by Krishna Rose
The Buddhists had meted out punishment, to any found worshipping the deity of Krishna. Therefore, the pujari priests who were the guardians of the Lord’s own bloodline descendants, fled, with their deities and scrolls, to remain hidden for many years to come—much like us.
Religious fanatics in every faith seem always to raise their heads, to persecute and force their hand for political gain—always to the deficit of the world’s peace and happiness.
In my reply, I wrote about the events he had missed:
Jesu,
I was relieved to receive word of your safe return to Kashmir. I have good news, Saint of my life—another son is born to us. I have named him Josephes-Yehuda. But we call him Joses. He is the song of our hearts, which are entwined in a sweetness such as he.
With this letter I am sending my love to you, which echoes today over the ancient hills where you now reside. You are my road and I am your traveler. You are my cup and I am your water. I am the fruit and you are my vine. And though our fate has seen to separate us, you are the one who lights up my heart, like stars lighting up the sky each night. Forever I thank the Lord for your having anointed me, as I once anointed you.
Our daughter Sarah-Tamar is married to her Prince and has since given birth to a son—Joshua! She is happily settled in Compostela, soon to be crowned Queen, for the King is close to death, may the Lord grant him mercy.
The slaughter in Mathura and Vrindavan is too sad. I shall indeed most fervently pray for the souls of those who were lost to it. Have you any word of how our friends fared?
Peter and Paul have successfully made many new followers in Alexandria and I have sent word to Brother James to help them.
We all await the day when you will be returned to us, for most surely, without you, our blessings are partial. Please come home and satisfy us with your good grace. I await your reply with an eager heart,
Your Marjan
The years passed by too quickly and one day my uncle came to collect Jesus Justus for Caesarea. He would not return to us for three years hence. He was to be crowned Prince at the synagogue in Corinth and there receive the Davidic Crown Prince’s title of “Justus.” Upon completion of his studies, he was given the title “Chief Nazarite,” gaining his black robe of that office, and we were all much pleased by his nobility and purity of heart.
My siblings and I taught in the local villages, healing the sick and baptizing those who were eager. Holding firm the rudder, I knew that my life in Gallia would allow me to flourish as a woman and as a mother. In truth, I could not have wished for a finer earthly place to live. The sun was bright, the soil was fertile, and the people were kind.
While secretly I yearned for Jesu, the winds of time often whispered his name in my ear, while the trees seemed to keep our memories safe within their forests, one day to be revealed.
At night as the moon rose in the blackened skies, the large boulders made myriads of patterns on the mountain faces. Watching the day break after a night of stillness and inward travel, the sun began its ascent in the crystal-clear blue skies again—and every day passed thereafter, as if raised up on my own dewy tears. Even the leaves seemed to rustle in the wind, acknowledging my holy, sorrowful cries. And born of my tears, an altar grew among the vines—only to be smashed to the ground by man’s envy and hate.
I could no longer give myself to the travesty of a temporary life. A deep inner drive urged me to seek out the steadfast unchanging worlds of the eternal. I hoped others would one day follow in my footsteps, as I now followed those Saints who had walked the earth before me—those brave souls who dared to tread beyond the shores of worldly designations. It is they who would become the offspring of lives well spent.
So I prayed, “Lord, I am filled with the maidenhood of Thy grace. I am a pilgrim in search of eternity. I pray that You please be my guide. Guide my way, that I might come forth to find favor and shelter in You. Please show me Your kindness, for without it I am withered as a leaf in autumn season. Nourish me with Your eternal vision so that I might find hope in this hopeless world.”
A silence hung in the air. The wind echoing my thoughts.
“Mary,” I heard a voice say. “I have given you My mercy, which no human bond can break. Your darkest hours are behind you, for thou art anointed. Therefore, cast off your doubts and still the flame of your spirit burning within. I shall greet you at the threshold of My Kingdom, which comes like a warm embrace. The temple which you seek, is easily found. Now walk, Mary. Walk upon the lit path which the Saints took to before you—for they lighted the way. You are bound to us, as breath and air are bound in the finest threads of life. We hold you firm, knowing the purity of your soul’s maidenhood. Therefore, seek Me, that My mouth may declare your glory unto all.”
CHAPTER 28
KINDNESS
Kindness is when one out of affection towards another, shows consideration and goodwill, and is generous in caring for them, both in words and in good deeds.
Reflecting on what might lie beyond the three remaining doors within the Castle of Redemption, with a still, determined mind, I ventured to discover its secrets one night. With my shawl pulled high over my head, eyes closed to the outer world, I detached from the faculty of sight, entering into the seat of my inner consciousness. The fluctuations of my mind gradually appeased, as I surrendered myself entirely to the experience, eventually losing awareness of my surroundings.
“The Lord’s name is holy” I whispered purposefully, with my mind firmly fixed on the goal—the Castle of Redemption.
‘The Lord makes all things possible, Marjan. Ask—and ye shall receive,’ I heard Jesu whisper in my ear.
Following the indistinct ascending sails of interior vision, I soon found myself transported to the iron door with its heavy knocker. I struck it loudly with my right hand. The undeniably creepy door groaned open. Treading carefully in the murky light, I stepped inside, walking alone down the interminably long passage way, choosing to step only on the white tiles—a childish measure of how much this place frightened me. The light and dark floors were so elegantly laid out side by side, yet to me, it was clear that nothing here was as it seemed. Hence I leapt from one ivory tile to the next.
In spite of my trepidation, I was stirred by my charge to gain critical understanding of what had brought souls here to suffer. Because of this, I urged myself to stride forward bravely through the light and shadow, which like challenges, seemed to have been carefully thrown upon my path, that I may overcome them.
Each of the sealed doors in the hallway yearned for me to open them, yet my quest lay elsewhere—the Hall of Judgement. ‘Pearls are not found in a puddle,’ I reminded myself, shaking off my burdensome trepidation.
“I have come to confront the unseen mysteries of death,” I said soberly, my voice faltering in the brittle unsympathetic atmosphere.
All was quiet. There was no High-Priest, nor were any guards standing to attention beside the doors. Thankfully the torches were lit, offering me a good bit of light. So without hesitating, I strode towards the door at the right of the hall. As I approached the dark mouth of the entrance, it unbolted itself, opening silently, offering me passage, an air of excitement afoot.
“Hail to the Door in the East, from which all life comes forth and to which all shall return,” a voice heralded.
“Here you shall find a primordial meeting place between worlds, where the eternal flames of ransom lead the way for those crossing from life into death. This is Judgement Day,” the voice echoed. “Herein, all are reborn out of darkness and made strong by their restoration.”
Following the only path that could be seen, a soft pitter-patter of rain heightened my vigilance. I was cold. Chilled to the bone by the watchful darkness, which put me on ed
ge. In spite of the sullied light, quickening my pace, I hurried forth, trusting my instinct, one step after another.
The cool contrast between our world and this one, was shockingly evident. Time played tricks on my mind. My movements became labored. Still, I decidedly chose to hasten toward the horizon, a rush of darkness pushing me forward. I had an unshakeable sense that something was wrong. I intuited that danger lay both ahead of me and behind me. My rapid heartbeat betrayed any false confidence I was attempting to comfort myself with. I was utterly unable to focus. Surveying the dreary landscape, I knew not what I was meant to do, nor where I was supposed to go.
Perhaps this hadn’t been such a good idea after all, since I had not “invited” into this vision. ‘I should have waited.’ Unusually worn out, I fumbled, falling to the ground, faceup. A curious sensation overcame me—dense and heavy, as if a wet blanket had been placed over my weary bones. A hand pressing down on my skull, pushed me into the soft ground beneath where I lay. Weighed down by my flesh, I succumbed. Moment by moment, becoming more and more listless. Like I might go to sleep and never again wake.
Swallowing had become bothersome—it took too much energy. Gasping for breath, I was gripped by an all-consuming ache. It was as if everything untoward, unethical, and indecent had in that moment been laid upon me. I could not shake it. I was too weary to try.
The earth cradled me like an old familiar friend, drawing me immeasurably into what must be—death. Sinking into the ground, I retreated inward. I had no mind to save myself, for a penetrating weakness had overtaken my will. The tree’s eager roots and vines looming overhead, stretched. Searching for me, they creaked and groaned, winding themselves around my torso, binding me in a muffled passion. At first I made feeble attempts to free myself, mustering what little energy I had left, squirming uneasily amongst the scrambling rootles. But the finality of this sudden twist of fate was worthless to labor against, for the tree’s strength was unyieldingly stronger than mine.
Not one sound could be heard. Even the sound of my breath had ceased. Suspended between life and death, I shivered, alone, and without hope. Surrendering to gravity, which had got the better of me, suddenly everything went blank.
I know not how long I had ceased to exist, but after some time, the faint rustle of leaves woke me. Sympathy swept through my infirm body, as a dim light came from above. I had sunk deep into earth’s mysterious substance. The soil comforted me, much like a web might comfort a moth entangled in its edifice. Then it came to me—I was being buried! My body temperature dropped—I was very close to death.
The tree’s creepers had entirely encased me in a kind of protective cocoon, wherein even the slightest movement would give rise to a surge of pressure, which constricted me all the more. So I lay very still, in spite of the throbbing swarm of maggots, ants and beetles which began probing me—greedy for something to eat. Their eagerness was strong. It was in their nature to desire nothing more than to bring order to their lands and to break down what had been given unto them as food. Laden with panic, I tried to scream, but could make only weak, muffled noises.
‘There must be something wrong. I have been too bold returning here without the guidance and protection of the High-Priest. Conceivably, the landscape believes me to be one of the dead requiring punishment,’ I calculated rationally. Distressed, I shook my head hoping to wake myself from the vision—the roots and vines tightened their grip. My regret was adequate enough to evoke in me a most subservient appeal for mercy, so I prayed, “Lord . . . please help me!”
“Where do your attachments lie? Focus your mind and destroy the shackles of your kismet Mary,” a voice commanded.
It seemed fickle in this moment to imagine being seized by any attachment other than to that of breathing. ‘Jesu . . . Martha . . . Sarah . . . Jesus Justus . . . Josephes . . . Uncle Joseph . . .’
‘What will happen to me now?” I wondered. In that moment, I understood that nothing would ever be the same again. Believing that I had failed my family, my people, and myself, I retreated further inward—drawn by a remedying reassurance. Instantly my worries subsided. Everything went tragically dark. The world seemed to have faded and now all I wanted to do was sleep.
A part of me still held onto a belief that everything would be all right. All was as it should be. My spirit refused to give in, reminding me of why I had come here. I gained a flicker of determination—a drop of mercy. After all, I had chosen to face this challenge. An air of readiness reaffirmed my chance of a successful outcome, and that was when the burdensome valley of weight lifted.
My consciousness was instantly aglow with light. The perfume of flowers and herbs filled me with hope. Suddenly I felt safe, like a child nourished within its mother’s womb. Thus I resigned myself unreservedly—I was at peace. Death had finally come for me, and it was as it should be.
“Rise up, Mary,” a voice said urgently. But I did not know how. I was as lifeless and trapped as a rock beholden to the center of a mountain! Nor could I cry out or express my difficulty. Like emerging from a hollow cave, the world of the flesh, with its constraints and claims, no longer anchored me.
There was a blooming tenderness afoot. A feeling, but also a sound, which came both from inside and outside of me. Voices whispered words of encouragement and love. I recognized some of them, though I saw them not. Drifting in grace, my spirit was forthwith swept away by an imploring stream of light. I was weightless. Filled with a love that was so much stronger than any of our world.
Abruptly, two chivalrous arms reached for me and I was abruptly pulled out of the ground—from where I had previously been buried. Shaking the soil and the vision from me, I was flooded with buoyant gratitude. “The Lord’s name is great and merciful,” I said breathlessly, touching my hands to my head and face disbelievingly. Opening my eyes, so I could see who my savior had been, there before me stood Jesu.
“Are you harmed?” he asked, with a deeply concerned countenance, throwing a shawl around my shoulders, pulling me close. Holding me tight—he mitigated my struggle.
“You came for me,” I whispered, appreciatively sinking into his strong, protective arms. “Thank you. Thanks be to God.”
My corpse had shed itself like an old worn-out skin, for there behind me, lay my body, like a discarded shroud amongst the green grasses and wildflowers which had grown up out of the newly fertilized soil.
“Oh Marjan,” he said choking on emotion, rocking me back and forth in his arms reassuringly. Sobbing, I curled myself into his shoulders with my chin nestled at his chest, his large gentle hands stroking my head satisfyingly.
“A most amazing thing happened,” I sighed.
“Yes, I know. But what were you thinking?” he said with a hint of amusement in his voice.
Skimming my fingertips along his rugged long jawline, locking eyes with the man I loved, I savored in the experience. “Thank you, Lord. Thank you,” I exclaimed. We laughed, happily reunited for but a moment. But then the tears soon came, for we knew we would soon again be gone from one another.
Prying me from his embrace, his hands steady on the crown of my head—a torrent of blazing light inundated me. I flinched as a forceful fire wrapped itself around me, hungry and snarling. I screamed a most wretched howl. “Jesu!” I said, reaching for him. But it was too late, the destructive fire had fastened itself to me in a final act of mortal destiny.
“Be still, Mary!” he shouted. “It shall pass. Allow it to cleanse you. This is the fire of baptism,” he said, keeping his hands firm, anchored and unwavering upon my head.
In a flash, the sea of eager flames trembled and erupted. Its florid light sizzled and popped around my head, erasing every failure, mistake, and disappointment I had ever faced. I burned in the spiritual fire of sanctification, while it searched me, pervading
every wound and affliction of my mind and heart. All my guarded secrets and self-doubts melted away, and then, just as quickly as the flames had engulfed me, they died out.
“The fire of baptism offers your vessel rite of passage,” Jesu said calmly. All of life stood still. The only movement was Jesu’s hair and cloth, which billowed strangely in the air, even though there was no breeze. His holiness was profound. He was a lone figure in an immense, almost featureless landscape.
A hazy shaft of light beneficently cleared the mirror of my vision so that I could see him clearly now . . . as he always had been.
“It is the fiery fountain of all living things that you have now tasted, Marjan,” he said in a rippling voice that ebbed and flowed, replete with power. “These are the eternal flames of ransom that lie at the heart of all existence. Those who are foreordained for regeneration, must first shed their attachment to the physical form. These are profound mysteries, my sovereign Mistress, and though you are ennobled, still you ought to be watchful in these thankless lands, for the disorder and horrors here can be willfully troublesome.
“Here, the pauper becomes a King, and the King becomes a servant. The priest becomes a beggar, and a beggar becomes a politician. The politician becomes a priest and the holy are liberated. Many are quick to set aside the immeasurable wealth the Lord hath conferred upon them out of His generous mercy. Instead they choose for themselves faithless neglect,” he said, eyes pricked with tears.
“The Door in the East is a departure from the land of the living. It is the passage for those souls who have been faithful to the Lord. And though they have not sinned, they were not yet free of their attachments. For that reason, baptism by fire is offered them. This most formidable rite of passage has the power to deliver people from their struggles with guilt and shame. Both of which are maladies found only in the realm of the flesh.