by Krishna Rose
“‘Because, son, I can teach him easily,” the teacher explained. ‘He knows nothing. But you are so proud of your learning that it is inhibiting your growth. First, I would have to make you forget everything you know, before I could teach you anything at all, and this will cost me more in time and energy. Whereas teaching him from the beginning, will be that much easier.’
“Do you understand what I’m saying, Paul?” I said, lightly touching his arm in comfort, to which he flinched like a wounded child.
“Everyone has the right to adopt a life that is illumined by scripture. When a sincere soul surrenders to a genuine teacher, that teacher then purifies them of their past, making them qualified to worship God and enter eternity. Yet when you say to a person that they cannot serve God through the medium of their deity, to which they are devoted, it is like saying that a child cannot love and embrace their father or mother.
“The Lord is the parent of all. He has love for all, equally. My husband preaches without discrimination. He accepts every soul by their eagerness for a life beyond the volatile things of this world. This is his glory,” I said, leaning back in my chair.
“He has inspired people everywhere to follow the true religion of the soul, which has no designation or separation. The soul is not of any faith conceived by man. Our holy Master opened a school, where any can come to learn and receive a chance to perfect their life. In school, not all students are the same, nor do they receive perfect marks. Some learn slowly, some fail, and some advance quickly—while others never advance past primary class. A learned student can understand the teachings of the professor easily, but a child cannot.
“Similarly, though many people come to our Master, they cannot all realize or follow his instructions. So again, they return to the impulses of the senses which are so strong. In that condition, in all actions, they seek to satisfy their physical desires, leaving their true ambitions behind. Soon they again find themselves trapped. Still, the Master arranges for their ultimate salvation. He does not forsake them. This is the difference, Paul. Please try to understand,” I said sympathetically, phrasing myself in a positive way so as to try and reach him.
“A pure Master is like a touchstone, for whosoever they touch—is transformed,” I said, desirous of turning his mind. “I entreat thee Paul, attempt to taste the things which Jesu came to bring. Be pure in heart, that you might certainly convert and baptize for the benefit of all—not of the flesh, but in spirit.”
Peter appealed to him, “I beseech thee Brother, mark thy offenses as contrary to the doctrine which you have taught in the marketplace. Avoid them. They are false teachings which satisfy none but you. And by your fair speeches, you deceive and mislead the hearts of the simple, honest people.”
I paced the room authoritatively, telling him, “Many people come to the Lord for mundane things. And when they don’t have their desires fulfilled, they leave and seek shelter of material things so that they might fill their mundane lives with substance. What they don’t know, is that when someone asks for poison—the Lord is not so cruel as to give it. They do not know what is poison, nor what is the remedy. Nor do they know what is nourishment, nor where it comes from. The Lord and his representatives are affectionate to the fallen, always considering the benefit of their souls.
“Some of our apostles may climb atop the mountains of pride, where they secretly desire to sit upon gold thrones to accept worship and godly opulence from their poor followers. The Lord may then humble them—to remove the thorn of their pride in all its bitter forms. He does this to turn them from sinful employ.
“Believing yourself to already be full—you seek nothing. While those who are materially exhausted, are easily nourished, for they come empty before God—begging to be filled. In this way, the Lord sends a perfected Master to care for and lead the people along the path of spiritual elevation. God is all-forgiving, but the Master is even more so, for it is by their mercy that the poison of sin driven away.
“Those who delight in boastfulness, and swagger in brazen disrespect, are empty on the inside. So how can such a person care and tend the flock? Jesu’s preaching will increase and hold an exalted place in the world for future generations to come. His legacy will not pass away. Therefore, the messages and glories we speak of now, shall remain long into the future. Therefore, do not be opposed to him or you will be lost,” I said cautiously.
Paul seemed agitated. His foot tapped nervously, while a vein throbbed in his forehead. I felt sick to my stomach, for I could see that he was an imposter to our brethren. This man in chains, claims himself to have such power, even over Jesu’s own family and friends. I looked into his eyes, maintaining eye contact with him until my eyes burned, yet I would not give in.
“Come empty before us, Paul,” I said, standing still before him with arms outstretched. “Try to attain the mercy which my spouse came to give. The Kingdom does not open its gates to those who are interfering or misusing the elements of nature to mislead for any cause. Our duty is to obey virtue, teaching by example how the Lord is conquered by devotion, self-sacrifice, and good deeds,” I explained soberly.
Paul bared his teeth, glaring at me defensively. “But I am converting so many people to our way! Thus, the Lord is with me. Who are you to say that he is not?” he barked.
“Paul, you say that Jesu speaks through you, while you have not heard him teach, nor caught his meaning,” I said in a slightly disapproving tone. “And furthermore, who says we need to convert? What are we converting them to?” I asked, swallowing a lump in my throat.
“I convert the nonfaithful to the same faith your brethren belong to—that they might become Jewish,” he answered, nervously rubbing the back of his neck, eyeing the door.
“Paul, you have understood nothing of our ways, yet you have placed yourself as a leader of our people. Try to understand—there is no conversion, for there is nothing to convert people to. Faith is faith, and the Lord’s Kingdom is every soul’s birthright,” I stated, hoping I could reach beyond his madness. Paul now paced across the floor, confounded.
“Our people believe that unless one is Jewish one cannot attain the Kingdom, so I teach the Jewish way—but a new Jewish way, one that is not so difficult to follow—not so rigid and law-abiding,” he said, flexing his fingers. “They cannot follow the Jewish way as it stands, so adjustments have been made for them, that they might convert,” he said suddenly seeming sincere.
“That is all very well and good, Paul. Indeed, I see that you are a faithful man,” I said trying to appease him. “However, conversion implies that the Lord is Jewish and therefore requires us to ‘become’ Jewish. That we might be worthy to worship and see Him. Yet not one soul is Jewish, for spirit does not belong to any designation of this world. The Kingdom is not a religious destination—but a world beyond fleeting flesh and bone. It is where the devoted ones meet in enduring happiness.
“Love is not something to be fenced. If we separate ourselves, labelling by creed, then we build walls about us where in truth there are none. If mortals worship many gods and goddesses, do not preach to them that their gods are meaningless, nor make up tales of Jesu and his mother being their gods reincarnated. By your good deeds, like caring for the needy and healing the sick, the people shall come to know and trust in you. And when they believe in you, they too will trust in the things that you speak.
“But Paul, if you keep up with your twisted stories to suit your plan of conversion, then we shall be forced to remove ourselves from you forever, just as a leper cuts off his own arm that he might survive,” I said forcefully. “Have faith in the power of our Master’s message alone, for that is what he sacrificed his life for,” I said, trying my best to remain civil.
Leaning close to me, he whispered, “Mary, it is I who am the authority on what the Master wants, not you
. You are but his wife—I am he in spirit,” he hissed viciously.
Shocked, my heart raced. I felt an uneasy shakiness in my limbs. Stepping away from the imposter, I said firmly, “Have some dignity, Paul! Hold yourself with restraint! You deceive your own self before you deceive me, and I can see now, upon meeting you, that you are a problem to our brethren and to our cause. You have set yourself above us, and you shrug off the truth in order to offer people another god to adore.”
I felt disgusted by him. I looked over at Peter who sat silently, seemingly amused by our interactions.
“I shall not back down from you, Paul!” I declared. “You are a living lie . . . a pretender. The things you say and think are fundamentally flawed. And . . .” I sighed heavily, “on behalf of my brethren, I vow here before God, that we do not advocate your preaching, or your proclamations of having the spirit of our Master come through you. The things you speak are evil—for they deceive. We hereby cut you off from our body—we know you not! You are not of right mind, Saul,” I said, purposely recalling his Roman name.
He wavered before me for but a moment, crossing his arms, struggling to stay calm, clenching his fists and pursing his lips tight, hoping that I would back away.
“I cannot see a positive outcome here, Peter,” I said with dread. “This man before us is an actor. He feigns to know my husband’s heart, yet in truth he knows us not. He spends his days and nights obsessing over every detail of our lives, seeking to perfect our story for the good of staging an organized movement—of which he is the head,” I said earnestly.
“Who are you Mary, but the Master’s wife—and a woman?” Saul shouted. “You cannot feign to know the Master’s heart, nor his intent. You do not know who is or isn’t the head of this, nor where it is going. The Master is not here, and in his absence, he speaks to me and tells me what is to be done and what is not to be done. You second-guess me and say I am lying, while I am your ally, offering to lead the people out of darkness,” he said manipulatively, like a lawyer in a court of law.
“How can you lead anyone out of darkness, when you yourself are still blind, Saul?” I said, hoping to gain my composure, raising an eyebrow to convey my message more assuredly.
“You cannot be the one to lead this movement, for you are deluded! The Master’s brother, James, is the head of our church in Jerusalem, so if you wish, go to him and argue your case there. I need not defend my position to you, for these things will in time become self-evident. I can see now that you have lived a lie, bouncing from one master to the next. The last time I saw you, you came to kill us. Yet now you claim to be the leader of our church and to know the Master’s wishes more than any other. I decline to accept that you are a leader of anything.
“Peter, I would suggest you take him to see James. I fear that is our only hope of saving this situation,” I said, exasperated. Peter nodded in agreement. We were finally in agreement about something!
They left, but I felt doubtful that this lying man could change. He would continue to mislead, making excuses that his inner voices and visions were telling him what to do and what to say.
Rome was a well-organized, lavish walled city which brought to mind—Heaven. The sun always shone, fragrant flowers were in full bloom, and there were hundreds of temples built in honor of the gods and goddesses. Temples were the epicenter of city life. Olive trees, umbrella pines, and large oaks decorated the roads between its many awe-inspiring buildings that were dedicated to Rome’s Emperors, past and present.
The Tiber River running through the city, brought with it industry and fresh water in abundance. Natural springs were everywhere and the water tasted sweet and pure, unlike the water in Judea. The weather however, reminded me of home—dry and hot.
The politicians and leaders of Roman society lived like gods, while the poor worked hard for position and pay. Even so, the inhabitants of Rome believed their city to be the best in the world. Surprisingly, I noticed that the poor seemed most cheerful, in spite of their lack, while the rich and powerful seemed plagued with problems—except when steeped in drunken stupor and rampant sexual pleasure. Theirs was an era considered to be a golden age, due to their power and influence across a large portion of the world.
The Emperors were revered as gods on earth sent to guide the people out of the dark ages. Immortalized at the time of their death, their eerie statues overlooked the city where they were said to keep watch over the people even in the afterlife. The only people revered as much as the Emperors, were Rome’s Vestal Virgins, who were considered the holiest of holies. It was a great honor for a young girl to be chosen for the Temple of Vesta. Once selected, they spent their lives behind closed doors engaged in rituals and prayer to keep Rome healthy and powerful.
Maidens, who were the daughters of free men, were taken from their homes as children to be given positions as resident virgins. Their main purpose was that of keeping the fire of Vesta burning in the city’s center. The girls were expected to serve the Temple of Vesta without ever breaking their vows of chastity, which I found ironic given the amount of philandering in this city. If any woman broke her vow of chastity, her fate was to be buried or burned alive in shame, while the man with whom she had been caught, was publicly tortured and killed as a warning to all.
Their cloister was beautiful, having a large central atrium with blossoming flowers and purifying baths. It was considered to be the most sacred building in the city, for superstition was, that without the Vestal Virgins maintaining the fire of Vesta, the City of Rome would fall.
These maidens were charged with the preparation of all sacred rites and rituals on behalf of the Roman state, to ensure the blessings of the gods. Without the Vestals, Rome would not exist. At least this is what they believed. Therefore, they were revered in society and bowed to as they passed by on the street.
Something that struck me, were the thousands of intricately carved statues which were atop of buildings and in every town square—depictions of naked gods, goddesses, angels, Roman leaders, and strange creatures the likes of which I hoped I would never see in real life. They called them “gargoyles.” One such statue was in particular very peculiar. ‘Twas of a big-breasted naked woman who, crouched on all fours, had the body of a lion from the waist down. It gave me the creeps. It was akin to something one might expect to see in Hell.
In the city center stood an imposing statue of the Emperor’s father, Tiberius Claudius Nero. The sculpture overlooked a vast man-made lagoon surrounded by sunken gardens with mossy stone steps. Upon this lake, for entertainment, Roman warships re-enacted battles of Rome defeating other nations—overtaking their cultures. Little did they realize that Peter and Paul, two small Jewish men, were slowly overthrowing Roman culture forever, and right under their noses.
I was taken to an impressive temple dedicated to the god of war, Mars. It had been commissioned by Emperor Augustus to ensure Rome’s victory. There was a temple dedicated to Venus, the goddess of love; the temple of Apollo; a temple of Concord; the temple of Julius Caesar; and the temple of Saturn—which stored the city’s treasure.
A long arena ran along the base of Palatine Hill. This was where weekly games were held in homage to the god Consus, the protector of grains. On weekends, the poor were invited to witness the mighty games. One-hundred-and-fifty-thousand spectators at a time came to witness the chariot races and gladiators hash it out in spectacular, yet cruel, re-enactments of wars fought and won. The people loved it. It was the highlight of their week and the main source of entertainment for those without wealth and privilege.
Prisoners, slaves, and gladiators were traded for and forced to fight one another. Then those same men were forced to fight against exotic beasts like lions and bears which had been imported from foreign lands. The battles always ended in the death of one or the other, and the crowds celebrated t
he loss of life in loud roars of excitement which could be heard all over the city. They believed themselves to be progressive and fashionable—yet I thought it barbaric.
Since the races didn’t end in death, I agreed to attend one, in order to please our hosts who were keen to show us their culture. There were four teams—red, white, green, and blue—each chariot pulled by horses who would have to complete seven laps around the arena. Kicking dust up in the air, the thrill of the chase was electrifying. At the center of the racetrack, to one side, the Emperor, Tiberius, would appear on the balcony like a god, to watch the champions vie for their winnings.
One afternoon, the ladies and I visited a public bathhouse which had three pools lined with basalt, granite, and alabaster. Each one was filled with waters of varied temperature. The luxury of these well-organized water systems provided large swimming and bathing areas for all its residents, as cleanliness and beauty were of primary importance to them—other than the worship of gods.
A poorly clad slave girl undressed me, inviting me to bathe in the hot mineral pool, said to have powers of healing. The waters felt good on my feet and legs which ached from years of walking and bearing children. Relaxing, I watched the fascinating lives of others as they chatted and swam together. The slave girls were of particular interest to me, since their burdens seemed great.
The Romans were a people obsessed with the struggle of retaining physical prowess and beauty, which of course is futile against time’s bitter course. The women were expected to be beautiful, well dressed, and elegant at all times. They sat straight and walked lightly, giving the illusion of gliding as their long-flowing robes billowed behind them in the streets. Their hair was usually worn in intricately braided styles, which the slave girls expertly weaved into neatly tamed nests upon their heads.