on that fateful afternoon, Mirza Mihdi walked on the roof of the prison in Akka, engaged in his prayers and meditations, perched on the wings of joy and detachment, soaring to new heights into the wonderful world.
In that state of joy and ecstasy, while his spiritual eyes were wide open, his physical eyes were closed to this world below.
Could he be alone, walking on that roof as the sun set over Akka?
In my mind, a heavenly company of angels circled Akka's Fortress with great joy at this very moment.
For in one of the cells was The One promised in all religious scriptures, the Lord of Hosts, the Ancient Beauty, the One who had accepted imprisonment in this fortress so that the world could attain true freedom.
O Mihdi, while you were reciting the Epistle of the Dove, what wonderful stage must you have reached?
In a fleeting moment in your enlightened state,
you fell through the open ceiling window into an open box on the floor below.
When you fell, the bang was extremely loud in the silent penitential atmosphere.
The blessed family rushed to the scene to see, to their horror, Mihdi on the ground, seriously injured and stained with blood.
Heaven and earth shed tears over this spectacle.
A black cloud of sadness fell over all the prisoners.
His blessed mother Navvab wept inconsolably when she saw her blessed son lying on the ground drenched in blood.
He was brought in and laid to his final rest.
How much humility and love he showed when he asked for forgiveness for lying in bed while others were awake.
"Could you please heal my beloved brother?" was Abdul-Bahá's plea to the Blessed Beauty.
"My greatest branch, leave it in the hands of your God," He replied.
Bahá'u'lláh asked to be alone with his son whose life was hanging by a thread.
O Mihdi, what is your wish?
Sacrifice was your answer!
The love and spiritual sweetness emanating from his pure heart were so intense that his only request to the Lord was to accept his life as a ransom so that believers could now see the face of their beloved.
As the heavenly Father granted his desire, every eye shed tears and Abraham's sacrifice was repeated in history, except this time the crimson garment of the sacrifice was not exchanged for the holy lamb.
On that holy night, when He who was created from the Light of Baha suffered martyrdom, that same glorious Light emanating from the Glory of God withdrew to His heavenly abode.
As if in mourning, the sky darkened over the fortress of Akka.
Lacking the means, the Blessed Beauty had to trade a Persian rug for a coffin.
Shouts of mourning rose to the sky as the coffin was carried high.
All eyes followed the funeral procession until it disappeared beyond the city walls.
Permission was granted only for four men to carry out a procession escorted by guards from the fortress to the cemetery.
When the coffin touched the ground, the earth itself shook with the desire to know you,
O Purest Branch, Mirza Mihdi. Blessed are you and blessed is he who turns to you.
O Holy Mother Navvab, do not cry,
for your Lord accepted the most glorious sacrifice of your son.
Soon the doors will be opened and you will witness the magnitude and splendor of the sacrifice of the purest branch.
Bahá’u’lláh's words echo in my mind:
“If we tell the mysteries of his ascension, those who sleep would awake and all beings would be scorched with the fire of the remembrance of My Name, the Mighty, the Loving.” - Bahá’u’lláh
Writings prepared for the 150th commemoration of the passing of Mírzá Mihdí, the Purest Branch, with the precious and loving assistance of my beloved son, Anis Dholah, who has since departed this earthly world and ascended to the Kingdom of Glory.
Today, as I reread these pages, my heart is filled with gratitude and emotion. This work, carried out together in a spirit of love and service, remains for me a precious testimony of our spiritual bond, an enduring remembrance of the light that Anis brought into my life.
Josian Dholah
June 2020
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