In the House of ‘Abbúd, visitors move softly around and there’s a shush of socked feet sliding across the floor. Whispered conversations in front of pictures hanging on the walls. Pilgrims sit cross-legged on the floor of the wood-lined room where Bahá’u'lláh finished revealing the Kitáb-i-Aqdas in 1873 and contemplate the going out of the Law of God from this simple chamber.

Inside there’s peace. Outside the electronic voice of a child’s toy gun says, “Fire! Fire!” and emits the sound of shooting. Ironically, this is also the room where Bahá’u'lláh revealed the Fire Tablet.

Peace and prayers fill Bahá’u'lláh’s room in the House of ‘Abbúd. A car alarm sounds outside, but it is the power of peace that wins in this holy place.

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This is the official photograph of the Tenth International Bahá’í Convention, 26th April to 3rd May 2008.

I’m in there somewhere!

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Delegates from many nations to the International Bahá’í Convention went in groups to visit the prison cell that Bahá’u'lláh occupied in the barracks in Akka for two years, two months and five days from 31 August 1868. We crowded into the cell and sat in silence on the floor, on chairs and on the ledge just inside the windows to pray, to think, to contemplate.

This was the prison that Bahá’u'lláh named “The Most Great Prison”.

The Ancient Beauty bound with chains

After a short time, one of the delegates read the following passage from the Writings of Bahá’u'lláh, at the request of our guide:

The Ancient Beauty hath consented to be bound with chains that mankind may be released from its bondage, and hath accepted to be made a prisoner within this most mighty Stronghold that the whole world may attain unto true liberty. He hath drained to its dregs the cup of sorrow that all the peoples of the earth may attain unto abiding joy, and be filled with gladness.

Impressions

When the reading had finished, I sat quietly and opened my senses to the cell and its particular atmosphere. I wrote these impressions in my notebook at the time:

Visitors from many nations sit, rapt, in this Prison cell which is filled with the scent of cedarwood.

A cool breeze blows in through the open window and we can hear the sussuration of sea, the sound of waves breaking on rocks and against the sea wall.

A dog barks and barks. A cock crows. Someone throws planks of wood.

Pacing, pacing

I think back to the first pilgrimage that Erica and I made, in 1970. In the cell, Erica felt restless and could not stop herself walking up and down. And now I thought of Bahá’u'lláh pacing and pacing up and down in that confined space.

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