Memorials of the Faithful
Hájí `Abdu'r-Rahim of
Yazd was a precious soul,
from his earliest years virtuous and God-fearing, and
known among the people as a holy man, peerless in observing
his religious duties, mindful as to his acts. His
strong religious faith was an indisputable fact. He served
and worshiped God by day and night, was sound, mild,
compassionate, a loyal friend.
Because he was fully prepared, at the very moment
when he heard the summons from the Supreme Horizon
--heard the drumbeats of "Am I not your Lord?"--he instantly
cried out, "Yea, verily!" With his whole being, he
became enamored of the splendors shed by the Light of the
World. Openly and boldly he began to confirm his family
and friends. This was soon known throughout the city; to
the eyes of the evil &ulamas, he was now an object of hate
and contempt. Incurring their wrath, he was despised by
those creatures of their own low passions. He was molested
and harassed; the inhabitants rioted, and the evil &ulamas
plotted his death. The government authorities turned on him as well, hounded him, even subjected him to torture. They beat him with clubs, and whipped him. All this went
on, by day and night.
He was forced, then, to abandon his home and go out of
the city, a vagrant, climbing the mountains, crossing over
the plains, until he came to the Holy Land. But so weak he
was, and wasted away, that whoever saw him thought he
was breathing his last; when he reached Haifa, Nabíl of
Qá'in hurried to Akká, and desired me to summon the
Hájí at once, because he was in his death agony and failing
"Let me go to the Mansion," I said, "and ask leave."
"It would take too long," he said. "And then `Abdu'r-Rahim
will never see Akká. I long for him to have this
bounty; for him at least to see Akká, and die. I beg of You,
send for him at once!"
Complying with his wish, I summoned `Abdu'r-Rahim.
When he came, I could hardly detect in him a whisper of
life. At times he would open his eyes, but he spoke no
word. Still, the sweet savors of the Most Great Prison restored
the vital spark, and his yearning to meet Bahá'u'lláh
breathed life into him again. I looked in on him the next
morning and found him cheerful and refreshed. He asked
permission to attend upon Bahá'u'lláh. "It all depends," I
answered, "on whether He grants you leave. God willing,
you shall be singled out for this cherished gift."
A few days later, permission came, and he hastened to
the presence of Bahá'u'lláh. When `Abdu'r-Rahim entered
there, the spirit of life was wafted over him. On his return,
it was clear that this Hájí had become a different Hájí entirely:
he was in the bloom of health. Nabíl was dumbfounded,
and said: "How life-giving, to a true believer, is
this prison air!"
For some time, `Abdu'r-Rahim lived in the neighborhood.
He spent his hours remembering and praising God; he chanted prayers, and carefully attended to his religious duties. Thus he saw few people. This servant paid special
attention to his needs, and ordered a light diet for him.
But it all came to an end with the Supreme Affliction, the
ascension of Bahá'u'lláh. There was anguish then, and the
noise of loud weeping. With his heart on fire, his eyes raining
tears, he struggled weakly to move about; so his days
went by, and always, he longed to make his exit from this
rubbish heap, the world. At last he broke away from the
torment of his loss, and hurried on to the Realm of God,
and came to the assemblage of Divine splendor in the
Kingdom of Lights.
Unto him be salutations and praise, and mercy ineffable.
May God scatter on his resting-place rays from the mysterious
Memorials of the Faithful
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