Jean Wilkey

What Mona Wanted: A Prayer for Resilience

by KIMIYA ROOHANI

Mona, what do you want from Us? ‘Abdu’l-Bahá asked.
Resilience for the people of Bahá, Mona said.
‘Abdu’l-Bahá asked again and then again, Mona, what do you want from Us for yourself?
Resilience, resilience, resilience, Mona said, for the people of Bahá.

Why did Mona Mahmoudnejad, in a dream she had a few days before her martyrdom, ask for resilience and not freedom? Maybe it is up to the bird inside each of us to choose whether to be captive or to fly high in the heavens? Maybe it is because no one, not even ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, can free the captive heart or imprison the soaring eagle inside someone’s soul?

It was resilience that Mona asked for the people of Bahá, not just the strength to struggle for survival in Iran, not just the power to keep breathing, but for the capacity to pursue a productive life.

It was resilience she desired above all, the resilience to live, to flourish, to learn, to expand hope — to the right and to the left, far and near.

I used to think that the only moment of trial for the ten martyred women of Shiraz was when the executioner placed the noose around their necks. But I was wrong. Reading Mona’s story, I learned that she had to face many tests and difficulties before her end came. She had to bear the news of the death of her beloved father by execution. She had to learn how to behave towards fellow prisoners and prison guards who were often disrespectful. She had to endure interrogation repeatedly. She had to find the courage to go against the counsel of her fellow prisoners and show kindness to a homosexual prisoner. She had to listen to the promises of interrogators that apostasy would earn her a glamorous wedding. She had to bear the pain of knowing that many of the Bahá’ís probably did not view her as worthy of martyrdom, due to her age and inexperience. She had to say a final farewell to her family the night before her execution and to watch, the next day, each of her nine friends and fellow Bahá’í prisoners hang, one by one. It wasn't an instantaneous death Mona had to endure but a slow death of self, day in, day out, as she faced these tests in the prisons of Sepah and Adel Abad.

Yes, resilience was what she wanted — resilience for the youth in their quest to know, to grow, to advance, to generate fresh hope, to expand knowledge. An affirmation of the value Mona placed on knowledge can be found in the Naw-Ruz 180 BE letter to the Bahá’ís in Iran in which the Universal House of Justice emphasizes the significant role of “the study of useful sciences and arts and the acquisition of knowledge” in the multifaceted progress of society.

Learning about this message was a gift to me, as a teacher in the Bahá’í Institute for Higher Education, the BIHE, for I believe that our now-not-so-secret efforts to teach Bahá’í students in Iran is yet another expression of the passion Mona showed for learning as she pursued her studies secretly at all hours, late at night in her bedroom or in the bathroom. When I think of Mona’s restless efforts to gain knowledge, I am reminded of the value of waking up each day to plan for my students, of loving my colleagues, of striving for excellence in the pursuit of knowledge and for rectitude of conduct — of continuing to serve the BIHE.

May this noble institution continue to evolve into one that nurtures those symbols of resilience, those courageous souls who stay in Iran to serve their communities and country despite everything that has happened or may happen, those souls who expand our joy despite the darkness of hopelessness that permeates every corner of the country. May these symbols of resilience help other minorities in Iran understand that assimilation and hiding one’s identity are not the only options. Let these symbols find like-minded souls who will work with them, despite the threat of the rope that took the lives of the brides of Shiraz, the rope that was crimsoned by their beauty, the rope that appeared to kill those ten fearless women but which ultimately set them free, the rope that is now tying our hands but is, at the same time, bringing us closer to our fellow Iranians in a shared history — one story.