# Professor: A Tribute to Dr. 'Ali-Murad Davudi

*Exported from [Holy-Writings.com](https://www.holy-writings.com/) on 2026-06-20 — 1 clipping.*

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> Source: Bahá'í Library Online (bahai-library.com), curated by Jonah Winters. Used by permission of the curator. Original citation: Farideh Sobhani-Matejko, Professor: A Tribute to Dr. 'Ali-Murad Davudi, bahai-library.com.
> ──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
> 
> Introduction by the Translator
> Though it appears to have been published anonymously, the author of this essay was a young
> psychology student by the name of Farideh Sobhani (now Dr. Farideh Sobhani-Matejko), and
> while he is never named explicitly, the professor to whom this tribute was dedicated is Dr. ‘Alí-
> Murád Dávúdí, a brilliant philosopher and intellectual giant of the Bahá’í Faith who was eventually
> kidnapped by the Islamic regime and never heard from again.
> 
> In this essay, the young Sobhani fondly recalls her then-recent experience as a student in one of
> Dr. Dávúdí’s classes, shinásá’í va hastí (“knowledge and existence”),1 which he taught at the
> University of Tehran as an associate professor in the department of philosophy. Dr. Sobhani took
> this class in 1968, and she would go on to graduate from the university that same year.
> 
> This essay was originally published in Áhang-i-Badí‘, a Persian-language Bahá’í magazine that
> was circulated in Iran from the mid-1940s up until the end of the 1970s with the advent of the
> Islamic Revolution. Dr. Sobhani was herself a member of the magazine’s editorial committee at
> the time and arranged for it to be printed in its July–August 1969 joint issue.2
> 
> I am grateful to Naeem Nabiliakbar for acquainting me with this article many years ago, and also
> for preparing the Persian typescript below, which served as the basis for this translation.
> 
> —Adib Masumian
> 27 July 2022
> 
> ***
> 
> Table of Contents
> I. English Translation.................................................................................................................. 2
> II. Original Persian ..................................................................................................................... 5
> 
> The focus of this class may have been La connaissance: classe de philosophie et propédeutique, a
> book written by Léon Meynard and published in 1963, which Dr. Dávúdí himself later translated into
> Persian under the same title of this course he taught at the University of Tehran.
> Áhang-i-Badí‘, year 24, nos. 5 & 6 (Murdád–Shahrívar, 1348 Shamsí), pp. 169–170; available online
> here: https://bahai-library.com/bahailib/1139.pdf#page=56
> 
> I. English Translation
> 
> Professor:
> A Tribute to Dr. ‘Alí-Murád Dávúdí
> 
> Farideh Sobhani
> Translated by Adib Masumian
> 
> The school song begins to play. A heavy silence takes the place of the noise of the crowd. All
> of a sudden, a strange feeling washes over me. From behind the trembling curtain of tears that
> has welled up, I shoot a glance around me. As far as my eyes can see, the graduates are seated
> next to each other, dressed in their special uniforms. In this moment, their familiar faces seem
> a bit vague to me.
> 
> I look at myself again. “Am I part of this group, too?”
> 
> How very quickly these college years passed. Their final moments draw to a close with the
> conclusion of the ceremony. Gradually, I start to forget time and place. Familiar faces fade
> away from my sight, and I take flight to episodes from my past. The days and hours I have
> spent at college—their moments of dread and hope alike, all the things that both excited and
> agitated me—are brought back to life in my mind.
> 
> I think back to our friendships and mutual affections, to the things we have learned and the
> discussions we have had, and eventually to the students and professors. One by one, I bring
> the faces of the professors to mind; I conjure up their qualities and picture all the features
> that the passage of time has etched on their faces.
> 
> As I go through them, I stop at a certain familiar face. I call him to the forefront of my mind,
> with his silvery hair and immortal dignity.
> 
> I find him in the midst of his classroom. Our class of three hundred is bustling. Everyone is
> going from one direction to another, every group is engaged in conversation, and he quietly
> enters the room. The class rises to their feet. Still quietly, he heads to his desk. Absolute silence
> overtakes the class.
> 
> He begins. Not a sound can be heard now apart from pens being put to paper.
> 
> I look at him. When he speaks, he seems to grow distant from our world. Every now and then,
> he pauses for a moment and starts to walk to and fro once again.
> 
> I peer into his face. It is as if the words he is saying are rooted in the depths of his soul. His
> entire being has become a spirit personified from head to toe.
> 
> Now he has finished speaking. A wave of excitement comes over the students once again; their
> hands fly up to ask questions. As they erupt into discussion, he stays standing right where he
> is, serene as ever.
> 
> He listens carefully, responding with a refinement and majestic bearing that only he had. At
> times, the questions are so out of place, so far removed from what a sound mind would
> conceive, that shouts of objection start to be raised from every corner of the classroom—but
> he maintains his silence.
> 
> He waits until the person asking the question has settled down. Only then does he explain the
> matter at hand, and then offer his thanks with a short but meaningful sentence.
> 
> When speaking on philosophical subjects, he never gives any indication of finality. He always
> leaves room for subsequent discussion and inquiry, giving us an opportunity to think deeply.
> 
> Once he leaves the classroom, he can’t be found again in the dense mass of students who have
> surrounded him. This is not just about school anymore; it concerns everything, in every
> possible respect. The course and purpose of their lives, their plans for the future, their views
> on philosophy and other thoughts—students talk to him about all these things because they
> consider him their close confidant and account him as their knowledgeable friend. He listens
> attentively to these kids as they vent, becoming more and more inquisitive and dispensing the
> guidance they seek.
> 
> He is also a master of witty humor, and in this regard, too, one would be hard-pressed to find
> someone that rivals him. Although he never makes any pretensions to love, he does love his
> students from the bottom of his heart and show them that love—and in spite of all this, not
> once does he give preferential treatment to any of them. Even in special cases where he wishes
> to help a student or a group of them, he makes it so that the rest of the class benefits just as
> much from his kindness—a kindness that extends to everyone under all circumstances.
> 
> His anger is seldom seen and never directed universally. Only rarely does he become angry
> and excited while speaking, and even then he quickly returns to his normal state and
> modulates his tone accordingly.
> 
> He never shies away from a debate with his students, and no one has ever seen him ridicule a
> single one of them.
> 
> Perhaps one of his most significant characteristics is his humility. He is kind and humble
> toward everyone, and his name is always associated with this uniquely distinct trait.
> 
> When it comes to his exams, he has been known to give a failing grade, but few have heard
> anyone object to it or not be given a logical explanation if they do protest.
> 
> To sum up, it is in this way that they truly love him with all their hearts and regard him as
> their professor—possibly one of those rare professors at whose impending separation
> students weep as they say their goodbyes.
> 
> I sense the salty taste of tears in my mouth. The school song has been over for some time now;
> the sound of prolonged applause has broken the silence.
> 
> I look at the crowd one last time. Though there is joy in their faces, there is also a conspicuous
> question: “The future . . . what am I to do in the future? Which goal should I pursue, and why?”
> I feel a sense of pride and good fortune because I know my path forward and rest assured of
> the future.
> 
> I look once more to where the professors are standing. Their faces are radiant and instill
> confidence. A smile signaling my discernment of the truth forms on my lips. It seems to me
> there is just one face missing from among them, a palpable absence—he with his silvery hair
> and immortal dignity.3 Under my breath, I say to myself, “a Bahá’í professor.”
> 
> 3 The author of this essay has told me she never asked Dr. Dávúdí why he was not present that day. Her
> 
> personal speculation is that, in all likelihood, there wasn’t any special reason for his absence, considering
> that, while these ceremonies were obviously momentous occasions for the thousands of students who
> were graduating, they were routine occurrences for the professors, and it was not as if all the faculty
> members at the University of Tehran attended each and every graduation ceremony. Dr. Dávúdí’s
> absence from the ceremony has nothing to do with his martyrdom, which took place eleven years later.
> 
> ‫‪II. Original Persian‬‬
> 
> ‫استاد‬
> ‫نوشتۀ فریدۀ سبحانی‬
> 
> ‫سرود دانشگاه نواخته مىشود‪ .‬سکوت سنگینى جایگزین همهمۀ جمعیّت مىگردد‪ .‬در یک لحظه‬
> ‫احساس عجیبى مىکنم‪ .‬از پشت پردۀ لرزان اشک نیمنگاهى به اطراف مىافکنم‪ .‬تا چشم کار مىکند‬
> ‫فارغالتّحصیالن با انیفورمهاى مخصوص خود کنار هم نشستهاند‪ .‬چهرههاى آشناشان اینک اندکى‬
> ‫مبهم بنظر مىرسد‪.‬‬
> 
> ‫یکبار دیگر به خود مىنگرم؛ آیا من هم جزو این دسته هستم؟‬
> 
> ‫راستى سالهاى دانشکده چه زود سپرى شد‪ .‬آخرین لحظات آن هم با اتمام جشن به پایان مىرسد‪.‬‬
> ‫کمکم زمان و مکان را از یاد مىبرم‪ .‬چهرههاى آشنا از نظرم محو مىشود و به گذشتهها پرواز‬
> ‫مىکنم‪ .‬روزها و ساعاتى را که در دانشکده گذرانیدهام؛ لحظات بیم و امید و تمامى هیجانها و‬
> ‫اضطرابها در خاطرم جان مىگیرد‪.‬‬
> 
> ‫به دوستیها و محبّتها‪ ،‬به آموختهها به بحثهائى که داشتهایم و باالخره به شاگردان و به استادها می‬
> ‫اندیشم‪ .‬قیافۀ استادان را یک یک به خاطر مىآورم‪ ،‬با تمام خصوصیّاتشان و با تمام آنچه که گذشت‬
> ‫زمان بر سیماى آنها نقش کرده‪.‬‬
> 
> ‫و از آن میان در مقابل یک چهرۀ آشنا متوقّف مىمانم‪ .‬او را به خاطر مىآورم با موهاى خاکسترى و‬
> ‫وقار همیشگیش‪.‬‬
> 
> ‫‪5‬‬
> ‫او را در جمع کالس مىیابم‪ .‬کالس سیصد نفرى ما در تب و تاب است‪ .‬هرکس از جانبى به سمتى‬
> ‫مىرود و هر دسته سرگرم بحث و گفتگوئى است؛ و او آرام وارد مىشود‪ .‬جمعیّت به پا مىخیزند‪.‬‬
> ‫همچنان آرام به سمت میز خود مىرود‪ .‬سکوت محض کالس را فرا مىگیرد‪.‬‬
> 
> ‫او آغاز مىکند‪ .‬دیگر جز صداى سائیده شدن قلم بر کاغذ صداى دیگرى شنیده نمىشود‪.‬‬
> 
> ‫به او نگاه مىکنم‪ .‬وقتى که سخنرانى مىکند‪ ،‬گوئى از دنیاى ما فاصله مىگیرد‪ .‬گاه لحظهاى مکث‬
> ‫مىکند و باز به راه رفتن آغاز مىکند‪.‬‬
> 
> ‫به چهرۀ او نگاه میکنم‪ .‬گوئى سخن از عمق جانش ریشه مىگیرد؛ وجودش سراپا روح مجسم‬
> ‫شده ‪....‬‬
> 
> ‫اکنون سخن او به اتمام رسیده‪ .‬یک بار دیگر جنب و جوش دانشجویان از سر گرفته مىشود و‬
> ‫انگشتها براى پرسش باال مىرود‪ .‬بحثها آغاز مىشود و او همچنان متین و آرام بر جاى ایستاده‪.‬‬
> 
> ‫با دقت گوش فرا مىدهد و با ادب و وقار مخصوص خود پاسخ مىگوید‪ .‬گاه پرسشها آنقدر‬
> ‫بىمناسبت و دور از ذهن سلیم است که از هر سوى کالس بانگ اعتراض برمىخیزد‪ ،‬ولی او همچنان‬
> ‫سکوت مىکند‪.‬‬
> 
> ‫آنقدر صبر مىکند تا پرسشکننده آرام بماند‪ .‬آنگاه به توضیح مطلب مىپردازد و با یک جملۀ کوتاه‬
> ‫و پرمعنى تشکّر مىکند‪.‬‬
> 
> ‫در بحثهاى فلسفى هیچگاه مطلب را به پایان رسیده نشان نمىدهد‪ .‬همیشه جائى براى بحثها و‬
> ‫پرسشهاى بعدى باقى مىگذارد و مجالی براى تفکّر ایجاد مىکند‪.‬‬
> 
> ‫وقتى کالس را ترک مىکند‪ ،‬در انبوه شاگردان دیگر نمىتوان او را یافت‪ .‬دیگر اینجا تنها مسئلۀ‬
> ‫درس مطرح نیست‪ .‬از همه چیز و از همهجا‪ ،‬از راه و هدف زندگى‪ ،‬از نقشههاى آیندۀ خود‪ ،‬از افکار‬
> 
> ‫‪6‬‬
> ‫فلسفى و اندیشههاى خویش با او مىگویند‪ ،‬زیرا که او را محرم و همراز خود مىدانند و آشناى داناى‬
> ‫خود محسوب مىدارند‪ .‬به درد دل بچّهها گوش فرا مىدهد و بیشتر و بیشتر جویا مىشود و راه‬
> ‫مىنماید‪.‬‬
> 
> ‫در بذلهگوئى و شوخطبعى نیز استاد است و در این جهت نیز کمتر میتوان نظیر او را یافت‪ .‬با اینکه‬
> ‫هیچگاه تظاهر به محبّت نمىکند‪ ،‬اما از صمیم قلب شاگردان خود را دوست دارد و به آنها مهر‬
> ‫مىورزد‪ ،‬و با اینهمه هرگز بین آنها تبعیض قائل نمىشود‪ ،‬حتّى اگر موردى استثنائى پیش آید که‬
> ‫بخواهد به یکى یا دستهاى از آنها کمک کند‪ ،‬دیگران را نیز به همان نسبت از لطف خود بهرهمند‬
> ‫مىسازد‪ .‬لطفش در هر حال شامل حال است و خشمش به ندرت دیده مىشود و هرگز تعمیم نمى‬
> ‫یابد‪ .‬به هنگام سخنگفتن به ندرت عصبانى مىشود و حالت هیجانى پیدا مىکند‪ ،‬امّا به سرعت به‬
> ‫حالت عادى باز مىگردد و لحن خود را تغییر مىدهد‪.‬‬
> 
> ‫هرگز از زیر بار بحث شانه خالی نمىکند و هیچگاه دیده نشده که کسى را مورد تمسخر قرار دهد‪.‬‬
> 
> ‫شاید یکى از مهمّترین خصوصیّات او تواضع و فروتنى است‪ .‬نسبت به همه متواضع و مهربان است و‬
> ‫نام او همیشه با این صفت مشخصه همراه است‪.‬‬
> 
> ‫در امتحانات او نمرات مردودى نیز به چشم مىخورد امّا کمتر شنیده مىشود که کسى اعتراض کند و‬
> ‫یا اگر اعتراض کند‪ ،‬جواب منطقى به او داده نشود‪.‬‬
> 
> ‫خالصه آنگونه است که بهراستى و از صمیم قلب دوستش دارند و استادش مىدانند و شاید از اساتید‬
> ‫نادرى است که به هنگام وداع دانشجویان از جدائیش مىگریند‪....‬‬
> 
> ‫مزۀ شور اشک را در دهانم حس مىکنم‪ .‬سرود دانشگاه مدّتی است به پایان آمده‪ .‬صداى‬
> ‫کفزدنهاى ممتدّ سکوت را در هم شکسته‪.‬‬
> 
> ‫‪7‬‬
> ‫یکبار دیگر به جمعیّت نگاه مىکنم‪ .‬در چهرۀ همۀ آنها در عین شادى و سرور یک سؤال مشخّص‬
> ‫است آینده‪ ...‬در آینده چه باید کرد؟ به سوى کدامین هدف باید رفت و چرا؟ احساس غرور و‬
> ‫خوشبختى مىکنم‪ .‬آخر من راه خود را مىدانم و به آینده مطمئن هستم‪.‬‬
> 
> ‫یکبار دیگر به جایگاه اساتید نگاه مىکنم‪ .‬چهرهشان روشن است و اطمینانبخش‪ .‬لبخندى حاکى از‬
> ‫حقّشناسى روى لبانم نقش مىبندد‪ .‬تنها جاى یک چهره در آن میان خالی به نظر مىآید‪ -‬جاى او با‬
> ‫موهاى خاکسترى و وقار همیشگىاش‪ .‬زیر لب زمزمه مىکنم «یک استاد بهائى‪».‬‬
> 
> ‫‪8‬‬
>
> — *Professor: A Tribute to Dr. 'Ali-Murad Davudi (Used by permission of the curator)*