The Truth and Nothing But: Ḥájí ʻAlí-ʻAskar

A retelling drawn from the Bahá'í Chronicles account of Ḥájí ʻAlí-ʻAskar-i- Tabrízí, which preserves 'Abdu'l-Bahá's tribute to him in Memorials of the Faithful. Short phrases in quotation marks are words recorded in that history.

Honour, in the teaching of Bahá'u'lláh, is bound up inseparably with integrity — with truthfulness held to even when a lie would be easier, safer, and more profitable. Few stories show that bond more clearly than the trial of an old merchant named Ḥájí ʻAlí-ʻAskar, of the city of Tabríz in Persia.

In his own homeland ʻAlí-ʻAskar had been a respected man, "recognized for godliness and trustworthiness, for piety and strong faith." When he embraced the Cause of Bahá'u'lláh and led his whole household into it, persecution fell upon him, and at last he could endure his native city no longer. With his family he made his way into exile, settling near Adrianople — and there, a prosperous man brought low, he lived in poverty, but, the record says, "with dignity, patience, acquiescence, and offering thanks."

To support his family he took a small parcel of merchandise and set out for a nearby market town to trade. What little he carried was modest; and on the road, thieves fell upon him and carried it all off. That, by itself, was an ordinary misfortune. What followed was the real test.

The Persian Consul of the region heard of the robbery and saw in it an opportunity. In his official report to the government he named an enormous sum as the value of the stolen goods — a figure far beyond the truth. As chance would have it, the thieves were caught, and were found to be men of considerable means. There was money to be had. The Consul summoned ʻAlí-ʻAskar and laid out the scheme plainly. "These thieves are very rich," he said. "In my report I wrote that the amount of the theft was great. Therefore you must attend the trial and testify conformably to what I wrote."

The impoverished old believer answered without hesitation. "Your Honour, Khán, the stolen goods amounted to very little. How can I report something that is not true? When they question me, I will give the facts exactly as they are. I consider this my duty, and only this."

The Consul pressed harder, dangling the bait of easy riches before a man who had nothing. "We have a golden opportunity here," he urged; "you and I can both profit by it. Don't let such a once-in-a-lifetime chance slip through your hands." But ʻAlí-ʻAskar would not be moved. "Khán," he replied, "how would I square it with God? Let me be. I shall tell the truth and nothing but the truth."

Now the Consul flew into a rage. He had committed the lie to writing; an honest witness would expose him. He began to threaten — and the threats were not idle. "I will jail you," he stormed; "I will have you banished; there is no torment I will spare you." He swore he would denounce ʻAlí-ʻAskar to the police as an enemy of the state, have him manacled, and dragged to the Persian frontier.

To all of this, the record says, the Ḥájí "only smiled." Then he spoke the words that are the soul of the story: "I have given up my life for the truth. I have nothing else. You are telling me to lie and bear false witness. Do with me as you please; I will not turn my back on what is right."

There was no breaking him. In the end it was the powerful consul who had to retreat, contriving an excuse to make the matter quietly disappear so that his own falsehood would not be uncovered. ʻAlí-ʻAskar returned to Adrianople and said nothing of the affair; it became known only because others spoke of it, in wonder.

That same faithful old man was later swept up with the other believers and exiled to the prison-fortress of 'Akká, where, with all his family, he was held for years — and where, the Master tells us, he was never heard to utter anything but thankfulness and praise. And of him Bahá'u'lláh said, again and again, words of loving-kindness: "I am pleased with him."

The Feast of Sharaf is the Feast of Honour. ʻAlí-ʻAskar had lost his city, his comfort, and even his small stock of goods; a single false sentence would have cost him nothing the world could see, and might have filled his empty hands. He refused it, because his honour was not for sale at any price. That refusal — the truth spoken when a lie was safe and profitable — is the very substance of an honourable life.

This is a retelling. For the fuller account, see the Bahá'í Chronicles and Memorials of the Faithful by 'Abdu'l-Bahá.

editors, B. C.. *Bahá'í Chronicles*. https://bahaichronicles.org/haji-ali-askar-i-tabrizi/