by Glenn Kleier
“This one time, the most special one, I really got close to Her. She was bein’ brought down the hall to the van for Her Sermon at the Mount, and I saw Her comin’ and I knelt down and She looked over at me as She passed by, and She looked right through me, Mr. Feldman. Her eyes bore straight into my heart and She laid open my soul, wide and naked and defenseless. And in that split second, She purged me clean, I swear to God. I was tremblin’ and weak and scared and full of bliss, all at the same time.
“After She disappeared, they tried to cover things up. They said not to tell anyone. That She'd come back. That She'd told Reverend Fischer to carry on for Her. And then they changed that story and said She was still here, but invisible, and only the Reverend was worthy enough to see Her. I'm just so afraid I won't see Her again. I swear, I'd soon die to be with Her if She's gone back to heaven. I'd soon die!”
“Mr. Brannan, what can you tell me about the Messiah video that was taped the night of the earthquake? Were you there? Is it genuine?”
“Yes sir, I was there. But I didn't see who took the video, and I didn't even see the Messiah. I was back in the crowd under an awning just tryin’ to survive the storm, you know? But I seen the video, and it looks exactly like what was goin’ on there. And I can tell you, I was standin’ on those old temple steps earlier in the day with my friends, and there was no crack in the ground then. I felt the earthquake and I felt the lightning. The next day when I come back, there's the crack runnin’ from the well to the top of the steps. It was real, all right.”
“Where was Reverend Fischer when all this was going on?”
“The Reverend Fischer wasn't even in Bethlehem at the time, Mr. Feldman. He was stayin’ in a hotel suite in Jerusalem, watchin’ you on TV. ‘Cause the phone lines were out, they had to come up and get him the next day to tell him what was goin’ on. That's when the video turned up and Reverend Fischer moved his things down to the Star Hotel.”
“So he knew about the video before we aired it?”
“Oh yes. We all saw it, but the Reverend kept control of it.”
“Do you have any idea where WNN's copy came from?”
“No sir.”
“Wasn't the Reverend upset when he saw our bootleg copy?”
“I really don't know. Nothin’ much was ever said about it, as I recall.”
Feldman had video statements taken and Thomas Brannan departed with what appeared to be a somewhat lighter heart. Feldman felt a little stirring in his heart, as well. Perhaps when these new revelations hit the air, the Reverend Fischer might finally be provoked into a long-overdue interview.
37
WNN headquarters, Jerusalem, Israel 1:17 P.M., Thursday, January 13, 2000
Once Feldman broke his story on the Messiah's escape from the Samaritans, reports of Messiah sightings began popping up all over Israel. In Nazareth at a synagogue. In Cana at a wedding. On the Sea of Galilee — walking on the water, to be sure. Sometimes appearing in more than one location at the same time. It was said that the Messiah would surface somewhere, preach to a small gathering until it became a large gathering, and then simply disappear again. Only to resurface somewhere else.
And everywhere, miracles. Lots of miracles. Sight restored, lameness cured, sins forgiven. Feldman put little stock in any of this. Most of the incidents he'd investigated proved considerably less than credible.
“Hey, Hunter, maybe she could give you a brain,” Cissy sneered across the table during the morning meeting.
At first, Feldman thought Cissy was returning to her old, joking self again. But a closer look revealed that she was entirely serious.
Hunter continued the banter. “Maybe the Messiah would like to join Feldman's fan club!”
This was a sore subject with Feldman. Much to Hunter's amusement, Feldman had begun to collect a sizable following. Each day there were loyal groupies— teenage girls, mostly—who hung out at the gates of WNN headquarters, waiting to catch a glimpse of their furtive hero. And whenever Feldman was out on interviews, a gathering of fans was sure to ensue. Of late, he'd taken to wearing a hat and dark sunglasses.
Apart from the sideshow, however, there was an aspect to many of these alleged messianic appearances that had been piquing Feldman's curiosity. In addition to a handful of amateur photographs of the Messiah, which were blurred and suspect for the most part, there were other, more telling indications from purported witnesses that something was going on. Always it was in their portrayal of the Messiah's intense, sapphirine eyes. Or, more precisely, her “look.” A riveting, penetrating, emotionally unsettling gaze that transfixed the recipient. Feldman knew that look firsthand, which for him at least lent a certain amount of authenticity to the strange tales he was hearing.
38
National Ministry of the Universal Kingdom, Dallas, Texas 9:30 A.M., Friday, January 14, 2000
As his secretary brought him the morning mail, the Right Reverend Solomon T. Brady looked like a man about to have a stroke. His normally red face was more flushed than usual, and puffy. In just the last week, he'd gained back the twelve pounds he was so proud to have lost, and the cameras of his televangelical ministry made him look even heavier.
The Reverend stared at the bundle for a while and then absentmindedly flipped through the stack. This last week had been devastating, not just in the fact that contributions had slowed and he was having to cut back his TV ministries from eight hours to two per month. But also because, for the first time in the twenty-two-year history of his Church of the Universal Kingdom, he'd lost his way. He simply hadn't a clue about how to counter this vexing millenarian infection.
The Reverend was momentarily distracted from his depression by the insignia of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints appearing on an envelope. It was addressed to his attention from the Mormon Temple of Salt Lake City, Utah. Inside he found a form letter reading:
Dear Religious Leader:
As a duly authorized official of a nationally recognized religious organization, your presence is respectfully requested at the First Convocation of Interdenominational Religious Faiths of the Third Millennium, to be held in Salt Lake City, Utah, at the Mormon Tabernacle Convention Center, Friday, Saturday and Sunday, February 4, 5 and 6, in the year of our Lord 2000.
The important purpose of this assembly is to convene both national and worldwide religious leadership to address the controversial issues raised by recent occurrences in the Holy Land; events that hold significance for, and directly affect, virtually every religious establishment.
Issues which will be explored include:
an evaluation of the authenticity of a new messianic presence
biblical correlations and prophetic fulfillment
the impact of new religious dogma on congregational unity
new potentials for interdenominational collaboration and associations.
Each attendee is invited to submit, on the forms provided herewith, additional topics for discussion, which will be included on the agenda in the order received.
The letter went on to provide details for registration, accommodations and attendant charges, which struck Reverend Brady as inordinately high at $2,000 per head. Nevertheless, this was the first ray of hope, and perhaps the last opportunity he would have, to find desperately needed answers.
The ability to network with other religious organizations that were likely experiencing similar problems, was alone worth the price of admission. The Reverend sent in his application, overnight delivery. The topic he submitted for the agenda: “What a nonmillennialist sect can do in today's unstable religious environment to sustain congregational interest and contributions.”
39
Nordau Towers, Tel Aviv, Israel 5:50 P.M., Saturday, January 15, 2000
It had to happen eventually. Another network chanced to be in the right place at the right time.
Taking the day off, Feldman had been lying on the couch with Anke cradled in his arms, dozing, the television on, when he was jolted awake by
a competing station's news bulletin.
“Captured on videotape a short while ago by a UBN news crew, an actual appearance by the reclusive New Messiah. We bring you this report now, live from the United Broadcasting Network's exclusive Messiah News Center!”
Feldman clicked to full alert.
The UBN news crew had managed to catch on tape the final few minutes of what appeared to be a spontaneous visit by the Messiah to an Arab-section, lower-school playground in Jerusalem. The video opened showing the Messiah sitting on a low stone wall, next to an elderly schoolmarm in a chador. This time there was no question of authenticity. This was the Messiah, and she looked absolutely radiant in the afternoon sunlight.
Gathered about her, laughing and climbing in her lap, was a small group of young children, with others of like age sitting about singing and talking with her. A crowd was beginning to collect and the newsmen were shouting questions to her, but she was ignoring them. The camera zoomed in, angling for close-ups, getting jostled in the process by excited onlookers.
The Messiah, apparently disturbed by the encroachment, finally turned her attention to the cameraman, and in a clear voice intoned in perfect English: “Why do you pursue me?” She extended a graceful hand toward the aged woman next to her: “Here is a story better told—that of our vulnerable elders,” and she gestured to the children around her, “and our helpless little ones.
“For I say to you: whosoever defiles the innocence of the young, whosoever preys upon the weakness of the elderly, so shall they be banished to the eternal abysses. Go, and send forth this word!”
Her dark eyes flashed, her eyebrows arched in stem warning. But a child pulled at a fold of her robe to get her attention, and glancing down, she became distracted and melted into a warm glow. There was a murmur of approval from the crowd in response to her words, but the Messiah did not linger. She slid her legs over the opposite side of the wall, displacing from her lap the clinging children who protested vigorously. As she did so, the crowd behind the wall separated in front of her like the parting of a sea, and closed protectively behind her as she disappeared into it.
Feldman smiled. Perhaps time would prove this curious episode to be nothing more than the self-righteous, abstruse ravings of another delusional zealot. But for now at least, the resolute little prophetess was only adding more luster to her image.
40
The streets of Jerusalem, Israel Third week of January, 2000
Apparently a French documentary film crew was next to confront the feisty young Messiah. They claimed to have stumbled across her as she was preaching to a small group of millenarian pilgrims at Wadi El Joz, Jerusalem, an ancient wellspring which had recently gone dry due to the drought.
Unfortunately, the film in their cameras proved disastrously overexposed. The only hard evidence the Frenchmen could supply for their encounter was the surviving audio track. A French network aired the report, consisting of artist's renderings accompanied by a narrator and the audio.
According to the account, after the film crew had spotted the Messiah, they stealthily circled the gathering to come up behind her. One bold cameraman, searching for the best available vantage point, climbed up and seated himself, cross-legged, in the basin of the dry wellspring itself, only a few feet behind the unsuspecting prophetess. Switching on his camera, he grinned and called out brazenly to her in French, “Hey, my pretty little Messiah, dance for the camera! Show us a little leg, yes?”
His fellow crew mates had snickered at this, but the Messiah apparently did not find his antics so amusing. She stopped her instruction, turned slowly, and folded her arms across her chest, stifling his leer with her penetrating gaze.
“I am the vessel which bears drink for the parched soul,” she responded sharply, in French, “yet you would discard the water for the cup!”
Shaking off the effects of her accusing eyes, the cameraman tried to save face with his comrades. “I am a red-blooded man!” he exclaimed. “I like women. What is wrong with that?” He resurrected his grin.
She walked past him, studying him. “You are like the man adrift at sea who quenches his thirst with salt water. At first, his body appears satisfied, but soon the thirst returns. And each time it comes, it comes sooner and stronger than before. Each swallow only leads to another, driving him to madness!”
What was relayed next was subject to a great deal of professional skepticism. The report claimed that, as the prophetess turned to leave, the spring spontaneously gushed back to life, dousing the cameraman's lap and amour with icy water. Again, there was no proof for this anecdote. It was true, however, that the wellspring was supplying clean, sweet water once again. And having drunk from the spring, the entire French crew, including a now subdued cameraman, attested to a dramatic spiritual and physical rejuvenation.
In yet another of these fleeting encounters, a news-woman for an Atlanta, Georgia, TV station caught on video an enlightening new finding for the public record. The reporter was in a second-story Jerusalem hotel room overlooking Salah Ed-din Square when she noticed the fast-paced Messiah leading a crowd through the street below. Leaning out a window with her video camera in time to intercept the prophetess, the reporter called down frantically, “Who are you? We don't even know your name. Do you have a name?”
Surrounded by a large and flowing, ever-growing entourage, the young Messiah paused, turned and shielded her eyes with her hand in the morning sun. “Yes,” she said, almost hesitantly, dropping her hand after locating the reporter, “I have a name. The name God has chosen for me is Jeza. My name is Jeza.” She turned and was gone again.
There was no universal agreement on the correct spelling of her name, as she didn't bother to clarify it. Hereafter it was often spelled “Jeeza,” “Jeze,” “Jesa” or “Gisa.” But there was no disagreement on the pronunciation. It was “JEE-zuh.”
The next documented appearance was recorded by a London Times newspaper journalist. He happened to be strolling near the Hurva synagogue in Jerusalem's Old City Jewish Quarter when a small crowd began gathering at the entrance to the temple. On a hunch, the journalist ran around to the back of the building and was able to enter through a door left unbolted.
He then quietly made his way to the congregational area of the synagogue where he spied the Messiah sitting cross-legged on the floor, speaking enthusiastically with ten elder rabbis. By now, hundreds of people were crowding at the windows outside for a glimpse.
Before being detected and ejected, the journalist was able to shorthand what became known as the first of Jeza's New Messianic Allegories, the complete text of which ran in the next edition of the Times. Later editions would appear in this form:
THE PARABLE OF THE INVENTORS’ SONS
When Jeza had come into the temple, the chief rabbis recognized Her and welcomed Her saying, “For what purpose do you honor us with your visit?” And She spoke scripture with them, impressing all with Her breadth and knowledge. Then they asked of Her, “Are you truly the Chosen One, the New Messiah?” And She answered them saying, “I am the New Messenger. I am the clarity amongst the din.”
“Then teach us,” they said, “and we will listen.” So She taught them, saying:
“There were two inventors who each had a young son. Now each inventor created a great, complex machine that performed its tasks well and made the inventors much money.
“In time, the sons grew to manhood and both inventors retired, turning their machines over to their sons, saying, ‘Go now, use your machine properly and it will earn you your living.’
“So the sons took their fathers’ inventions and put them to work. And for a while, the machines performed as they should, earning each son his living. But then there came a time when the parts wore and failed, and the great machines would no longer function.
“So the first son went to his father and said, ‘Alas, the great machine is broken and my customers are angry. You must fix it or I will lose everything.’ So the father took up his tools and went ou
t to fix the machine.
“The second son also went to seek his father's help, but his father refused him, saying, ‘You are a man now and this is your responsibility.’ So the second son, with great worry, went back and labored on his machine alone, losing much business, but with time, restoring it to use.
“Yet, the first son never learned to repair his machine, and when the time came that his father died, the machine fell again into disrepair and the first son lost everything.
“But the second son taught himself how to keep his machine functioning. And, over time, he saw how to make improvements that caused the machine to perform better than it had even for his father.
“Now I ask of you, which of these was the better father to the son? The one who generously helped? Or the father who made his son discover for himself the workings of the great machine?”
And the rabbis answered Her, “Why, the second father who made his son discover the workings of the great machine.”
And Jeza said to them, “So, too, must you no longer look only to the Father, but go forth and learn the functions of His Great Machine—and improve upon it.” (Apotheosis 12:5–16)
41
Palace of the Sanctum Officium, headquarters of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith of the Holy Roman Catholic Church, Vatican City, Rome, Italy 2:00 P.M., Friday, January 21, 2000
Thirty cardinals rose from their armchairs around the ornate long table as Nicholas VI entered the room. The pontiff deposited a sheaf of documents before him, removed his spectacles from their case, fit them across his nose and took his place at the head of the table. “God's blessings upon you,” he greeted them, and they responded in kind, taking their seats.