If you read but a single page from our book,
you will be lost in wonder forever—what a wondrous bewilderment!
If for one breath you sit in the lesson of the heart,
you will make even the masters sit as students before you.
The present writing, in a poetic and mystical language, examines the exalted station of Rumi as one of the greatest mystics in history. Its aim is to demonstrate the connection between Rumi’s teachings and the mystical concepts of the Bahá’í Faith, as well as to clarify the role of Shams of Tabriz in awakening love within Rumi’s heart. By referring to poetry, sacred texts, and philosophical perspectives, the work seeks to highlight Rumi’s role in preparing humanity for the advent of Bahá’u’lláh.
Who was Shams? Was he a realized mystic who met Rumi in person, or did he exist only in Rumi’s dreams and imagination? He is likened to the angel in the Book of Daniel in the Torah who foretold future events to the prophet Daniel.
No writings directly authored by Shams of Tabriz have survived. Only a series of notes compiled from his students’ later classes were gathered and published under the title Maqālāt-e Shams-e Tabrizi (Discourses of Shams of Tabriz). Because of contradictions within this collection—and due to serious criticisms regarding certain coarse, inappropriate, and ethically problematic statements—the author argues that some of the attributed words of Shams contradict Islamic teachings. It is therefore suggested that these writings may have been distorted or even fabricated by enemies of Rumi to undermine his lofty spiritual station.
The author maintains that Rumi could never have been a follower of a figure characterized by such deviations. Rumi regarded himself as profoundly humble before God, the Qur’an, and the Prophet, and his poetry is filled with spirituality and religious sincerity.
After meeting Shams of Tabriz, Rumi underwent a profound inner transformation. He shifted from being a classical jurist to a love-intoxicated mystic. Through his mysterious personality and radical ideas, Shams drew Rumi into the world of divine love and inspired him to express mystical truths through poetry.
Rumi was far ahead of the people of his time. Through deep immersion in the ocean of divine words, he became acquainted with mysteries and secrets he could not openly express. By his own admission, revealing these secrets would have been considered rebellion, and the people of his era lacked the capacity and receptive ears to hear them.
Throughout the Divan-e Shams, he repeatedly reminds himself not to disclose these mysteries and to remain silent, for his life would be in danger—“from this wine the glass of life would shatter.” For this reason, he often refers to himself as Khāmūsh or Khāmash (“the Silent One”).
This writing correctly establishes a link between the philosophy of Suhrawardi and Rumi’s mysticism. In the Illuminationist philosophy (Hikmat al-Ishrāq), light is the principle of existence and the symbol of truth. This same concept of “light” is repeatedly reflected in Rumi’s poetry and spiritual discourse. Suhrawardi sought to revive ancient Iranian wisdom, which he called Hikmat-e Khosravani (Royal or Khosrovani Wisdom). This book examines the structure and foundations of Illuminationist philosophy and analyzes its connection to Khosrovani wisdom and Iranian mysticism. Emphasis on light as the essence of being, intuitive knowledge as the path to truth, and the reinterpretation of pre-Islamic Iranian myths and wisdom are among the defining features of this intellectual system.
The sacred land of Iran is the cradle of three great religions. Great messengers such as Mithra, Zoroaster, and Bahá’u’lláh are considered founders of these traditions and of Khosrovani wisdom. The foundation and symbol of all three is light. Mithraism venerates the sun as the source of light; Zoroastrianism reveres fire as the generator of light and energy; and the Bahá’í Faith centers on Bahá’u’lláh, whose name means “the Glory (or Light) of God.” All three became international religions. Mithra may have been one of the earliest prophets represented as female; surviving statues depict a woman crowned with the sun. The French created a monumental statue of her and gifted it to the United States—the Statue of Liberty in New York.
All three great Iranian traditions—Zoroastrianism, Mithraism, and the Bahá’í Faith—emphasize light as the manifestation of God. Fire in Zoroastrianism symbolizes purity and truth, just as light in the Bahá’í Faith represents divine guidance. Rumi likewise repeatedly employs light, fire, and the sun in his poetry as symbols of the Beloved’s beauty. The author offers a comparative analysis of the symbolic function of fire in Sufism and the Bahá’í Faith: in Sufism, fire represents burning love, annihilation (fanā’), and transformation; in the Bahá’í Faith, fire signifies the light of guidance and spiritual purification.
Just as followers of world religions await two successive manifestations, Rumi also speaks of signs and glad tidings of two advents. At times he refers to the appearance of two suns in the sky—“What day is this, that there are two suns?”—or two resurrections at once—“Behold resurrection within resurrection”—or “today, two eyes act as deputies.” Throughout the Divan-e Shams, he expresses his devotion to Shams, who is interpreted here as the Sun of Bahá (Shams-e Bahá).
The writing then turns to Rumi’s thought and compares it with Bahá’í writings—for example, regarding the concepts of Resurrection (Qiyāmat) and the Day of Alast in mysticism and the Bahá’í Faith.
Contrary to literal interpretations of Resurrection, the Bahá’í Faith understands it as the appearance of a new Manifestation of God, bringing a profound transformation to the world and human conscience. The author argues that Rumi, too, alluded to such advents and transformations.
The Day of Alast is the day when God took a covenant from all human souls. This covenant is the foundation of divine recognition and acceptance of God’s messengers in every age. From a mystical perspective, the Day of Alast is continuously present, and in every spiritual choice a person must respond to it.
For Rumi, Resurrection is not merely an end-time event; it is the advent of new prophets who breathe fresh spirit into the world. Just as in the Bahá’í Faith each new manifestation is regarded as the resurrection of the previous religion, Rumi describes prophets as the “Isráfíl of the age,” who awaken the dead with the “Call of Truth.” Verses such as, “We died and wholly decayed; the Call of Truth came, and we all arose,” point to this meaning.
In the Qur’an, the Day of Alast is introduced as the moment when God asked humanity, “Am I not your Lord?” and all replied, “Yes.” From the perspective of mysticism and the Bahá’í Faith, this day is a metaphor for divine recognition and acceptance of the Messenger of the age. The author emphasizes that this event is not merely historical, but is repeated at every moment of life.
Both the Qur’an and the Kitáb-i-Aqdas emphasize recognition of the Manifestations of God; knowing the Messenger of one’s time—the source of revelation—is considered humanity’s highest duty. Bahá’í writings state that if a person fails to recognize the Manifestation of their age, even the performance of all good deeds will not save them from error. The Holy Qur’an and Rumi likewise emphasize this truth:
“One who is such is united with the Spirit;
at the moment of giving up the soul, joy will be his.”
In analyzing the station of the human being, Rumi in his Masnavi and his ghazals points to the exalted dignity of humanity. The human being is recognized as the “mirror of divine beauty” and the “compendium of divine mysteries.” This same theme is repeatedly echoed in the Bahá’í writings. Rumi considers the human being to possess a power by which dust can be transformed into a jewel. This transformation becomes possible through divine love, the mystical path, and the guidance of the prophets. For example, Bahá’u’lláh states in the Arabic Hidden Words:
O Son of Being!
With the hands of power I made thee and with the fingers of strength I created thee; and within thee have I placed the essence of My light. Be thou content with it and seek naught else, for My work is perfect and My command is binding. Question it not, nor have a doubt thereof.
Then, in the chapter on Tawḥíd—which encompasses the oneness of God, humanity, and the divine messengers—the views of Rumi and the Bahá’í Faith are presented. Tawḥíd is one of the fundamental principles of all revealed religions; its understanding is, on the one hand, simple, and on the other, profoundly complex. For this reason, Bahá’u’lláh, in The Seven Valleys, places the Valley of Unity as the fourth valley, following the Valleys of Search, Love, and Knowledge. Until a believer has traversed these three difficult valleys, true understanding of unity cannot be attained.
Rumi goes even further and regards true Tawḥíd as belonging to the seventh valley, which is complete annihilation (fanā’-ye maḥḍ). This is the stage at which one passes beyond “I” and “we” and becomes annihilated in the Divine Essence—an ascent that is itself the Ascension (Mi‘ráj). Every believer, like the Prophet Muhammad, can ascend to this Mi‘ráj. Rumi believes that in order to reach Alláh, one must first pass beyond the “lā” (the negation).
In mysticism, the Mi‘ráj is not merely a historical event but a metaphor for the spiritual journey of the Perfect Human Being. Mystics view this journey as a symbol of the soul’s liberation from material constraints and its union with the True Beloved. This ascension is not undertaken by the feet, but by the heart and the spirit. A human being must pass through various stages of existence: from the commanding self (nafs ammārah) to the tranquil self (nafs muṭma’innah), from multiplicity to unity, and from outward forms to inner reality.
Here, Rumi emphasizes that the Prophet’s Ascension was not only a unique event for him, but also a model for anyone who can transcend the self, empty themselves of the “ego,” and become annihilated in the “He.” This is the very concept of fanā’ fi’lláh, which forms the foundation of the mystical path.
In describing the Mi‘ráj, Rumi employs symbolic elements such as light, fire, flight, silence, and annihilation. He sees the Ascension as a rise from the darkness of ignorance to the radiance of knowledge, and he presents the Prophet not only as a Messenger, but as the exemplar of the Perfect Human Being.
In Rumi’s works, the Mi‘ráj is not only a divine event, but also a human experience—one that is attainable for every lover and seeker of the path of truth. It symbolizes the soul’s journey back to its origin, a return to the Beloved, and an encounter with Absolute Reality. These concepts, interwoven with poetry, stories, and allegory, breathe new life into the meaning of the Ascension within Rumi’s mysticism.
This writing also discusses the dance of Samā‘, its customs, rituals, and history, noting that it was practiced in Iran even before Islam. Samā‘, one of the most beautiful and mystical forms of dance in Islamic–Iranian and Sufi culture, is an inseparable part of the Mevlevi order. Performed by Rumi’s followers, it serves as a means of attaining a state of unity with God. The word samā‘ literally means “listening,” and in this context refers to hearing divine melodies and inner truths that detach the seeker from the material world and guide them toward the realm of meaning.
The samā‘ dance is usually performed in special gatherings called samā‘, where dervishes wear distinctive garments: a black cloak symbolizing the grave, a conical hat known as the sikke symbolizing the tombstone, and a long white skirt that spreads outward during the turning, symbolically representing the soul in ascent. The spinning movements are highly disciplined and harmonious: the dervish turns with the right hand raised and the left hand lowered, symbolizing the reception of divine grace from above and its transmission to the earth.
Within the structure of samā‘, elements of self-discipline, mystical contemplation, and spiritual wayfaring are clearly evident. The ultimate aim of samā‘ is annihilation in the Divine Essence and the attainment of a state of selflessness in divine love. In this state, the seeker transcends the self and worldly attachments and reaches unity with the Eternal Beloved, that is, God. Samā‘ can be regarded as a form of artistic worship through which music, poetry, and movement direct the seeker’s heart and soul toward truth.
From a philosophical perspective, the samā‘ dance reflects cosmic order and harmony; the turning of the dervishes is likened to the motion of the celestial spheres, indicating that the human being is also part of this divine order. In Rumi’s teachings, divine love is the axis of all things, and samā‘ is the manifestation of that love. Dance here is no longer merely a physical movement, but the embodiment of the spirit on the path of union—just as Shams of Tabriz said, “If there were no love, even the heavens would not turn.”
Ultimately, samā‘ is not merely a religious ritual, but a bridge between body and soul, earth and heaven, outer form and inner meaning. For many, this dance is not only a mystical experience, but an inner journey through which the human being reaches truth by means of love and art.
Love and the heart occupy a special place in Rumi’s works and are among the central pillars of his mysticism and spirituality. Rumi regards love as a divine force, the source of all movement and transformation in existence. In his view, love is the bridge between the human being and God, and only through love can one come to know the true reality of one’s own being. Rumi repeatedly refers to love in the Masnavi and the Divan-e Shams as “fire,” “light,” and “the soul of the Beloved”—a power that frees the soul from earthly bonds and draws it toward the heavens.
In Rumi’s writings, the heart is the vessel in which love dwells. The heart, in this sense, is not merely a physical organ, but the center of intuition, inspiration, and spiritual perception. Rumi believes that only a heart purified from worldly impurities is capable of receiving true love. In one place, he says:
Choose the Love that is living and everlasting,
for it lifts you beyond this dust, like a cupbearer.
This means that true love is that which is imperishable and arises from a transcendent source.
In Rumi’s view, love also challenges reason. He considers love superior to intellect, because reason is calculating and limited, whereas love is boundless and infinite. In his poetry, he repeatedly says that what reason cannot comprehend, love understands in a single glance. Reason is bound by laws, but love soars in freedom. For Rumi, the lover is one who has transcended the self and become annihilated in the Beloved. This annihilation in love is the ultimate stage of the spiritual path and the way to reach God.
In many of the stories of the Masnavi, Rumi presents love as the force behind movement, transformation, and even liberation from suffering. He sees love as essential not only in the relationship between human beings and God, but also in human relationships. A heart devoid of love, in his view, is dead—even if the body is physically alive. Thus, for Rumi, love is not merely an emotion, but a dimension of existence and of true life itself.
Ultimately, the loving heart in Rumi’s universe is always beating with longing and seeking. This heart never becomes still; it is constantly in search of union. Yet the beauty of the path lies precisely in this not-yet-arriving, in this thirst itself. In Rumi’s perspective, what keeps the heart alive is this ultimate yearning for the encounter—an encounter that may not occur in this world, but whose longing alone lifts the soul to the heights of heaven.
In Rumi’s mysticism, the desire to return to the Origin—that is, the Creator and Eternal Beloved—is one of the most fundamental ontological and anthropological concepts. This longing is not merely a poetic theme, but the spirit governing Rumi’s thought and mystical path, present throughout his works, from the Masnavi to the Divan-e Shams. In his view, the human being is like a spark separated from the primordial fire, forever burning with the desire to return to that luminous and divine source.
At the beginning of the Masnavi, Rumi’s Ney-nāmeh opens with the lament of the reed flute—a reed cut off from the reed bed, crying out with heart-rending sorrow over its separation. This reed is a metaphor for the human soul, separated from its divine origin and now throbbing and aflame with longing to return to that absolute source. Rumi portrays this yearning as an ardent love that frees the human being from worldly attachments and draws them toward union with the true Beloved.
From Rumi’s perspective, the longing to reach the Origin is the driving force of the mystical journey. The divine lover must empty themselves of the self, pass beyond ego, and burn in the fire of yearning in order to reach the Beloved. Divine love, in Rumi’s view, is a fire that renders restless and unsettled every heart into which it falls—and it is precisely this restlessness that propels human beings toward movement, effort, and spiritual transformation.
Rumi also reflects this longing for the Origin through layers of earthly love. He regards human love as a ladder for understanding and experiencing divine love. In many of his poems, meeting a worldly beloved or being separated from one becomes a symbol of the soul’s yearning to reach the true Beloved. These metaphors allow even the non-mystical reader to grasp Rumi’s spiritual longing through familiar, everyday experiences of love.
In the end, the longing to return to the Origin in Rumi’s works is a fundamental yearning, born of human nature itself, and a force that guides humanity in the search for truth, meaning, and perfection. This longing never fades and finds peace in nothing other than divine union.