by Krishna Rose
“Darling daughter, please try to understand. It is my choice to be here. Now come here to your Papa before you leave,” he said, stretching out his arms to me. As I fell into them, we both let out a hearty cry. Years of grief poured out in a few moments of our reuniting.
“Is there anything we can do for him, Cherubim?”
“Your father’s kismet is held in place, supported by the angels in the left-hand corner of this Heaven,” he said, indicating the shining stairway of my father’s good fortune. “But he must choose it for himself. You cannot choose it for him. He is free to ascend any time.”
“And where does his ladder lead?” I asked.
“He is famed in Heaven as the earthly father of Mary Magdalene, therefore his stairs take him to live in the topmost layer of Heaven for a very long time.”
“The Magdalene . . . Cherubim, why do people keep wishing to attach this name to my soul?” I asked.
“Because, since time is measured here in thousands of years, we have seen what is to come. Like a tower in the center of the ocean, warning ships of impending doom, you are that guiding light for the men and women of earth,” he explained.
I nodded, more at peace with my assignment than ever before.
“But this place is very sad, Cherubim,” I said regretfully.
He agreed. “Life is sad, Mary! Everyone is forced to say farewell and that is the saddest thing of all. Human beings waste precious time fearing death, while the design of their life, as well as their death, is already mapped out. Not one person has the power to prevent death from taking them when it is time. Your father does not suffer like a mortal man. He is an ascended being who sees the transcendental picture.”
“The transcendental picture?”
“Yes. The ascended beings see how and why suffering comes. Their consciousness is transcendent.”
“Papa, come and walk with me upon Jacob’s ladder,” I pleaded one last time. “I am so sad to see how you are not fully here, and yet not fully there either.”
“Mary, what good is heavenly pleasure to me?” he answered, stroking my cheek with the side of his hand. “I have no need of it. The demands and pleasures of Heaven are still temporary and even those who live here are forced to leave, just as they do on earth. So tell me, what good is all this pleasure? I am content to watch over my flock until my time is done. And then, if God be pleased with me, I may be given an opportunity to reach higher. Can you understand what I am trying to say?” he said, with a glimmer in his eye.
“Yes, Papa! I do. I understand completely and I bow to your wisdom,” I said reaching down to touch his feet reverently. “I pray the Lord be merciful and grant you a place at His side, Papa.”
“So sorry Mary, but it’s time for us to leave,” Cherubim said, sheepishly avoiding my eyes.
My father and I fixed our eyes upon each another for one last time, with a knowing that no words could ever describe—a fresh grief climbing upon our brows.
“Tell Martha and Lazarus of me. I am with you all. Explain to them that I am pleased with this path I have chosen. Whenever you think of me, know that I am with you. Now go with the Lord,” he said.
My Papa turned, assuming the position I had found him in, with one hand on his chin staring into the Lake of Dreaming—immediately transfixed.
CHAPTER 41
HEAVEN—VEIL FOUR
The Keys to the Kingdom
The Infinite Lord is not vindictive. He does not want to punish us or see us suffer. Problems come only to teach us—like an affectionate friend, to improve our situation and help us. See all difficulties like this and set yourself right, not others, so that peace will find you.
Cherubim stood motionless, statue-like, a flood of light glowing curiously around his dignified silhouette. His eyes were closed. He seemed preoccupied, as if listening to something or someone. With his hand upon his chest, a halo of stars blithely circled above him. It was as if he had been taken unwittingly to witness a significant discussion, for his riveted attention gave him an expression like that of a spectator—he seemed so preternatural.
“We have been invited to meet someone very important,” Cherubim recounted, as the stars all at once slowed, vibrating mysteriously above him. “The King,” he said cheerily.
“Another King? How many Kings are there here in Heaven?” I asked facetiously.
“Many,” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “Who do you think keeps the universe in order?”
Choked up after having left my father, I was hardly in the mood to greet or make small talk with any King.
Cherubim took my arm in his and guided me to a golden chariot. The mysterious steeds were ready to carry us to our next destination. They turned and whinnied upon seeing us, their manes wisp in the air, white as snow upon a mountain cap. Two dazzling angels were there seated, mounted upon the horses. They were extraordinarily tall and implausibly striking.
Once we were seated, without pause, a wind came upon us, the moon rose high in the sky, and instantly we took to the air. The magnificent horses’ muscles rippled in the wind, their powerful wings propelling us forward over the natural beauty of the heavens below. Ears pricked, they soared, climbing higher by their powerful feathered limbs, which were long and mighty. Holding the golden reins loosely between their lanky fingers, the angels guided the steeds, racing against a rush of air.
“Do not cling to him, Mary—tarry not upon your past,” Cherubim reminded me, with a gentle touch of his hand upon my arm, knowing that I still considered my father’s plight.
As far as the eyes could see, weightless citizens of Heaven swam the skies nimbly, waving happily as we passed them by. Dressed in silk and gold, these contented residents of the celestial skies, were beautiful beyond compare. Without effort, they travelled through the air. Such a curious sight. Each experience was so delicately endowed with charm and pleasantness.
“Time lengthens and diminishes by way of the mounted Alpines, who ride as if they are one with the horse’s mind,” Cherubim said, nodding toward the angels, silently urging the steeds forward. Time seemed to bend to their will with every graceful movement of their wings, as like lightning, we made our way towards the metropolis.
The city, filled with colossal buildings—libraries, universities, temples, and palaces—were marked by roads lined with glamorous people dressed in exquisite gowns. The people, along with their children and pets, glided along, conversing with one another politely, serenaded by angels who sang them hymns, strumming upon golden harps, while children played happily in the streets.
“What does the King want with me?” I asked, drinking in the atmosphere, as we landed on the soft ground.
“He wants to meet the most famous woman of all time!” he said jovially, thanking the Alpines with a nod.
The King’s palace, made of gold, was larger than any building I had ever seen. Its design was flawless. The sun and moon shone onto all the appropriate peaks and hollows of the royal residence, creating rainbows and dancing lights that drenched the palace in color.
Scholars formed lines outside of the gates, waiting for their turn to have audience with the King and his advisors. Regarding us closely as we breezed by, feet never touching the ground, they bowed respectfully as we passed them on the path.
“Who is this King?” I asked Cherubim breathlessly.
“His name is El-Indra. He has been King of Heaven for many hundreds of thousands of your earthly years,” he said proudly. “He is a gracious ruler, for as you can see, all who live here are wealthy, happy and fulfilled. Unlike the Kings on earth, who take their riches unto themselves ungenerously, our King shares his lands and wealth so that all may live long contented lives.
“This will be a special experience for you Mary, for there are many here who have been waiting to meet you for a very long time.”
“What can you mean? How can they have been waiting for me?” I asked, feeling a little anxious.
“You’ll see. Prepare yourself for some adoration,” he said with a mischievous sparkle in his eye. With that, the piercingly haunting sound of trumpets and bugles announced our arrival, as Cherubim and I were ushered into the domed audience hall.
Soaring diamond towers, reflecting light, like shards of glass upon the golden-hued floor, straddled the palace. Thousands of wealthy courtiers stood attentively as we entered. The King, who was seated at the far end of the handsome hall upon a throne, held in his left hand a golden scepter, while with the other, accepted fruits and offerings served to him by pretty, half-naked dancing girls. He seemed impregnable, stately in his azure suit of finely woven sapphire-encrusted cloth. Glancing up, he hammered his scepter to the ground three times.
“Mary Magdalene!” the footman announced loudly.
Cherubim nudged for me to move forward. Hushed voices could be heard in the pews, excitement rippling through the crowds.
“Come forward,” the King commanded in a polite yet immense voice. Walking courteously towards the throne, conscious of my every move, I was suddenly painfully aware of my disheveled appearance. I was totally unprepared for this level of public experience.
“The natural laws of the universe dictate it must be so!” the King told his advisors out of the side of his mouth, looking at me with a raised brow.
“Come closer. Do not be afraid,” he ordered. “I am El-Indra, the King of Heaven, and you are welcome here my Lady,” he said graciously.
I bowed my head and others followed suit. Everyone in the room could be heard in their gowns and jewels kneeling and bowing.
“Rise child,” he insisted, whereupon the court proceeded to sit down.
“Bring me the keys,” he requested his advisors upon seeing me standing there before him. The crowds shuffled and enthusiastic whispers could be heard throughout.
“Because you are the tower who watches over the flock, we wish to offer you the rarest of gifts,” the King announced loudly so that everyone could hear, his voice caroling like a choir, echoing in all directions.
A Seraph angel with golden wings, floated down the long hall, landing beside one of the King’s aides. In his hand he carried a silver tray with something on it. Ceremoniously he brought the tray to the throne, bowing low to one knee, holding the platter in his right hand for the King. Examining the ancient keys in his hand, admiring them, considering me persuasively, talking to himself under his breath, the King announced:
“These are the keys to the Kingdoms of Heaven and eternity, and I do hereby gift them to you, Mary Magdalene. They are yours to have and hold from here forth. You are a teacher of great measure and the natural laws of the universe dictate it must be so!” the King revealed, giving his advisors a side-long glance.
Cherubim moved beside me reassuringly. I hesitated before finally stepping forward to accept the bestowal. The crowds fell silent, as a host of angels longingly began plucking their glass harps, singing psalms in holy voices that caught me unguarded. Their devotional sentiments were so lovely that I staggered, holding onto Cherubim to stop myself from falling. This moment was immense. I was both astonished yet humbled by such a formidable endowment. With my open palms before the King, in a gesture of receiving, he reverentially placed the heavy glittering keys into my hands, as shrieks of celebratory exultations resounded in bursts of cheer, sending chills up my spine. I was indeed most thankful for such a legacy.
“Mary Magdalene, you are now the keeper of the keys. Your duty is to henceforth unlock the gates of paradise for all who you and your story reach,” the King’s advisor reported, fiddling with his bearded chin thoughtfully.
“P . . . paradise . . . is mine t . . . to offer?” I stuttered.
“Yes, it is so!” the King replied enthusiastically.
A cooling blessedness came upon me which I felicitously accepted with good grace, relishing in this moment of divine upliftment. I thought of Jesu, wishing he could be part of this moment, aching for the bounty of his company.
“Any questions?” the King asked.
“I am honored by your offering, my King,” I said sincerely. “My question may seem ridiculous” I proceeded, “but how is it that I favor souls with such charity?” I asked.
“Ha! I shall explain!” he thundered. “The keys you hold are forged of gold and silver. The golden key reaches those souls who, due to pious deeds, enter the Kingdoms of Heaven to enjoy the riches and pleasures that you see,” he said gaily waving his hand about, showing off the immense opulence of his Kingdom.
“The silver key is befitting those rare souls who desire nothing for themselves. They are champions of our cause, dedicating their lives entirely to the service of others. They do this as a devoted sacrifice unto the Supreme Being, desiring His pleasure above all things,” he explained, suddenly seemingly grave.
“Therefore, the silver key unfastens that which is unseen by mortal eyes. Not even the gods are privy to such liberty—thus they expectantly wait for a life on earth, hoping to attain the unattainable.”
Clutching the keys, I felt their dense, heavy weightiness in my hand. The crowds suddenly falling silent, froze—awestruck.
“You need merely offer people the choice,” the King clarified. “Golden goodness brings heavenly pleasure, while silvery devotion—opens the doors of eternity.
“Proclaim unto all what you have seen. Inspire them, and plant seeds of spiritual freshness within their hearts. This is also the mission of your husband, Jeshua—our earthly Messiah,” the King reminded everyone.
“Hail, Jesu the Great!” the courtiers crowed in unison. “Jesu! Jesu! Jesu!” they chanted excitedly, stomping their feet, clapping their hands loudly.
“People learn to love their chains, Mary Magdalene, and by these keys you may unlock the fastenings which have held them bound since time immemorial. This has been a great privilege for me, for now I shall forever be famed as the King who gave the keys of Heaven to a woman!” he chortled, calling a group of strangely familiar people, motioning for them to come forward.
Seeing my blood running in their veins—I immediately recognized them as my own flesh and blood. Lowering my eyes, unable to meet their gaze—sensing their fate, I rose up to meet them.
“This is Jeanne,” the King said, as one particularly petite girl drew closer. “She is a mighty forthcoming Grail carrier from the fruit of your vine. She will come to be known as a most virtuous, innocent woman, like you. Her fate is set by the high-principled ideal which she exemplifies, while the leaders of church and government will resist her messages of peace. Therefore, she will come to be martyred as a most praiseworthy Desposyni of your noble House,” the King inferred.
The young woman saw the pitying look in my eyes and came forward to introduce herself and inquire about me—sensing our sealed bond. Her hair was straight and limp, short like a boy. Her skin, pale and pure, her heritage clear in her dark, polished eyes, long face, and rebellious disposition. She was of Jesu’s bloodline in every way. Our sigil symbolically, yet significantly, glowed, as if her skin were carved and scripted—nay, forged of our renowned bloodline. To my relief she smiled genuinely, stepping forward to kiss me on each cheek affectionately.
“Kneel Jeanne d’Arc, and accept blessings from your blameless, gracious Queen,” the King bade.
“We are here forth shaping an army of self-sacrificing Saints, whose exceptional courage shall bring light into the darkness. Dishonesty hides vicariously within the preeminent earthly leaders of monarchy, religion, and politic
s. But by the sacrifices of our spiritual army, we shall see what lies hidden, cloaked beneath the veil of illusion they spin over the world. Therefore Mary Magdalene, anoint the head of our future warriors who are to come after you bearing hope,” he said, his words filling the air with anticipation.
Collecting my senses, aligning myself with what was to be done, I prayed quietly for strength and mercy. No one could ever grasp what my feelings were in that moment. I shook from head to foot. It was instinct that prompted me to bestow blessings upon them.
“Come forward,” I requested the crowds gallantly, as Cherubim promptly delivered me a jar of anointing oil and a sword. The room lit up with the greatest distinctness, as Jeanne came before me first. Behind her, in two neat rows, lined our future heirs, as well as the lords and ladies of the court. I tended to them in a most natural way. A divine power flowing zealously through me like a lightning bolt, the revolutions of which rendered me light-headed. The sacrifices of each one of these brave souls, were a powerful manifestation of God’s power on earth, and I blushed considering the great difficulty that they knowingly were tasked with.
“I, Mary Magdalene,” I said, smiling at the King out of the corner of my eye, “hand to you the baton of anointment by which you have come into our bloodline,” I said deliberately. My hand steadied. “It is a decree to accept the mantle of the soul’s potentiality that has come upon our clan. Therefore, I bless you and bestow upon you a charge to be the voices in the wilderness, ministering to those who appeal for the Lord’s mercy,” I roused, laying upon their heads, one by one, the sword of truth—which they each in turn accepted graciously.
“Rest reassured, daughters and sons of my descent, that we do hereby declare war on the evil-minded leaders who drench the world in darkness! We defeat them not with base weaponry, but with words of love and hope—which protect you in spite of your martyrdom! Remember that Jesu the Great was persecuted before you. And since his name and message extends out over great lengths of time, we are all of us to be inextricably intertwined by our prominent dynasty,” I reassured them.