Friday, October 20, 2017

Our Beloved Bahá’u’lláh: Remembrances of the Leaves of the Holy Family

Our Beloved Bahá’u’lláh:  Remembrances of the Leaves of the Holy Family
Part I – The Early Years (1817–1853)

Monologues in Commemoration of His 200th Birthday by Marlene Macke

Cast

Khadíjih Khánum
The mother of tMírzá Husayn-‘Alí (Bahá’u’lláh)

Ásíyih Khánum
The Most Exalted Leaf, entitled Navváb, the wife of Mírzá Husayn-‘Alí (Bahá’u’lláh)

Narrator

Khadíjih Khánum

I am Khadíjih Khánum, the mother of the one whom you call Bahá’u’lláh but whom I would always think of as my beloved son, Husayn-‘Alí. Let me tell you some stories of Him as a child and young man.

My husband, Mírzá Buzurg, and I were both born in the region of Núr in Mázandarán. I was most fortunate to be wedded to Mírzá Buzurg because he was renowned for his character, charm and artistic and intellectual attainments. My husband came from an ancient and noble family and he held high positions in service to the Shah.

We were blessed with five children. Mírzá Husayn-‘Alí, our third child, was born in Tihrán at the hour of dawn of October 22nd, 1817. In later years, the great chronicler, Nabíl, wrote that the world, while unaware of its significance, had nonetheless witnessed the birth of one who was destined to confer upon it incalculable blessings.

Simply as a mother, however, I counted myself lucky to have such a Child. Naturally, I loved all my children, but I could not bear for a moment to be separated from this One. His demeanour never failed to amaze me. Even as an infant He had none of the behaviours expected of a baby: He never cried or screamed nor did He ever show any impatience or restlessness.

One day, when Husayn-‘Alí was seven years old, my husband and I were watching Him walking in the garden. I admired His gracefulness but remarked to Mírzá Buzurg that our Son was slightly short for His age. My husband replied that I was overlooking His capacity and aptitude and intelligence. He said our Son was like a flame of fire and that even at His tender age, He was more mature than those who had reached adulthood. I recognized that whether He was tall or not mattered not in the slightest.

We knew, of course, that He had a special destiny. Some two years earlier, Husayn-‘Alí had a strange dream. After He described it to his father, my husband realized the dream had great significance and he summoned a man who could interpret dreams. Our Son related that He had been in a garden where huge birds flying overhead turned to attack Him, but the birds could not hurt Him. Then He went to bathe in the sea and there He was assaulted by fishes, but they too could not injure Him. The dream interpreter explained that the birds and fishes represented peoples of the world attacking Him. They would, however, be powerless to harm Husayn-‘Alí and He would triumph over them to achieve a momentous matter.

We did not engage the usual tutors children such as ours would normally have. But Husayn-‘Alí showed remarkable aptitudes for horse back riding and calligraphy and He had an innate knowledge of our Holy Book, the Qur’án.  Indeed, as He grew older, none could help but see His keen intelligence, alert mind, upright character and compassionate and benevolent nature. This is not just a fond mother speaking. By the time Husayn-‘Alí was 14 years old, many people had noted His complete mastery of argument and unparalleled powers of exposition, always expressed with kindness and patience. I was so proud of Him.

Now, every mother wants little more than to have her children make advantageous marriages. In 1832, my daughter, Sárih Khánum, Husayn-‘Alí’s older sister, made such a marriage into a noble family in our region. Sárih Khánum’s new sister-in-law was a vivacious and exceedingly beautiful young girl named Ásíyih Khánum. I was so happy when Ásíyih Khánum came of age and she and my beloved Son were united in marriage. The wedding took place in October 1835, just before Husayn-‘Alí turned 18 years old.

My dear husband, Mírzá Buzurg, passed away in 1839, and virtually nothing more is known of me. Even the date of my death is lost in the shadows of history because our society paid no attention to the role of women. However, I always knew, in my heart of hearts, how blessed and privileged I was to have given birth to Husayn-‘Alí. While I may not have known that future generations would come to know Him as Bahá’u’lláh, the Glory of God, the Promised One, every sign indicated that He had a divine mission that only Allah could have destined.


Ásíyih Khánum

I am Ásíyih Khánum and Husayn-‘Alí, later known as Bahá’u’lláh, was my beloved husband. I will tell you something of our life together.

Both of us came from noble and wealthy families who lived in the same region of Núr. My father adored me and permitted me to learn how to read and write, skills almost unheard of among women in our society. When I was still a child, my older brother married a wonderful young woman named Sárih Khánum and we became fast friends. She had a younger brother named Mírzá Husayn-‘Alí and almost immediately, she conceived of the plan for Husayn-‘Alí and I to be married. Sárih Khánum said it was because I had “rare physical beauty and wonderful spiritual qualities” but I think it was because she loved her brother so much and wanted this extra tie between our families.

The pre-wedding negotiations for the formalities and plans for an elaborate wedding were completed to everyone’s satisfaction. For six months prior to the ceremony, a jeweller moved into our home and created beautiful and costly pieces for my dowry. Even the buttons of my garments were made of gold, set with precious stones. My dowry also included two maidservants, one male servant, a considerable sum of money and a large piece of property. Forty mules were loaded with my clothing and other possessions when I moved to my husband’s home. And as soon as I was of age, the marriage ceremony took place in October 1835.

We lived a quiet life. Neither of us were interested in the ostentatious life style or the lavish State functions attended by the noble families of our rank. We found such worldly pleasures meaningless. We cared for the poor and those in distress. Through extending such comfort and assistance, my Lord was called “The Father of the Poor” and some even called me “The Mother of Consolation.”

Husayn-‘Alí’s father, who had by this time lost a great deal of the family wealth through the machinations of jealous government officials, died in 1839 and my Lord Husband subsequently took on the added responsibility of looking after the large extended family of His mother, step-mothers and siblings. Although younger than many of these dependants, I shouldered the burden along with Him of caring for the family and managing the household.

I lost my first two babies, but our son ‘Abbás, named after his paternal grandfather but whom later generations would call ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, was born in May of 1844, and survived to adulthood. Praise God, because even as a young child, He was my most stalwart helper whenever my Husband was away on His travels or later when He was imprisoned. I was blessed with two additional surviving children, my sweet daughter, Bahíyyih Khánum, who was born in 1846, and my son, Mírzá Mihdí, born in 1849.

My beloved Husband and I enjoyed nine happy years of peace and tranquility in what I see now was a time for building our strength and capacity for the turbulent years to come. I was utterly devoted to Him.

When ‘Abbás was a new-born infant, a courier named Mullá Husayn travelled from Shíráz to give Husayn-‘Alí the “Hidden Secret” or as we all later came to know, the news that the Báb had revealed Himself as the promised Qá’im of Islam. My Husband accepted this Revelation instantly.

Rapid changes engulfed us. Our home became the focal point of the followers of the Báb, who were known as Bábís. Of course, social norms were such that I could not mingle with the male guests or participate in their meetings in our home, but from behind the curtain of my adjacent private parlour, I could follow the developments. In other changes, my Husband began guide and inspire the Bábís and to travel extensively in aid of the Cause

But then Husayn-‘Alí invited Táhirih, the noted Persian poetess and ardent supporter of the Báb, to live in our house for a time. I heard her speak fearlessly of the advent of the Herald. One day the two of us were sitting in my parlour, with my little son ‘Abbás sitting on her lap, listening to the discussion by the men. Suddenly, Táhirih exclaimed from behind the curtain. “O Siyyid this is not the time for arguments, for discussions, for idle repetitions of prophecies or traditions! It is the time for deeds! The day for words has passed! The Promised Herald has come! He has come, the Qá’im, the Imám, the Awaited One has come!”

How could I remain untouched by the spiritual ferment surrounding me? Of course it was impossible for me to travel forth as Táhirih did or drink the cup of martyrdom as she was called to do. But I gladly accepted my role to be the helpmeet of my Husband and did everything in my power to provide a stable, loving home for our family and a welcoming atmosphere for His guests.

Turmoil and persecution increasingly afflicted the Bábís and then the Báb Himself was unjustly executed in 1850. My Husband left for Iraq to keep the Báb’s followers from despair. He was gone for over a year and even when He returned to Persia, He continued to travel to outlying areas, despite the unrelenting persecutions against the Bábís.

Then the unthinkable happened. My Husband was arrested, beaten, suffered the agonies of the bastinado, forced into heavy chains and thrown into the foulest prison in Tihrán, the infamous Síyáh Chál. You may have heard it called the Black Pit.

And then it got worse. Every friend abandoned us and everybody in our household – every relation and every servant except one manservant, Isfandíyár, and one maidservant – fled from our house in terror. Hearing of Husayn-‘Alí’s imprisonment as a Bábí, the mobs plundered our palace and other homes and stripped them of every piece of furniture and all the other goods, kitchenware, our clothing.

We were destitute in an instant. Here I was a young noblewoman with three young children. ‘Abbás was 9, Bahíyyih Khánum was 6, and little Mírzá Mihdí barely 3 years old. I managed to rent a small house with a two mean little rooms in an obscure quarter of the city, but we did not even have the barest necessities of life. We depended one of my aunts and on one of my Husband’s sisters to provide us a few cents on some days. One day, we were in such dire straits I had only a tiny amount of flour left in the house. I put it in the hand of ‘Abbás and He ate it like that.

Meanwhile, I lived in a state of constant terror over the prospects of my Husband. Thank God for Mírzá Majíd, the husband of one of my Father’s aunts. Mírzá Majíd was a Russian citizen and the secretary in the Russian consulate. He helped us get food to my Husband and brought us news from the Court as to which Bábí was to be executed next. You cannot imagine the overwhelming anxiety I felt in those days, from abject terror each dawn that it would be the last day of my beloved Husband’s life to the sheer relief that He would live one more day.

After four months of this torture, representations from the Russian Minister and others resulting in the release of my Husband, on the condition of His exile to Iraq within a month. He had no time to properly heal and recuperate, but we did our best to nurse Him. I had managed to secure some of my personal jewels and embroidered garments when we fled from our palace. I sold them now for the sum of some four hundred túmáns so we had a little money to prepare for the journey to Iraq.

The four months in the inhuman conditions of that unspeakable hell hole had an odd effect on my Husband. While He was broken in body, His spirit had soared to a new plane. Even my children noticed a new radiance enfolding Him like a shining cloak. Of course, at that time we were so worried about restoring His health, and so harassed with getting ready for the exile, we did not comprehend the significance of His spiritual transformation. It was another decade before we learned the actual details.

We departed our homeland in the early days of January 1853, the midmost days of a brutal winter, for an arduous journey through snow-clogged mountain passes to an uncertain future.


Narrator

Thus we have accounts of Khadíjih Khánum, the mother of the Bahá’u’lláh and Ásíyih Khánum, His wife, whom He gave the titles of the Most Exalted Leaf, and Navváb, a title of honour meaning ‘noble’. Their recollections describe the early years of the life of Bahá’u’lláh.

In an undated prayer revealed for His mother, Khadíjih Khánum, Bahá’u’lláh wrote, “The most honoured, esteemed and respected mother. He is God! Praised be Thou O Lord, My God! This is My mother who hath acknowledged Thy oneness, confessed Thy unity, attained the honour of meeting Thy Manifestations in Thy days, reached the station of recognition and entered the tabernacle of Heave, for she loved Thyself and Thy Servant and held fast to the cord of Thy love through the sanctified Temples of Thy Sovereignty.

“I beseech Thee, therefore, O My God, to grant her the honour of beholding Thy Beauty, and vouchsafe unto her the gift of Thy Presence. Give her to drink then from the ocean of Thy mercy and the chalice of Thy forgiveness. Make her to dwell, O My God, in the precincts of Thy mercy in the Heaven of eternity. Grant her to hear Thy holy melodies that she may cast the veil from her head in her eagerness to meet Thee and speed through the domains of Thy nearness and union. Thou art verily powerful over all that Thou desirest, and Thou art verily the Mighty, the Most Luminous.”

In one of several Tablets revealed by Bahá’u’lláh to honour Ásíyih Khánum, He wrote, “O Navváb! O Leaf that hath sprung from My Tree, and been My companion! My glory be upon thee, and My loving-kindness, and My mercy that hath surpassed all beings. We announce unto thee that which will gladden thine eye, and assure thy soul, and rejoice thine heart. Verily, thy Lord is the Compassionate, the All-Bountiful. God hath been and will be pleased with thee, and hath singled thee out for His own Self, and chosen thee from among His handmaidens to serve Him, and hath made thee the companion of His Person in the daytime and in the night-season.”

In a Tablet of visitation revealed after her death, Bahá’u’lláh testified that Ásíyih Khánum had gazed upon His Countenance, circled round His throne, gave ear to His Call, resided in His House, clung to the Cord of His Covenant, and held fast the Hem of the Garment of His Generosity and Bounty. He bore witness that she endured patiently in the path of her Lord and reaffirmed that she attained unto all good, that God elevated her to a station round circled every glory and high station.

We honour the legacy of Ásíyih Khánum, the wife of Bahá’u’lláh, who among the many honours bestowed on her by His Pen, informed His followers that were they to visit her tomb, they are to say, “Salutation and blessing  and glory upon thee, O Holy Leaf that hath sprung from the Divine Lote Tree!” Her enduring fidelity to Bahá’u’lláh at every stage of their lives together must have been one of His few joys and comforts during His Life.

We honour the legacy of Khadíjih Khánum who gave birth to, raised and released her Son to the world, a Son who was destined to be the Manifestation of God whose advent all past religions had promised, the Light of the World, the Sun of Truth, the Prince of Peace, the Glory of God.

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Script taken primarily from Leaves of the Twin Divine Trees, An In-Depth Study of the Lives of Women Closely Related to the Báb and Bahá’u’lláh by Baharieh Rouhani Ma‘ani, Bahá’u’lláh The King of Glory by H.M. Balyuzi.

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