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"The earth is but one country, and mankind its citizens."
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"The earth is but one country, and mankind its citizens."
45 stories on this theme.
In *Bahá'u'lláh and the New Era*, J. E. Esslemont introduces the Western reader to the Báb as He was before His Declaration: a young merchant of Shíráz, raised by a maternal uncle after His father's early death, known across His district for piety, gentleness, and the scrupulous honesty of His business dealings.
Brought from Chihríq to Tabríz in the summer of 1848 to be examined by the most senior religious scholars of the realm, the Báb made an open declaration of His station before the assembled clergy: *I am the promised One.* The chapter records the bastinado that followed, and the denunciatory epistle He wrote upon His return to Chihríq.
Late in 1844 the Báb, accompanied by Quddús, sailed from Búshihr for the pilgrimage to Mecca and Medina. The voyage was long, the water was scarce, the bedouins were thieves; and at the heart of the Sacred Mosque the Báb proclaimed His station openly to a prominent scholar of His age.
In the weeks following Mullá Ḥusayn's recognition of the Báb in Shíráz in May 1844, seventeen further disciples of Siyyid Káẓim arrived from various provinces. Each came expecting to be tested. Each was, instead, recognised by the Báb Himself before they had spoken. They became the Letters of the Living — and one place remained reserved.
Nabíl's chronicle records the conference at Badasht in the summer of 1848 — the meeting at which the eighty-one principal Bábí teachers of the time gathered in three small gardens to consult on the relation of the new Faith to the Islamic past. The decisive moment came when Ṭáhirih appeared before the assembled men with her veil removed.
Shoghi Effendi's account, in *God Passes By*, of Thornton Chase — the Chicago insurance executive who in June 1894 became the first American and the first Westerner formally to embrace the Bahá'í Faith, and who would later be honoured by 'Abdu'l-Bahá as *the first Bahá'í of the United States.*
Shoghi Effendi's account, in *God Passes By*, of the conference at Badasht in 1848 — and the moment when Ṭáhirih, "adorned yet unveiled," announced that the day of the new Dispensation had begun.
Nabíl's account, in *The Dawn-Breakers*, of the night of May 22–23, 1844, when Mullá Ḥusayn met the Báb at the gate of Shíráz, accepted His invitation home, and at two hours and eleven minutes after sunset became the first to recognise Him.
Esslemont's account of the twelve days Bahá'u'lláh spent in the Garden of Najíb Páshá outside Baghdád in April 1863, where, on what Bahá'ís remember as the First Day of Riḍván, He declared to His followers that He was the One whose coming the Báb had foretold.
Brought before the most powerful judges in the land, the Báb was asked who He claimed to be — and He answered with three brave words that no one could forget.
The Báb set sail across rough seas to the holy city of Mecca, and there He bravely told the world who He really was.
One by one, eighteen seekers came to the Báb expecting a hard test — and one by one, He knew them before they could say a single word.
In three little gardens long ago, the bravest woman of the new Faith stepped forward and showed everyone that a brand-new day had begun.
A tired traveler had searched everywhere for one special person — and then, just outside the city gate, a smiling Youth in a green turban came out to meet him.
When Bahá'u'lláh had to leave Baghdád, His friends were heartbroken — but in a garden full of roses, He gave them the most joyful news of all.
On the first night of His Revelation the Báb gave to the first soul who recognised Him a name that would shape the rest of his life — Bábu'l-Báb, the Gate of the Gate. From that hour Mullá Ḥusayn-i-Bushrú'í lived as the door through which others were meant to enter, until he laid down his life at the fort of Shaykh Ṭabarsí.
Before the world knew her as Táhirih, the gifted poet-theologian of Qazvín was given one name by the teacher she never met in person — Qurratu'l-'Ayn, Solace of the Eyes — and another, years later, at the conference of Badasht, where the assembled believers proclaimed her Táhirih, the Pure One. Two names, conferred by two hands, for a woman who became the herald of a new Day.
In the first weeks of His Revelation, the Báb gave to the youngest of His chosen disciples, Mullá Muḥammad-'Alí of Bárfurúsh, a name that set him apart from all the rest — Quddús, the Most Holy — and chose him, alone among the Letters of the Living, to be His companion on the long pilgrimage to Mecca.
On the night the Báb declared His mission in Shíráz, He took up His pen and began, with astonishing speed, to reveal the Qayyúmu'l-Asmá' — the first Book of His Dispensation. Shoghi Effendi ranks it among the greatest and mightiest of all the works the Báb left behind.
For ten years in Baghdád Bahá'u'lláh had carried His station in silence. Then, in the spring of 1863, on the eve of a new banishment, He entered a rose-filled garden on the bank of the Tigris and, for twelve days, declared openly to His companions that He was the Promised One foretold by the Báb. Bahá'ís remember those days as the King of Festivals — the hour the long-hidden Glory of God was at last unveiled.
In the summer of 1844, weeks after the Báb declared His mission in Shíráz, a youth named Mullá Muḥammad-'Alíy-i-Bárfurúshí arrived footsore from the north. He was the eighteenth and last to find the Báb of his own seeking — and the youngest. He spoke few words, yet the Báb raised him above all the other Letters of the Living and named him Quddús, "the Most Holy."
On the evening of 22 May 1844, outside the gate of Shíráz, the Báb invited a travel-worn seeker named Mullá Ḥusayn into His home. There, two hours and eleven minutes after sunset, He declared Himself to be the Promised One — and, taking up His pen, began to reveal the first verses of a new Book with a speed and majesty that left His guest overwhelmed.
The Báb's first eighteen disciples — the Letters of the Living — were not the most famous or powerful of their age, but souls whom God had prepared to recognise Him each by his own seeking. When their number was complete, the Báb gathered them, told them they were the bearers of His Name, and sent them out across Persia to herald the Day that had dawned.
Soon after declaring His mission in Shíráz, the Báb set out on the great pilgrimage to Mecca, arriving in December 1844. There, in the holiest place of Islam, He openly proclaimed His station — and on His return to Persia the news of His claim kindled both fervent love and bitter opposition, opening the long road of suffering that led at last to His martyrdom.
In *A Traveler's Narrative*, 'Abdu'l-Bahá tells how a young Merchant of Shíráz, in His twenty-fifth year, began to declare the rank of Bábhood — proclaiming Himself the Gate to a greater One soon to come. With that declaration in 1844 a new cycle in the religious history of humanity began, and the long expectation of the Promised One started to be fulfilled.
In the days after Mullá Ḥusayn recognised the Báb in Shíráz in 1844, a learned disciple of Siyyid Káẓim named Mullá ‘Alíy-i-Bastámí arrived in the city, withdrew alone to pray and fast, and on the third night was led by a vision to the threshold of the Báb. He became the second to believe — and, in the Báb's own words, the first to leave the House of God and the first to suffer for His sake.
When Mullá Ḥusayn reached Iṣfahán in 1844, a devout seeker named Mullá Ṣádiq-i-Muqaddas begged him to name the Promised One. Forbidden to tell, Mullá Ḥusayn pointed him instead to prayer. Alone in a quiet room, Mullá Ṣádiq saw in a vision the face of a weeping Youth he had once watched at the shrine of the Imám Ḥusayn — and knew, at last, whom he had been seeking.
Soon after the Declaration, the Báb sent Mullá Ḥusayn northward to Ṭihrán to deliver a sacred trust to one He did not name. Guided by a midnight conversation with a teacher's pupil, Mullá Ḥusayn entrusted a scroll of the Báb's Writings to be carried at dawn to Bahá'u'lláh — who, upon reading it, affirmed its truth at once. It was among the first recognitions of the new Revelation in the capital.
Years before the Declaration, in the shrine-city of Karbilá, Shaykh Ḥasan-i-Zunúzí was led by his teacher Siyyid Káẓim to the door of a young Pilgrim of radiant countenance, and watched Him weep in prayer at the shrine of the Imám Ḥusayn. When the Call rang out from Shíráz in 1844, the memory of that Youth flashed back to him — and he knew at once that the Báb and the Pilgrim of Karbilá were one and the same.
Before Mullá Ḥusayn ever met the Báb at the gate of Shíráz, he obeyed his teacher's dying charge: he scattered, purified his heart, and withdrew for forty days of prayer and fasting. Then an inner prompting drew him from Karbilá across Persia to Búshihr, and turned him northward to Shíráz — the preparation of soul that made the recognition of 1844 possible.
Before it became the holiest spot in the Bahá'í year, the Garden of Riḍván was simply a green wooded park on the far bank of the Tigris, belonging to a notable of Baghdád named Najíb Páshá. This is the story of that garden — its roses and avenues, and how the believers crossed the river to reach the place where the Promised One declared His Mission.
Before Bahá'u'lláh ever reached the Garden of Riḍván, He had to walk out of His house and through the streets of Baghdád — and the city wept. Men and women of every station crowded the route to the river, and a small child ran from the crowd and clung to His robe, begging Him not to go.
As Bahá'u'lláh prepared to leave for the Garden of Riḍván, the great and the powerful of Baghdád came to do Him honour. Officials, men of rank, even the governor of the city paid their respects to the departing exile — and, in Nabíl's words, heads on every side bowed to the dust at the feet of His horse.
On the eve of a fresh exile, with an uncertain road ahead, Bahá'u'lláh might have shown sorrow. Instead, the histories record, He showed "the greatest joy, dignity and power." This is the story of His bearing during the twelve days of Riḍván, and of how that serenity lifted the spirits of all who watched.
In His own writings the Báb called Himself "a letter out of that most mighty book and a dewdrop from that limitless ocean," and pointed always to One yet to come. 'Abdu'l-Bahá's A Traveler's Narrative records how that promise ripened — until, in a garden by the Tigris, the Ocean the Báb had heralded appeared.
It is to Nabíl, the chronicler of the early days, that we owe the most beloved picture of the Garden of Riḍván — roses heaped so high in Bahá'u'lláh's tent that the companions could not see one another across it, and a saying about the nightingales that He uttered in the warm Baghdád nights of April 1863.
When Bahá'u'lláh entered the Garden of Riḍván on 22 April 1863, His family could not follow Him at once: the Tigris had risen in flood and made the crossing impassable. Only on the ninth day, when the waters fell, did the Holy Family cross the boat-bridge to join Him — which is why the ninth day of Riḍván is itself a holy day.
Years before the Garden of Riḍván, the Báb had filled His writings with promises of "Him Whom God shall make manifest" — and had pointed, in veiled and exact words, to "the year nine" and to nineteen years that must elapse before the Promised One would appear. In April 1863, nineteen years after the Báb's own Declaration, that promise was kept.
When Bahá'u'lláh crossed the Tigris into the Garden of Riḍván on that April afternoon in 1863, His eldest Son crossed with Him — 'Abdu'l-Bahá, then a young Man of eighteen, who had already given the whole devotion of His life to His Father, and who in the Garden stood at the threshold of the Cause He would one day be appointed to lead.
Bahá'ís did not invent the supreme rank of Riḍván — Bahá'u'lláh Himself conferred it. In His Most Holy Book He named those days the first of the "two Most Great Festivals," and tradition has hailed Riḍván as the "King of Festivals," the days whereon, in His own words, "all created things were immersed in the sea of purification."
When Bahá'u'lláh crossed the Tigris to enter the Garden of Riḍván in April 1863 and declared His mission, the eldest of the sons at His side was 'Abdu'l-Bahá, then a youth of eighteen. He had grown up in the shadow of His Father's exile and had already, as a child, recognized His station. The Ninth Day of Riḍván, when the rest of the family joined them in the Garden, gathers the whole household around that declaration.
The supreme festival of the Bahá'í year does not close on a day of arrival but on a day of departure. The Twelfth Day of Riḍván seals the twelve days Shoghi Effendi calls the holiest and most significant of all Bahá'í festivals — the Most Great Festival, the King of Festivals, the Festival of God — by sending the newly unveiled Glory of God out from the Garden and onto the road of His Cause.
A passage from Selections from the Writings of the Báb drawn from the Qayyúm al-Asmá' — the great commentary on the Surah of Joseph that the Báb began to reveal on the night of His Declaration in May 1844 and that constitutes His first major work.
In *A Traveler's Narrative*, 'Abdu'l-Bahá records the moment in 1844 when the young Merchant of Shíráz — twenty-five years old — began openly to declare His station: the Báb, the Gate, sent to prepare the way for the greater Manifestation soon to come.
In *A Traveler's Narrative*, 'Abdu'l-Bahá relates the encounter between Siyyid Yaḥyá-i-Dárábí — known as Vaḥíd, the most learned cleric of his generation in Persia — and the Báb. Three audiences. In the third, a request for a commentary on the Súrih of Kawthar; and the Báb's spontaneous, written reply that emptied the room of every doubt.