The Rich Man Who Sat at His Feet

A retelling for children, based on the account of Haji Mirza Musay-i-Javahari in Bahá'í Chronicles.

In the city of Baghdád, long ago, there lived a man whom almost everyone looked up to. His name was Haji Mirza Musay-i-Javahari, and he came from a great and noble family. His father had been a Persian vazir — a kind of high nobleman who served close to kings — and the family was known far and wide for its wealth and its power.

If you had met Haji Mirza Musá in the street, you might have expected a proud man. People of such riches and standing often were. Important people bowed to him. He could have had almost anything he wished.

But something happened to Haji Mirza Musá that changed the whole shape of his heart.

He came to know Mírzá Mihdí, the son of Bahá'u'lláh, who was given the beautiful title the Purest Branch. And the more Haji Mirza Musá came to know Him, the more his heart was drawn to Him — until at last he became a Bahá'í.

Now here is the surprising part, the part worth remembering. You might think a man so rich and so honored would still expect to be treated as someone grand. But whenever Haji Mirza Musá came into the presence of the Purest Branch, he did not stand tall and proud. He sat down low, right at His feet, quiet and humble, as though all his riches and his fame counted for nothing at all.

Think about that. Here was a man who could have had the finest seat in any room — and the place he loved best in all the world was a humble spot on the floor, near someone he loved and admired.

Haji Mirza Musá did something else, too. He owned a house in Baghdád, and he gave it for the Purest Branch to live in. To Haji Mirza Musá, his wealth was not just for himself. It was something he could offer to those he honored.

Years passed, and Haji Mirza Musá died. His son — who carried a name much like his father's, Haji Mirza Musá — inherited a part of the family's fortune. And among the things that now belonged to him was that very same house, the one where Bahá'u'lláh Himself had lived.

The son's heart was just as generous as his father's had been. He did not want to sell such a precious house. He wanted to give it, freely, as a gift — to hand it over with open hands and ask for nothing in return.

So he offered it. And here is something that may surprise you: the gift was not simply accepted. The son was told, gently, that the house would not be taken from him for free. He pleaded and pleaded, again and again, because he so badly wanted to give it. And only after all his pleading were instructions finally given that the house should be bought from him — paid for fairly, at a fair and honest price.

Why turn down such a kind and willing gift? Because of fairness. It would not have been right to take a man's valuable house and give him nothing for it, even when he offered with all his heart. So the house was purchased honestly, for what it was truly worth. And in that way it became, forever after, a property of the Faith — a house so dear that it came to be called the Most Great House, a place believers would one day long to visit.

There are two quiet lessons folded into this one story. The first is that the truest greatness is not in being rich or important, but in being humble — like a nobleman who would rather sit low at the feet of one he loves than sit high above the crowd. And the second is that real fairness means doing right by everyone, even when someone is offering you something wonderful for free. Sometimes the most honest thing of all is to insist on giving back.

This is a retelling for children. For the fuller account, see "Haji Mirza Musay-i-Javahari".

editors, B. C.. *Bahá'í Chronicles*. https://bahaichronicles.org/haji-mirza-musay-i-javahari/