by R D Hathaway
This time, a line of curves separates the text.
“For this entire day, I have been reading simple, beautiful Aramaic words written by Mary, the mother of Jesus. This is a holy piece of history. No, it is beyond that. It is also remarkable that a woman in that era could write. But then, she was remarkable, or even more.”
Rennie stood up and stared down at the page. She shook her hands as though she had touched something sacred. She took a deep breath. “This is just too incredible,” she whispered. “People have got to know about this. Why haven’t they told anyone?”
Maybe, those letters would upset everything. The authority of the church could be questioned. They’ve been hidden away.
She sat down to continue reading.
“Mary described what is going on in Jerusalem and how she plans to come to Antioch. She says she is meeting with Luke. She is telling him her story and the story of Jesus as she has witnessed it. LUKE. Another of the gospel writers. She mentions Thomas and Peter and Miriam. What more treasure is within this papyrus?
Mary said that she is sending for safekeeping certain letters that Jesus wrote. He wrote them “when he was away,” whatever that means.
Once again, I can hardly breathe. I’m looking at the remaining folded papyrus and wondering if letters from the Son of God, are lying on my desk. I have paced the room for many minutes, unable to proceed. I must take a break and get something to eat. Mrs. Whitley has offered to bring food to my room. I need the break. What am I to do with this?”
PART SIX
Indianola, Iowa
Simpson College Library
VI - 1
Rennie leaned back in her chair and took a deep breath. She was limp, but a wry smile formed in her lips. as she read the next entry in Matthias’s journal.
“I am refreshed. Mrs. Whitley is a good cook. I allowed myself a mental break by watching the traffic of people and vehicles in the street from my window. The world looks very different now. My hand has touched the same writings as those who walked with Jesus, even His mother! This has given me a perspective of the world that feels more present and more caring. I don’t understand. It is profound. Now, with trepidation, I will attempt to unfold the next letter. I am frightened to think who the author may be.
It is time to recover so that I may add some notation, even if brief, of this moment in my life. I am so insignificant, even lowly. I am not deserving of this honor. For many minutes, I have been lying on the floor, arms outstretched. I prayed and cried. I cowered against the wall. It is real, and I have no doubt of it.
My fingers, even my breath, brushed lightly across the same fabric as His did. He put His words onto the material, and I have read them. Me. Insignificant me. I am ill with the endeavor; this awesome presence and the responsibility I have assumed. I do not know what to do with this. The next letter in this astounding packet is from Jesus!”
Rennie shot up, knocking her chair backwards against the wall. Her heart raced. She was dizzy for a moment. She pulled off her gloves, grabbed her water bottle, and quickly swallowed all that was in it. Then she hurried to the door and went out to the railing again. She held it tightly and steadied herself. She glanced back at the work room. She was frightened. Looking down the stairway, she noticed that the student behind the checkout desk was watching her. She took some deep breaths and sat on the floor.
In another moment, Angie was standing in front of her. “What happened? Are you okay?” Angie kneeled next to her.
“Rennie, are you sick. Can I get you something?”
Rennie could see Angie’s mouth moving but no words were coming out.
“Get her some water,” Angie said to a student standing nearby. “Rennie, do you want to lie down? It’s okay. What happened?”
Rennie shook her head and said, “No, I just can’t do this. I don’t know what to do. What do I do with this?”
“What?”
The student returned with a plastic cup full of water. Angie helped Rennie stand up.
Rennie took the cup and drank from it, her hand shaking. “Angie, I can’t tell you about this. You have to read it for yourself.”
She went into the work room and pointed at the journal.
Angie walked around the table and scanned the text. “Which entry?”
Rennie placed her finger above the text.
Angie bent over the table and without touching the journal, she began to read. At the end of the passage, she jerked her hand to her mouth. She looked down again at the book, then collapsed into the chair. Rennie slid down the wall and sat on the floor.
The student appeared in the doorway. “Miss McGrady, is there, is there anything I should do?”
Angie waved her away. The door closed behind her. “Does anyone know of this? Rennie, where are these letters?”
Rennie wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her chin on her knees. “I don’t know. I’ve never heard of a letter written by Jesus.”
She looked up at Angie. “Why couldn’t this be a simple story? Professor goes abroad and gets killed by angry husband! Professor slips on banana and falls off bridge. Anything but this. Angie, Professor Justus knows his stuff. He wouldn’t write a bunch of baloney in his own journal.”
Rennie stood up and pointed at the book. “He discovered the most incredible treasure known to humanity. He must have told someone about it, and they killed him for it! That letter is in the hands of the killer of Matthias Justus. Well, now in the hands of the heir of the killer at this point. I can’t stand it. What do we do?”
Angie arose with a determined, almost angry look. “Rarely in life is there a defining moment. There are two ways one can go, back to what we call the normal life, or in the opposite direction, toward something unknown and possibly incredible. Maybe, this is that purpose you have mentioned.”
“Oh, thanks! I wanted to be dicing up the secrets at the Iowa legislature, but oh no! I get to what? I don’t even know how to describe this.”
Now, Angie was smiling. “You know, it just occurred to me. You are the right person at just the right time for this. Rennie, we’ve got to go over there. We’ve got to go to the scene and get the facts. Hey, you said I’d make a good reporter. So, let’s go.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You just asked me what we should do about this. I say, let’s get our butts over there, find out what happened, and find that letter. Do you have something better to do?”
“You know, you are one crazy, wild librarian. You want to go to London and break into the British Museum?”
Rennie pointed at the journal. “You see that? There are a couple of pages left. Maybe he says what happened, at least to the letter. Obviously, he couldn’t make note of how he got killed, but maybe there is something important in there. After that, we can talk about jetting across the pond.”
Angie nodded. “I’m getting online and seeing what I can get for airfare, and I’m going to set a fire under those two interns.”
She nearly jumped for the door. She stopped and turned back. “I don’t know about you, but I feel as though I’ve got a purpose.”
Rennie got up and turned to close the door. At the far end of the library, she saw a man on the opposite side of one of the book racks. He seemed to be watching her between the shelves. She stopped and stared. He removed a book from the shelf and opened it, briefly. Replacing it, he quickly paced down the aisle and out of sight. She thought he might be the man from the bench.
Her heart raced. She stepped out of the room and started toward where he had been. She stopped and glanced at the open door to her work room. Rennie ran back inside, found the key to the room, and locked the door as she left.
She ran down the hall to find the mysterious observer. When she arrived at the location, she discovered another stairway and hurried down it. At the bottom, she could only see a few students. She r
an to the front desk.
“Excuse me, miss,” she said to the intern. “Did you see a man; a man in a suit come by here?”
“Who? A man in a suit?” stammered the young woman.
Her eyes squinted and nose wrinkled as if she smelled something unpleasant. “I don’t think so. I don’t think I saw anyone in a suit.”
She blinked quickly. “Well, he might not have been wearing a suit. I just, I saw this guy who, and he—,” It was Rennie’s turn to fumble for words. “Never mind.”
With heavy legs, Rennie climbed the stairs to the work room. She paused before opening the door, scanning the area for anyone she might consider to be suspicious. She returned to the table and surveyed the room. Everything was as she had left it. She found the gloves, put them on, and then sat down to read.
“It unfolded so easily. I’m not an expert in the art of document preservation, but I would imagine the tightly sealed cedar box and the damp lower level of the museum must have been good for these precious letters.
I laid onto my bed a fresh, linen sheet and have with utmost delicacy placed on it each of the three letters I have examined. The third and most precious of all, is without question from Him. It is to his brother James. The words are loving, guiding, and full of authority. He speaks of His Father, and it is clear he is not speaking of Joseph but of God. The letter is short, and it has a friendly, even brotherly tone.
My transcription is complete, but I have no idea what I will do with this. For now, I must attend to the other, folded documents that remain.
It is now three o’clock in the morning. My body is exhausted, and my mind is vibrating with the reality of what I have just done. The documents in the box from Antioch comprised eight letters. One from Matthew to Mark, one from Mary to the Church in Antioch, and six, SIX! from Him. I cannot even write His name at this point. Six letters from Jesus! Four short ones and two longer ones. All to his brother James. No question. No question at all. They are from Him.”
A breath puffed out of Rennie’s mouth. Her hands gripped the edge of the table as though it might lunge into her. She glared at the text of the journal. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then, she relaxed and found her place in the journal.
“I have not fully transcribed them all but only opened them, so preciously carefully! I reviewed each of them for authorship and a sense of meaning. Here, next to me are letters from the Savior of the world! He is suddenly real and personal to me. Faith, for me was an intellectual exercise, but is now so simple. Knowing Jesus. That says it all. Nothing more is necessary. I’m at peace. I have touched the hand of the Almighty. As Job wrote, “Now my eye beholds thee.” He lives and is personal to me, now and forever. Praise God.
What do I do now? In a few hours, I must sit quietly next to the woman I love in a place that is devoted only to maintaining the past. I have been thrust out of the old and into the new. Nothing needs to be done right now. I shall act as though nothing has happened until I decide how to proceed.”
Several, flowing lines underlined the text in the journal. The next writing was more rigid.
“This has been a strange day at the museum; a day of peace for me amidst chaos. My body was most tired, but my perspective was so unique. It is as though I was an observer and not a participant. Everyone senses it, and Priscilla is angry. She asks me why I am so distant. I held her when I could and told her of my love. She just looked into my eyes as though searching for hidden meaning. She knows my heart and mind are consumed with something.
Warrington and Mort are hovering like vultures. My composure seems to irritate them even more. I noticed them whispering to each other and was amused. Warrington would not even speak to Mort when I first arrived, and now they stick their noses into each other’s ears. It didn’t matter to me. My future holds the revelation of the words of God. Now that I’ve had a brief rest, it is time to transcribe the remaining letters.”
Rennie again found the page in her notebook where she had written about Mort. She added another plus sign behind his name. Then she returned to the last page of writing in the journal.
“Tears have freely flowed down my cheeks in humility, in awe, and in gratefulness. My soul is on its knees before God. I fear that my enlightenment has filled this room with light that poured out the window into the dark world outside.
In His last letter, Jesus plainly said what was to be. He would show the power of God as it was shown at creation. And, He would sacrifice Himself for His love of all and overcome death itself. I read this. Me, here. Holy words.”
Rennie’s mouth slightly opened, and tears ran down her cheeks.
Angie knocked on the work room door and opened it. She went to Rennie and knelt down.
“Hey,” she said. “That’s it for now, my friend.”
“No, I have to finish this. It is glorious beyond words.”
Rennie put her hand on Angie’s shoulder. “For the first time, I feel connected, really connected with God. Deep down, I thought I was a person of faith. You know, I studied scripture when I was young. But it was more of an intellectual thing. Now, I’m so clear, so happy, so hopeful. I knew the facts but missed the person. You must read this, just the last couple of pages. It is a miracle. Right here, these pages are a living miracle. He’s real.”
Angie seemed to be confused.
Rennie’s enthusiasm grew. She sat upright with renewed energy. “You were right. We have to go to London. I don’t know what we’ll find, but I must go there.”
“Okay, but first you need to take a few deep breaths. Okay? Are you alright?”
Rennie nodded.
“Good. The reason I came up here was that I found some smokin’ deals on the Net. We can go right away. I need the break anyway. It’ll be a ‘girls take London’ trip.”
“Do it, Angie. I’ll tell my boss. Do it now. I’ve got to find those letters. Angie, I’ve never been so happy in my entire life!”
“Okay, will you be alright? Can I make the arrangements?”
Rennie nodded again, and then continued to read the journal. She hardly noticed Angie’s departure. The last entries were in front of her.
“All the letters are now transcribed and are safely folded into the delicate bundle from which they came. I look at it and marvel. It is more blessed than any Scripture, any church, any artifact in all the museums in all the world. Here in my room and held in my hands. It is truly the living Word. Thank you again, holy God. His words in my hands.
How incredible, to catch a glimpse of the missing years of Jesus and to read His own prediction of where His ministry would carry Him. He knew it would be to the cross and then triumph. Now, I must devise a way for these precious texts to be discovered and revealed for the world to see. I will pray for that and then sleep. Hopefully, I will awaken with a plan.”
A hard, solid line separated the text from a few, final paragraphs.
“I only have a moment. Warrington has called the police. He must suspect I have taken things, or so he told them. I slipped away from the office to get the letters into the hands of someone to safeguard them. But who? I will go to Lady Jane or even to Worthy. Perhaps, the newspaper. Maybe I should secret them to the Temple. They would treasure them, but would they reveal them? The letters must be made known. Jesus must be revealed as only these letters can.
I left the museum without saying anything to Priscilla. I didn’t have enough time to explain. When I see her, I’ll tell her everything. I’ll ask her forgiveness for my secrecy. I’ll assure her of my undying love. We’ll go home to Iowa and live in joy. Warrington may know I’m gone. I must leave Mrs. Whitley’s, or they’ll find me before I can act. Here it is, the 11th. In just a week, I’ll be going home. My darling will follow. I must accomplish this sacred mission.”
Rennie flipped over the page to look for another entry. There was none. She again read his last entry. Digging through papers,
files, and boxes, she hunted for another journal and found none.
She jumped from the chair and searched through his attaché case, discovering nothing more.
“That’s it. That was it,” she whispered. “The 11th. What happened?”
She fell into the chair.
Angie knocked and entered the room. “You seem spent. Are you done?”
“What do you mean?”
“Did you finish his journals? Is there anything else?”
“That’s a good question. My emotion tank has run dry. I feel finished.” Rennie sighed. “I don’t know what to do next.”
“Any more entries I should read?”
Rennie lightly brushed the surface of the closed journal with her fingertips. “It’s all in here. The most important part is at the very end.”
She opened the book to the last two pages and laid it in front of Angie.
After a few moments of reading, Angie gasped and glanced at Rennie. “Oh, dear,” she sighed. “Oh!” she nearly shouted. “Oh, no. Can it be? I didn’t understand. How can this be?” Angie muttered. “Does anyone know about this? I’ve never heard of these letters.”
“The last entry was the 11th. Was that when he died? What happened? Did someone kill him to get the letters?”
Rennie pressed her fingertips into her temples. “I’m on overload. I cannot process another question. It’s too overwhelming.”
Angie snorted a teary laugh. “If you think this is overwhelming, I just booked us on a flight to London the day after tomorrow. We got a four-day package; flight and hotel. I can’t afford it, but after reading this, it doesn’t matter.”
Rennie stared at her. She blinked as she tried to comprehend what her friend just said.
Angie got up. “Well, we had better start putting this stuff away.”
She moved a few things, and then stopped and looked at her hands. “I guess I need gloves. Besides, I don’t know what’s yours and what goes in the archives. I’ll leave it to you.”
She snorted another laugh. “We’d better start packing for London.”