by Krishna Rose
Lord Krishna’s words served as the source of the renowned Bhagavad-Gita, a scripture cherished by the people of Bharata, as being the Song of God. Jesu had read and studied this most holy book and would often read passages from it before bed.
Both the City of Mathura and village of Vrindavan were said to have been the Lord’s playground, so they held a special fascination for Jesu and I. Jesus Justus was enthralled by the herculean stories of Krishna’s heroic feats, which were narrated to us around the lit fire at evening time. We listened, riveted, to tales of gargantuan hundred-headed snakes, giant demons, wars of the gods, and an evil King who slayed an entire nation of children, in an attempt to kill the prophesied Prince. Lord Krishna gallantly played with them all, in the palm of His divine hands, just as a child frolics with toys.
Jesu had come to this region with The Mary as a young man, when they had fled Orissa in the wake of the Brahmin priests calling for his execution—for teaching the ‘untouchables.’ Reunited with old friends, we spent a few days resting, while his colleagues entertained us with elaborate feasts and renderings from within the Veda.
We travelled south from here, to the seaports, where my uncle had made arrangements for a ship to carry a group of us back to Gallia. I dreaded the travel, for sea sickness could have a devastating effect on my pregnancy. Yet I had resolved myself to return to my sister and the comforts of home. It had been many moons of constant trekking and I had grown weary of it.
In spite of the Hemis monk’s treatments, blood and pus still seeped daily from Jesu’s feet. This was a cause of much worry for me. His pain, as well as the possibility of infection, was constant.
Curious pilgrims along the way would often stop to ask Jesu about his wounds, to which he explained that he had suffered a crucifixion as an offering to God. They thought it amazing that he had endured and survived such an atrocity for the sake of the Lord, likening it to the stories of a noble prince, born of the ancient Dhruva Dynasty—Prince Prahlad.
The young prince had been a devout, naturally worshipful boy since birth. But he was like a thorn in the side of his father, the King. For the King abhorred above all things—God. In due course of time, after many attempts to turn the boy from the Lord, he ventured to slay the prince, his son, in many unspeakable ways. First the King ordered for the prince to be thrown from the edge of a tall mountain—but the Lord caught him. Frustrated, the King had his son boiled in hot oil, yet the Almighty Lord cooled him. Exasperated, the King endeavored to have him burned by fire, yet again the Lord protected him in every way. The devout prince could not be killed by any means. So it was with Jesu—for when God offers one protection, none can take their life.
Once we arrived at the seaside town of Keralaputra, often referred to as “the garden of spices,” I began to feel anxious about our impending separation. It might be many years before the two of us reunited, and that loss was incalculable. But Jesu did not wish to return to Gallia with me. His mission was yet to be entirely fulfilled and that was foremost on his mind. We both knew this moment would come, and there was little point trying to convince him otherwise, for he was first married to the Lord.
The land of Keralaputra was the busiest central spice-trade route in the world. With long stretches of unspoiled white sands caressed by warm turquoise waters, Jesu enjoyed some family time, playing in the water with the children, while I floated, taking in what relaxation I could before my long voyage.
Many Jewish settlers were living in communities, side by side with the Hindus of this region, who were peaceful, religious people. Like us, they ate no meat and refrained from sin in favor of a life dedicated to God and His good works.
A dinner was held in the city, and Jesu and I were the celebrated guests of honor. Marquees were pitched, shading us from the hot sun and long tables were positioned in the shape of a rectangle. Two short tables, one at each end, with two long tables connecting them. This afforded all the guests to dine in such way as encouraged conversation. As a consequence lively chatter abounded, people shouting back and forth to one another from across the way.
Seated at one of the shorter head tables, Jesu and I were lamenting our impending separation, which was now upon us. We sat quietly, holding hands under the table, side-long glancing at one another throughout the feast, no words needed.
When asked for “silence” by a local dignitary, respectfully the guests pushed aside their meals and began washing their hands and mouths in bowls of floral waters that the servants laid out for them. The tables were cleared and wiped down and the guests quieted to hear from their expected Messiah. It was a stark difference to the commotion which had but minutes before flourished.
When asked about Jerusalem, Jesu foretold of its destruction. “The Lord shall destroy their house, as they destroyed His, and none shall restore what the Lord hath reclaimed. I have come to satisfy you, for though you ate, you still hunger and I am eager to fill you,” he told them.
“Master, I have done unforgivable things,” the dignitary revealed. “What can I do to make right all the wrongs of my long life? Now I am old, and death is certainly before me. I am fearful, for I have spent my life in selfish pursuits at any cost,” he admitted shamefully.
“Blessed are they who repent, for they shall be forgiven” Jesu said loudly, so that all could hear over the birds crowing in the sky. “Cursed are those who conceal their sinfulness, so that all may think them mighty. Come to me two days hence and I shall baptize thee,” he prompted, and a look of relief flooded the old man’s face.
“Listen attentively, for my harvest is plentiful and there are but few workers. I beseeched the Lord to send people to help with the harvest,” he said, looking at the eager faces of the assembled congregation. “There are many who stand beside the well with buckets to fill, yet because they see nothing inside, no one drinks and they all thirst. Does one stand before a door which is opened to you and not go in?
“If I split wood for you, the Lord is there, and if I lift a stone, you will find Him there too. So too does He live inside of you and outside of you. He is everywhere and yet nowhere, since He is hidden. Yet if you seek Him, you will find what you are looking for, for in truth He was never gone from you.”
“Hail to the womb that carried you and to the breast which fed you,” a woman called out, to which Jesu replied, “Hail to those who have heard the word of our Father and kept it sacred! Whosoever has come to know the world, has found death. Whilst any who renounce the world and find death, of that person, the world is not worthy. Come to me, for my yoke is gentle and my lordship mild. Through me you shall know peace and regain what was lost. Come two days hence and I shall baptize thee and you will be saved.
“Though the foxes have their holes and the birds have their nests, alas the son of man has no place to lay down his head to rest,” he said tearfully, glancing in my direction. Fate would soon wield its vicarious punishment on us and I was out of my mind with sadness.
“Whosoever drinks from my mouth, will come to be like me and the Heavens shall be rolled out before them. And whosoever sustains themselves by the fount of the living Father, shall not see death. Yet people neither seek, nor do they knock, hence the welcoming doors of eternity are closed to them. Even so, the Almighty patiently waits to embrace them.”
Such words left not a dry eye amongst the dignitaries and guests, for all were moved and repented in their hearts.
Without warning, the long horns sounded announcing the arrival of King Udraka. People were amazed to see that the King had come. Jesu stood up to receive him, remembering the King from his youth. The monarch was of slight build, yet walked with a knowing confidence as he made his entrance. His servants, carrying a white cloth held upon four tall rods, offered him shelter from the sun while he walked, and a carpet was rolled out before him, so that his feet wo
uld not dirty.
The King, now a man of lessening years, came with a penitent heart before Jesu, bowing his head low, remembering the holy child now grown. He enquired after his mother, The Mary, and Jesu told him, “He who knows my mother, knows me. He who honors her, honors me. She is here and I am where she is, though none can understand how,” he said, lovingly reaching for the King to come to him.
After greeting one another with sweet exchanges of gifts and flower garlands, Jesu invited him to hear, so that he might be filled.
“How can anyone claiming to love the Lord, in righteousness, seek pleasure for themselves while others lie in want? While we take our fill, the poor are driven from the feast for having no fine manners or fashionable clothes to wear. Those who do not go forth to supply bread, nor show kindness upon those who are shunned, are as far from me as they are from the Lord. And until that day when the suffering are no longer suffering, I shall not take one breath for myself, for there is yet much work to be done.
“Until every last man, woman, and child is made victorious, we should not idle. If you see a person bound by ropes, do you not have the power to unbind them that they might be free? Such fetters do we wear in our wretchedness,” he said, shaking his head. “Tell me what darkness envelops you, so I might relieve your spirit,” he said solemnly, taking measure of those seated around him.
“It is the darkness of selfishness, Master,” the King said, genuinely repentant.
“Darkness is found in the absence of light,” Jesu clarified, “and selfishness is absent from one who has the breath of the Lord upon his lips. When you find yourself in death, you will learn that you were deceived, for the chariot you drove was a chariot, yet you gave it all your life’s purpose.
“The glamour of gold is in one hand, while desire for power is in the other. You cannot see how they have swallowed you. When death approaches, you mourn and feel remorse. Therefore, repent now, whilst you still have breath in your body, that your sins shall be forgiven.”
Disturbed, the women moaned and wept, and many of the men seemed uneasy. “Fear not. I have not come to cause shame in you. I hanker only to restore you,” he said, sensing their inner turmoil.
“If you wish to stand within the halls of eternity, first gain victory over fear. And if you wish to enter the hall of peace, you must first overcome thought. If you desire to reach above the hall of mirrors, then renounce judgement. Yet if you hope to conquer death, then you must enter the hall of devotion. Only thereafter shall you see the empty house for which you wept.
“The bag of bones for which you lament, was and is always, of dust. Therefore, give unto dust what belongs to dust and give unto the Lord that which belongs to the Lord. Abandon time spent in fickleness and walk alone into the hall of silence. Once arriving there, without interruption, pray until a vision comes—which is so great that in one breath the secrets of the Kingdom are revealed to you. Then you shall weep, for you will have found what you were always looking for.”
Jesu examined the diplomats, then the King, and then the mothers who sat in the back of the assembly. He said unto them, “May the blessings of the Lord rest upon you all. I have beseeched the Heavens that their goodwill should be bestowed upon you for the rest of your days, that your lives should be sanctified in accordance with the Lord’s will.
“The prison doors are bolted closed, so pry them open that its captives might be set free. You are your own jail keeper, yet you hold the keys. Still you choose to remain bound. Chained to your own enslavement. Fight and be victorious, for truth is the greater power.
“Do not attend the blind man who worships the Lord with voice and lip, while his whole heart is set upon your wage and the gold in your pocket. The politicians and priests of this world are adulterers, extortioners, and thieves, without care or regard for your soul. And though they may hold the keys to the temples and cities, they do not hold the keys to your soul. You should come to understand that the Lord has left them and their self-importance. They are disinherited and their power will soon pass from them. At that time a fire will consume them within the chambers of the dying, where they will lament, yet none shall hear their cries.
“I have prepared the way. Now go forth and make straight the path. Light the torches, scream from the rooftops and with your weapon of purity, boldly beat down injustice in the houses of God—and upon those who mislead. Take an axe to every sin which has Satan at its root. Cast him down into the fire from whence he came. Prepare for the things which to dust do not return.
“The Kingdom is at hand, yet it is not seen with these mortal eyes, which are so easily deceived. The Kingdom is like rain which falls as grace when one binds the soul unto the Lord and his messengers, firm. Like two souls infatuated, forged by the blushing bride before her bridegroom on their wedding day, such is the Kingdom, such is the Lord, such are we.
“Let us pray. ‘Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven. Give unto us wisdom and detach the fetters of sin which bind us, as we forgive those who trespass against us. May You reign in our fiery hearts, willing our hands to do good unto others, and may Thy will be done on earth, as it is in Heaven. Deliver us from evil, for Thine is the Kingdom, the power and the glory. Amein.”
“Amein”.
My resolve melted, as fate left me defenseless against Jesu’s eyes as he spoke of our love. These were our final hours together.
“I wrestled for another solution—yet lost, Marjan,” he told me apologetically. “The Lord’s will has crushed my own. Therein lies our despair. I was and am still unable to halt but one of your tears. More so, I am the cause of them and I am sorry for that,” he said filled with regret.
“Memory of one another is to be our only inheritance, and it is held in the grail of our hearts which beat as one. The Lord has opened the gardens of paradise for you, that you might better understand my charge. Though the walls of fate have befallen us, I, your helpless servant, am buried beneath guilt at causing your sadness,” he said, wiping my tears from my cheek with his robe.
“I kiss the hem of your garment, Marjan, for no measure of words can express my very great sorrow at seeing you leave. I am with you always and I shall return in three years hence, upon our restitution.”
“Jesu, I know not how to part. For though we are strengthened by God, my mind cannot bear another separation. I shall hold you in my mind, as promised, until my last breath leaves this mortal coil . . . and beyond. For I know not if I shall ever recover from having had you as company, only to have lost it many times over. Your promise to the Lord is first and your promises to me are second. Therefore, I shall gather myself up by your vow to return to me, by which time your seedlings will have grown into trees,” I laughed, nudging him playfully, for so dejected did he seem to part with us.
“Our sacrifices are many, Marjan.”
“Yes,” I agreed.
My uncle’s ship was ready. Most solemnly did we make our way down to the harbor, following the way of the holy Ganges River. Jesu planned to return to the building project in Kashmir, after spending time with Brother Thomas.
I would not see Thomas again in this life, for in due course of time, he was murdered by the Brahmin priests who sought to remove the object of change.
Thomas came to be buried in Keralaputram, after a thriving congregation and church had been established in Jesu’s name—which could not be thwarted, not even by time.
Thus I bore witness to these historical events. One door closed and another opened. The truth of these accounts were submerged in time and by those who propagated lies for political and financial gain. Yet the memory of my time spent with Jesu would never be lost.
CHAPTER 27
HUMILITY
; Humility is found when there is freedom from pride and arrogance. When pride comes, disgrace is not far behind, but when humility comes, wisdom and peace will surely follow.
“The Lord’s name is holy, the Lord’s name is holy . . . the Lord’s name is holy,” I proclaimed, again and again.
As an inner-world traveler, I had swum in the River of Light, crossed over the Lake of Dreaming, passed beyond the Bridge of Mortality, drunk from the Well of Wisdom, and seen hidden beneath the roots of Heaven, the Tree of Life—in which all action is recorded and contained. But on this night, I walked into the Castle of Redemption, which, suspended, lay between the darkness and light of the inner and outer realms. This was the meeting place of worlds, where the eternal flames of ransom lead our way as we cross from the living, to inevitably face Judgement Day.
Standing at the threshold of the vast stone castle, it seemed to rise up into the Heavens, while its roots burrowed deep into the underworlds. As I knocked on its heavily carven door, chiseled depictions of Heaven and Hell, shifted and stirred, as if unlocking a cryptic account of what lay behind its bolted doors.
The somber sound of heavy iron, echoed in the air, as the door unbolted, announcing my authorized access.
“Mary, pray tell me, what is the purpose of your visit here?” the High-Priest said ambiguously.
“My Lord,” I said, dipping sincerely into a curtsey, playing my part perfectly, “thus I find myself between worlds. Here to face the shadows of the inner realms. Though I know not what is herein to be found, since it is my charge to examine all things not of the physical, I would much appreciate understanding this castle’s importance.”
The High-Priest nodded with a twinkle of mischief in his eye, seemingly amused by my rhetoric. Summoning me, I followed him down a far-reaching corridor bedecked with black and white marble squares. Was it a trick of my mind or were the tiles rearranging themselves in the light and darkness of life and death?