Table of Contents
Praise
Also by Jeffrey Small:
Title Page
Dedication
AUTHOR’S NOTE
PART ONE - THE SPARK
CHAPTER 1 - PUNAKHA VALLEY, BHUTAN
CHAPTER 2 - BIRMINGHAM, ALABAMA
CHAPTER 3 - PUNAKHA, BHUTAN
CHAPTER 4 - GATEWAY BUSINESS PARK BIRMINGHAM, ALABAMA
CHAPTER 5 - PUNAKHA DZONG, BHUTAN
CHAPTER 6 - EMORY UNIVERSITY ATLANTA, GEORGIA
CHAPTER 7 - PUNAKHA DZONG, BHUTAN
CHAPTER 8 - EMORY UNIVERSITY ATLANTA, GEORGIA
CHAPTER 9 - PUNAKHA DZONG, BHUTAN
CHAPTER 10 - BIRMINGHAM, ALABAMA
CHAPTER 11 - PUNAKHA, BHUTAN
CHAPTER 12 - RAJASTHAN, INDIA TWO THOUSAND YEARS AGO
CHAPTER 13 - HOTEL ZANGDHO PELRI PUNAKHA, BHUTAN
PART TWO - THE FLAME
CHAPTER 14 - BIRMINGHAM, ALABAMA
CHAPTER 15 - NEW HOPE CHURCH BIRMINGHAM, ALABAMA
CHAPTER 16 - ATLANTA, GEORGIA
CHAPTER 17 - NEW HOPE CHURCH BIRMINGHAM, ALABAMA
CHAPTER 18 - ATLANTA, GEORGIA
CHAPTER 19 - CANDLER SCHOOL OF THEOLOGY EMORY UNIVERSITY, ATLANTA
CHAPTER 20 - EMORY UNIVERSITY ATLANTA, GEORGIA
CHAPTER 21 - GLENN MEMORIAL AUDITORIUM ATLANTA, GEORGIA
CHAPTER 22 - BIRMINGHAM, ALABAMA
CHAPTER 23 - ATLANTA, GEORGIA
CHAPTER 24 - EMORY UNIVERSITY ATLANTA, GEORGIA
CHAPTER 25 - STARBUCKS, BRIARCLIFF ROAD ATLANTA, GEORGIA
CHAPTER 26 - AGRA, INDIA
CHAPTER 27 - UTTAR PRADESH, INDIA
CHAPTER 28 - AGRA, INDIA
CHAPTER 29 - AGRA, INDIA
CHAPTER 30 - NEW HOPE CHURCH BIRMINGHAM, ALABAMA
CHAPTER 31 - TAJ MAHAL AGRA, INDIA
CHAPTER 32 - GANGES RIVER, INDIA TWO THOUSAND YEARS AGO
CHAPTER 33 - NEW HOPE CHURCH BIRMINGHAM, ALABAMA
CHAPTER 34 - VARANASI, INDIA
CHAPTER 35 - OLD VARANASI, INDIA
CHAPTER 36 - VARANASI, INDIA
CHAPTER 37 - VARANASI, INDIA
CHAPTER 38 - VARANASI, INDIA
CHAPTER 39 - SARNATH, INDIA
CHAPTER 40 - SARNATH, INDIA
CHAPTER 41 - VARANASI, INDIA
CHAPTER 42 - HOTEL TAJ GANGES VARANASI, INDIA
CHAPTER 43 - OLD VARANASI, INDIA
CHAPTER 44 - NORTHERN ALABAMA AIRSPACE
CHAPTER 45 - VARANASI, INDIA
PART THREE - THE FIRE
CHAPTER 46 - NORTHERN HIMALAYAS, INDIA TWO THOUSAND YEARS AGO
CHAPTER 47 - PARO, BHUTAN
CHAPTER 48 - TIGER’S NEST MONASTERY PARO, BHUTAN
CHAPTER 49 - TIGER’S NEST MONASTERY PARO, BHUTAN
CHAPTER 50 - TIGER’S NEST MONASTERY PARO, BHUTAN
CHAPTER 51 - TIGER’S NEST MONASTERY PARO, BHUTAN
CHAPTER 52 - TIGER’S NEST MONASTERY PARO, BHUTAN
CHAPTER 53 - PARO, BHUTAN
CHAPTER 54 - NEW HOPE CHURCH BIRMINGHAM, ALABAMA
CHAPTER 55 - PARO, BHUTAN
CHAPTER 56 - CASHIERS, NORTH CAROLINA
CHAPTER 57 - CASHIERS, NORTH CAROLINA
CHAPTER 58 - CASHIERS, NORTH CAROLINA
EPILOGUE
Acknowledgements
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Copyright Page
ADVANCE PRAISE FOR THE BREATH OF GOD
There is nothing better than reading a novel that exceeds expectation. The Breath of God is a spectacular thriller that spans the world, history, and the limits of imagination; an epic adventure that left me yearning for more.
Richard Doetsch, author of The Thieves of Darkness and The 13th Hour
“First-time novelist Jeffrey Small has created a thrilling adventure tale that spans cultures and religious traditions while also exploring fundamental spiritual truths. I was intrigued by the unique proposition that lies at the heart of the plot and captivated by the characters that keep the story moving. If you enjoy reading a fast moving mystery with the added bonus of a challenging investigation of religious beliefs then this is the book for you.”
Steve Floyd, CEO August House Books
“In this gripping tale—played out against an intriguing international setting—East meets West, mystery meets romance, the human spirit meets the divine spirit and the reader meets a novelist of the first caliber.”
The Honorable Raymond Seitz, former US Ambassador to Great Britain
“What fun, for the heart and for the soul! In this compelling thriller, Jeffrey Small treks through a fascinating nineteenth century legend—or is it a hoax, or is it a healthy exercise in our broadening spiritual awareness? In this delightful book, Small also explores the popular distinction between religion as exploitation and religion as mysticism. Enjoy it!”
The Very Reverend Samuel G. Candler, Dean of the Cathedral of St. Philip
“From the very first pages, The Breath of God will draw you in! Jeffrey Small’s masterful storytelling will take you from Himalayan monasteries to the American Bible Belt in a heart pounding adventure filled with twists, turns and shocking revaluations that will rock the foundation of traditional Christianity. This gripping roller coaster of a novel will keep you guessing until the very end. If you liked The Da Vinci Code, you will love this book.”
Darren Main, author of Yoga and the Path of the Urban Mystic
“The Breath of God, the debut thriller by Jeffrey Small, is sure to create controversy while exploring the plausibility of an ancient legend that could tie the world’s religions to each other. Although fiction, Mr. Small paints a colorful and realistic depiction of India that reflects the multi-faceted environment of daily existence in that country. Mr. Small also weaves a suspenseful journey for protagonist Grant Matthews that keeps the reader coming back for more. The most intriguing aspects of the book, in my opinion, are the parallels drawn among the major world religions and how such religions connect despite their many differences. A must read for those that love suspense and mystery; also for those who wish to expand their knowledge of the world’s religions, check out this novel.”
Kenneth A. Cutshaw, Former Honorary Consul of India
“Adding to his impressive scholarship work on world religions, Jeffrey Small distinguishes himself as a great story teller in his first novel, The Breath of God. Small brings the reader on a page turning adventure, as Grant Matthew’s goes east in search of the ancient mystery of Issa. This story of mystery and intrigue leads the reader down a fascinating path toward uncovering the origins of the world’s major religions. The history, the legend, the suspense and the story of The Breath of God will keep the reader on the edge of his seat from start to finish.”
Rev. Lang Lowrey, President of The General Theological Seminary
“Jeffrey Small skillfully maneuvers this spectacular historical mystery between the Indian subcontinent and the American south, where Evangelicals go to war against a scholar’s tantalizing discovery. You’ll be fascinated by the stunning connections between the world’s faiths that Small unveils against today’s background of savage religious hostilities.”
Parul Hinzen, ArtsCriticATL.com
“In Dan Brown-esque fashion, Jeffrey Small has crafted a thriller based on historical research, scholarship, and his own creative gift. The book is for those who are not afraid to think or ask the question “What if?” It engages the reader on many levels with a tension between action and ideas; it offers pleasurable escape but also food for thought. Small is right on target with characters we love and those we love to hate, a taut narrative that spans 2000 years and transports the reader halfway around the world, abundant sensory detail that invites us to smell, taste,
hear and feel what the characters are experiencing, and a heart-stopping pace that won’t let you relax. A very impressive debut that solidly hits the mark!”
Kathy McClelland, Director of Libraries, The Westminster Schools, Atlanta, GA
Also by Jeffrey Small:
God as the Ground of Being: Tillich and Buddhism in Dialogue
TO ALISON AND GABRIELLA.
THANK YOU FOR MAKING THIS POSSIBLE. I LOVE YOU BOTH.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Although this novel is a contemporary work of fiction, I have based it on extensive historical research. The primary settings in India and Bhutan exist, and I have tried to capture them as accurately as possible. Russian journalist Nicholas Notovitch, whose explosive discovery in the Himalayas in 1887 serves as the basis for this story, was a historical figure. He published his findings in 1894 before being publicly condemned and silenced for the heresy he proposed.
PART ONE
THE SPARK
“In the beginning was the Tao. All things issue from it; all things return to it. Every being in the universe is an expression of the Tao. The Tao gives birth to all beings, nourishes them, maintains them.”
The Tao Te Ching, 6th century BC
“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people.”
The Gospel according to John, AD 1st century
CHAPTER 1
PUNAKHA VALLEY, BHUTAN
“THE NEXT ONE WILL BE the most dangerous.”
Most dangerous? Grant Matthews spat out the remnants of the Himalayan river water he’d just inhaled on the last rapid, a Class IV.
“You good?” Dasho, his Bhutanese guide, called to him in accented English.
“Just need to catch my breath.”
The current slowed as the Mo Chhu, the Mother River, widened. Grant balanced his paddle on top of the neoprene spray skirt that kept the icy water from entering his kayak and shook out his arms. He needed to stretch his legs too; the yellow boat barely accommodated his six-foot-two frame.
Dasho approached him with powerful strokes. “Monsoon season just passed. Chhu very fast now.”
Grant pushed his helmet back, brushed his wet hair out of his eyes, and studied the guide’s tanned face, his wide cheekbones. “So, how does a Buddhist monk become a river guide?”
When he arranged his trip to Bhutan, he’d asked his travel agent to find a tour guide familiar with the country’s many monasteries. Grant hoped to find what he’d been searching for hidden in one of them. When the agent told him that Dasho, a former monk, led tours and kayaking expeditions, he knew he’d found a kindred soul.
“Father died two years ago,” Dasho replied. “I was only son with three sisters and a mother. Left the monastery to provide for them.”
So he lost his father around the same age I did, Grant thought, estimating Dasho to be in his early twenties. He then quickly shrugged off the memory of his sophomore year in college: his once invincible father—the great reverend—and his scandalous death. He lifted the paddle off his lap and swept it through the water.
“I’m sorry.”
“No sorry.” Dasho smiled. “I could be farmer.” He pointed with his paddle across the river.
The valley rose gently from the riverbank in tiered fields planted with wheat, peppers, and beans. A lone sun-wrinkled farmer worked the plants with a wooden hoe. On a hill beyond the fields, a strand of Buddhist prayer flags fluttered on forty-foot-high poles. The snowcapped peaks of the Himalayas framed the picture in the distance.
“So you traveled through India before coming to the Land of Thunder Dragon?” Dasho asked, alluding to Druk Yul, the name the Bhutanese used for the tiny Buddhist kingdom nestled in the Himalayas between India and Tibet.
Grant nodded. “Research for my PhD.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, a rush of anxiety flooded his body. My unfinished dissertation, he thought. The members of his dissertation committee at Emory University in Atlanta, even his mentor Professor Billingsly, were skeptical when he’d first outlined his research plans five years ago. The story he proposed to track down was only a legend, they’d said, but Grant was determined to unravel the ancient mystery.
He’d just spent a week in the cold, barren moonscape of the northern Indian Himalayas near Kashmir. Several monks at the Himis monastery in Ladakh had become suspicious of his inquiries there. A hundred years earlier, similar questions had brought unwanted attention from the West to their isolated monastery with devastating consequences for the questioner. Grant planned to handle Bhutan differently.
He grinned at Dasho. “I much prefer your milder weather and lush landscapes.”
“We measure progress by gross national happiness instead of gross national product.” Dasho beamed. “And you tackle toughest river?”
“I like the challenge. Learned in college on some big water.”
“You Americans enjoy pushing everything to extreme.” Dasho chuckled.
“Ah, that’s the secret to our progress.”
Progress, he thought with a hollowness in his gut. He wasn’t making much, and he was running out of time. Bhutan had hundreds of Buddhist monasteries, and he could only afford two weeks in the country. The tenuous lead he’d received at Himis from the one monk he’d befriended didn’t specify which monastery in Bhutan might hold the treasure.
“What you are searching for was moved long ago,” the elderly monk had whispered.
“Where?” Grant had asked, glancing down the cloistered hallway to make sure no one approached.
The monk had shrugged. “Certainly to another Buddhist monastery. Probably Bhutan.”
In the two days he’d been in Bhutan, Grant had already visited three major monasteries, one in Paro, the city he’d flown into, and two in Thimpu, the country’s capital. In each he’d approached several monks, but not a flicker of recognition had passed over their faces when he hinted at what he was looking for. Grant shook his head. This kayaking trip was an indulgence he couldn’t afford, even if he’d worked the past month without a day off.
He should have finished his dissertation last year. The extension he’d received on his scholarship would run out in the spring, and he was tapped out. From the moment he’d graduated from high school, he’d been on his own financially. His father had rejected his choice of college and his academic interests. He’d worked to pay his way through undergrad at the University of Virginia and now grad school at Emory with a combination of teaching assistant jobs and late nights waiting tables.
Grant pulled his paddle through the jade water. Sweat began to drip inside his black wet suit. What if I can’t find it? The fear nagged at him, but he wouldn’t give in to doubt. He couldn’t let the skeptics in his department at Emory prove him wrong.
He increased the pace of his paddling. The water was getting more tumultuous, and his body responded naturally. His mind, however, was still immersed in his strategy for tracking down the truth. He stroked the paddle with his whole body, his blood surging through his veins as if powered by the energy of his resolve to return to the search. Tomorrow he would visit the monastery in Punakha, a few miles downriver from where he paddled. Of the monasteries he’d targeted, Punakha’s was the largest, but he willed himself not to get his hopes up.
“Whoa,” Dasho called from behind. “Who you racing?”
Grant paused to let his guide catch him. Soon the river picked up speed as the crop fields on each side transitioned into progressively steeper banks. Ten minutes later, the two kayakers were encased inside a gray granite canyon, bumping over the small rapids that occurred with increasing frequency. Only a few trees managed to grow from the sides of the craggy cliffs, their exposed roots clinging to the walls like a rock climber’s fingers searching for holds.
Just ahead, Grant saw that t
he river narrowed again and then dropped out of sight beyond a grouping of boulders. “Follow me, my friend,” Dasho said, paddling into an eddy near the right cliff wall. The guide raised his voice over the noise of the falling water ahead of them. “Meet Laughing Buddha.”
Grant pointed to the large boulder in the center of the river. “The Buddha’s head?” He enjoyed the creative names paddlers used to describe the rapids, falls, and various obstacles in their rivers, like kids finding animals in the shapes of the clouds.
“The water flows on sides of rock are Buddha’s upheld arms, and fourmeter fall beyond that is Buddha’s body.” Dasho added with a grin, “And if you hit wrong way, he will laugh as you flip.”
“Four meters?”
“Class five. Lots of water this week. Don’t take many tourists to Laughing Buddha.”
Grant felt a twinge of regret for letting his ego rather than his brain fill out the questionnaire about his kayaking experience. Most of his kayaking had actually been on Class III rapids with the occasional IV thrown in for terrifying effect. Now he faced descending the most difficult navigable rapid; the next highest classification, a VI, was considered too dangerous to run.
He examined the cliff walls at the river’s edges—too steep to pull the boats out and walk around. “How do we approach it?”
“See right fork? We take that. At top of fall, paddle hard as you can, and lean back. If you go vertical too soon, you capsize.” Dasho made a flipping gesture with his hands and winked. “No problem for you. Just follow me.”
Dasho spun his kayak, facing the rapid. He yelled over the roar of the falling water, “One more thing: careful when you land. A boulder under high water makes large hole; don’t get caught inside.”
The Breath of God Page 1