by Glenn Kleier
Feldman took the outstretched hands of President and Mrs. Moore, and then those of the vice president and his wife. Exchanging quick greetings, Feldman immediately introduced them to the woman of the hour. Jeza stopped, standing somewhat aback, and looked quizzically at each of them.
Astounded at his stupidity, Feldman realized what was about to happen and went into a sudden panic. He was too late. There was nothing he could do now. Swooning, the presidential and vice presidential couples fell victim to Jeza's scrutiny.
Feldman rushed to the first lady, who was close to falling. Secret Service agents materialized spontaneously from nowhere, reacting in alarmed, unfocused confusion, without direction or clue. The odd event was captured live from every camera angle.
Fortunately, the presidential party recovered quickly. After a few moments’ composure and good-natured laughter, the president greeted his special guest and the introductions moved forward. As they proceeded next toward the presidential mansion, Feldman leaned down and whispered in the Messiah's ear. “Jeza, you may not realize what you're doing, but when you stare hard at people, you make them feel very uncomfortable. Can you control that at all?”
Jeza looked up at him questioningly, said nothing, and continued along with the party. Moore was still shaking his head and mentioned something to his wife about helicopter fumes.
Moving into the main entranceway, the group took up position near the center of the long corridor, with Feldman and Jeza situated between the first and second families. A receiving line developed and for the next several hours, Feldman and Jeza were occupied shaking hands and exchanging comments with an endless parade of the gawking privileged. Feldman noted with some relief that, while people meeting Jeza were still affected by her eyes, the consequences now seemed less severe, and shorter in duration.
Feldman was not sure how the Messiah would take this extended imposition. He had never really explained to her the specifics of his arrangements with the White House. Just that she'd be meeting people, having dinner and spending the night there.
During the lengthy reception, Feldman noticed that Jeza seldom smiled, although she didn't appear seriously put off, either. With the steady procession of people, Feldman had no opportunity to inquire as to her physical or mental state. But he could catch snippets of her conversations.
At one point, the president asked Jeza her opinion of politics, and she responded, “God and government are much alike: there is no peace for either because society continually fails to follow the laws set for it.”
Feldman was impressed to hear her speaking with foreign dignitaries in their native tongues. After hearing only a word or two of accented English, Jeza instantly grasped the correct language and, to the endless delight of the beneficiaries, responded in precisely the correct dialect. All was carefully captured on videotape by the ever-vigilant Hunter and WNN camera crews.
One exchange proved particularly amusing. A rather prominent Washington defense attorney, whom Feldman recognized from the national news, stepped up to Jeza with an attractive young thing on the arm of his expensive suit “Miss Jeza,” he greeted the Messiah, “I believe you and I have something rather significant in common with one another.”
Jeza stared at him without comment and he was momentarily staggered, grappling to hold his train of thought. “You see,” he recovered, “we, uh, we're both in the same business, you and I—the business of saving people.”
Jeza regarded him critically for a moment and then bluntly replied, “Yes, but my means of salvation do not render people penniless!”
Significant laughter erupted from all within earshot, and the miffed barrister quickly slunk away.
There was yet one more of these strange interludes that Feldman took note of, the possible explanation for which he would not have until weeks later. One of the last people in line to greet Jeza was a very elderly, frail-looking, tiny little nun, even smaller than Jeza herself. Feldman recognized the lined and saintly face of Mother Bernadette, the world-famous “Sister of the Silent Sufferers,” renowned for her life of selfless, charitable work on behalf of the sick and destitute of Africa.
Looking hesitant, but compelled, the trembling little nun took the Messiah's outstretched hand and kissed it, staring shyly up at Jeza with imploring eyes. “Sweet Lady,” she addressed the prophetess in a voice as small and ancient as she, “I come to ask your prayers, not for myself, but for my poor, forgotten little babies who are ill and starving in a faraway land.”
Feldman watched Jeza's face turn troubled and her eyes tear as she gazed into the little woman. Then, grasping Mother Bernadette by her thin shoulders, Jeza leaned forward and whispered something into her ear. The nun's eyes grew large and a smile began to spread through the lines of her face like a wind rippling across the waters of a sea.
Jeza drew back and the nun asked excitedly, “Today?”
The Messiah smiled and nodded.
Mother Bernadette could hardly contain herself. “Right now?”
Jeza's smile grew larger and she nodded once more.
The nun made an awkward, half genuflection and the sign of the cross. Repeatedly bowing and thanking the prophetess, alternating between smiles and wide-eyed expressions of excitement and disbelief, the little nun backed away and quickly shuffled off toward the White House front door.
Feldman gave Jeza a scrunched, questioning look, which Jeza dismissed with a slight smile and a roll of her eyes, turning to greet her next visitor.
After the reception, Jeza and Feldman were escorted into the White House dining room as guests of honor in a two-hundred-seat dinner. Asked to render grace, Jeza raised her eyes, extended her hands to shoulder height in supplication and simply said, “O Heavenly Father, Which created the sun, the rain and the earth to bring forth great bounty, bless this nourishment for our bodies, that we may also nourish our minds and our spirit.” There was a round of applause and appreciation which, in Feldman's scrutiny, appeared to leave the Messiah uncomfortable.
After the final course and before the serving of desserts, the president rose from his seat, officially welcomed the Messiah to the United States, and then offered a toast to the “most famous woman on the face of the earth.” Jeza did not join in the toast, but merely stared down at her virtually untouched plate, in what would appear to be abject embarrassment.
President Moore remained standing, and graciously asked, “Jeza, I'm sure everyone here would love to hear some more of your intriguing thoughts. Would you care to say a few words?”
In a soft voice most could not hear, she replied, ‘My message is of God, not of government.”
To which Moore responded, “It's always been a cherished personal belief of mine that there's an important place for the spiritual in politics. And I can tell you with great assurance that your inspirational message here would be most appreciated. Certainly, government could only benefit from your insights.” Turning to include the body of seated guests, Moore added, “Isn't that so, everyone?”
Feldman wasn't quite sure what Moore was hoping to accomplish here. But he suspected this was a ploy to solicit sound bites from the Messiah for future campaign advertising and commercials.
The response of the dinner guests was overwhelming. The entire assembly was on its feet, encouraging Jeza with unceasing applause and cheers. Understandably, an aura of expectation had engrossed the gathering all evening.
Jeza endured the attention with bowed head. Her sable hair, highlighted in a halo by the bright candelabras and crystal chandeliers, overshadowed her face. Feldman couldn't make out her expression.
The enthusiasm for a speech did not abate, however, and only when at last Jeza rose, did the appeased guests begin to quiet and take their seats. After all was complete silence, the Messiah lifted her head and Feldman could see that she looked both tired and anguished. But this soon passed as she drew up her energy and held forth in an assertive, authoritative voice that commanded full attention.
There was a murmur of appr
eciation and delight throughout the dining room as the rapt listeners quickly realized they were the privileged recipients of one of the Messiah's infrequent, celebrated allegories. It would later become known as:
THE PARABLE OF THE FARM AND THE OVERSEERS
At this time, Jeza came accordingly to a town in America called Washington, near the river Potomac, and here She was the guest at a great banquet. After the meal, the host, who was the high official of the land, said unto Her, “Jeza, will you now speak to us?”
And Jeza was reluctant, for the affairs of government were not of Her concern. But the guests at the banquet beseeched Her and, not wishing to appear discourteous, She delivered to them a parable:
“There was once a good and honest man who left the safety of his hometown and went forth into the wilderness to seek his fortune. Over many years of hard work, this man built from the harsh land a large and bountiful farm. On his farm were plentiful tracts of golden wheat and barley and corn; and green pastures with great herds of fine cattle and sheep.
“Now it came to pass that the man grew old and died, and having no direct heirs, left his great farm to a young nephew who lived away in the town.
“The nephew, who was also a good and honest man like his uncle, had no knowledge of farming and decided that he must hire an experienced overseer to ensure the farm's continued prosperity.
“Soon, there came to him two shrewd foremen who worked at the farm and wished to improve their station. The first said unto the nephew, ‘Hire me to oversee your farm and I will safeguard your properties and increase the bounty of your grain fields twofold’.
“And the second said ‘Hire me to oversee your properties, for I will see that your farm thrives, and I will double the size of your herds.’
“Now the nephew was much impressed by this and said to them, ‘Each of you has experience in different ways. Therefore will I hire you both, and to both of you will I entrust the care of my properties. You shall share equally in control of the farm and in its profits. For four years shall you labor together to make the land productive, at which time I will return to judge your fruitfulness.’
“The nephew then went away and left his farm in the care of the two men. But soon afterward, the two overseers fell to quarreling between themselves. The first said, ‘I will buy new equipment and hire more workers to enhance the grain fields.’ The second then said, I will buy more cattle and sheep and open new pastures to improve the herds.’
“And attempting to outdo one another, they borrowed large sums of money on the farm, each predicting that his harvest would return the greater measure of profit.
“But the first year the rains did not come. The fields grew parched and the crops withered. The pastures dried up and the herds declined. And the farm lost much money.
“The second year, each man, wishing to make up the losses of the first year, borrowed more money to install great watering systems. But in the summer, the locusts came and devoured the crops and the pastures, and again the harvest failed.
“The two overseers then said to one another, ‘We have much responsibility here and the pressure is great. We should be paid more for our burdens.’ And they therefore increased their wages.
“Each year thereafter, the two men likewise borrowed more money to assure their harvests and to raise their wages, but each year their ambition only served to reduce their yields.
“At the end of the fourth year, the nephew returned to the farm to find his once-golden fields of grain lying barren and fallow, and his prized herds ravaged, sick and dying. No more was the great farm prosperous, but the moneylenders were at the door; demanding payment.
“In great anger the nephew called the two false overseers before him, saying, ‘You were sworn to me to protect the land and double its yield. Behold, this is how you repay me. The great farm is in ruin and its prosperity have you squandered!’
“Yet each man accused the other, saying, ‘My judgment was sound and I would have fulfilled my promise had it not been for the foolishness of he whose profligacy has caused this loss!’
“But the nephew cast them both out, saying, ‘Foolish are you, but more foolish am I, for the master is responsible for the servant. Verily have I failed to honor the faith of my uncle, therefore have I lost all.’ “
And the guests at the banquet marveled amongst themselves and asked of Jeza, “What is the meaning of this parable?”
So in answering them, She said, “The great farm is your nation. The nephew is your people. The two overseers are your Congress. As a nation is divided and corrupted from within, so is it the responsibility of its people to jealously guard over its command and cast out false overseers.
“I say unto you, great treasures require great vigilance. And he who fails to safeguard his treasures, so shall he lose them.” (Apotheosis 23:1–48)
Concluding, Jeza bent toward Feldman and asked if she could now be allowed to retire for her evening meditation. The table was abuzz with reaction to Jeza's homily as Feldman conveyed her request to the somewhat befuddled-looking president. Moore immediately stood and escorted Jeza to a servant, who then led her away to her room upstairs.
Feldman smiled as he observed the controversy Jeza's sermon had fostered around the huge table. Some of the dinner guests, he noted, felt that the parable was a rebuke of the voter who failed to stay fully engaged in the governmental process. Some felt it was a condemnation of the two-party system, or the national budget deficits.
And others felt the parable was a not-so-veiled indictment of the current administration, which had suffered a recent series of graft and corruption charges. Fortunately, the ambiguity of the sermon would allow the White House spin doctors to easily deflect this interpretation, and the official assessment of the precarious evening was that, overall, things had gone well for the president.
Entirely exhausted, and facing an early departure for Utah with another demanding day ahead of him, Feldman soon excused himself also, adjourning to his room. Removing his suit jacket and glasses, he collapsed facedown on his bed, kicked off his shoes and fell fast asleep.
It was nearly dawn when he awoke with a start from yet another nightmare. He loosened his tie and walked out in the hallway to stretch his legs. Across the way, the door to Jeza's room stood ajar. He tiptoed over, listened for a moment, and then rapped gently. No answer.
“Jeza!” he called softly through the crack. “Are you awake?”
No response. He gently pushed open the door to reveal an empty, apparently unused bed. There was no light in the bathroom. Feldman retreated into the hallway and wandered downstairs where he found a night servant in attendance.
“If you're looking for the Messiah, sir,” the elderly gentleman said with some reverence, “you'll find Her out in the Rose Garden. She's been there most of the night”. And he pointed the way.
Shoeless, Feldman padded over to the double doors and stepped outside into the chilly March morning. It was still dark, with only a trace of light breaking on the horizon.
His socks were soon wet on the dewy brick walk, and Jeza was nowhere to be seen. Exploring further along the hedges, Feldman turned a corner and could faintly detect a small form across the patio, crouched in front of a hedge.
As he drew closer, he saw that Jeza was half kneeling, half sitting on the cold ground. The upper part of her body was lying across the seat of a stone bench in front of a large, dormant rose bush. Her face was buried in her arms and she appeared to be sobbing. Feldman rushed over and dropped to her side, placing a comforting hand on her back. Her robe was cold and damp. Her shoulders felt small and delicate.
“Jeza! What's happened? Are you all right?” He attempted to draw her upright and she did not resist. Gently he turned her, smoothing back her hair to see her face.
Her eyes were closed, her brow creased, her lips compressed in a tight, bitter line. With her complexion so pale, it was like gazing upon the marble sculpture of some classic Greek goddess. Only this one was weeping re
al tears.
“Jeza, sweet Jeza!” Feldman dried her eyes with his handkerchief and caressed her hair. It was as soft as down. “What's happened?”
Drawing back from him slowly, she placed one hand on the stone bench and began to stand. Feldman rose quickly to assist her. He held her arm to steady her, but she seemed impervious to him, looking out toward the dawning sky, introspective and troubled, but no longer crying.
“My soul is sad unto death,” she said hollowly. “What must be is not of my will, but foreordained.” And without looking back, she gave Feldman's arm a tight squeeze with both hands and then slipped away from him, returning along the path to the house.
70
Salt Lake City, Utah 8:00 A.M., Sunday, March 5, 2000
Cardinal Litti had been up since well before dawn, too excited to sleep. This was the day he'd been so anxiously awaiting. Showered and carefully shaved, he was dressed in his best cassock, best white shirt and clerical collar. Standing before the full-length mirror, he attempted to suck in the ample girth that strained his cincture, detected little improvement and surrendered, laughing.
The cardinal was in a bright mood, if somewhat nervous. He realized that this day would see him witness his New Messiah, and would most likely determine for him the course he would follow for the rest of his life. He draped his red and black cloak across his shoulders and placed a spotless red zucchetto skullcap meticulously on his crown.
“Now,” he said to himself with appreciation, “I'm ready to meet my maker!”
As it was his policy to preserve his precious remaining dollars, rather than take a cab, Cardinal Litti elected to make the invigorating walk to the hall. It was a mistake.