The desert was, no doubt, hot and dry. And yet, it had to be crossed.
The Bab was on His way to Mecca with His beloved disciple, Quddus, and His servant, Mubarak. They were going to fulfill all the rites of Pilgrimage.
As with any journey across the desert at that time, they would start early in the morning, before the sun was even up, and then rest during the pounding heat of the day. Of course, throughout the day, they would also say their prayers, for the Bab truly understood the importance of prayer.
It was during this journey that the Bab revealed many beautiful prayers and writings, almost all of them transcribed by Quddus. Many of these were stored in a saddlebag that was likely carried at the side of the camel that He rode.
But one morning, as they were all saying their prayers, a man crept up quietly upon them and ran off with the saddlebag that had been left there.
Mubarak started to run after him, but the Bab quietly waved him back without interrupting His prayers.
Later, after the prayers had been said, the Bab told him that this was a great bounty, for this man would carry His writings deep into the desert, to places and people that would never receive them otherwise. "Grieve not, therefore, at his action," He said, "for this was decreed by God, the Ordainer, the Almighty."
There are many times in our life when things happen that we initially think are a catastrophe. It is as Baha'u'llah says, "Sorrow not if, in these days and on this earthly plane, things contrary to your wishes have been ordained and manifested by God". Or like the story in the Valley of Knowledge, where the lover is chased by the night watchmen and only in the end, when he is united with his lover, praises them.
There are so many times when we can lament what occurs to us, but in retrospect see the great bounties that accrued because of those tests and trials.
Wednesday, June 5, 2019
Tuesday, June 4, 2019
A White Bird
'Abdu'l-Karim was a very interesting person.
He lived in Persia in the middle of the 19th century, and was passionate about his study of religion. He knew that if he wanted to know more about God and His Messengers, he would need to study for years and years. And so he did.
At this point I could talk about the great teachers he studied under, or the places he traveled in his search for more knowledge, but really, I can't. He didn't. Well, he did, but not quite as we would imagine.
He read a lot, and talked with many people about his passion, usually late into the night, but he only studied formally for a couple of years.
At the end of those few years, his teachers proclaimed him a mujtahid, a teacher of the Qur'an. As you can imagine, this was very sudden, for it normally took a lot longer than that to receive such an acclamation.
His family was thrilled, and wanted to celebrate this great achievement, but he asked them to wait, for he did not feel ready. He knew the wisdom that the mujtahids were expected to have, and he did not feel worthy. He knew that they were to have great insights into the wonders of the Book of God, and he did not feel that he had anything like that. He knew, deep in his heart, that he was not yet ready to receive such a title.
And so he did what he knew anyone should do when facing such questions like that in their heart: he prayed. He prayed for many hours, long into the night, and during that time he was given a vision. He saw a great man speaking to a large throng of people, giving them all wise counsel. When he turned to this man and began to walk towards him, he awoke.
Upon enquiry the next day, he learned that the man in his vision was Siyyid Kazim, in Karbila.
From there, as you can guess, he sought him out and became one of Siyyid Kazim's students. He studied with him in Karbila for some time, learned of the imminent appearance of the Promised One, and then returned to his home in Persia.
It was during this time, while he was back home, praying every night for guidance, that he received a second vision.
He saw a bird, pure as the snow, flying above his head. This bird landed on a tree near him and, in a beautiful, gentle voice, asked, "Are you seeking the Manifestation, O 'Abdu'l-Karim? Lo, the year sixty."
This vision thrilled him, and filled him with great joy, for the year sixty was only a few years away.
Over the following months, this vision continually filled his mind, and thrilled his heart.
Finally, a few years later, in the year 1260, he heard of the message of the Bab and hastened to Shiraz to meet Him. When the Bab saw him, He said, "Are you seeking the Manifestation, O 'Abdu'l-Karim?" And the voice, just in case there was any doubt, was that same sweet voice of the bird.
* * * * *
I love this story, not only for its simple fulfillment of promise, but for the humility of its main character.
'Abdu'l-Karim was, by any reckoning, a prodigy. He could easily have been full of himself, haughty with his own learning, proud of his accomplishments. He would, no doubt, have gathered a large following for himself, and become quite famous in his time.
But he was too honest for that.
He knew that he had not yet risen to his own standard of worth. He was aware of how little he knew, in comparison to what he felt he should know. He knew that the praise of his contemporaries was worth nothing if he did not feel worthy of that praise. More importantly, he knew that this praise should never sway his own opinion of himself.
This is such an important lesson for all of us.
When we are told to "know thyself", it is a very important statement to follow. We not only need to know ourselves, but we need to be honest with that knowledge, too. 'Abdu'l-Karim knew of his passion for religion, but was aware enough to know that he had not yet fulfilled his own personal expectations.
As we embark on our own quest for truth, there are those around us who may praise us for our wisdom or understanding, but only we will know how far we actually have to go.
And if we follow 'Abdu'l-Karim's example, and not allow the opinion of others to sway us, we may, just like him, discover treasures far greater than we ever imagined.
He lived in Persia in the middle of the 19th century, and was passionate about his study of religion. He knew that if he wanted to know more about God and His Messengers, he would need to study for years and years. And so he did.
At this point I could talk about the great teachers he studied under, or the places he traveled in his search for more knowledge, but really, I can't. He didn't. Well, he did, but not quite as we would imagine.
He read a lot, and talked with many people about his passion, usually late into the night, but he only studied formally for a couple of years.
At the end of those few years, his teachers proclaimed him a mujtahid, a teacher of the Qur'an. As you can imagine, this was very sudden, for it normally took a lot longer than that to receive such an acclamation.
His family was thrilled, and wanted to celebrate this great achievement, but he asked them to wait, for he did not feel ready. He knew the wisdom that the mujtahids were expected to have, and he did not feel worthy. He knew that they were to have great insights into the wonders of the Book of God, and he did not feel that he had anything like that. He knew, deep in his heart, that he was not yet ready to receive such a title.
And so he did what he knew anyone should do when facing such questions like that in their heart: he prayed. He prayed for many hours, long into the night, and during that time he was given a vision. He saw a great man speaking to a large throng of people, giving them all wise counsel. When he turned to this man and began to walk towards him, he awoke.
Upon enquiry the next day, he learned that the man in his vision was Siyyid Kazim, in Karbila.
From there, as you can guess, he sought him out and became one of Siyyid Kazim's students. He studied with him in Karbila for some time, learned of the imminent appearance of the Promised One, and then returned to his home in Persia.
It was during this time, while he was back home, praying every night for guidance, that he received a second vision.
He saw a bird, pure as the snow, flying above his head. This bird landed on a tree near him and, in a beautiful, gentle voice, asked, "Are you seeking the Manifestation, O 'Abdu'l-Karim? Lo, the year sixty."
This vision thrilled him, and filled him with great joy, for the year sixty was only a few years away.
Over the following months, this vision continually filled his mind, and thrilled his heart.
Finally, a few years later, in the year 1260, he heard of the message of the Bab and hastened to Shiraz to meet Him. When the Bab saw him, He said, "Are you seeking the Manifestation, O 'Abdu'l-Karim?" And the voice, just in case there was any doubt, was that same sweet voice of the bird.
* * * * *
I love this story, not only for its simple fulfillment of promise, but for the humility of its main character.
'Abdu'l-Karim was, by any reckoning, a prodigy. He could easily have been full of himself, haughty with his own learning, proud of his accomplishments. He would, no doubt, have gathered a large following for himself, and become quite famous in his time.
But he was too honest for that.
He knew that he had not yet risen to his own standard of worth. He was aware of how little he knew, in comparison to what he felt he should know. He knew that the praise of his contemporaries was worth nothing if he did not feel worthy of that praise. More importantly, he knew that this praise should never sway his own opinion of himself.
This is such an important lesson for all of us.
When we are told to "know thyself", it is a very important statement to follow. We not only need to know ourselves, but we need to be honest with that knowledge, too. 'Abdu'l-Karim knew of his passion for religion, but was aware enough to know that he had not yet fulfilled his own personal expectations.
As we embark on our own quest for truth, there are those around us who may praise us for our wisdom or understanding, but only we will know how far we actually have to go.
And if we follow 'Abdu'l-Karim's example, and not allow the opinion of others to sway us, we may, just like him, discover treasures far greater than we ever imagined.
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