Dahesh
                                                                             (1909-1984)

The last time I saw Dahesh alive was in the New York area shortly after his lengthy visit to India, some time around the fall of 1983. He was suffering at that time from severe back pain, and seeing him suffer was painful and depressing to me.  Dahesh was a father to me, even though my biological father was still alive. I was never close to my biological father, and I had very few things in common with him. Yes, I respected and loved him, but spiritually and behaviorally we were at odds.  Dahesh was my spiritual father, and if it weren't for him, I would not have become the person I am now. Without the influence of Dahesh, my life would have been materialistic, spiritually dead, and full of the "worldly pleasures" that make up the facade of life on Earth.

In 1983, I was 24 years old, naive and inexperienced in life.  Dahesh talked to me then about issues whose full meaning and impact on my life I have only recently come to understand. When I read his writings, I imagine him addressing me in person. I see him as a powerful figure, yet at the same time a very simple and compassionate man. I recall saying to him the last time we met, "If God wishes, your pain will be gone by the time we meet again." He smiled and bid me farewell. The thought of Dahesh's suffering stayed with me, and I remember asking God to transfer Dahesh's pain to me, since I would have been more than happy to bear it. Sadly, God did not grant my request. What I wished for did come true, but I did not anticipate that Death would be the angel who released Dahesh from his pain.

A few months passed without word from Dahesh. On a Sunday night the following spring, I went to bed around midnight, in preparation for another typical workweek. A few minutes after I had fallen asleep, my mother woke me to report that my sister had received a telephone call from the family with whom Dahesh had been staying. He was seriously ill and had asked to see everybody. Waiting until the morning to catch a plane was out of the question. We decided to drive from Virginia to New York. We had a cat living in the house, had no idea how long our visit would last, and on short notice couldn't think of anyone to take care of the cat. When our journey north began around 1:00 a.m., joining me in the car were my mother, sister, brother, niece, nephew, and the cat.

We arrived at dawn on April 10, 1984. One of the family members quietly greeted us and led us to the room where Dahesh slept. When we reached the door, the lights were on inside and I could see Dahesh lying on the bed. A fellow Daheshist was standing outside, and we asked him how Dahesh was doing. He replied tearfully that Dahesh had passed away on April 9 at the hospital. My mother and sister began to cry. I was shocked. He told us that when they had called my sister, they hadn't wanted to tell us he was dead until we met face to face. A few moments later, my family entered Dahesh's room, while I went to the kitchen and sat by a window. I guess I was not ready to face the empty shell that had housed Dahesh for his 75 years on Earth. I felt two emotions fighting within me. The first was a deep sorrow for the loss of a great man, a spiritual leader, and a father. The second was a feeling of happiness that Dahesh was no longer suffering and instead was journeying toward the worlds of paradise.

I remained by the window for several hours, thinking about the future of Daheshism, reminiscing about the times I had spent with Dahesh, grieving over his death, and feeling relief for his final release. My mother told me I should really go into the room with everyone else. When I entered, I approached Dahesh's body and kissed him on the forehead. My lips felt the coldness of his body. I then moved across to one of the corners of the room. Several people had gathered silently. I am not sure what was going through their minds, but every once in a while I saw one of them crying, women and men alike. I vividly recall a fellow Daheshist who wept bitterly. I looked at the body from across the room for a long time, thinking that somehow Dahesh would open his eyes, return to life, and tell us how he had defeated death.

We had to leave the room for a while to allow for the embalming to take place and when it was complete, we all returned to the room. We read excerpts from prose poems and prayers that Dahesh had requested to be read after his death. All in all, nineteen people were present. The funeral was set for dusk on April 12. This would allow time for a brother in Daheshism to arrive from Lebanon. None of the other brothers and sisters in the faith were to be notified yet.

As time passed, I felt more sorrow than I had initially. I was asked to go and feed the cat, which was being sheltered in another house owned by the same family, about 100 yards away. Walking over, I looked up into the night sky and saw the most beautiful stars I have ever seen in my life. The sky was packed with them, as though all the stars in the galaxy had gathered together and were gazing down, bidding farewell to the most enigmatic man of this century.

April 12 arrived, sunny but cool. The flowers for the funeral were delivered, as was the casket that would be used to hold the body in its final resting place. The hearse from the funeral home was not used to carry the body to the cemetery. A spacious station wagon, owned by the family with whom Dahesh had resided, was used instead. About five other cars were loaded with flowers, wreaths, and people, and I drove one of them. The motorcade to the nondenominational cemetery lasted about ten minutes, ending at a modern mausoleum. The casket was opened for the last time, each of us paid his or her final respects, and we recited a group prayer.

My grief was at its highest as the casket was sealed. The casket was lifted by a special mechanism and pushed into its niche, which was sealed with a marble cover. After the undertakers left, each of us read a selection of Dahesh's prose. As darkness approached, we returned to the house. Before our departure for the cemetery, the fellow Daheshist who came from Lebanon had drafted a prayer, which we all read and signed. The prayer was placed inside the pocket of Dahesh's jacket, to be interred with him. The prayer read as follows:

In the name of God,
The Beloved and Guiding Prophet,
The Six Personalities, and
The Twentieth Spiritual Fluid

We pledge to live according to the teachings of the Beloved and Guiding Prophet, and to have his faith as our faith.

We pledge to struggle and be martyred for the sake of the Holy Daheshist Message.

We pledge to unite our wills and hearts and make all efforts that can be made for the sake of spreading the noble teachings of Daheshism.

We pledge to love each other in the same way the Beloved and Guiding Prophet loved us and who sacrificed everything for the sake of our guidance.

We pledge not to allow any personal greed and materialistic temptations block the path of our holy struggle.

God: we implore You to inspire us, so that we can act in accordance with the bright truth that Daheshism calls for.

God: we raise to You our hands and souls in total humility and awe, so that You can forgive our sins. These sins were the cause of all the pain and suffering that the Beloved and Guiding Prophet had to put up with so that we can be saved.

God: we call on You fervently to answer our prayer, be a witness to this pledge, and give us strength so that we can fulfill all that need be done with respect to our Holy Message and in the best possible way.

God: we ask You to accept our thanks for Your Guidance and to help us spread the spiritual truth.

Our Beloved and Guiding Prophet: we beseech you not to veil from us your bright face, and to forgive us for all the things that we have committed - you know better than us what they were. Include us under the umbrella of your guidance, mercy, love, and forgiveness. Always remember us from your Holy bright world until God allows us to meet again and be reunited eternally with you.


Amen.


This has been a brief account of the death and burial of Dahesh, which I witnessed a little more than ten years ago. I conclude this essay with a tear, not only for the loss of a great man but also for a humanity that refuses to learn or to transcend beyond materialism to spirituality.


Mounir Murad, May 1994