The First Time Justice Was Done

A retelling for children, based on the account of Haji Muhammad Rida Isfahani in Bahá'í Chronicles.

In a busy city called Ashkhabad, there was a marketplace where people came every day to buy and sell — to trade cloth and spices, to talk, to hear the news. It was a place where everyone could be seen. And it was here, in the middle of an ordinary day, that something terrible happened.

A man named Haji Muhammad Rida Isfahani was one of the best-known and most respected Bahá'ís of the whole city. By that time there were about four hundred Bahá'ís living in Ashkhabad, and the community was growing. But not everyone was glad about that. A small group of men decided to harm him, and in the bright light of day, right there in the bazaar, they took his life.

The men who did it were not sorry. They actually believed they had a right to do such a thing, and they expected that nothing would happen to them. For a long time in many places, when a Bahá'í was hurt, that is exactly how it went — the wrong was done, and no one set it right. No judge, no court, no one in charge ever stepped forward to call it wrong or to say it must be answered for.

So everyone waited to see what the government would do.

And then something happened that had never, ever happened before in all the history of the Faith.

The government did not look the other way. It did not accept the excuses the men gave. Instead, it brought them to a real trial, in front of real judges — and it found them guilty. The wrong had finally been treated as a wrong. This came as a great shock to the people who had been so sure that nothing would come of it.

For the Bahá'ís, it was an enormous moment. For the very first time, an attack on one of their own had been dealt with justly — fairly, the way it should be. Bahá'u'lláh Himself praised what the government had done.

Something else surprising happened at that trial, too. The judges told all the different religious groups in the city to sit in separate places. And as people quietly moved to their seats, something brave took place: many men and women who had been keeping their faith a secret now stood with the Bahá'ís, out in the open, for everyone to see. It was the first time a government had ever treated the Bahá'í Faith as its own religion, standing on its own.

But here is the part that may surprise you most of all.

The two men who had done the terrible thing were sentenced to die for it. And who do you think spoke up to save their lives? The Bahá'ís did. The very people who had lost their beloved friend stepped forward and asked the court not to put the men to death. Because of the Bahá'ís, the sentences were changed: instead of dying, the men would spend their lives in prison. Bahá'u'lláh praised this, too.

Think about how hard that must have been. It is easy to want justice when someone has wronged you. It is much, much harder, in the same breath, to ask for mercy for the very ones who caused the harm. Yet that is exactly what the Bahá'ís did. They wanted what was right to be done — and they did not want to answer cruelty with more cruelty.

The friends of Haji Muhammad Rida missed him for the rest of their lives. But out of that sad day grew something strong and good. The Bahá'ís of Ashkhabad began to build and care for one another in new ways, and in the years that followed, their gathering place became known across the city.

That is the gentle lesson tucked inside this true story. Doing what is just does not mean being unkind. We can ask for fairness and still choose mercy — and when we do both together, even a dark day can lead to something bright.

This is a retelling for children. For the fuller account, see "Haji Muhammad Rida Isfahani".

editors, B. C.. *Bahá'í Chronicles*. https://bahaichronicles.org/haji-muhammad-rida-isfahani/