by Krishna Rose
After Yosef’s death, The Mary was, by law, forcibly married to her husband’s younger brother, Cleophas. Together they had moved to the realm of Bharata, or Hodu as we knew it in Hebrew—after being invited by the King of Orissa, whom she had met upon the fateful night of her son’s unusual birth.
Fear of idolatry was not something we worried about in Wadi El Natrun. People’s minds were open and they clearly understood that creativity, if done with the Lord in mind, however it expressed itself, was a form of reverence—whether expressed in art, music, or sculpture. Though the community lived with rules and tenets, when it came to glorifying the Lord by any means, the shackles to the obstruction of one’s freedom, were off. Devotion, and the expression thereof, was of the greatest importance, even over laws.
During Shabbat, we often heard stories from the city, as visitors talked about a dead King who had miraculously come back to life. Sightings of the risen Messiah were recounted all over Judea. Jesu was the most wanted man of all time. From Jerusalem to Alexandria, the gossip lines were busy trading stories. But for now, it seemed we were safe from harm.
Jesu had become distant. Yet sometimes on Shabbat nights, the men were able to penetrate his somber moods and draw him into discussions and debates on everything from politics, to religion, to community issues. Whenever he spoke, they sat in rapt attention to hear what God’s mouthpiece had to say. Jesu’s words were few, but always remarkable.
Our baby had become extremely large and was in place for birth. The Sisters prepared a birthing chamber for me and all were abuzz with the preparation of herbal oils and tinctures to ease my labor. The fate of the world rested on this one little soul, who would take birth from my womb. This child’s destiny, like mine, would be to bear children, who would one day enter into the world’s imperial thrones. Secret societies would be forged around him, and his legacy would for thousands of years become the unsullied root of our truth.
And so it came to pass that our firstborn son, Jeshua II, was the fruit of our loins. He was to become renowned as Jesus Justus.
CHAPTER 14
INITIATION
Initiation is a formal ritual wherein one is entwined to a process or a faith which one believes has power to effect a positive change.
A messenger came from a trusted servant of Brother James. He carried with him three letters containing news from Jerusalem—one from my uncle for me, one from Cleophas for The Mary, and one for Jesu from his brother James. Huddled together during silent time, in my birthing hut, with hushed voices, we shared our letters with one another excitedly.
Uncle Joseph had at last returned to Jerusalem after a trip to Britannia. He had been tending his thriving tin-mining business in a land known as Cornwall. Having met with the King of that region, he suggested that after some time, we may wish to make a move there. The King was favorable toward Jesu’s predicament and wished to be of assistance. He has tithed our family with twenty-two hides of land and offers us sanctuary.
‘The land is fertile and people’s hearts are thirsty for knowledge,’ he wrote. ‘Their religion is old, and they are reverent, though not in a rigid way, for they are natural people. The region is colder than we are accustomed to, but it is green and beautiful beyond compare. News from Jerusalem is grim. Problems are everywhere. No one can be trusted. The tension in the air is palpable. Britannia and Gallia will be far from these senseless problems. Very soon I shall come for you. I hope that you and your newborn babe are well. Give my best wishes to Jesu and the others. I will see you soon. Be ready.’
‘Jerusalem has been in a state of shock since your crucifixion and disappearance, Jesu,’ James wrote to his brother. ‘Rumors in the city are that you are not risen—but that your body was stolen by your disciples. They say that you are secretly buried somewhere, as a last-ditch attempt to claim the Messianic throne for your descendants. There has been a strong attempt by the Pharisees and Sanhedrin to quash the rumors of a risen Messiah. They have bribed guards all over the city to suppress the conflict on the streets. Even so, there is a growing interest in our doctrines and there are many who believe you to be our people’s risen Messiah. We meet in secret, and you will be pleased to know, that more and more brothers and sisters come each week. We even have some Samaritans attending!
‘Pilate has been removed from Jerusalem. He is no longer governor here. He has been recalled to Rome to be prosecuted for maladministration. The best news is, Caiaphas has been discharged by Vitellius, legate of Syria. Peter has also left Jerusalem. He argued with me over my position as head of the Jerusalem church, even though I explained it was my brother’s will that it be so. Still, he protested and seemed to doubt me. Peter is too keen,’ he had written, to which we all nodded in agreement.
“How fares Cleophas, Mother?” Jesu asked The Mary, who seemed deep in thought. “He wrote of how much he misses us. He sups with James for Shabbat, and when they meet, they remember us. He writes of his infamous stepson,” she said, with an amused expression on her face. “He reports that Jesu has become a debatable subject, who has caused much arousal amongst the people of Jerusalem and surrounding villages. John’s followers have fled and sought refuge in Hauran. They too are no longer safe there. The Roman soldiers have been ordered to break them apart. It seems that Herod Antipas belligerently intends that no memory of John should remain.
“There was a large fire in Jerusalem last month. He says that James thinks it was started by the Sanhedrin in an attempt to burn all details of Jesu’s and John’s genealogy. Surprisingly, he says that Herod Antipas seems to favor his half-brother, which is astonishing!” she said turning to take a quick look at Jesu, who was listening attentively. “Peter apparently has with him Jesu’s burial shrouds, which he has now taken to Rome as evidence of his resurrection. Though truthfully, no one knows exactly what he plans.” I felt Jesu stiffen beside me.
“And what of you, my Brother?” Jesu asked the messenger, who was standing by the door, patiently awaiting our replies. “Very good, m’ Lord. I am serving your brother James now,” he said nervously. “Then you are most fortunate to have my brother as your keeper,” Jesu encouraged. “Tell me, what news do you have for us?” he asked.
Pausing a moment, unsure of whether to speak, the messenger played with this foot in the ground. “Come on, come on, don’t hold back.”
“Well . . . your disciple Peter, was speaking against your wife, m’ Lord, calling her a liar and—God forgive me, a whore,” he told us apprehensively.
“He was causing a stir amongst the group. It is good that he has gone, as after you left Master, he spoke out against the women. He believes your wife does not know her place, m’ Lord,” he said shifting about uncomfortably. “But of course there are those of us who love the Lady Mariam and would see no hint of stain upon her name,” he said, politely bowing in my direction.
“Me thinks this is also part of the fight between James and Peter, m’ Lord. Your brother speaks of the Lady Mariam often, using her as an example for all, and there are many men who grumble at this. But their wives protest such behavior, reminding them of how you taught equality,” he said. “You hear that, Marjan? You are a troublemaker!” Jesu said in jest.
“They may think me a troublemaker m’ Lord,” I said mockingly, “but in truth, it is you Jesu, who is the root of all the trouble which ruins my good name!” I said sarcastically. Everyone erupted into laughter, our vows of silence forgotten. We hoped that we would not be heard, and like naughty children, tried to restrain our amusement.
“Peter has taken a vow to found his own church, far from us all,” the messenger continued. “He claims he is the rock upon which you, m’ Lord, wished to build your church. His need to lead is unfathomable,” he said. Hearing this, our laughter broke free, bursting out in uncontrolled fits. All thoughts of quietness were altoget
her disregarded, as we laughed so hard, that our sides hurt. And when any one of us looked at the other, we dissolved into hysterics, again and again, breaking the somberness and stress which we had been carrying.
“How are the Pharisees and Sanhedrin since our departure, my good man?” Jesu asked the messenger. “The Shammai Pharisees have expelled all non-Hebrew Jews from Jerusalem m’ Lord. And while many of your disciples remain, some have been stoned to death in a public display. Sorry m’ Lord,” he said regretfully.
“The priestly aristocrats objective is supremacy at all costs,” Jesu replied. A heavy-heartedness abruptly changed our mood. It cut like a knife. Our meeting, and our happiness, came to a sharp end.
That night, the High-Priest appeared in another vision. This time leading me deep into a wintery forest. Leaving behind all that felt familiar, we passed over a bone-chilling threshold which bridged this world to another. He explained that it was a necessary step for me to better understand the boundless territories of the soul’s journey from life to death.
Once we had crossed into the remote lands of the dead, we waded, knee deep, through icy waters. A tremendous fire in the distance was burning fiercely bright in the dim, forbidding light. He led me towards the blaze. My legs were chilled to the bone as the water was frigid. Nearing the fire, a stone bridge came into view that extended across what appeared to be a bottomless pit. This was the source of the angry flames. It was a clear delineation between one world and another—marked territory.
The air was dank. It had a heavy sulfurous smell to it that made me sick to my stomach. The High-Priest grabbed my arm, sensing my queasiness. His strength flowed into me and all taint of nausea was gone. ‘He is a great healer.’ Giving me an encouraging look, he said nothing, as together we stepped onto the crossway, straight through the blazing flames, which burned us not.
Fire and roaring smoke whirled, engulfing us in its inferno. For a moment, piercing through the immense noise from behind the deafening blaze, I heard the sound of shrill voices rising up from the burning abyss. Then suddenly a thunderous noise came up from the depths. There before us appeared a gargantuan being, who towered over us.
“I come to offer you sanction. You may cross over the Bridge of Torment, but understand this—those in the hell-fires below are bound by their own sin, in chains which cannot be loosened. By your grace, I petition you. Shatter and burst the iron bars of consequence by which souls choose the wrong path and thus are forced to come hither. For only those who live in corruption and fury lie dead within the sepulchers below. Here, they tremble among the living dead. So I pray, that the shining light of your divine decree, may reach all those who have been blinded by the darkness of immorality, so that these Hells may be free of its burdened passengers.
“On earth, they fear no punishment, yet the dungeons of the lowest depths, groan, as a result of the multitudes who perish there. We have immeasurable souls in our keeping. Salvage whom you can from the pit and we shall all delight in their repentance and pardon those who redeem themselves. Amein.”
Thus the being disappeared, and we proceeded to continue, crossing over the fires of the damned. The experience was harrowing, I cannot describe the horror of the scene. I trembled, swaying in the hot winds, as a profusion of souls, shrieked and roared in hope of redemption. Clinging to the bridge nervously, their high-pitched violent screams, piercingly heightened my grasp of the suffering which here existed. It took only a few minutes to go beyond the fires, but to me, it seemed endless. I was filled with heartache.
Upon reaching the Elysium worlds on the other side of the bridge, nine charming maidens greeted me. I was no longer accompanied by the High-Priest, but hoped with all my heart that he would be there upon my return. The maidens set about insistently stripping my clothing from my body, until naked, I was taken to bathe in a lake of warm milk and honey. It was a stark difference to the experience I had but a moment before confronted. The soothing touch of the milky waters eased my spirit, which seemed to understand the distress I still carried after my crossing. I had clearly sensed the forbidding ghastliness of Hell, and of those unfortunate souls who withstood such great suffering there.
The maidens held me in their arms, inviting me to lay back and trust them. I was relieved by their touch, comfortable in the buoyant milky waters, grateful for respite from so great a torment. “This lake is hewn of tears which fell from the eyes of lamenting angels in Heaven,” the eldest of the nine explained to me. “Angels’ tears hold great powers in them, Mary. You have been brought here to our holy isle, to receive nine choice graces. Therefore, we invoke in you, these graces, which are yours by rite of this initiation and baptism. They shall impart the necessary covenants of the unrevealed worlds, rendering you able to disentangle souls from their impediments,” she said in a pleasingly dispassionate voice.
“We offer you the grace of noble speech, the grace of good fortune, the grace of triumph, the grace of wisdom, the grace of mercy, the grace of strength, the grace of dignity, the grace of composure, and the grace of loveliness.”
I felt the penetrating sadness of the lake and began to cry. For the Angels’ mercy knew no bounds. Each teardrop had been shed whilst contemplating the misfortunes of humankind. All the woes of existence welled up in me like a pressured dam which suddenly burst after years of restraint, and as my tears mingled with those in the lake, the benediction of compassion flooded my body with charity.
“We delight in your mercy, Mary,” the maidens told me reassuringly, quieting my self-imposed distress. “Compassion is a pardon to all iniquity, and by your insight, you may offer the light of wisdom to those living in darkness. Your rite of passage has dawned. Now come.”
Releasing me from their hold, we drifted peacefully across the unseen wishes of the past—returning to shore, where I was wrapped in a silken robe. One of the nine, came forward, decorating my brow, palms, and feet with silvery spiral designs like hers.
The trees’ branches on the water bank created a peculiar light, forming stippled patterns on the path. Filing together in the opaque light, I heard rustling and the faint chatter of birds hiding in the forest bowers. An especially large oak tree took my breath away, for its far-reaching branches were entwined within the vines of a weeping willow tree—in a braid, like two lovers meeting in secret.
As my eyes fixed their gaze upon such a curious sight, the trees disappeared and a queenly young maiden, ornamented with white blossoms in her long curly hair, was enfolded in the writhe embrace of a youthful prince, whose irresistible body was festooned with precious stones.
One by one, the maidens walked forward to greet the celestial lovers, laying flowers at their feet, which were nestled in a carpet of endless blooms. The bonny flowers were representative of their devotion. Despite my struggle to remain composed, I came before them to lay my flower upon the altar of their beauty, tears tumbling down my face, though I knew not why. As I did so, I remembered Jesu’s words to me: “Your tears are worth more than thousands of prayers.”
The queenly maiden called me to sit before her, pulling my head to her lap by the force of her love for me. Endearingly she began stroking my hair, whispering sweet words in my ear. “Fear not, Mary. For I have accepted you. From this day forth, you shall be mine,” she said in a most kindhearted way.
“The world in which you live, is vacant in our absence,” she said in a pained voice laden with emotion. “What is it you wish from me?” she asked me, as I stared at her genuine comeliness. “Courage” I replied. “Then seek the sword of justice, for it shall be granted you,” she said, leaning down to whisper in my ear. “I have many gifts to offer you. But first you must ask.”
“Right and noble speech by which to defend the innocent,” I requested. “Good Mary, this is only the wish of teachers of righteousness. Therefore, I offer you this scepter,”
she said, as at once one materialized in her hand. “Take it unto yourself and use its power to defend the innocent. Then go forth and broadcast mercy by your right and noble speech,” she said cheerfully. I held the scepter in my hand for but a moment, its strength coursing through me, dissolving into my essence.
“Confidence,” I said, daring to present my lack thereof.
“Then you shall drink from the silver chalice, which shall fill you with divine confidence. Take it and drink of its substance until you are overflowing,” she said, handing me a cup upon which were inscribed many emblems of faith. Again, the goblet melted away once it had been presented to me. “From here, go forth with conviction and nourish those who thirst,” she said, as her lover twirled the stem of a flower in her direction between his soft, buttery fingers. Shyly, she kissed his jewel-like nail, sending ripples of ecstasy through my body.
“Holy grace,” I said hopefully.
“Then I gift you with this stone,” she said, laying an unusual stone in my hand. “It has the power to grant anything you command. You have proven yourself to be its worthy possessor. You are a mistress of divine influence now. Align your will with ours and all that you wish for shall come to pass,” she said, turning from me to feed her lover a sweet-smelling dessert from her delicate long fingers.
Thanking her, I bowed slightly, tipping my head politely low, honored by such a valuable quest. Inviting me to follow them, the nine maidens and I walked in procession following a path until we happened upon four colossal golden gates. Each one stood in one of the four directions. Overhead hung four magnificent rainbows, like narrow bridges between time and eternity. The gates were imposing, yet at the same time fascinating and even somehow strangely familiar. Each of them seemed to be a portal to the realms of the hereafter. Their incomprehensible majesty was undeniable.