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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."
11 stories where submission appears.
Mírzá Muḥammad-Qulí, a loyal younger brother of Bahá'u'lláh, spent his whole life within the shelter of the Blessed Beauty — and shared every stage of His exile from Persia to the prison-fortress of 'Akká. In 'Abdu'l-Bahá's own reminiscence, he accepted all that came his way — comfort and torment, hardship and respite, sickness and health — in one and the same spirit, returning thanks with a free heart and a face that shone like the sun.
Jamshíd-i-Gurjí, a valiant believer who came from Georgia and grew up in Káshán, was falsely denounced, chained, and dragged toward the Persian frontier to be handed over for execution. Thrown one night into a pit, he did not lament but proclaimed that the very depths into which his enemies had cast him were the heights of the Lord — and 'Abdu'l-Bahá records that he lived out his days tranquil and at peace, well-pleased with God and answering the call to return with a glad "Yea, verily!"
Mírzá Maḥmúd of Káshán and Áqá Riḍá of Shíráz walked on foot beside the howdah of Bahá'u'lláh from Baghdád to Constantinople, through famine and exhaustion, cooking and serving the believers far into each night and rising again at dawn. In poverty so deep that seven of them once dined on a single handful of dates, they counted themselves in Heaven — for, in 'Abdu'l-Bahá's account, their sole desire was to please Bahá'u'lláh, and they were perfectly content with whatever the will of God sent them.
Shaykh Ṣádiq of Yazd, a man as righteous as his name, lived in Baghdád wholly absorbed in the remembrance of God. When the convoy of Bahá'u'lláh departed from the city, Shaykh Ṣádiq submitted to the bidding that he stay behind — yet his longing burned so fiercely that, after Bahá'u'lláh reached Mosul, he could bear the separation no more, and shoeless and hatless he ran out across the barren plain after Him and fell to his rest with mercy all about him.
Ḥájí Abu'l-Ḥasan-i-Amín — the Trustee of the Right of God — spent some fifty years travelling the length of Persia on foot and by mule, sustaining the financial life of the Cause and carrying nothing of his own. Twice imprisoned for his open faith, he bore each captivity with the very same calm and good cheer with which he bore the endless roads, and after every release returned quietly to his work — content, in 'Abdu'l-Bahá's tribute, with whatever the will of God appointed for him.
For forty years 'Abdu'l-Bahá was a prisoner of the Ottoman state, and through every threat of exile to the deserts of North Africa and every renewed tightening of His confinement He remained serene, accepting each turn as the will of God. When in 1908 the gates of 'Akká at last swung open and He walked free, He met the long-awaited liberation with the very same tranquillity He had shown in captivity.
Bahíyyih Khánum, the Greatest Holy Leaf, shared every exile, imprisonment, and bereavement that fell upon the Holy Family across nearly eighty years — the loss of her childhood home, the death of her little brother in the prison of 'Akká, the passing of her Father and then of her beloved Brother. Through all of it she remained, in the testimony of those who knew her, the very emblem of radiant submission to the will of God.
Ḥájí Mírzá Ḥaydar-'Alí, the beloved teacher of Iṣfáhán, was banished by the authorities to the remote Sudan and held in exile at Khartoum for some nine years. He bore the sentence not as a calamity but as the will of God — turning it into a teaching mission — and 'Abdu'l-Bahá records that he came at last into the presence of Bahá'u'lláh wearing the very same smiling face with which he had first set out upon the road of exile.
Ásíyih Khánum — the lady Bahá'u'lláh named Navváb — was born to wealth and rank, a Persian noblewoman of such beauty she was called the Daughter of the Beautiful. When the storms of persecution stripped her household of everything, she let it all go without complaint and embraced a lifetime of poverty, exile, and loss at her Husband's side, accepting each stage of the descent as the will of God.
Darvísh Ṣidq-'Alí was a wandering Sufi, free and detached, who roamed the path of the mystics in search of God. When he found Him in Baghdád in the person of Bahá'u'lláh, he laid down his old independent life at once and begged only to walk beside the caravan of exile as a humble groom — tending the horses by night, singing his Lord's praises by day, and counting that lowly service the highest sovereignty.
Ásíyih Khánum — the noble lady Bahá'u'lláh named Navváb — had shared with Him the loss of their home, the winter exile from Persia, and ten years in Baghdád. When He entered the Garden of Riḍván in 1863 the flooded Tigris kept her on the far bank; on the Ninth Day she crossed at last to join Him. The Ninth Day of Riḍván honours that reunion of the wife and mother of the Holy Family with the One whose every exile she had shared.