We took a taxi from the kibbutz to Haifa. The driver assured us he knew Haifa,
but he couldn't find the center. I mean you can see the Shrine of the Bab all over
the city and from the bay. It has a gold dome and is made of white marble and is
quite visible among the dark cypress trees which surround it. Well, we finally found it
after wandering about for a bit. We dragged our luggage out of the trunk, since we
hadn't had time to go to the hotel, and trucked it all up to the pilgrim house.
There we were greeted with such sweetness that it would
melt your heart and served tea and coffee and invited to rest while we waited to
register. Ninety-two pilgrims milled about in the main part of the house, people from all
over the world: Canada, Australia, India, Chile, South Africa, the World Centre itself,
and the States. In addition to these folks, three-day visitors would come in during
our visit and be there among the rest of us though their agenda was quite different.
We got registered and assigned to a group. Our guide Furio, a lovely Italian from
Ethiopia, rounded us up and did the orientation bit, mostly going over the schedule. This
was a man of such humility and sweetness that most of us adored him at first sight.
Jessica was very comfortable with him and he was enchanted with her.
From there we walked up to the Shrine of the Bab, a large domed building, halfway up Mt.
Carmel. We went to the different sides, removed our shoes and entered the room outside the
room where the Bab is buried. Persian carpets covered the floor, roses and flowers were
arranged on the threshold of the inner room. Candles and flowers surround the grave
inside. It was slightly dark and very solemn. This young man was killed in 1849 at
the age of 30.
It happened this way. He had been arrested and imprisoned for heresy, the usual fate of
some one bringing a new religion. The mullas and the Shah wanted him dead. The
jailers brought him out of his cell and tied him against a wall, along with a follower who
wanted to be martyred with him. They had taken the Bab away from his secretary, to
whom he was still dictating something. And he told them that he was not finished, but they
weren't interested.
A regiment of 750 lined up to shoot. The Christian leader of the regiment did not want to
do this, so the Bab told him that he should obey and trust in God and it would be all
right. The men fired. Everyone in the square held their breath while the smoke
cleared, and there were thousands of Persians hanging off the roof and crowding the
streets to see this execution. When the smoke cleared, the Bab and the young man
with him were gone. The crowd went berserk (remember those pictures from the hostage
crisis). When the soldiers found the Bab, He was back in his cell, finishing his
dictation. When he was done, they took him again to the wall, and again tied him up with
his young follower.
Sam Khan, the first officer, refused to try to shoot him
again. He was sent away and another office volunteered. His regiment fired and
when the smoke cleared the two bodies were so riddle with bullets that they were meshed.
But their faces were unharmed. The bodies were thrown over the wall and left for the
dogs. Followers rescued them somehow and the remains were hidden for over 60 years
until they could be brought to Akka, where they were also hidden until they could be
appropriately buried.
The Shrine it seemed to me reflected the dark sorrow of the Bab's life. And I found it
difficult to connect with. It was forbidding and beautiful, but not 'comfortable'
despite the fact that I love His prayers. It got better with repeated visits but it wasn't
until I went in at night, when it is lighted to commemorate the days the Bab spent in
prison without even a candle, that I really connected with it.
