"Within the garden of Thine immortality, before Thy countenance, let me abide for ever, O Thou Who art merciful unto me. …"

(Bahá’u’lláh: From a prayer which was read at the graveside - "From the sweet scented streams")

Maidservant of Bahá’u’lláh (Amatu’l-Bahá), Person of the Spirit (Rúhíyyih), Woman of dignity (Khánum).

Silent umbrellas linger in the light drizzle as the friends slowly gather on the street in front of the Master’s House. The wet pavement and puddled water reflect the changing grey sky as clouds roll and churn their way across Mount Carmel. Trees that line the street collect the light rain and then suddenly release large globs of water like ripe fruit. The street is quiet, devoid of traffic.

Workers and gardeners are completing the final touches in the garden across the street from the Master’s House. A bed of flowers in the centre of the garden surrounds the final resting place of our dearly beloved Amatu’l-Bahá Rúhíyyih Khánum. One worker is busy lining the inside of the vault with roses while others carefully arrange hundreds of flower bouquets and wreaths that continue to arrive from the far corners of the world. For the past five days these workers labouring in the rain have transformed this area into a resplendent monument garden.

Staff, wearing purple ribbons pinned to their lapels, ensure guests are greeted and escorted to the proper waiting areas. As the time nears 2pm automobiles arrive at the front gate to the Master’s House and deliver the two remaining Hands of the Cause, Mr Furútan and Dr Varqá. They walk past a flower -lined walkway up the steps to the front door. The members of the Universal House of Justice, Counsellors and other distinguished guests make their into the Master’s House where our beloved Hand of the Cause, Rúhíyyih Khánum lies in state. Pilgrims, visitors and Bahá’í World Centre staff fill the surrounding garden and grounds.

Standing near the front of the Master’s House I can look south up Mount Carmel and see the white dome of the Universal House of Justice and the upper terraces of the garden. As clouds clear a warming sun bathes those gathered outside. The garden glistens, fresh from its earlier shower. Standing next to me is Jamel, a Muslim security guard, who has been a faithful employee at the Shrine of the Báb for over twenty years. He stands quietly today, missing an old friend. A young child with red rain boots holds his father’s hand. Gardeners who have worked all morning in the rain are gathered discreetly in the rear. They have a look of weariness that comes from a labour of love.

As Mr Semple reads the announcement from the Universal House of Justice to the Bahá’ís of the World of the passing of our beloved Hand of the Cause, birds suddenly begin to sing. Silent for several days, their song is very noticeable. Following this announcement, six prayers and excerpts from the Holy Writings are read or chanted. The public address system with speakers placed throughout the grounds allows the prayers to whisper through the neatly trimmed hedges, trees and flowers. After the Prayer for the Departed is completed, the casket is carried across the street to the final resting place by the pall bearers. These sturdy youth representing the diversity of the world remind me of the unlimited capacity of this generation.

The sky once again darkens as the casket is placed over the burial site. Three final prayers are read making the total nine. The rain falls straight down on the umbrellas protecting the crowd. The casket, hand made of rich cedar by a servant of Bahá, is covered with a large spray of roses. It has an elegance reminiscent of the Hand of the Cause it now cradles. The roses and casket glisten as they are lowered into their final resting place. Those present pay their final respects. A mound of flowers grows as single flowers are placed in loving memory by individuals visibly missing the Helpmate to the Guardian. After an hour the garden is empty except for those workers sealing the casket in its concrete vault.

Dan Geiger, serving at the Bahá’í World Centre

No-one, in just a few hundred words, could ever adequately pay justice to such an outstanding personality as Amatu’l-Bahá Rúhíyyih Khánum.

From her birth to two distinguished servants of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, May and Sutherland Maxwell in 1910 after eight years of marriage and as a direct outcome of His prayers for them in the Holy Shrines, she was destined for outstanding services to the Cause of Bahá’u’lláh. At the age of nine she formally presented to the Annual Convention in New York the "first" and "second" Tablets of the Divine Plan and in 1937 she married Shoghi Effendi in Haifa and became his secretary, his liaison member with the International Council when it was formed in 1951, his "helpmate", and his "tireless collaborator" until his passing after twenty years of marriage. In March 1952, on the death of her father, who was among the first contingent of the Hands of the Cause appointed by the Guardian in December 1951, she was raised as a Hand to replace him. In April/May 1953 she was the Guardian’s representative at the Intercontinental Conference in Chicago.

Before his passing, Shoghi Effendi had announced to the Bahá’í world that she would be his representative at the Intercontinental Conference in Kampala in January 1958 and the future pattern of her life was foreseen in her message, on behalf of the Hands of the Cause in the Holy Land. It was written to the three pioneers in Kampala who were responsible for the Conference programme and after detailing what would be required she wrote:

"Believe me dear friends it is only in order to fulfil the wishes of our beloved Guardian that I am going to Kampala. I am quite heartbroken and utterly exhausted. My only hope is that God will give me the strength to do as He wishes me to.... On the evening I arrive in Kampala I would however like very much to consult with those responsible for the success of the Conference regarding exact plans for the next day. We must all exert every effort to have this important conference perfect and as our beloved Guardian would wish it to be. Within the limits of my strength I shall try to be present with the friends as much as possible, as my only joy can come from being with the dear friends - old and new!"

From my memoirs I quote -

"For me, the highest point of the conference was the moment when Rúhíyyih Khánum arrived at the packed cinema and walked the length of the auditorium to the stage the whole audience rose and sang ‘Alláh‘u‘Abhá’. Those of us who realised the effect it was having upon her, at her first public appearance after the funeral of the Guardian, wept unashamedly as she walked onto the platform with such grace and dignity and, obviously, herself deeply moved. The tangible emotion in that hall is impossible to describe - the love that went out to Rúhíyyih Khánum from every heart expressed in an audible sigh. ‘Alí Nakhjavání greeted her - ‘The central light of our conference and its glorious crown; the beloved gift of our dearly cherished Guardian and his precious trust among us’ - in a voice trembling with tears.

"Her first few words came: ‘I don’t know with what voice to address this conference - it is so hard to speak - it seems so unbelievable that I should ever have to stand here, and the Guardian not be in Haifa!’ And then for a moment she could not speak, her voice caught in her throat. But then she gathered strength and spoke of the love the Guardian felt for the African friends and of his achievements during the last 36 years."

For more than forty years after this she gave her whole life to doing what she believed the Guardian would have wished her to do - speaking of him and writing about him; implementing his plans; representing the Faith at the highest levels and with every class of people. She travelled to all parts of the globe, frequently under the most difficult conditions, which included the Amazon jungles, 36,000 miles in her Land-Rover in Africa, 55,000 miles across India travelling by truck, jeep, on foot, on horseback, along tortuous mountain trails at high altitudes, in hot sun, in rain and mud, once being lost in the snow-covered Andes - all in all visiting almost every country in the world and on many occasions where no other Hand or even travel teacher had reached.

Her contributions to the developments at the World Centre were outstanding particularly with the collecting and placing of the vast number of beautiful objects in the Bahá’í Holy Places.

She represented the Universal House of Justice at Conventions, Conferences, Temple Dedications, meetings with Royalty and making official presentations. She was indeed for almost half a century the First Lady of the Bahá’í World Community.

Yet despite her exalted position she remained essentially human and approachable and maintained a great sense of humour.

I first had a letter from her when she was writing as Secretary to the Guardian in November 1944 and first met her at the door of the House of the Master in Haifa in April 1946. She was present on each of my twelve meetings with Shoghi Effendi and I was privileged to have many meals with her in Haifa, Uganda and London. We also exchanged personal correspondence. To underline her great humanity and insight I will share some excerpts from this unpublished correspondence. Written to me in Uganda when she learned of the passing of my mother:

"Dearest Philip,

My heart goes out to you in this hour of trial. I can imagine how you feel about losing your Mother, and when you are so far from her. It takes the real spiritual stuff in us to rise to these moments in life - but you have it. My own Mother I never saw again, as you know. But in your case, though I know it pains you just as much, you were no doubt a little prepared for it? I hope so, otherwise I know the shock is terrific. And I know you feel as I did then, that the loved one is free and in a safe place, near the Eternal Beloved. How deeply I pity people who have not this sense of continuity we have when they lose their nearest ones...

"I always felt you would go back to Africa, and were so happy you did. Oh Philip go on putting the Cause first! So many fall by the wayside and abandon the heights for some soft little human spot to incubate in, to be just like everyone else in! I am sure one of the ways God shows His mercy to us in the next world is to blind our eyes so we will not clearly see the things we could have done, but did not. Otherwise I am sure we would go mad. There is a sentence of Bahá’u’lláh where He says: ‘and if the believers had been occupied with that which We commanded them, now all the world would be adorned with the robe of faith’. (I am quoting from memory, so the exact wording may be incorrect but the thought is there.) He wrote it in Baghdad or Adrianople - so how much more it must apply to us today?

"I think about everything can become a habit, not only alcohol and bad things! Sacrifice can become a habit, patience, indifference to danger, no doubt nobility and saintliness. It’s a great help. This is a digression to express a thought I have increasingly of late years, as I see all the attachments and desires die out in me and that I no longer suffer over them! And it’s become obvious pioneering becomes a habit because so many of the American lst Seven Year Plan pioneers have become insatiable pioneers. They can barely wait for the next Plan to come out so they can start all over in a new field. It’s nice to think such a comfortable law as habit works on the spiritual plane.

"I envy you working in Africa. I love Africa and always wanted to go there. The Guardian is so enthusiastic about the work there. There is nothing you could have done that would have made him happier than your going out there. And I know, Philip, your dear, good Mother, was proud of you and will be with you in spirit now as her tired old body never could have been on this plane. Death confers youth, and your father and mother must be very like you now. At least I like to think of it this way and feel I am right.

"God bless you dear, and give you everything good in life...

"Yours in the Faith, Rúhíyyih

"Did you know the Guardian cabled your Mother assuring her of his prayers, some time ago. I hope it reached her."

When her father, Sutherland Maxwell passed away I sent her a message and she replied:

10 May, 1952

"Dear Philip,

"Thank you so much for your lovely letter of April 21st - it was much appreciated, I assure you, not only because of your understanding, but because I like hearing from you.

"I naturally will be missing Daddy, and all the philosophising in the world does not take away the ache of separation. However, I am deeply grateful to God for all his mercies to my family; and this far offsets the feeling of loneliness...

"We are so happy over the progress being made in Africa. It just seems to me like a vision, and I can barely realise it is a fact….

"As you can imagine, both the beloved Guardian and I are tired from a long hard winter. I must go now, as I have a lot to do.

"With warm Bahá’í love, Rúhíyyih."

While I always see her in my mind as the gracious, dignified, majestic foremost Hand of the Cause, our Faith’s First Lady and never failed to have a lump in my throat whenever she walked through a hall or mounted a stage, her loving personal letters are amongst my most treasured possessions.

Philip Hainsworth, February 2000

After you died my love, After you left me here, The people came and walked On my heart as a road -

All its poor breaks, carefully hidden, They trod on day after day They did not mean to, But I wonder if the mud That stuck to their feet was red?

I was pilloried, my love, Alone, alone - God knows I tried to shield you there, I tried to cover your hurt -

Had we not wept enough? Had we not sorrowed in vain? Was it right, you dead, I left behind alone, That they should say Over and over, repeated again, He having had no child’?

It rains and it rains And my tears fall down In steady company And in each tear a world Of memory hangs reflected Before it falls on my breast.

Rúhíyyih Rabbáni, 7 December 1957

Ruhíyyih Khánum was, according to the emphatic words of her husband, Shoghi Effendi, a high representative of the Bahá’í religion. She held the highest rank bestowed upon a believer, she was the last remaining link with the family of Abdu’l-Baha, and yet at the same time she was a lady who disdained fawning reverence. In private conversation she spoke plainly and simply, and would willingly respond to those who might be blunt in their honesty. High rank, and the need to be polite to vain and power-wielding individuals, is a burden to a soul who longs for truth and the beauty of nature. No wonder she preferred the Amazon rain-forest or African plains, the peoples of the mountain village or the remote hamlets, to the sophisticated denizens of concrete conurbations.

Between the lines of her books, and in the broken places between her words, we would often perceive the love Rúhíyyih Khánum had for Shoghi Effendi, and her desperate loss when he passed on, and she was forced to continue living. How could we be sad to know she was re-united?

The first prayer - "From the sweet scented streams" - is one my mother always sang to a setting by Charles Walcott. Tears could not be restrained. Who would open Temples in the future? The last link to the Holy Family had broken. Humanity is now bereft, on its own, without a living symbol of the closest family of the Greatest Name. The remaining prayers seemed to have finished before my heart started beating again. Mourners could now pay their last respects.

Returning to reality, I realised that next to me the lady from Korea, dressed in exquisite national costume, had just raised her umbrella. The rain, which had held back until now, could no longer restrain itself. Together, we found our way to the grave side, picked up roses and cast them onto the coffin. My rose was sent in the name of all Russian-speaking peoples. The funeral was over, Amatu’l-Bahá was now gone, life will not be the same without her. And the Heavens wept.

Richard Hainsworth, National Spiritual Assembly of Russia

It had been raining, albeit lightly, for most of the day. And then a brief respite as we gave praise. The House of the Master was once again bathed in sunshine and we sat still, our grief mounting. Tears and sighs all around. This was the home of the Sign of God on earth and his beloved consort and now they are both gone. The torrential downpour that accompanied the final acts of an extraordinary afternoon reminded us that history does repeat itself. Like that grey November day in 1957, the Concourse on High reached out to us one more time weeping tears of joy.

We have grown up.

Kishan Manocha, representative of the National Spiritual Assembly of the UK

We were all waiting in the Pilgrim House for our 8pm talk to begin. Instead two of the Counsellors came to break the news that Rúhíyyih Khánum had passed to the Abhá Kingdom in the early hours of that morning. There was a shocked silence - most of us had not realised that she was ill. People immediately began to go to the Shrines to pray and the realisation that we were all suddenly part of a momentous moment in history began to dawn. A fierce storm, rarely seen in Israel, which had blown down four tall Cypress trees at Bahji and abated in the early hours of that morning, almost seemed to herald her passing.

Social events were cancelled until after the funeral but the rest of our Pilgrimage continued as planned and we were unaware of arrangements being made for the funeral until on Saturday the Pilgrim House began to fill with Counsellors and National Assembly members from every corner of the world.

During these intervening days a quiet grief had fallen over the place, but it was a grief mixed with the assurance that undoubtedly her soul had been joyfully reunited with that of Shoghi Effendi.

The one hundred Nine Day Pilgrims were given the great privilege of being the Guard of Honour who flanked the path to ’Abdu’l-Bahá’s house where the service was held. As we stood outside listening to the beautiful service echoing over Haifa the rain held off and the sun broke through, but as the coffin emerged from the house the drops began to fall and by the time it reached the exquisite flower-lined grave in the garden opposite, the heavens had opened and torrential rain was beating upon the hundreds of umbrellas.

Bouquets of flowers of every hue and colour from National Spiritual Assemblies and friends around the world surrounded the grave as well as a huge pile of roses; each mourner, in turn, threw one upon the coffin until it was almost hidden. It was a sight and occasion never to be forgotten.

Susie Howard, on Pilgrimage from Oxfordshire

Following the telephone call from Mr Ian Semple, the National Spiritual Assembly made the necessary arrangements to lay flowers on behalf of the Universal House of Justice at the Guardian’s Resting Place to mark the passing of Hand of the Cause of God, Amatu’l-Bahá Rúhíyyih Khánum.

More than 300 of the friends gathered at the Guardian’s Resting Place to witness the laying of the flowers and to offer their prayers for the progress of the soul of Amatu’l-Bahá.

At 12 noon (GMT), Dr Wendi Momen, Chairman of the National Spiritual Assembly, and Mr Barney Leith, Secretary of the National Spiritual Assembly, laid a beautiful floral tribute on the plinth of the Resting Place of Shoghi Effendi, in a dignified and befitting manner. Following this, the friends gathered around the Resting Place in total silence and a short devotional programme of prayers in Persian and English took place to mark the solemn occasion. After that the friends were free to offer their own prayers at the Resting Place. The occasion, which took place in cold, bright weather, was calm and dignified. Many tears were shed, but all understood that "death is a messenger of joy" and many remarked on the reuniting of Shoghi Effendi and Rúhíyyih Khánum.

National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the UK, 23rd January 2000

I have a rendezvous with death

Sweet death, dear death,

Soon or late I come to thee.

My ancestors were wild folk,

Highland folk, deep, keen,

They plied the sword For those they loved,

They grinned and parried,

Spilt their blood,

Died for lost causes

Counting not the cost!

The same blood flows in me,

I’ll race fate one last course

About the green,

Give destiny a run

For its black money

And then, my friends,

I have a rendezvous with death

Dear death, sweet death,

I’ll come to thee.

Rúhíyyih Rabbáni, 18 December 1957

The poems presented here were written by Rúhíyyih Khánum and published under her married name of Rúhíyyih Rabbáni in "Poems of the Passing" by George Ronald Publisher Ltd.,1996