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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."
47 stories on this theme.
In *Bahá'u'lláh and the New Era*, Esslemont preserves Bahá'u'lláh's own brief description of the Síyáh-Chál — the underground prison in Tihrán in which He was held in chains for four months in 1852. The dungeon was *foul beyond comparison*, dark, and crowded with nearly one hundred and fifty fellow-prisoners.
The Báb spent four months in Iṣfáhán in 1846 as the guest, first of the Imám-Jum'ih and then of the Governor Manúchihr Khán. The Imám-Jum'ih had asked, as a test, for a commentary on a Súrih of the Qur'án; the Báb produced one in two hours of writing — a quantity of verse that the host afterwards estimated at a third of the Qur'án itself.
Nabíl's chronicle records the Báb's removal from Iṣfáhán in 1847 to the remote frontier prisons of Máh-Kú and Chihríq, in the bleak mountains of north-western Persia. The intent of the authorities was to silence Him by isolation; the effect was the opposite — the journey itself became a teaching, the remote fortresses became places of pilgrimage, and from the cells the Persian Bayán was revealed.
Nabíl records the nine-month imprisonment of the Báb at the mountain fortress of Máh-Kú on the western frontier of Persia — and the remarkable transformation of His warden, 'Alí Khán, from a hostile jailer into a devoted believer who could no longer hold the door closed against the friends.
Nabíl's chronicle records that in the autumn of 1852, after the attempt on the life of Náṣiri'd-Dín Sháh by two distraught Bábís acting without authorisation, Bahá'u'lláh was arrested at Níyávarán and confined in the underground dungeon of Ṭihrán known as the Black Pit. There, in chains, He received the intimations of the Mission that would shape the next forty years.
Among the most distinguished early converts to the Báb's Cause was Siyyid Yaḥyá-i-Dárábí — known later as Vaḥíd, the Peerless. Sent from the court of Muḥammad Sháh to investigate the new movement, he came as a sceptic; the Báb's revealed commentary on the Súrih of Kawthar undid his scepticism in a single afternoon.
In the *Epistle to the Son of the Wolf*, Bahá'u'lláh briefly recalls the conditions of His four-month imprisonment in the Síyáh-Chál of Tihrán in 1852 — the underground dungeon in which the first intimations of His Revelation came to Him.
Shoghi Effendi's account, in *God Passes By*, of Bahá'u'lláh's most consequential undertaking of the Adrianople period (1863-1868) — the composition and transmission of the great Tablets to the rulers of His era, addressing each by name and summoning the world's governors to recognise the new Day of God.
A learned man set the Báb a very hard test, sure no one could pass it — but what happened next left him amazed.
Powerful men sent the Báb far away to a lonely mountain prison, hoping no one would ever hear of Him again — but the very opposite came true.
Locked deep in the darkest prison in all of Persia, weighed down by heavy chains, Bahá'u'lláh heard a voice in the night promising that He would never be alone.
A famous scholar planned the hardest question in the world to test the Báb — and kept it a secret inside his own mind. Then something happened he could never explain.
From a borrowed house in the Ottoman town of Adrianople, an exile stripped of homeland, wealth, and freedom revealed the Súriy-i-Mulúk — the Tablet of the Kings — and, addressing the whole concourse of the world's sovereigns at once, bade the rulers of the earth lay down their pride, deal justly with their peoples, and turn to the Day of God. Shoghi Effendi ranks it among the most momentous Tablets of the entire Bahá'í Revelation.
In Baghdád, in answer to the questions of an uncle of the Báb, Bahá'u'lláh revealed in the span of two days and two nights the Kitáb-i-Íqán — the Book of Certitude — a work of such sweep and majesty that it unveils the meaning of all the Scriptures of the past and stands among the greatest doctrinal works of His entire Revelation. Adib Taherzadeh recounts the awe of its outpouring.
Shut away in remote mountain fortresses on the edge of the Persian empire, with no library, no leisure, and no help, the Báb poured forth Writings of such volume and such speed — commentaries, expositions, and prayers composed without pause or premeditation — that friends and adversaries alike recognized in the sheer torrent of His revealed Word a sign no human power could counterfeit.
From within the prison-city of 'Akká — held under a sentence of perpetual confinement — Bahá'u'lláh revealed the Kitáb-i-Aqdas, the Most Holy Book: the charter of a future world civilization, set down by a Prisoner whom the powers of the earth had meant to silence forever.
In 'Akká, Bahá'u'lláh revealed the Súrih of the Temple — the Súriy-i-Haykal — and gathered into its body the mighty messages He had already sent to the Pope, the Emperor of France, the Sháh, the Czar, the Queen, and the rulers of the earth, fashioning of His proclamation a living "Temple" of the Word.
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.
In the closing years of His life, from the neighbourhood of 'Akká, Bahá'u'lláh revealed the Tablet of Ishráqát — the "Splendours" — setting forth, like rays breaking from a single rising Sun, the principles by which a divided world might be remade. Bahá'ís keep the very first month of their year, and its Feast, under the name this Tablet exalts: Bahá, the Splendour.
In Baghdád, in answer to the questions of an uncle of the Báb who was still searching, Bahá'u'lláh revealed in the span of two days and two nights the Kitáb-i-Íqán — the Book of Certitude. Shoghi Effendi ranks it the most important doctrinal work of the Bahá'í Revelation: a torrent of explanation poured out almost in a single sitting, and a sign of the glory of the Word.
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.
From within the prison-city of 'Akká — where the world's authorities had hoped His Cause would die — Bahá'u'lláh revealed the Kitáb-i-Aqdas, the Most Holy Book. Out of the most desolate confinement came the charter of a future world civilization: its laws, its institutions, and its summons to the unity of humankind.
In the bitterest days of His imprisonment in 'Akká — His sons fallen, His companions scattered, the gates barred against Him — Bahá'u'lláh revealed the Lawḥ-i-Qad-Iḥtaraqa'l-Mukhliṣún, the Fire Tablet. Its verses move through a long lament over the world's wrongs and then break, at the end, into the certainty of the dawn: the glory of His Cause shining out from the very depth of His affliction.
Across forty years of exile, imprisonment, and persecution, Bahá'u'lláh poured forth a sea of revealed verses unmatched in religious history — Tablets, prayers, and books in such abundance that those who tried to record them could scarcely keep pace. Shoghi Effendi gathers the testimony of that torrent as one of the surest signs of the glory of His Revelation.
About a year before His ascension, Bahá'u'lláh set down in His own hand the Kitáb-i-'Ahd — His Book of the Covenant, His Will and Testament. During His final illness He placed it in 'Abdu'l-Bahá's keeping, and nine days after His passing it was read aloud to the gathered believers. In it, in words beyond all dispute, Bahá'u'lláh bade His family and His kindred turn their faces toward the Most Mighty Branch.
In the Kitáb-i-Aqdas, the Most Holy Book, Bahá'u'lláh wrote a single luminous verse pointing the believers, after His passing, toward "Him Whom God hath purposed, Who hath branched from this Ancient Root." In His Book of the Covenant He made the meaning unmistakable: the object of that verse was none other than 'Abdu'l-Bahá, the Most Mighty Branch.
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.
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.
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."
On the night the Báb declared His mission in Shíráz, He entrusted Mullá Ḥusayn with a sacred charge: to find in Ṭihrán a soul of a noble house and deliver into His hands a scroll of the newly revealed Word. The young schoolteacher who carried it never learned the meaning of his errand — but Bahá'u'lláh read the Words, and the first utterance of the new Revelation reached the One for Whom, unknown to all, it had been written.
In the years of His exile in Baghdád, Bahá'u'lláh received a letter of spiritual questions from a Ṣúfí leader, a judge named Shaykh Muḥyi'd-Dín. In answer He revealed the Seven Valleys — a mystical Tablet that traces the soul's ascent to God through seven stages, from the first Valley of Search to the last Valley of true poverty and nothingness. A single revealed letter became one of the most beloved descriptions of the inner journey ever written.
From His confinement in the remote mountain fortresses of Ádhirbáyján, the Báb revealed, in answer to a seeker's questions, the Dalá'il-i-Sab'ih — the Seven Proofs — which Shoghi Effendi ranks among the most important of His doctrinal works. In it the Báb sets out the evidences of His mission and, with extraordinary tenderness, calls the inquirer to weigh the truth fairly, for the sake of God alone.
In the years of His exile in Baghdád, Bahá'u'lláh would walk the banks of the Tigris, and there He revealed the small book of gem-like utterances He named the Hidden Words — the very essence of the guidance of God, distilled into a handful of Words and entrusted to every human heart.
Late in His ministry, from the neighbourhood of 'Akká, Bahá'u'lláh revealed the Kalimát-i-Firdawsíyyih — the "Words of Paradise" — a Tablet of luminous leaves of counsel on the fear of God, the building of a just society, education, the trustworthiness that adorns the human race, and the world-renewing power of His Word.
Forty days before He was led from His mountain prison to be martyred, the Báb quietly gathered up all that He possessed — His writings, His pen-case, His seals, and His rings — and placed them in trusted hands, with instructions that they be carried in secret to Bahá'u'lláh in Ṭihrán. On the threshold of death, His last act of provision looked not backward in grief but forward to the One whose coming He had lived and would die to herald.
Near the end of His earthly life, from the green countryside outside the prison-city of 'Akká, Bahá'u'lláh revealed the Lawḥ-i-Dunyá — the Tablet of the World — a charter for the ordering and betterment of human society, in which the Lord of manifest dominion turned the eyes of His followers away from themselves and toward the welfare of all mankind.
In His own words, in the Epistle to the Son of the Wolf, Bahá'u'lláh recalls the four months He spent chained in the lightless underground dungeon of Ṭihrán — and how, in that very darkness, the first intimations of His Revelation broke upon Him like a dawn, a Voice calling from above His head and a sense that the whole creation had been set astir.
Not long after the Báb declared His mission, He told His first disciple that a soul of surpassing greatness was yet to be reached, and sent him north to find the one of his own heart's choosing. In Ṭihrán, Mullá Ḥusayn placed a scroll in the hands of a young Nobleman, Bahá'u'lláh — and when the answer came back, the Báb's joy revealed that the greatest Light of all had recognised the Day.
The most learned divine in Persia was sent by the king himself to examine the young Báb and report Him a pretender. He came armed with all his scholarship and a secret final test no one could have known. In a single sitting that test was answered before he spoke it — and the proudest scholar of the realm bowed his head. A story of the power of God over the learned heart.
The Báb was moved to the remote fortress of Chihríq, "the Mountain of Severity," chosen for its harshness and the supposed hostility of its Kurdish inhabitants, so that He might be cut off from all who loved Him. Instead the warden, the people, and the very town fell under the spell of His presence — and the verses that streamed from His pen could not be stopped by any wall.
In the Kitáb-i-Aqdas, the Most Holy Book revealed in the prison-city of 'Akká, Bahá'u'lláh turned to the assembled monarchs of the earth and addressed them in words of staggering majesty. He told them that the sovereign Lord of all had come, that they were but vassals, and that the King of Kings had appeared and was summoning them unto Himself. A reflection on the verses in which the sovereignty of God is proclaimed over every throne on earth.
Adib Taherzadeh's account, in the closing chapters of *The Revelation of Bahá'u'lláh*, of the ascension of Bahá'u'lláh on 29 May 1892 in the mansion of Bahjí — the closing of the prophetic ministry of which the rest of Bahá'í history would become the unfolding.
Adib Taherzadeh's account, in *The Revelation of Bahá'u'lláh*, of the Tablet known as the *Lawḥ-i-Aqdas* — the *Most Holy Tablet* — addressed by Bahá'u'lláh from the prison-city of 'Akká to the Christians of the world.
In *The Revelation of Bahá'u'lláh* Adib Taherzadeh recounts the Tablet of Carmel — the Tablet revealed by Bahá'u'lláh on one of His four visits to Mount Carmel in the closing years of His life. The Tablet is read as the charter of the future Bahá'í World Centre.
In *Some Answered Questions*, 'Abdu'l-Bahá takes up the question of miracles with characteristic clarity: extraordinary events may have occurred and may yet occur, but they are not the proofs by which a Manifestation of God is finally known. *Miracles are proofs for the eyewitness only*.
In *Some Answered Questions*, 'Abdu'l-Bahá presses the case that humanity, left to itself, does not by some natural process improve. It *requires* an educator of universal scope — and the Manifestations of God are precisely the educators sent for that purpose.
In *A Traveler's Narrative*, 'Abdu'l-Bahá recounts the Báb's confinement in the remote castle of Máh-Kú on the northwestern frontier of Persia — and describes how the warden 'Alí Khán's love for the family of the Prophet led him, despite official orders, to permit conversation between the prisoner and visiting believers.