- ↑ The prisoners were tortured and executed six days after this letter was written, bringing to an end some ten months of imprisonment. A lengthy account of the imprisonment, death, and burial of the seven men can be found on pages 14-31.—TRANS.
- ↑ Mrs. Maḥmúdí’s husband, Húshang Maḥmúdí, was one of the members of the National Spiritual Assembly of Iran arrested on 21 August 1980. His whereabouts are still unknown, and he is presumed dead. Mrs. Maḥmúdí was elected to the subsequent National Spiritual Assembly. She was arrested on 13 December 1981 and executed on 27 December 1981. On 25 May 1982 Mr. and Mrs. Maḥmúdí’s daughter, Ramna Mahmoudi Nourani, testified before the Subcommittee on Human Rights and International Organizations of the Foreign Affairs Committee of the United States House of Representatives about the persecution of her family and friends. See “An Eyewitness Account,” World Order, 16, No. 3 (Spring 1982), 26-30.—TRANS.
We Are One
- I taste your blood in my mouth
- and the fragrance of your last breaths
- in my nostrils
- My limbs ache with your torture
- Your eyes gaze through mine
- giving me new sight
- My heart is cracking, bursting
- Your mouths become my voice
- and we cry
- OUT
- and we cry
- Hear us, O world
- There is no silence in the grave.
—Sheila Banani
The Human Soul: A Bahá’í Perspective
BY RAYMOND JEFFORDS
THE SACRED WRITINGS of the Bahá’í
Faith contain a wealth of new information
on the nature of the soul. Yet Bahá’u’lláh,
founder of the Bahá’í Faith, reaffirms its
ultimate mystery: “Know, verily, that the
soul is a sign of God, a heavenly gem whose
reality the most learned of men hath failed
to grasp, and whose mystery no mind, however
acute, can ever hope to unravel.”[1]
One’s inability to understand the inmost reality of the soul, however, should not deter him from investigating its powers and attributes. For example, one need not possess total understanding of such commonplace realities as electricity or gravity to use them effectively. Even the least educated use these powers to accomplish personal goals with ease. Far greater rewards await those who seek to understand the nature, powers, and attributes of the human soul. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá writes that “As the comprehender cannot be comprehended, man cannot know himself in reality or essence. In order to obtain knowledge of any reality, or soul of man, the student must study the manifestations, qualities, names and characteristics of man.” As to the inmost reality of the soul, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá continues: “This much can be stated, that the reality of man is a pure and unknown essence constituting a depository, emanating from the Light of the Ancient Entity— God.”[2]
The Rational Soul
AN INVESTIGATION of the soul may begin with one of its most fundamental characteristics —its power to impart physical life to the body of man: “By soul we mean that power which is the mover of this physical body which is entirely under its control and lives in accordance with its dictates.”[3] The concept of animating power or force is called “spirit” in the terminology of the Bahá’í sacred writings. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá identifies five aspects or degrees of spirit: the vegetable spirit, the animal spirit, the human spirit, the spirit of faith, and the Holy Spirit.
From its earliest beginnings the human organism shows evidence of the first two degrees of spirit—the vegetative spirit, characterized by the power of growth, and the animal spirit, characterized by the power of sense perception. Also present from the beginning is the third degree of spirit—the human spirit—characterized by intellect or understanding. The full measure of this third degree of spirit, however, is revealed gradually over many years. Its presence in the human embryo is hidden—just as the tree is hidden in the seed. In due time, with proper nurturing, the tree becomes manifest and evident.
The human spirit is unique to man and sets him apart from everything else in creation.
- Like the animal, man possesses the faculties of the senses, is subject to heat, cold, hunger, thirst, etc.; unlike the animal, man [Page 38]
has a rational soul, the human intelligence.[4]
- Intellect is, in truth, the most precious gift bestowed upon man by the Divine Bounty. Man alone, among created beings, has this wonderful power.[5]
A soul that displays evidence of the first three degrees of spirit (that is, growth, perception, and understanding) is described by ‘Abdu’l-Bahá as a “rational soul” or “human spirit”: “The human spirit which distinguishes man from the animal is the rational soul, and these two names—the human spirit and the rational soul—designate one thing.”[6]
The rational soul possesses remarkable powers and dominates the world of nature:
- All creation, preceding Man, is bound by the stern law of nature. The great sun, the multitudes of stars, the oceans and seas, the mountains, the rivers, the trees, and all animals, great or small—none is able to evade obedience to nature’s law. Man alone has freedom, and, by his understanding or intellect, has been able to gain control of and adapt some of those natural laws to his own needs.[7]
- The natural law for men is to walk on the earth, but he makes ships and flies in the air! He is created to live on dry land, but he rides on the sea and even travels under it! He has learnt to control the power of electricity, and he takes it at his will and imprisons it in a lamp! The human voice is made to speak across short distances, but man’s power is such that he has made instruments and can speak from East to West! All these examples show you how man can govern nature, and how, as it were, he wrests a sword from the hand of nature and uses it against herself.[8]
It is the power of intellect, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá writes, that distinguishes man from the animal.
- The animal possesses no power of ideation or conscious intelligence; it is a captive of the senses and deprived of that which lies beyond them.[9]
- Briefly, in the powers which animals and men have in common, the animal is often the more powerful. For example, let us take the power of memory. If you carry a pigeon from here to a distant country, and there set it free, it will return, for it remembers the way. Take a dog from here to the center of Asia, set him free, and he will come back here and never once lose the road. So it is with the other powers such as hearing, sight, smell, taste and touch. Thus it is clear that if there were not in man a power different from any of those of the animals, the latter would be superior to man in inventions and the comprehension of realities. Therefore, it is evident that man has a gift which the animal does not possess. Now, the animal perceives sensible things but does not perceive intellectual realities. For example, that which is within the range of its vision the animal sees, but that which is beyond the range of sight it is not possible for it to perceive, and it cannot imagine it. So it is not possible for the animal to understand that the earth has the form of a globe. But man from known things proves unknown things and discovers unknown truths.[10]
- The reality of man is his thought, not his material body. . . . Although man is part of the animal creation, he possesses a power [Page 39]
of thought superior to all other created beings.[11]
- God’s greatest gift to man is that of intellect, or understanding.[12]
The Bahá’í writings attach so much importance to the soul’s power of intellect that we might wonder if intellect and soul are the same thing. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá explains that the powers of the intellect, or mind, are among the inherent properties of the rational soul:
- Now concerning mental faculties, they are in truth of the inherent properties of the soul, even as the radiation of light is the essential property of the sun. . . . It is through the power of the soul that the mind comprehendeth, imagineth and exerteth its influence, whilst the soul is a power that is free. The mind comprehendeth the abstract by the aid of the concrete, but the soul hath limitless manifestations of its own. The mind is circumscribed, the soul limitless. . . . The mind, moreover, understandeth not whilst the senses have ceased to function, and in the embryonic stage and in early infancy the reasoning power is totally absent, whereas the soul is ever endowed with full strength. In short, the proofs are many that go to show that despite the loss of reason, the power of the soul would still continue to exist.[13]
For the vegetable, animal, or human spirit to be manifest in the material world there must be a physical intermediary. It would be difficult, if not impossible, for us to comprehend the vegetable spirit—the power of growth—without the intermediary of physical plants and vegetation. In the same way, the mental powers require the existence of the human brain to be manifest in this world: “For the mind to manifest itself, the human body must be whole; and a sound mind cannot be but in a sound body. . . .”[14] Yet the brain, although serving as an intermediary, does not contain the mind; neither does the human body contain the soul.
- The temple of man is like unto a mirror, his soul is as the sun, and his mental faculties even as the rays that emanate from that source of light. The ray may cease to fall upon the mirror, but it can in no wise be dissociated from the sun.[15]
- The mind has no place, but it is connected with the brain.[16]
‘Abdu’l-Bahá identifies five mental faculties —the common faculty, imagination, thought, comprehension, and memory. The common faculty is an intermediary between our sense perceptions and the other mental faculties:
- For instance, sight . . . sees and perceives this flower, and conveys this perception to . . . the common faculty—which transmits this perception to the power of imagination, which in its turn conceives and forms this image and transmits it to the power of thought; the power of thought reflects and, having grasped the reality, conveys it to the power of comprehension; the comprehension, when it has comprehended it, delivers the image of the object perceived to the memory, and the memory keeps it in its repository.[17]
In addition to the power of intellect there
is still another power of the rational soul
that remains largely unexplored and mysterious.
We might describe it as the creative
or intuitive power that is capable of discovering
new ideas and original solutions to problems.
It is most evident when a difficult and
persistent problem is suddenly solved by a
fresh, new insight. Such insights may occur
long after the problem has been dropped
from conscious consideration. Sometimes
solutions or new ideas come in our dreams
while we sleep. Psychologists attribute this
ability to a subconscious or unconscious mind.
[Page 40] According to the Bahá’í writings the power
of creativity
- expresses itself in the world of vision, where the soul inhabited by the spirit has its being, and functions without the help of the material bodily senses. There, in the realm of vision, the soul sees without the help of the physical eye, hears without the aid of the physical ear, and travels without dependence upon physical motion. It is, therefore, clear that the spirit in the soul of man can function through the physical body by using the organs of the ordinary senses, and that it is able also to live and act without their aid in the world of vision.[18]
Although ‘Abdu’l-Bahá writes that the rational soul is immortal, it is considered undeveloped unless its powers of intellect and creativity are guided by the teachings of God.[19] An undeveloped soul, which remains at the level of a rational soul, is regarded as “dead,” manifesting only the first three degrees of spirit. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá explains the difference between a “dead” soul and a soul “vivified by the Holy Spirit”:
- the souls who are veiled from God, although they exist in this world and in the world after death, are, in comparison with the holy existence of the children of the Kingdom of God, nonexisting and separated from God.[20]
- Those souls who are not vivified and attracted by the Holy Spirit, are accounted among the dead, because their souls are deprived of the breath of the Holy Spirit, and these persons after physical death are in a certain condition, having feeling and discernment in their environment, but in comparison with the pure souls who have been vivified by the Holy Spirit, they are as dead and deprived.[21]
The Spirit of Faith
TO BECOME “vivified” the soul must attain the fourth degree of spirit—the spirit of faith.
- The fourth degree of spirit is the heavenly spirit; it is the spirit of faith and the bounty of God; it comes from the breath of the Holy Spirit, and by the divine power it becomes the cause of eternal life. It is the power which makes the earthly man heavenly, and the imperfect man perfect. It makes the impure to be pure, the silent eloquent; it purifies and sanctifies those made captive by carnal desires; it makes the ignorant wise.[22]
- The human spirit, unless assisted by the spirit of faith, does not become acquainted with the divine secrets and the heavenly realities. It is like a mirror which, although clear, polished and brilliant, is still in need of light. Until a ray of the sun reflects upon it, it cannot discover the heavenly secrets.[23]
When a human being attains the spirit of faith, it is as if the dark lamp of the heart has been enkindled. The source of the flame that kindles the human heart is the Holy Spirit—“that which is born of Spirit is Spirit.” Before enkindlement, the highest power of the soul is hidden—as the flame is hidden in the candle.
- These energies with which the Day Star of Divine bounty and Source of heavenly guidance hath endowed the reality of man lie, however, latent within him, even as the flame is hidden within the candle and the rays of light are potentially present in the lamp. The radiance of these energies may be obscured by worldly desires even as the light of the Sun can be concealed beneath the dust and dross which cover the mirror. Neither the candle nor the lamp can be lighted through their own unaided efforts, nor can it ever be possible [Page 41]
for the mirror to free itself from its dross. It is clear and evident that until a fire is kindled the lamp will never be ignited, and unless the dross is blotted out from the face of the mirror it can never represent the image of the sun nor reflect its light and glory.[24]
When the rational soul attains the spirit of faith it is “reborn.” Rebirth does not mean that the soul has instantly matured. The appearance of the spirit of faith in the rational soul is more like the appearance of the mental faculties in the child. The power of the intellect requires training and guidance to manifest its latent perfections. In the same way, the spirit of faith, once kindled, requires the aid and guidance of the Holy Spirit.
Bahá’u’lláh says that every soul is created with the capacity for spiritual advancement: “every man hath been, and will continue to be, able of himself to appreciate the Beauty of God, the Glorified. Had he not been endowed with such a capacity, how could he be called to account for his failure?”[25] This God-given capacity may be lost, however, if the powers of the soul are devoted exclusively to materialistic pursuits and desires:
- when man does not open his mind and heart to the blessing of the spirit, but turns his soul towards the material side, towards the bodily part of his nature, then is he fallen from his high place and he becomes inferior to the inhabitants of the lower animal kingdom. In this case the man is in a sorry plight! For if the spiritual qualities of the soul, open to the breath of the Divine Spirit, are never used, they become atrophied, enfeebled, and at last incapable. . . .[26]
The rational soul attains the fourth degree of spirit—the spirit of faith—through the knowledge of God, which results in the love of God. When ‘Abdu’l-Bahá was asked how the love of God could be obtained, He replied that “‘Knowledge is love. Study, listen to exhortations, think, try to understand the wisdom and greatness of God. . . . The soil must be fertilized before the seed be sown.’”[27]
The spirit of faith, then, manifests itself when the powers of the human spirit are devoted to the knowledge of God as revealed by His Manifestations, or chosen Teachers. This knowledge results in the love of God—the first sign of the spirit of faith.[28]
- that which is the cause of everlasting life, eternal honor, universal enlightenment, real salvation and prosperity is, first of all, the knowledge of God. . . . Second, comes the love of God, the light of which shines in the lamp of the hearts of those who know God; its brilliant rays illuminate the horizon and give to man the life of the Kingdom. In truth, the fruit of human existence is the love of God, for this love is the spirit of life, and the eternal bounty.[29]
To acquire the spirit of faith is to acquire knowledge and love of God. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá writes that “The spiritual teachings of the religion of God can alone create this love . . . in human hearts.”[30] For Bahá’ís the spiritual teachings are found in the revelation of Bahá’u’lláh.
Real Faith
BEYOND acquiring knowledge and love of God a third step is necessary for the dramatic transformation of the soul promised in the Bahá’í writings: the attainment of real faith. Without this third component, the soul may be spiritually reborn, but stunted in its development. When ‘Abdu’l-Bahá was asked “What is real faith?” He is reported to have replied:
- Faith outwardly means to believe the Message a Manifestation brings to the world and accept the fulfillment in Him of that which the Prophets have announced. [Page 42]
But, in reality, Faith embodies three degrees—To confess with the tongue; to believe in the heart; to give evidence in our actions. These three things are essential in true Faith.[31]
We cannot expect to experience the full measure of new life promised in the sacred writings until all three elements of faith are present. Unless faith is shown forth in our actions, spiritual advancement does not occur.
- The attainment of any object is conditioned upon knowledge, volition and action. Unless these three conditions are forthcoming, there is no execution or accomplishment.[32]
- Man must prove whatsoever he speaketh by deeds and actions. If he claims faith he must live and do according to the teachings of the Kingdom of Abhá.[33]
- Without action nothing in the material world can be accomplished, neither can words unaided advance a man in the spiritual Kingdom. It is not through lip-service only that the elect of God have attained to holiness, but by patient lives of active service they have brought light into the world.[34]
The Guardian of the Bahá’í Cause, Shoghi Effendi, also emphasizes the importance of deeds in the process of spiritual transformation: “It is our duty and privilege to translate the love and devotion we have for our beloved Cause into deeds and actions that will be conducive to the highest good of mankind.”[35]
The purpose of one’s life, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá once said, is “To acquire virtues.”[36] Again one sees a call to action. Mere knowledge is not enough. Failure to live and act in accordance with the divine teachings means that spiritual transformation cannot occur— even for those souls who are “reborn.”
A Program for
Spiritual Transformation
ALL of the Bahá’í writings constitute a program for spiritual transformation. It is difficult, therefore, to know where to begin, since the writings of Bahá’u’lláh alone comprise more than a hundred volumes. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá often recommended the Hidden Words of Bahá’u’lláh to those who asked Him how they might become true Bahá’ís. He said, “Ponder over their meanings and embody the behests into thy life.” “There is a vast difference between the soul who merely reads the words of Baha’o’llah [sic] and the one who tries to live them.”[37]
In a letter to the Bahá’ís of Persia Shoghi Effendi reminded them of another recommendation from ‘Abdu’l-Bahá:
- How often the beloved Master was heard to say: Should each one of the friends take upon himself to carry out, in all its integrity and implications, only one of the teachings of the Faith, with devotion, detachment, constancy and perseverance and exemplify it in all his deeds and pursuits of life, the world would become another world and the face of the earth would mirror forth the splendours of the Abhá Paradise.[38]
Consider, for example, how this brief passage of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá if translated into deeds and actions, would guide the human soul toward spiritual advancement and attainment of real faith:
- My admonition and exhortation to you is this: Be kind to all people, love humanity, consider all mankind as your relations. . . . [Page 43]
If you meet a poor man, assist him; if you see the sick, heal him; reassure the affrighted one, render the cowardly noble and courageous, educate the ignorant, associate with the stranger. Emulate God. Consider how kindly, how lovingly He deals with all, and follow His example. You must treat people in accordance with the divine precepts—in other words, treat them as kindly as God treats them, for this is the greatest attainment possible for the world of humanity.[39]
As in any endeavor to advance, the degree of spiritual attainment depends upon “the efforts which every man may consciously exert.”[40] Everything in creation plays a part in the training of the soul. Each new day presents opportunities for spiritual advancement—not only through those deeds and actions that one controls, but also in the way one responds to those things in life that he cannot control:
- Some things are subject to the free will of man, such as justice, equity, tyranny and injustice, in other words, good and evil actions; it is evident and clear that these actions are, for the most part, left to the will of man. But there are certain things to which man is forced and compelled, such as sleep, death, sickness, decline of power, injuries and misfortunes; these are not subject to the will of man, and he is not responsible for them, for he is compelled to endure them.[41]
Those things that man is compelled to endure should be regarded both as opportunities and as tests. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá writes:
- All calamities and afflictions have been created for man so that he may spurn this mortal world—a world to which he is much attached. When he experienceth severe trials and hardships, then his nature will recoil and he will desire the eternal realm—a realm which is sanctified from all afflictions and calamities.[42]
- Grief and sorrow do not come to us by chance, they are sent to us by the Divine Mercy for our own perfecting.[43]
- Tests are a means by which a soul is measured as to its fitness, and proven out by its own acts. God knows its fitness beforehand, and also its unpreparedness, but man, with an ego, would not believe himself unfit unless proof were given him. Consequently his susceptibility to evil is proven to him when he falls into the tests, and the tests are continued until the soul realizes its own unfitness, then remorse and regret tend to root out the weakness. The same test comes again in greater degree, until it is shown that a former weakness has become a strength, and the power to overcome evil has been established.[44]
The misfortunes of this life may also be a punishment for our own actions. But whether misfortune is sent as guidance or as punishment, our response should be the same: “we must supplicate and implore and commune to the divine Threshold in order to be patient in ordeals.”[45] It is during trials and difficulties that we can most appreciate the words of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá: “To enter the Kingdom is easy, but to remain firm and constant is difficult.”[46]
The True Paradise
THE ACQUISITION of virtues in the physical
world prepares the soul for life in the world
to come. Just as man develops eyes and ears
while still in the womb, he must develop
[Page 44] spiritual faculties through daily living before
passing to the next world:
- That world beyond is a world of sanctity and radiance; therefore, it is necessary that in this world he should acquire these divine attributes. In that world there is need of spirituality, faith, assurance, the knowledge and love of God. These he must attain in this world so that after his ascension from the earthly to the heavenly Kingdom he shall find all that is needful in that eternal life ready for him.[47]
The human being who strives to attain real faith, Bahá’u’lláh says, “shall, after his ascension, be possessed of such power that all the worlds which the Almighty hath created can benefit through him. Such a soul provideth, at the bidding of the Ideal King and Divine Educator, the pure leaven that leaveneth the world of being, and furnisheth the power through which the arts and wonders of the world are made manifest.”[48]
Once the human soul has been enkindled with the spirit of faith through the teachings of Bahá’u’lláh, it is released from the bondage of the mortal world and is “reborn.” Spiritual maturity, however, is a gradual process and depends upon the translation of divine teachings into deeds and actions. “Living the life” requires perseverance and conscious effort, and one may expect tests and difficulties. Those souls who follow the clear path marked out by the teachings of God—who lead “patient lives of active service”—gain the greatest rewards temporal life has to offer: “the virtues and perfections which adorn the reality of man.”[49] “Live then the days of thy life, that are less than a fleeting moment,” Bahá’u’lláh says, “with thy mind stainless, thy heart unsullied, thy thoughts pure, and thy nature sanctified, so that, free and content, thou mayest put away this mortal frame, and repair unto the mystic paradise and abide in the eternal kingdom for evermore.”[50]
- ↑ Bahá’u’lláh, Gleanings from the Writings of Bahá’u’lláh, trans. Shoghi Effendi, 2d ed. (Wilmette, Ill.: Bahá’í Publishing Trust, 1976), pp. 158—59.
- ↑ ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, “Survival and Salvation: Words of Abdul-Baha from Diary of Mirza Ahmad Sohrab, February 1914,” Star of the West, 7 (2 Mar. 1917), 190.
- ↑ ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, “Soul, Mind and Spirit,” trans. Mirza Ahmad Sohrab, Star of the West, 4 (9 Apr. 1913), 38.
- ↑ ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Paris Talks: Addresxes Given by ‘Abdu’l-Bahá in Paris in 1911, 11th ed. (London: Bahá’í Publishing Trust, 1969), p. 96.
- ↑ Ibid., p. 41.
- ↑ ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Some Answered Questions, comp. and trans. Laura Clifford Barney, 5th ed. (Wilmette, Ill.: Bahá’í Publishing Trust, 1981), p. 208.
- ↑ ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Paris Talks, pp. 41-42.
- ↑ Ibid., pp. 122-23.
- ↑ ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, The Promulgation of Universal Peace: Talks Delivered by ‘Abdu’l-Bahá during His Visit to the United States and Canada in 1912, comp. Howard MacNutt, 2d ed. (Wilmette, Ill.: Bahá’í Publishing Trust, 1982), p. 177.
- ↑ ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Some Answered Questions, p. 187.
- ↑ ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Paris Talks, p. 17.
- ↑ Ibid., p. 41.
- ↑ ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, The Bahá’í Peace Program: From the Writings of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá (New York: Bahá’í Publishing Committee, 1930), pp. 32-33.
- ↑ Ibid., p. 32.
- ↑ Ibid., pp. 44-45.
- ↑ ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Some Answered Questions, p. 242.
- ↑ Ibid., pp. 210-11.
- ↑ ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Paris Talks, p. 86.
- ↑ ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Some Answered Questions, p. 153.
- ↑ Ibid., p. 243.
- ↑ ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Tablets of Abdul-Baha Abbas, 3 vols. (New York: Bahai Publishing Society, 1916), III, 670.
- ↑ ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Some Answered Questions, pp. 144-45.
- ↑ Ibid., pp. 208-09.
- ↑ Bahá’u’lláh, Gleanings, pp. 65-66.
- ↑ Ibid., p. 143.
- ↑ ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Paris Talks, p. 97.
- ↑ ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, in “The Divine Art of Living,” comp. Mary M. Rabb, Star of the West, 8 (17 May 1917), 42.
- ↑ ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Promulgation, p. 337.
- ↑ ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Some Answered Questions, pp. 300-01.
- ↑ ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Promulgation, p. 171.
- ↑ Julia M. Grundy, Ten Days in the Light of ‘Akká, rev. ed. (Wilmette, Ill.: Bahá’í Publishing Trust, 1979), p. 59.
- ↑ ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Promulgation, p. 157.
- ↑ ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, in “The Divine Art of Living,” comp. Mary M. Rabb, Star of the West, 8 (24 June 1917), 58.
- ↑ ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Paris Talks, pp. 80-81.
- ↑ Shoghi Effendi, The Bahá’í Life: Excerpts from the Writings of the Guardian, comp. The Universal House of Justice (Canada: National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of Canada, 1974), p. 2.
- ↑ ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Paris Talks, p. 177.
- ↑ ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, in “The Divine Art of Living,” comp. Mary M. Rabb, Star of the West, 7 (7 Feb. 1917), 178.
- ↑ Shoghi Effendi, Bahá’í Life, p. 1.
- ↑ ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Promulgation, pp. 290-91.
- ↑ Bahá’u’lláh, Gleanings, p. 262.
- ↑ ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Some Answered Questions, p. 248.
- ↑ ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Selections from the Writings of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, comp. Research Department of The Universal House of Justice, trans. Committee at the Bahá’í World Centre and Marzieh Gail (Haifa: Bahá’í World Centre, 1978), p. 239.
- ↑ ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Paris Talks, p. 50.
- ↑ ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, “‘The worst enemies of the Cause are in the Cause,’” Star of the West, 6 (24 June 1915), 45.
- ↑ ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, in “The Divine Art of Living,” comp. Mary M. Rabb, Star of the West, 8 (7 February 1918), 235.
- ↑ ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Tablets of Abdul-Baha Abbas, 3 vols. (New York: Bahai Publishing Society, 1909), I, 105.
- ↑ ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Promulgation, p. 226.
- ↑ Bahá’u’lláh, Gleanings, p. 161.
- ↑ ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Some Answered Questions, p. 223.
- ↑ Bahá’u’lláh, The Hidden Words of Bahá’u’lláh, trans. Shoghi Effendi (Wilmette, Ill.: Bahá’í Publishing Trust, 1939), p. 37.
For Those Who Came Soon
- Tasting your offering in the dill and cinnamon
- you took from Iran.
- Me thinking, not you, of the chromium this
- and calfskin that, you left.
- Now you utilize tumeric like everyone else
- to yellow your rice.
- You departed the shouting: brought principal asset
- of gentler integrity.
- You breathe here now: have come to a finer
- thing than exile.
- So, leaving your land, you live your belief,
- content without saffron.
—Ian Stephen
A Tale of Terror in Iran
A REVIEW OF GEOFFREY NASH’S Iran’s Secret Pogrom: The Conspiracy to Wipe Out the Bahá’ís (SUFFOLK: NEVILLE SPEARMAN 1982), 136 PAGES + APPENDICES, BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE
BY FIRUZ KAZEMZADEH
Iran’s Secret Pogrom, by Geoffrey Nash, is
a hastily written small book about a pogrom
that has ceased to be a secret. Since it was
published early in the year, the European
Parliament, Britain’s House of Lords, the
parliaments of Canada and Australia, the
United States Senate and House of Representatives,
and other government bodies on
several continents have debated and, in a
number of inStances, passed resolutions condemning
Iran’s conspiracy to wipe out its
Bahá’í community. Hundreds of newspapers
and magazines, thousands of radio and television
stations through much of the world
have spread the news of the assault initiated
by the Shiite clergy against a peaceful, progressive
community that has been maltreated
by every Iranian regime for 138 years.
After the introduction that focuses on a few particularly dramatic instances of persecution (the daStardly assassination of Professor Manúchihr Ḥakím; the judicial murder of Dr. Farámarz Samandarí; the burning to death of Mr. and Mrs. Má‘ṣúmí of Nuk, who, for some reason, are not named) there comes a chapter that attempts to give the underlying causes of the hatred the Islamic establishment feels for the Bahá’ís. The real reasons, of course, have nothing in common with the official reasons given out by the robed and turbaned Torquemadas. If they accuse the Bahá’ís of Zionism, how do they explain the massacre of the Bábís in 1852-1854? If they accuse them of being the agents of American imperialism, how do they explain all the Bábí-Bahá’í blood that was shed for a whole century before the United States appeared as a power on the Iranian scene? The reasons the Bahá’ís are hated are simpler. The Bahá’ís are the followers of a new religion whose philosophy leaves no room for mullás. In attacking the Bahá’ís the Shiite clergy is protecting its own power from inevitable erosion by the gradual enlightenment that spreads from the teachings of the Bahá’í Faith.
Geoffrey Nash describes the situation of the Bahá’ís under the last Sháh and gives a brief summary of what it is they believe. The longest segment (chapter 4 and 5) is appropriately devoted to the events of February 1979-October 1981. It is a painful and deeply distressing story of savagery. Killings, torture, rape, expropriation or destruction of property, deprivation of fundamental rights, expulsion from work and from school, attacks on individuals in the streets, the molestation and kidnapping of children—all this and more has befallen the Bahá’í community in Iran. The author makes it plain that the campaign of terror is not accidental. Most of the Bahá’ís have perished not at the hands of street mobs inflamed by their religious shepherds but at the hands of the clerical and civil authorities after mock trials that made a travesty of justice.
Geoffrey Nash was anxious to tell his terrible story so that the dark deeds of religious fanatics would not go unnoticed. It is obvious that he did not pay enough attention to style. The book is badly written and sprinkled with minor errors. Yet they do not affect its substance. Rather they testify to the urgency of the occasion that produced this timely, informative, and—in the end—moving testimony to a vast and bloody pogrom.
Authors & Artists
AMIN BANANI, the translator of the letters in this issue, is a professor of history and Persian literature at UCLA, the author of The Modernization of Iran, and the former director of UCLA’s Near Eastern Center.
SHEILA BANANI holds a B.A. in sociology
and an M.A. in architecture and
urban planning from the University of
California at Los Angeles. Married to a
Persian Bahá’í, she has relatives and
close friends involved in the recent persecution
of Bahá’ís in Iran.
RAYMOND JEFFORDS, who makes a
first appearance in World Order, has
recently returned to the United States
from Pago Pago, where he served as a
contract specialist in the treasurer’s office
of the government of American
Samoa. He holds degrees in psychology
and accounting and an M.B.A. from the
University of Massachusetts in business
administration. His interests include
photography and mini-computers.
FIRUZ KAZEMZADEH is a professor of
history at Yale University and Editor
of World Order.
IAN STEPHENS brings with him a touch
of the Hebrides, which provides the impetus
for much of his creative work. His
poems and short stories have appeared
in many periodicals in England, Belgium,
and Denmark. A collection of his
stories is to be published later this
year by Machair Books, Aberdeen.
ART CREDITS: Cover, design by John Solarz, photograph by John Conow; p. 1, photograph by Chris Cholas; p. 3, photograph by Glenford E. Mitchell; p. 7, photograph by Grace T. Nielsen; p. 8, photograph by Dr. Steve Garrigues; p. 13, photograph by courtesy of Bahá’í Office of Public Affairs; p. 21, photograph by courtesy of Bahá’í Office of Public Affairs; p. 27, photograph by courtesy of The American Bahá’í; p. 33, photograph by courtesy of Bahá’í Office of Public Affairs; p. 36, photograph by Grace T. Nielsen; p. 45, photograph by Joan Miller.