The focus of my article is a most moving Letter composed in Persian and revealed by the Bab to His beloved mother. To the best of my knowledge, no authorised English translation of this Letter currently exists, and what I have offered is only a provisional rendering.
What makes this Letter profoundly touching is the glimpse it affords us into the tender humanity of the Bab. Though He was at that time held captive in one of the most remote and harsh places of banishment, His thoughts were turned not to His own sufferings but to the happiness and well-being of His mother. In these lines, He appears before us not only as the Manifestation of God, but also as a loving son, whose concern for His mother radiates with both filial devotion and divine compassion.
It is this rare union of the divine and the human that makes the Letter so extraordinary. It reveals to us how the Bab, through His own example, enjoins us to show love, tenderness, and reverence toward our parents, and more broadly, to extend unconditional love to those around us. By centring this Letter in my article, I hope to draw attention to the profound lesson it conveys—that the truest expression of spirituality lies in the everyday acts of kindness, compassion, and filial piety.
Love, when purified from all traces of self, is the most sublime force in the human soul. It transcends time and space, rises above longing and loss, and unites hearts not by nearness of form but by the intimacy of spirit. Such is the essence of true love—a love that finds its fullest and most luminous expression in the lives and words of the Manifestations of God. Among these sacred embodiments of divine virtue, the Bab—He Who dawned forth from Shiraz with a message of Celestial Glory—revealed in a moving letter to His mother the exalted station of love detached from self and surrendered wholly to God.
It was in the remote fortress of Chihriq, in the year 1849, that the Bab penned this tender Letter. Though imprisoned and separated from every comfort of the world, His heart remained radiant with light, His soul uplifted by the Divine Will, and His thoughts directed lovingly toward His mother. In words both intimate and ineffable, He wrote:
May My soul be thy sacrifice! From the hour of sunset on the day of My departure from thy presence until this very moment—Thursday afternoon, the twenty-eighth day of the blessed month of Sha‘bán—praise be to God, and thanksgiving be unto Him, for all hath passed in accordance with His decree and will. And whatsoever sorrow I have borne, it hath been none but the grief of yearning for thy presence.
How rare the soul who, when torn from the presence of a loving mother and cast into the depths of affliction, veils His own suffering and speaks only of the yearning stirred by her absence, and the peace He longs to bestow upon her heart. And yet, such is the purity of the Bab’s love: free of complaint, devoid of self-concern, and wholly illumined by remembrance. His sorrow is not for His own plight, but for the distance that separates Him from the one who bore Him.
But even that longing, as deep and heartfelt as it is, He offers up to the Will of God:
Though I remain deprived of the honor of drawing nigh unto thee, yet in view of divers considerations—that My nearness is oftentimes a cause of tribulation—I am content with whatsoever may befall Me, resigned to the decree of God and wholly submissive before His command. As long as My nearness to thee bringeth thee no sorrow, I am grateful for that. Let not thy heart be grieved in the least.
Here, the veil is lifted from the face of true love. For it is not rooted in possession, nor does it cling to nearness or proximity. It is a sacred offering—a giving of one’s self for the comfort, the joy, the peace of the beloved. Even in longing, even in separation, the Bab finds contentment if His absence spares His mother grief. His love is not diminished by distance; it is exalted by it.
In another passage of the Letter, He offers words of reassurance, words that reflect not only serenity in suffering but the deep concern of a Son whose first thought is for His mother’s peace:
Since the distance is long, and false tidings abound, let no anxiety befall thee; praise be to God, all is well. Regardless, whatever is necessary shall be taken as prescribed.
What dignity! What surrender! Here is love that seeks not comfort, but consolation; not presence, but spiritual nearness. This is the love of the spirit—a love that sustains and transcends, that unites across veils and barriers, a love nourished by prayer and remembrance.
He even recalls with fondness and reverence the presence of His beloved grandmother:
And the compensatory outpourings of the grace of thy presence—especially those of the honored grandmother, may God, exalted be He, protect her—have ever been the object of My remembrance.
To remember, to bless, to give thanks in the midst of exile and confinement—this is love that has reached its purest form. The Bab’s words rise like a prayer, a fragrance of devotion that no prison wall can contain.
He closes with humility and tenderness:
Whatsoever the case may be, should there be any request, let it be indicated, that it may be fulfilled in obedience.
Even from the depths of suffering, the Bab offers to serve. What clearer testament to the essence of love can be found?
In a world that so often defines love by physical closeness or emotional dependency, the Bab teaches us that true love lies in detachment, in sacrifice, in contentment with divine providence. Love, when it is true, liberates rather than binds, elevates rather than chains. It is to find one’s beloved not in ease and comfort, but in the very heart of hardship, illumined by the light of the soul and strengthened by the nearness of God.
The Bab’s Letter is not merely a personal message to His mother. It is a mirror for the soul of humanity, a sacred Epistle in which we may read the signs of divine love. In it, we are taught that the highest form of love is not to possess, but to pray; not to demand nearness, but to offer peace; not to cling, but to trust. It is to find joy in the beloved’s well-being, even when the path of union leads through the valley of separation.
This is love’s true essence—a lesson unveiled by the Pen of the Bab and sealed with the fragrance of His sacrifice.
Mohammad Norozi
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