* * * * *
In Chieti, Italy, a man whose nostrils were filled with the rank smell of burning sulfur and whose heart was filled with the madness by which he had thus far made bloody carnage of all but one member of his family, held a gory meat cleaver above his head and was about to bring it down upon his only remaining son when, as quickly as it had come upon him . . . the madness was gone. Carefully he lowered the cleaver and laid it aside, and there among the dismembered bodies of his family, he dropped to his knees to hold his terror-filled son and wept. In Aleksandrovka, Kazahstan, an old woman choked and gasped for breath as she pulled her head from a barrel of rain water in which she had tried to drown herself. In Gaalkacyo, Somalia, a teenage boy stopped only seconds before striking a match to set fire to his four gasoline-soaked younger siblings.
No longer could anyone doubt the nature of the madness. It was no contagion, as a few skeptics had insisted — not in any normal sense. For not only had the madness claimed approximately one third of the world’s population as John and Cohen had prophesied, but throughout the affected areas, at the moment the two men died, the madness ceased.
[Photo Caption: Circle of death — final spread of contagion]
* * * * *
When they reached the top stair, Christopher turned to the gathering. “No one must touch the bodies!” he shouted, pointing at John and Cohen. “There is still great power within them. It will not be safe to touch or dispose of the bodies for at least four days.”[3] Nodding to Decker to imply that he should reinforce the warning, Christopher turned and, together with Robert Milner, continued into the Temple.
As they had planned before their arrival, Decker remained outside. Pulling a tablet from his jacket pocket, he waited for the press who would, no doubt, descend on him as soon as they finished inspecting and taking pictures of the two dead oracles. Decker was pleased to see that the press were heeding Christopher’s instruction and not venturing too close. There was no need to fear that the priests or Levites would touch the bodies: their laws forbade contact with the dead. The only problem might come from onlookers who for now were held back behind police lines.
Inside the Temple, Robert Milner and Christopher walked side by side. Crossing the floor of the normally bustling Court of the Gentiles, the only sound came from the column-lined portico that surrounded the court. There, animals meant for sacrifices had been brought for sale to worshipers and were left untended when everyone was driven out. A hundred and fifty yards ahead of the two men, the buildings of the Inner Court and the Sanctuary within it towered more than two hundred feet above them.
Outside the southern entrance and framed on either side by the blood of John and Cohen, Decker waited as the members of the press hurried up the steps to find what light he could shed on the events they were witnessing.
Christopher and Milner reached the soreg, the low stone wall that separated the Court of the Gentiles from the inner courts of the Temple. Signs, harking back two thousand years to inscriptions in Herod’s Temple, warned visitors in more than a dozen languages: “No foreigner may enter. Anyone doing so will bear the responsibility for his own ensuing death.” It was convenient that the Temple had been cleared, for the Temple Guard would never have permitted Christopher and Milner passage beyond the soreg without an altercation.
Intentionally going out of their way, the men went to the center passage on the eastern side of the soreg, toward the King’s Gate, to enter. Quickly spanning the distance to the first of three short flights of steps, Christopher and Milner ascended to the Chel, or rampart, from which the massive stone walls of the Inner Court rose above them.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Decker shouted above the reporters’ questions. “I have a brief statement.”
Someone yelled out another question, but Decker ignored it. “Forty-five years ago,” he began, “I was part of a scientific team from the United States that went to Italy to examine the Shroud of Turin, a piece of cloth bearing the image of a crucified man.” In the limited time available, Decker provided a summary of the events that had followed the Turin expedition and which had led to this moment. He told them how, ten years after the expedition, he had been contacted by Professor Harold Goodman, who asked him to witness a discovery he had made concerning the Shroud.
“Professor Goodman,” Decker said, “had discovered that among the samples taken from the Shroud was a microscopic cluster of human dermal cells. To my amazement . . .” Decker paused, still awed as he recalled what he had seen those many years before, “the cells from the Shroud were still alive.” For some, that piece of the puzzle, together with Christopher’s resurrection, was all that was needed to make sense of the whole incredible picture, but though there was an audible gasp, no one spoke. “Tests of the cells showed them to be incredibly resilient and possessing a number of unique characteristics,” Decker continued. “It was using cultures grown from these cells that Professor Goodman conducted his cancer research.
“Unknown to me on that occasion,” Decker revealed, “Professor Goodman had already performed a number of experiments, including,” Decker paused, “implanting the DNA from one of the cells into the embryo of an unfertilized human egg and then replacing that egg into the donor, thus . . . cloning the person whose cells were on the Shroud. From that cloning, a male child was born.” For any who hadn’t yet figured it out, this revelation provided the missing link; for those who had already guessed, it was undeniable confirmation. Christopher Goodman was the clone of Jesus Christ.
It was an incredible story, but nothing else could explain what had happened at the UN or what they had just witnessed on the Temple steps. “That child was named Christopher,” Decker said, adding further confirmation. “He was raised by Professor Goodman and his wife Martha until their untimely deaths in the Disaster. At that time,” Decker explained, “Christopher Goodman was fourteen years old and, having been directed by Professor Goodman to turn to me in case of emergency, Christopher came to live with me. The rest of the story, at least the important parts, you know.”
The inflection in Decker’s voice let it be known that his prepared statement had drawn to a close, and as he returned his tablet to his pocket, he was surprised that no one seemed to have any questions. He needn’t have been, for the reporters had many; they were all still processing what they had heard. Finally, someone in the back shouted, and then a flurry of queries followed.
Yes, he told them, Christopher had really been dead.
Yes, he was indeed saying that Christopher was the clone of Jesus Christ.
Yes, he was also saying that Christopher was God’s son, just as Jesus was. (This didn’t set well with the Jewish reporters in the group, but it wasn’t a point that was currently open to argument.) No one had any reason to suspect or ask for the specific details of that relationship — which Christopher had revealed to Decker on the plane — and Decker had no intention of volunteering them. Christopher would explain all of that soon enough.
“What about his arm and eye?” a reporter called.
“Though Christopher has the power to restore both his arm and his sight,” Decker answered, “he has pledged to not heal his own injuries until he has first healed the injuries of the rest of the world. Until then, his wounds will serve as a symbol of all that must be accomplished before any of us can truly rest.”
“Why has Ambassador Goodman gone into the Temple?” someone yelled. The rest of the reporters fell silent for the answer.
Decker considered for a moment. “I’ll let him answer that question.”
“Will he be making a statement?”
“Yes,” Decker nodded. “He will be addressing the people of the world on the subject of the destiny of Humankind.”
[Photo Caption: Model of the Inner Courts of Herod’s Temple. Nicanor Gate is at center of photo, at top of semi-circular steps.]
Christopher and Milner passed through the Beautiful Gate into the Court of the Women. Only an hour before, this had been a center of activi
ty. Now it was silent except for the hollow echo of footfalls on the stone floor as Christopher and Milner walked without speaking toward the broad semicircular steps at the western end. Atop these steps, the Nicanor Gate, sixty feet wide and seventy-five feet high, extended far above the walls themselves, forming an arch, which opened into the Court of Israel.
Unlike the Court of the Women, which was open to the sky, the Court of Israel was narrow and roofed and crowded with numerous columns. A series of rooms used for storage and small meetings lined the interior, further reducing the open space.
The third and final court, the Court of the Priests, rose four feet above the Court of Israel. Though adjoining and fully open to the Court of Israel, admittance was permitted to laymen only when bringing a sacrifice. At all other times only the priests and Levites could enter. In the gateway to the Court of the Priests were four tables of hewn stone, on which lay the blood-drained carcasses of a half-dozen lambs and goats, abandoned there when the priests and Levites were driven from the Temple. The smell of blood, incense, and charred animal fat still hung heavy in the air. To the north and south of the gateway stood eight more tables in a similar state.
Near the center of the Court of the Priests, the Altar of Sacrifice rose twenty feet in stair-stepped pyramid form in a series of four immense, unfinished stones, which by commandment had never been touched by metal tools.[4] Steps on the eastern edge of the altar provided access to the upper stones. The capstone, which was called Ariel by the priests and Levites, was twenty-one feet square and, like the stone immediately below it, was seven feet thick. On this stone was the fire of sacrifice, which consumed the burnt offerings. Unattended by the priests since they were driven out, the fire had been reduced to embers.
From the four corners of the altar’s capstone, horn-like projections reached skyward. On these and upon the altar itself, the priests poured out the blood of the slaughtered animals as a sacrificial offering, which ran down into a gutter around the base of the altar with a capacity of over three thousand gallons to accommodate the needs on the busier days.
Directly behind the altar, in the westernmost portion of the Court of the Priests, stood the Sanctuary. This was Christopher’s ultimate goal, but there was a mission he and Milner needed to accomplish before continuing. Quickly he found what he was looking for and nodded his intention to Milner. “We must see to it that no more animals are slaughtered here to satisfy Yahweh’s blood thirst.”
Followed closely by Milner, Christopher went to where he had spotted a number of brass shovels used by the priests for removing ashes. They each took one and went to a spot near the slaughter tables where a hill of animal dung had been collected for later removal. As best he could with the use of only one arm, Christopher scooped up a shovelful and slung it against the altar. Again and again Christopher and Milner repeated the act until there was no dung left and the altar had been liberally splattered. Next they beat the brass shovels against each of the altar’s four stones.
“That should do it,” Christopher said finally, knowing that Jewish law would forbid ever again using these stones as an altar.[5]
Christopher and Milner now proceeded to the Sanctuary. From above, the shape of the Temple proper formed a huge T — the result of compromise between those who wanted to rebuild according to the plans of the prophet Ezekiel and those who wanted to recreate the design of Herod’s Temple. It was 175 feet across at the widest point, 105 feet at the narrowest, and rose 175 feet above the Court of the Priests. To the right and left of the entrance stood two tremendous free-standing bronze pillars, called by the priests respectively Jachin and Boaz.
Here Milner stopped. Christopher would go alone the rest of the way.
Looking back only to nod to Milner, Christopher ascended the final set of steps to the vestibule, or porch. Directly in front of him were immense double doors six feet wide and thirty-five feet tall made of olive wood, decorated with carvings of cherubim, palm trees, and flowers and covered in pure gold. Suspended above the doors, a spectacular multicolored tapestry displayed a panorama of the universe. Above that, the wall was covered with huge carvings of grape vines and leaves with clusters of grapes as tall as a man and nearly that distance across, entirely covered with gold.
Christopher took a deep breath and continued. Leaning against one and then the other of the huge doors, he let in the bright light of day and stepped through into the next chamber, called the Hēkhāl, or Holy Place. The fragrant smell of frankincense still smoldered from a golden altar within. Another altar sat undisturbed with twelve sheets of unleavened bread laid out in rows. The candles of a golden menorah provided the only interior light.
Outside the Sanctuary, Robert Milner turned and walked back the way they had come in. There was a matter outside the Temple that awaited his attention.
In front of Christopher, suspended from the ceiling, was the Veil, a divider between the Holy Place and the final chamber, the Debhir, or Holy of Holies. Beyond the Veil, where only the high priest was allowed — and he, only once a year on the Day of Atonement — sat the ancient Ark of the Covenant. The Veil was actually two richly decorated curtains, one in front of the other with about five feet of clearance between the two, and off-set at either end, forming an entry corridor that prevented any light from reaching the windowless Holy of Holies.
Walking to the northern edge of the curtain, Christopher took hold and pulled down sharply until, bit by bit, it broke loose from the ceiling. He continued this until only a few yards remained hanging. He then did the same with the other curtain, pulling it loose from the southern edge, thus leaving a wide entrance through the middle of the Veil and exposing the Holy of Holies to the light of day, which poured in through the Sanctuary’s huge open doors.
Before him, two enormous winged cherubim, each eighteen feet tall, carved from olive wood and covered with pure gold, stood watch over the Ark of the Covenant. Their outstretched wings each spanned half the width of the chamber and met in the center of the room directly over the Ark.
Outside, as Decker took another question, a low rumbling began and grew until it shook the steps where they stood. It seemed to come from inside the Temple. Without explanation, Decker announced that the press conference was concluded. “I suggest that you may want to move away from the Temple at this point,” he noted in obvious understatement. Decker was beginning to enjoy himself.
Inside the Holy of Holies, Christopher stood before the Ark and after a moment’s pause, gripped the cover and slid it back, revealing its contents.
“What’s happening?” several of the reporters shouted at Decker as the Temple shook again.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, if you’ll be patient, I’m sure you’ll have answers to all your questions, but for your own safety, I must insist that you move away from the Temple immediately.” The resolve in Decker’s voice and the urgency of his own steps convinced the others to follow.
Reaching into the Ark, Christopher removed the items he was looking for.
A thunderous rumble many times louder than the first two rolled through the Temple like a freight train, sending reporters and onlookers scurrying. A moment later Robert Milner emerged. He was alone. Resolutely, he descended about a quarter of the way down the steps. Looking out over the thousands of people and the dozens of cameras that broadcast the event around the world, he began to speak. It was his own voice, but it was different; at least Decker could tell there was a difference.
“‘See, I will send you the prophet Elijah before that great and dreadful day of the Lord comes. He will turn the hearts of the fathers to their children, and the hearts of the children to their fathers; or else I will come and strike the land with a curse,’” Milner said, quoting the prophet Malachi.[6] The words were familiar to many but especially to the priests and Levites. “Hear, O Israel,” Milner said, no longer quoting, “for this day, this very hour, your lamentation is ended. This is the day of which the prophet spoke. Elijah has come! I am he!”
There wa
s a great stirring among the Jewish priests and Levites at this proclamation and all eyes turned to see how the high priest would respond. It was bad enough that they had been run out of their own Temple, but now for this Gentile to claim that he was the prophet Elijah, while it wasn’t exactly blasphemy, it was a tremendous offense. No one was quite sure how to respond and they looked to Chaim Levin to follow his lead. Had they even an inkling that at that very moment Christopher stood within the Holy of Holies before the Ark of the Covenant, they would not have waited for the high priest, but already would have been tearing their clothes and dumping dust on their heads in Jewish ceremonial outrage.
Surprisingly, Chaim Levin was calm. Dressed in the traditional Temple raiment of his office, the high priest wore a bulbous blue hat with a band of solid gold engraved with the Hebrew words meaning “Holy to Yahweh.” Over the standard white linen tunic of the ordinary priest, which hung down to his ankles, revealing only his bare feet, he wore a richly embroidered robe that reached below his knees and was decorated at the bottom by golden bells that jingled musically as he walked. Over this, he wore a vest-like garment that hung to his hips and was lavishly embroidered with thick threads of gold, purple, blue, and crimson. In the middle of his chest, supported by heavy chains of gold attached to broad epaulets upon his shoulders and around his waist by scarlet strips of cloth, was the ephod, a thick square linen breastplate decorated with gold brocade and inset with twelve large gemstones in four rows of three each, representing the twelve tribes of Israel.
Whether Chaim Levin’s tolerance of Milner was borne of gratitude for Christopher’s dispatch of John and Cohen or because he simply didn’t want to ruin a perfectly good set of robes, he remained unruffled by Milner’s claim. Instead, he looked him in the eye and politely but with skeptical amusement asked, “By what sign shall we know that you are who you claim?”
The Christ Clone Trilogy - Book Three: ACTS OF GOD (Revised & Expanded) Page 2