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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."
10 stories on this theme.
The nineteenth and final month of the Bahá'í year, 'Alá' — Loftiness — is the month of the Fast. From sunrise to sunset for nineteen days the believer abstains from food and drink, but the heart of the Fast lies elsewhere: in abstinence from the desires of self, and in severance from all save God. This is what gives the month its name.
In the flower of his youth Nabíl-i-Zarandí bade farewell to his family in Zarand and set out to find the One his soul was seeking. From that day he never turned back. Poet, traveller, herald, recluse — he spent his whole life pouring himself out in service to Bahá'u'lláh, holding nothing of the world in reserve, until at the end he could endure separation no longer.
In a tender letter preserved among His Writings, 'Abdu'l-Bahá set the fading things of this world beside the one Beauty that never fades. Mortal charm passes, He wrote, roses give way to thorns, youth lives its day and is no more — but the Beauty of the True One endureth for ever. His counsel is the very lesson the month of the Fast was given to teach: where to fix the heart.
Pidar-Ján of Qazvín was a poor old man who emigrated to Baghdád to be near Bahá'u'lláh, and there gave his days and nights to prayer. So absorbed was he in the remembrance of God that thieves once lifted the goods from his open hands while he chanted, and he did not notice. 'Abdu'l-Bahá remembered him as a soul who walked the earth but travelled the heights of Heaven.
Bahíyyih Khánum, the Greatest Holy Leaf, was a small child when soldiers seized her Father and stripped her home. From that day she shared every exile and every imprisonment of the Holy Family, set aside the ordinary hopes of a woman of her time, and gave her whole long life to service. Lady Blomfield's *The Chosen Highway* preserves the memory of that quiet, unbroken renunciation.
Mírzá Asadu'lláh of Khúy stood high in the world — a learned man, master of several tongues, a trusted official of the Persian state. When he recognized the Báb, he laid all of it down. The Báb gave him a title that bound him to the future of the Faith — "the Third Letter to believe in Him Whom God shall make manifest" — and Dayyán kept that covenant to the end, journeying to recognize Bahá'u'lláh and dying for Him.
In the shrine-city of Karbilá, the Báb gave one of His devoted followers a promise that asked everything of him: that he would live to behold "Him Whom God shall make manifest," but must tell no one, and must wait. Shaykh Ḥasan-i-Zunúzí let the years pass in patient detachment, holding fast to that word — until the day in Karbilá when he beheld Bahá'u'lláh and the promise came true.
Mishkín-Qalam was the most celebrated calligrapher of Persia, honoured at the royal court and famed across Asia — a man whose art alone could have brought him every comfort. He left all of it to follow Bahá'u'lláh, was imprisoned for years on the island of Cyprus, and remained, in 'Abdu'l-Bahá's words, "detached from the world," joyous and steadfast in the Covenant to the end.
Ḥájí Mírzá Muḥammad-Taqí, the Afnán, was a kinsman of the Báb and a prosperous merchant of Yazd. After Bahá'u'lláh's ascension he gave up his comfort, his business, and his estates and went to 'Ishqábád, where he poured out his entire fortune to raise the first Mashriqu'l-Adhkár — the first Bahá'í House of Worship ever built. "This," 'Abdu'l-Bahá said, "is the way to make a sacrifice."
Keith Ransom-Kehler was a gifted American lecturer who could have spent her later years in comfort. When the Guardian asked her to undertake a long, hard teaching journey to Persia on behalf of her persecuted fellow believers, she accepted at once — with no Persian, no pioneering experience, and not in robust health. She gave the rest of her life to it, dying in Iṣfáhán in 1933, and Shoghi Effendi named her the first American Bahá'í martyr.