Juliet: June 19 – Lua was appointed as “Munadiy-i ‘Ahd.” (Herald of the Covenant)
I had just begun to work, Lua in the room sitting on a couch nearby, when the Master smiled at me; then turning to Lua said in Persian: “This makes me sleepy. What shall I do?”
“Tell the Master, Lua, that if He would like to take a nap, I can work while He sleeps.”
But I found that I could not. What I saw then was too sacred, too formidable. He sat still as a statue, His eyes closed, infinite peace on that chiselled face, a God-like calm and grandeur in His erect head.
Suddenly, with a great flash like lightning He opened His eyes and the room seemed to rock like a ship in a storm with the Power released. The Master was blazing. “The veils of glory”, “the thousand veils”, had shrivelled away in that Flame and we were exposed to the Glory itself.
Lua and I sat shaking and sobbing.
Then He spoke to Lua. I caught the words, “Munadiy-i ‘Ahd.” (Herald of the Covenant).
Lua started forward, her hand to her breast.
“Man?” (I?) she exclaimed.
“Call one of the Persians. You must understand this.”
Never shall I forget that moment, the flashing eyes of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá the reverberations of His Voice, the Power that still rocked the room. God of lightning and thunder! I thought.
“I appoint you, Lua, the Herald of the Covenant. And I AM THE COVENANT, appointed by Bahá’u’lláh. And no one can refute His Word. This is the Testament of Bahá’u’lláh. You will find it in the Holy Book of Aqdas. Go forth and proclaim, ‘This is THE COVENANT OF GOD in your midst.’”
A great joy had lifted Lua up. Her eyes were full of light. She looked like a winged angel. “Oh recreate me,” she cried, “that I may do this work for Thee!”
By now I was sobbing uncontrollably.
“Julie too,” said Lua, not even in such a moment forgetful of me, “wants to be recreated.”
But the Master had shrouded Himself with His veils again, the “thousand veils”. He sat before us now in His dear humanity: very, very human, very simple.
“Don’t cry, Juliet,” He said. “This is no time for tears. Through tears you cannot see to paint.”
I tried hard to hold back my tears and to work, but painting that day was at an end for me.
The Master smiled lovingly.
“Juliet is one of My favourites because she speaks the truth to me. See how I love the truth, Juliet. You spoke one word of truth to Me and see how I have praised it!”
I looked up to smile in answer, and in gratitude, then was overwhelmed again by that awful convulsive sobbing.
At this the Master began to laugh and, as He laughed and laughed, the strangest thing happened. It was as if at each outburst He wrapped Himself in more veils, so that now He looked completely human, without a trace left of His superhuman majesty. Never had I seen Him like this before and I never did afterward.
“I am going to tell you something funny,” He said, adding in English, “a joke”.
“Oh tell it!” we begged; and now I was in a sort of hysteria, laughing and crying at the same time.
“No. Not now. Paint.”
But of course I couldn’t paint.
Later, walking up and down, He laughed again.
“I am thinking of My joke,” He explained.
“Tell it!” we pleaded.
“No, I cannot, for every time I try to tell it I laugh so I cannot speak.”
We got down on our knees, able at last to enter into His play, and begged Him, “Please, please tell us.” We were laughing on our knees.
“No. Not now. After lunch.”
But, alas, after lunch He went upstairs to His room, and we never heard the Master’s joke.
Perhaps, there wasn’t any joke. Perhaps He had just found it necessary, after that mighty Declaration, to bring us down to earth again. He had revealed to us “The Apex of Immortality.” He had lifted us to a height from which we could see it. Now He, our loving Shepherd, had carried us in His own arms back to our little valley and put us where we belonged.
