by Krishna Rose
“And as I am now a guardian of Paradise, it is you and your master who have no hold over me—neither here, nor there, nor in any place! Behold the Lord comes before you, oh captain of death, He has come to bind thee and take thee wherever He pleases, for even the Prince of darkness himself trembles before the Lord who hath created him. Therefore, I fear you not, for His dominion is in me. Now be gone from here. By the power of the Lord’s name, I command you—leave!”
Swiftly, an archangel appeared beside me with twelve heavenly angels. Smiling, he calmed the winds and dust with one slow movement of his hand, and a great light was thrown upon the darkness.
“I cast thee down creature! Thou art dismissed and dishonored under my power!” he ordered. The shadow-being squirmed in the absence of darkness, and howling in terror fled towards the gates of Hell.
Instantly, multitudes of captive souls incarcerated there, appeared from within the shadows, moving towards the light which from the angels came. Falling before them, faces to the ground, beseeching the angels’ mercy, they wept like the risen dead.
“You are released from your willful blindness, for you were deceived by false leaders and buried beneath their lies. Misled, they overwhelmed you in a moment of weakness and since that time you have been beholden to them. Now you may rise up from your tombs and brush the dust from your bones to return to life, bound only to He who created you,” the archangel announced to the cowering throng. “Entreat all whom you meet, to live honestly. And now that you have seen eternal damnation, allow your memory of it to furnish you with the power to persuade others from the illusions which bind them—as they once bound you.”
Astonished that mercy had found a way to release them—they thanked us, bowing again and again in pitiful gratitude. Ascending to the lands of the living, given another chance to live righteously, they were brought out from Hades.
“So great is the Lord that created you. Therefore, now that you live, keep nothing for yourself, but rather out of compassion, give unto all who have need, and be forever faithful unto the Lord who gave thee life,” the archangel said, blessing the dead as they departed to find life once more.
The people of Gallia were rich in their own culture, having manifold gods and goddesses to whom they offered daily worship. Believing in spell casting and rituals, they wore amulets to protect themselves from curses and black magic—being a cautious and suspicious people.
My brethren and I were compelled to clarify and expound upon their beliefs, for though the Lord may have many names and faces, He is One. The argument is not whether religions are right or wrong, for God is absolute, and that knowledge alone creates peace. Our constant prayer, was to see people of all faiths come to this understanding, for if time is taken to study, it can easily be seen that God has sent His emissaries to save the fallen at different times, in different ways. Yet always, the message is One. There are no discrepancies, only similarities, in the many branches of belief.
The locals prayed to Brigid, the goddess of learning and healing; also to Sophia, the goddess of knowledge and wisdom; Astarte, the goddess of fertility; Isis, the Mother goddess of Egypt; and Ceridwen, the goddess of magic and transformation. There were Greek gods, Roman gods, pagan gods, Egyptian gods, moon goddesses, sun gods—the list was endless.
“Eternal Lord have mercy on my soul. Pity the weak and strengthen them in Your resolve,” I prayed humbly, bowing my head before the villagers who had gathered to hear me speak. “I have not come to disturb you in your faith, but to expound upon it. The Creator and His eternally merciful Goddess, extend Their invitations to you, offering you safe passage to Their Kingdom of eternal Paradise,” I said, sharing hospitality with them.
“Through Them happiness is attained. They are the summit of complete fulfillment. The multitude of gods and goddesses to whom you offer worship, are but the hands and legs of the Supreme everlasting Almighty One. Managing the complex universe, they support and serve God by their good works. The gods are beholden to Him entirely and do His bidding. Just like a King who has many servants, assistants, and politicians—who do his will—so it is with our Maker,” I said, hoping the curious audience understood my broken language.
“Our concern is with the fate of the spirit, now and in the afterlife, rather than of flesh and bones. The empty space inside, is a manifestation of the soul within, which pines for reunion in its eternal root. The root of the tree is with the Lord and all are sustained by Him. Water the root of the tree and the branches and fruits are nourished,” I explained in simple terms, “but water the branches and fruits of the tree—and the tree will die. Spirit is like this.”
At first they looked confused. Perhaps it was my strange way of speaking.
“What is the spirit?” someone asked.
“Spirit is the essence of all things,” I replied. Pausing for a moment, considering how best to clarify, I continued, “Thousands of bees collect thousands of drops of nectar from thousands of flowers, and that nectar is then stored in one place. The drops of nectar do not ask, ‘From what flower am I?’ Spirit is like that.”
The audience still had a look of bewilderment upon their faces, so I continued. “When sweet sap rises within a tree, it spreads throughout the tree, giving it life. If you take sap from the bottom of the trunk, or from the branch, or even from the smallest twig, still it’s taste is the same. Spirit is like that. It is the same inner essence whether it is housed in the body of a man, a woman, beast—or tree.”
Still, they seemed confused. “Take a cup of water. If you put salt into the water and stir it, can you see the salt?” I asked them.
“No,” they replied shaking their heads.
“Now if you drink the water inside that same cup, does it taste like salt?”
“Yes,” they said enthusiastically, nodding their heads.
“If you then put a spoon inside the cup, to drink from the bottom of the cup, does the water still taste like salt?”
“Yes,” they agreed, exchanging encouraging smiles.
“Spirit is like that. Even though it is invisible—it permeates everything. How high the mountain is, is one thing, and how deep it is, is another. We might speculate about the mountain’s height, yet we cannot see what lies hidden deep within, nor gage what lies beneath its surface. So it is with spirit. And even though invisible, the spirit too can be experienced—for it is spread everywhere and it permeates everything. For the spirit within, there is no death. Before we were born, we existed, and after death, even though we leave this mortal coil behind, still we live.
“The spirit does not come into being, nor shall it ever cease to exist. We are passengers carried by the temporary chariot of flesh and bone. We have answered to many names, in many forms. As the fish cannot live without water, so the spirit craves for things which are everlasting, yearning for unwavering happiness. The spirit is not satisfied by the temporary pleasures of this world—for they are fleeting. Rather, its nourishment hails from eternity, for there is the root cause of all existence. Seeking eternal shelter, could be compared to watering the roots of the tree,” I explained, switching between Greek and their own mother tongue so that all could understand.
“What of those who sin? Do they still have a soul?” someone asked.
“Within the body of every living thing, the spirit is there, and it is eternal and ever existing. For the soul, there is no sin. Sin is present within the mind which has fastened itself to matter, which then, by its very nature, deceives us. Yet even though the mind is deceived, the spirit within, remains untouched and pure. The soul is never slain, nor can it be burned by fire, or pierced by any sword.
“Upon our fleshly demise, our earthly possessions are left behind, while only those divine treasures we acquired in life can we take with us—into death. Therefore,
give to the earth what belongs to the earth, and give to God what belongs to God. The body is born and buried on earth, while the spirit lives on and craves eternity from whence it was carved.
“A man hangs from a tree branch, where one black rat and one white rat are gnawing at the branch, such that the man might fall at any moment. An elephant comes from out of nowhere and begins to rub against the tree trunk, causing the tree to rock from side to side. At any moment the tree might loosen its hold and fall. Still the man holds on for dear life, for beneath him is a pond filled with crocodiles. If he falls, he will surely die by their hungry jaws. So he holds the branch firm, despite all the disturbances. Meanwhile, above him is a honeycomb, which drops just one drop of nectar each day into the man’s mouth, giving him just enough sustenance that he can survive.
“Now listen attentively as I explain what this allegory means,” I told the enthralled crowd. “The elephant represents our past deeds, which disturb our peace for want of repayment. The crocodiles in the pond represent our future, wherein all our covetous transgressions in this life, are measured—to be repaid in another. The branch of the tree is this present life, which we hold onto with all our strength—in spite of all difficulties. The white and black rats, are day and night, which eat away time. And the honeycomb, represents all of our illusions which offer drops of pleasure here and there, just enough to sustain us. Thus we are each of us bound to fool’s paradise, hanging on by a thread.
“Meanwhile, though the Lord extends His hand to us, we are so attentively enthralled in waiting for the next drop of pleasure, that we fail to see the extended hand of our Lord who reaches for us out of great love.
“The gods and goddesses who watch over these lands, are unable to grant us safe transition from death to eternal life. Though they may offer you material fruits, it is spiritual fruits our souls seek. The things of the spirit are all that we can secure for ourselves, for they, and they alone, cannot be taken from us at death’s door,” I affirmed. “Therefore let us pray,” I said, as I covered my bowed head and folded my palms before me.
“Lord, You are the dispeller of fears. You are the seed of the universe and the one from whom love comes. You are present in the hearts of all. We bow to You, for You are our creator. And through this world, we seek liberation from our suffering. Our attachments, deceptions, and conceit, haunt us each and every day—therefore Lord, we beseech Thy mercy, which comes like a fount to relieve us of our troubles. You are in all existence and You are the truth of all. And although You maintain all living entities, You are also everywhere at all times, for You are the source of creation itself.
“By Your shelter, You dispel the fears of the world. Therefore, we seek refuge in You. For You are our beginning, middle, and final resting place. Therefore we pray to Thee—shine Your merciful glance upon us. Draw our souls unto Thee and deliver us, for we are created in Your image. By You, we are sent into this world, and in You we find final refuge. Amein.”
“Amein,” they echoed.
“Come and bring your sick and needy to us for healing,” I said, releasing a grateful sigh. For the people had received my words and appreciated them. The Gentiles, Samaritans, Jews, and pagans, had all come together to share in a moment of devotion. Their sick came forward to receive healing and many were baptized.
During the pagan festival of Estre, eggs and rabbits were given as gifts unto us as symbols of earth’s renewal and fertility. The rabbits, we kept as pets and the children delighted in them. While the eggs were given as rewards to those faithful dogs who protected our village. In return, we gave gifts of handcrafted wooden rosary beads, upon which they learned to pray. We taught this type of daily prayer and supplication, as a form of reprieve from sorrow and as a means of atonement and purification.
Jesu was grave. It had been three years since Jesu’s crucifixion and resurrection, yet none spoke of it.
On Estre, it was customary for the local governor and his wife to make offerings upon the village shrine. Martha and I met and spoke with them, suggesting that a new way had been brought to their regions. They were gracious and accepted an invitation to visit with us.
The governor and his wife had reached an age where a child would be considered a miracle. They had spent years visiting priestesses, healers, and witches, with the hope of conceiving—and now it seemed the dream of bearing a child was no longer within their grasp.
“I have heard of your ways, Mary. And I declare before all here gathered, that I shall believe in your God and take to your faith, if you can ask Him to invoke a child to come into my wife’s womb,” the governor said, in sight of the crowds, who hushed in order to witness the strange goings-on.
“So shall it be,” I replied positively, certain of a miracle. “In one year from now, we shall again meet, and at that time, your wife will in her arms hold a newborn son. Then, if you wish, you may come and give your offerings upon our Altar and receive baptism,” I declared, moved by my conviction in the Lord. The women muttered amongst themselves, while the men placed their bets as to whether the miracle would occur or not. The governor and his wife seemed doubtful, yet they nodded in agreement. We had struck a deal.
Within three months, the governor’s wife found herself with child. And one year later, upon the Estre festival, they came with babe in arms to lay fruits and gold upon our Altar as offerings, in gratitude. Their miracle had ensured the faith of the villagers and soon our Shabbat evenings were filled with new followers of all faith. Together we were united under the Lord, without designations.
After hearing of the miracle child, the Queen of Southern Gallia came at once to meet with me. She was humble, in spite of her extravagant lifestyle. Arriving in a horse-drawn carriage, she came with her maidservants and four footmen, who lay carpets for her wherever she walked, to ensure that her feet would never touch the ground.
Eager for the things of the spirit, she came to us—for her fickle life fulfilled her not. We talked of things which would be of benefit for someone befitting her status, and of the illusions which come with a position such as hers. Quickly we became friends, and Martha, Sarah-Tamar, and I, were invited to visit the palace to meet her aristocratic friends and family members. The Queen pleaded with us to speak about the new faith which was sweeping their countryside, in hope of enlightening the mundane circle which surrounded her.
Sarah-Tamar, impressed by the beauty of their city’s architecture, was not, however, impressed by the opulent women who gathered about the royals, hoping for favors. In time, the Queen and I became confidential friends and I entrusted her with our story. Astonished, she set about suggesting a betrothal between her eldest son, Phillip, and Sarah-Tamar, to seal and entwine our bloodlines together forever as one.
At first, Sarah put on a disagreeable show, in respect of any possible betrothal to Prince Phillip, but hidden beneath the veil of her childish anger, was an excitement. For suddenly she began bathing often, using herbal oils, and styling her hair in intricate braids. She gleamed with the youthful luster of spring’s blooming love.
Having myself been raised in a royal household, I understood what that life and privilege came with and wondered how Sarah-Tamar would fare. I was not ungrateful for my training, however, this new life we lived in Gallia—attuned to the phases of the moon and its effects on womanly moods, simple living, high thinking . . . had brought about a much deeper contentedness in all of the women. Soon, as a group, we were able to flow with the natural cycles and tides of nature, knowing when to act, when to relax, and when to withdraw.
On the growing moon phase, we would work hard building cottages, offering healings and helping the needy. And when the moon was full, we would reap our rewards by celebrating together, ritualizing our devotion as one. Most of us bled at the same time each month, usually around the full moon, united on the earth inside our
moon lodge. There, we sang the welcoming songs and chants of our people, to the rhythm of hand drums which were played in ecstasy. In those moments, we were bound by the ancient mysteries, yet unbound by the wisdom of our united womanhood.
During the dark phase of the moon, we would introspect, withdrawing from one another. Going our separate ways in silence to pray, contemplate, and receive inspiration. Thus we searched for the Kingdom within, and that stillness created peace among us. As a thriving community, we were inspired and uplifted by our comradery and understanding.
I think the quiet country life was not what Sarah-Tamar had in mind for herself, so she finally agreed to meet the Queen’s son, finding him handsome, yet aloof. She liked that in a man, and surprised me by agreeing to the betrothal. Sarah-Tamar was overjoyed. Her beauty blossomed, along with her body, as she fell in love for the first time with the man who was to become her husband.
Jesu had grown restless. Duty had come to take him once more. Concerned for all the lost souls, he hungered that they should hear of the Kingdom and its indestructible refuge. Called to take to the Silk Road again, we set plans in motion for our travel. Sarah was devastated. She did not wish to leave, for her betrothal would come upon her first moon blood. But Jesu insisted, promising her a marriage upon our return.
Privately, Jesu was tormented. His legs were racked with constant gripping pain and swelling. The strain on his face, gave his silent affliction away to those of us who knew him well. Often he could be heard groaning in his sleep, as visions and dreams haunted him. His body, plagued by fluids, wept through the lacerations in his feet, which opened up with regularity and seemed impossible to heal.