Now, to be clear, this was not just a visit to town, like you or I would make. It was not merely heading out the door, going for a pleasant walk to get some groceries, and coming back home again. This was a three-day walk, pretty much through the rugged mountains.
Three days. Three days of walking through the mountains and foothills to get to the town, doing whatever was needed, such as getting some necessities like milk and rice, going to the public bath, and then heading back again for another three-day hike.
This was a full-fledged trek. A camping-out-under-the-stars-hoping-it-wasn't-going-to-rain sort of hike, with no tent or shelter, and no North Face jacket to keep you warm.
As you can probably imagine, He didn't just stroll into town, do what He needed to do, and head out again later that afternoon. No. He likely stayed there for a few days. And actually, we know that He did, for when He was there, He would stay at the local religious school.
Now, here, dear Reader, I have to clarify something. Baha'u'llah did not actually stay at Sar Galu for two years. He only spent about a year there. The rest of the time He was in Sulaymaniyyih, at this seminary. More on that later.
But back to Sar Galu for a moment. While we don't know what He did while He was there, alone on the mountain, we do know what He wrote about it. "From Our eyes", He reminisced in the Kitab-i-Iqan, "there rained tears of anguish, and in Our bleeding heart there surged an ocean of agonizing pain. Many a night We had no food for sustenance, and many a day Our body found no rest. Alone, We communed with Our spirit, oblivious of the world and all that is therein..." This was not an easy time for Him, no doubt. He was likely in great anguish, considering what was happening to the Babi community.
It is also worth noting that while He was there, on the mountain, He likely came in contact with the migrant farmers who worked the fields during the sowing and harvest times. There were also, possibly, some travelers that met Him, although even today roads are few and far between. And again, while we're not sure, we do know that reports and rumours started circulating about Someone Who had chosen to live an ascetic life there in the wilderness, away from human society.
Again, He would occasionally come into town, and stay at that seminary. While there, He was reserved and usually silent. It was known that He had not taken a vow of silence, but He rarely spoke. Even then, all who were there wished to know more of this silent hermit, Who, by His very bearing, impressed them.
And that, dear Reader, is the point I wish to focus on this week: His silence.
While people are naturally curious about a stranger who comes into their midst, this was a bit more than that. Something caught their attention. These people were studying all about religion and spirituality, striving to become closer to their Lord. They knew all about asceticism and various religious practices, and here, among them, was One Who was living it. And not just living it, but living it in an exemplary way.
Of course His very presence raised their curiosity.
And yet, still, He was silent.
Shortly after His return to Baghdad, in the passages in the Kitab-i-Iqan in which He describes the True Seeker, He would write, "He must never seek to exalt himself above any one, must wash away from the tablet of his heart every trace of pride and vainglory, must cling unto patience and resignation, observe silence, and refrain from idle talk."
He, Himself, at this time in Sulaymaniyyih, demonstrated the attributes of that True Seeker, even though there was nothing He needed to seek. "In truth," He said, "matters have come to such a pass that silence hath taken precedence over utterance and hath come to be regarded as preferable." "My silence", He later wrote, "is by reason of the veils that have blinded Thy creatures' eyes to Thee, and my muteness is because of the impediments that have hindered Thy people from recognizing Thy truth."
But there, in that seminary, amongst those who wished to know more, He found some pure hearts who were, later, the recipients of some of the most treasured writings from his mighty Pen. We know they must have been sincere, for as He said, "It behoveth every one in this Day of God to dedicate himself to the teaching of the Cause with utmost prudence and steadfastness. Should he discover a pure soil, let him sow the seed of the Word of God, otherwise it would be preferable to observe silence."
And so, for one year, He was quiet. Choosing to leave Baghdad due to those who would seek leadership for themselves, who would cause such discord as to almost wipe out the infant Faith of God, He retreated in silence until He found a hearing ear.
He lived such a remarkable, yet simple, life, that it attracted those around Him.
Today, we, too, are constantly in the spotlight, even though we do not often realize it. People watch us. They know we are Baha'i, and they look at our actions to see if we stand out above the crowd. For myself, I know that most often I don't.
But occasionally, every once in a while, I will do something that you or I just take for granted, as we are influenced by these great teachings, and the effect that it has on those around me will often astonish me. Sometimes it can be something as simple as picking up a piece of garbage on a trail in the woods, or lending a helping hand to someone who is having a bit of difficulty.
No matter what it is, we should always strive to remember His great example in Sulaymaniyyih, and the truth to those words of wisdom:
The essence of faith is fewness of words and abundance of deeds; he whose words exceed his deeds, know verily his death is better than his life.
The essence of true safety is to observe silence, to look at the end of things and to renounce the world.
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