Thus, when Lazarus and Mary again searched me out, I agreed to help. Together we worked to bring down Archbishop Arnulf of Rheims – yet once more our efforts proved wrong.
After that fiasco I rebelled and delved further to Gnosticism – actually becoming a leader in the Cathar faith.
Here I am performing one of the Cathar rites – to the horror of some Benedictine monks
From about 1050 to 1235 AD I travelled all over Europe under a variety of identities and even wrote a number of Cathar texts, including The Gospel of the Secret Supper— that heretical book that Mary mentioned previously. But, after Pope Gregory IX’s Inquisition, I just didn’t feel like fighting The Church anymore.
For two centuries after that I traveled through The Middle East and eventually made my way to India – where I lived in peace for over 150 years.
Nothing that important happened while I was in India and I neither contended against my fate nor accepted it, I simply just existed, and looking back, I can honestly say that this was probably the most peaceful time in my life.
Eventually, for reasons I still don’t know, I found myself back in Europe around the mid 1400’s. And by the end of that century I had created another new identity that would become fairly well known: Paracelsus – another master alchemist.
One of the many books on alchemy I wrote as Paracelsus
I’ll admit now that it was the sin of Pride that led me back to alchemy – always trying to do that which God would not: take my own life.
I lived as Paracelsus until the mid 1500’s and under that identity I wrote a number of books on alchemy and medicine, including my famous Alchemical Catechism.
The latter part of the Sixteenth Century saw me travel to North America – where I was content to work my way around the new American colonies as a travelling doctor, curing both settler and native alike.
Those were hard years from a physical standpoint, but rewarding in a strange sense that I still can’t put my finger on. Interestingly enough, in that lawless setting, I was murdered on the road more than once, but this was nothing new in my life, as I had long since grown accustomed to experiencing those little snatches of death – unfortunately (like always) I eventually woke up.
I know, I know, it all sounds so far-fetched, but trust me, it’s all true. Unfortunately the whole Weishaupt-Washington conspiracy is a rather LONG story and I don’t have time to tell it here. I’d suggest you read up on some Illuminati history and learn about that coup for yourself – it will blow your mind.
In any case, after I helped George (nee Adam) fake his own death in 1799, I moved back to Europe with him to help him (as Adam W.) take this Illuminati secret society underground so it could really do some work.
Unfortunately Adam betrayed me and had me exiled from his little club!
But no worries because when Mary and Lazarus came to me in the late 1820’s with a theory that Adam was the Antichrist, I was all too happy to help them get rid of him! (Payback is a bitch, huh, Adam?)
Let me stop for a moment – does any of this even interest you?
I suppose I should have asked that first.
Well, I’m just about done, so we might as well finish…
In the early 1940’s, my friends became so passionate that Hitler was The Beast, that I too got caught up with them. But, alas, as with all our previous attempts, our Commission was a sham.
And so I lost myself to the world once more.
Returning to my roots, I called myself John Salom and decided to throw it all to pot and retire to an obscure part of the northeastern United States – Williamsport, Pennsylvania.
It’s kind of in the middle of nowhere and that’s a good thing
And, even though I dabbled again as a Brother, for the most part, I used my obscurity to focus on The Great Work.
To be honest, right now I didn’t know what to make of the situation because it appeared The Pope was now openly reveling in the deaths of millions of people!
Alan too was appalled. “How dare you?”
“Oh come off it, man.” Benedict scoffed. “Don’t be a baby. You’ve seen Miriam’s Book of Life. You’ve read your friend John’s Revelation. You know that the wheat must be separated from the chaff. Yes, even among my own Catholic flocks there are many who are not worthy of the coming of our Lord.” And pounding his fists on his desk, “You know that He is not coming back as a Lamb this time, but as a Lion — to cleanse this world of Sin once and for all. Yes, many will perish – and rightly so! Let the evil doers be cast into the Fiery Pit, I say, for that is their destiny!”
Here Pope Joe took a moment to catch his breath, and after a pause, he said in a normal voice, “But, don’t worry, all is not lost. Those of us who are The Chosen will survive and be glorified with Our Lord. That includes you two as well. You have nothing to fear.”
(Gee, that makes me feel so much better – NOT!)
“Just the same,” Miriam grumbled, “You could have done a better job of informing us of your plans.”
“Point well made, dear. Nonetheless, you now know.”
“OK. So what now?” Alan asked.
“Simple – we ensure December 21st goes according to OUR plans.”
Here Miriam stole a glance at Alan – a fact that did not go unnoticed by Joseph who proudly advised, “The whole world is anticipating Chief Rabbi Yona Metzger’s December 21 celebration in Jerusalem. For the first time in thousands of years, our planet will see a peaceful union between Christians, Jews, and Muslims!”
“But do you really believe this is possible?” Alan questioned.
“What? Pshaw – not a chance!” Benedict waved a hand and relaxed back into his chair. “The ceremony is a sham anyway – it’s a bigger farce than Covid. Bates isn’t going to Metzger’s event out of some misguided social calling, but instead to reveal himself to the world – as The Beast!”
“But, Your Grace, if that’s true,” Alan proceeded with caution, “then why would YOU want to be there?”
And Miriam added, “Don’t you realize that Bates plans to kill both you and Metzger? Are you trying to martyr yourself?”
“Of course not.” The Pope laughed long at that. “Do you think I don’t know the man Ma’bus’ plans? The Beast must destroy Peter’s Rock in order to unleash Hell – at least that’s what he thinks will happen. But what he doesn’t know is that I have my own plans.” And he let the bait hang enticingly.
“So where do my friends and I fit into your plans?” Alan broke the silence. “Are we supposed to be present at the ceremony too?”
Miriam was clearly appalled that Alan would so flippantly reveal secret information. However, she was likely more shocked to hear Joe’s reply.
“Don’t worry – you need not be present.” The Pope explained, as if a parent to his children. “If you’ll simply listen to what I’m trying to tell you then you’ll realize that I have a way to save you from the Armageddon Rite! In fact, it’s one of the reasons I am so happy to see you today – to tell you, and Mary, and yes even John – that you have fulfilled your duties. My friends, your mission is over!”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Miriam was annoyed at The Pope’s patronizing tone.
“Just this,” Joseph overlooked Miriam’s insult. “For two thousand years you three have been the pillar of stability – working long and hard to protect Jesus’ Nails. The world thanks you for it. I thank you for it. However, you need not guard The Nail’s any longer. It is time to give them to me.”
(Ah, that gambit again, Joe?)
“I’m not sure I agree.” Miriam said softly, eyes narrowed.
“It just doesn’t make sense.” Alan added.
Joe measured his words, “On the contrary, it makes perfect sense. Consider that John the Baptist had the duty to prepare the way of the Lord. And when the time of destiny arrived – when he met Jesus – John was faced with a choice: hang on to his fame and reject the Lord as his replacement, or understand it was time for History to move ahead. As you know John made the right choice – and went down in history as one of the greatest prophets of all time. In the end, his life was viewed as the bridge between the sorrows of the Old Testament and the hope of the New Testament. And yet, what would have happened had John had not let Jesus take center stage?”
(Now that’s an interesting thought. So you’re telling me that MY mission was merely to be a time wasting lackey all this time? That’s great, just great).
“And so that brings us to you.” Joe continued. “Like John, you are a bridge to the future – in this case, you are the bridge between the New Testament and The Rapture. The question is, will you acc—“
“Wait!” Miriam interrupted. “Why didn’t Gabriel tell me any of this?”
“He told ME, dear.” The Pope averred. “Remember, your time has passed. I know that sounds harsh, but given the dire circumstances we don’t have time to mince words. As The Rock of Peter — as Christ’s chosen representative mind you — I am the One whose destiny is NOW. Again, I am grateful beyond measure for the diligent duty you three have fulfilled. But, you must recognize MY place — I am The Deliverer.”
And rising up from his chair, Joseph Ratzinger proclaimed, “Even if I am all alone, I will stand in the breach against The Beast!! But, I can’t fulfill MY duty – I can’t bring about the Deliverance of Our Lord — unless you first acquiesce to me. In the end, it’s a final test of faith – will you trust in your own designs or will you allow The Lord’s work to be done?”
Mouths agape in disbelief, neither Alan nor Miriam could respond. Sensing his victory was secure, The Pope pushed for a quick close, “Mary, in the vision that John told you about, who is the one to destroy this Ma’bus?”
(Whoa, hold on there, cowboy – how in the Hell did YOU know about that?!?)
Head bowed, Miriam answered, “You.”
“And how did I accomplish this? By what instruments?”
There was a long pause but at last Miriam whispered, “With our Nails.”
“That settles it. So, I will ask you again – will you deliver m–”
“Just a minute here!” Alan stalled. “With all due respect, Your Grace, there is still a most important point that has remained a mystery – pardon my pun – but if you really want to confirm our trust, help us to understand your connection to Teri Abbracciavento. Why are you mixed up with Mystery?”
Joe was visibly taken aback by that question, but as usual, he had an explanation, “Why, I’m surprised that you don’t know the answer already.”
“We don’t.” Miriam grated. “Please enlighten us.”
“It’s simple really. I am using Teri as a double agent against the man Ma’bus.” By now The Pope had recovered his smugness and seemed to enjoy telling about his spy games. “It has always been a given that Mystery worked for The Beast – after all, that is her destiny. But, like a fool, Bates overplayed his hand – sending Mystery to me as a self-proclaimed traitor. Did he really think I would fall for such a ruse? Sure, I let Mystery play her games with me,” and here he looked away in thought, before catching himself, “but only to a point mind you! The fact of the matter is this – Teri has given me valuable information about Bates; and best of all, she believes that I don’t know about her duplicitous dealings.”
“So, in essence, Teri is a double double agent?” Alan was confused.
“Verily — she wants me to think she is working for me as a double agent against Dr. Ma’bus, even though she is still secretly working FOR him – or at least she believes she is. In reality, I’m not sure that Teri really knows WHO holds her true allegiance.”
(But how does JOE know all this???)
“That’s quite a game of reverse psychology.” Miriam grinned — clearly enjoying the vision of a much confused Mystery.
“Well, I do have some small experience in that field.” Joe smiled with Miriam. But turning serious, he re-directed, “Let’s stop stalling. About those Nails…”
Once more Alan and Miriam looked at each other – both still unsure. At last, in his frustration, The Pope reached down to his desk and picked up the small package that Cardinalate Marrollo had delivered to him, “Does your silence have anything to do with THIS?”
Miriam’s eyes lit up at the sight of the scroll, yet before she could comment, Joe had slashed the wax seal and began to read aloud.
As The Pope read Marrollo’s scroll, I watched Miriam work hard to control her emotions — even though I could not read her thoughts, I could tell that her mind was literally screaming…
I watched as Alan and Miriam were led as prisoners through the secret corridors of the Vatican underworld. After his brutal beating, Alan was nearly unconscious, while Miriam’s face was the picture of confusion. It seemed clear to me that she didn’t recognize Cardinalate Marrollo — and the fact that his mind had earlier repelled her Psychic Probemust have been disconcerting indeed.
Was she perplexed by a man who was addressed as ‘His Majesty’ and yet was clearly not the Pope?
Cardinalate Marrollo
Who was this gang of monks willing to do his every bidding – up to and including brutal violence?
Most importantly, how could she and Alan escape?
Whatever Miriam might have thought, I had no way of knowing, and before she had time to figure out how to escape, suddenly Marrollo turned around in front of a service elevator and announced, “Benedict awaits.”
As it turned out, Pope Benedict XVI was indeed waiting for the prisoners in the conservatory of his private residence. And when Marrollo and his masked crew walked in, I noticed the smile on Joseph’s unmasked face – it was the picture of a certain underlying hunger he was unable to contain.
“Excellent…”
(Hmm, Joe was clearly eager to learn more about the intruders, but did he really care about secret treasures they’d allegedly stolen or was it something more… sinister?)
“So, who are our grave robbers?” The Pope asked casually, but when the group of monks separated to reveal their prisoners, Joe immediately changed his tone, “Get out — all but Marrollo and the prisoners!” When they hesitated he arose, “The Curse of the Angel of Death be upon you if you all don’t leave my presence this very instant!”
The priests hurried out of the room, the fear of God speeding their exit. Meanwhile, Miriam was left to try to help Alan get mask back on and then get into one of the chairs to rest, after which she stood silent, waiting.
As for Marrollo, although I couldn’t see his visage behind the mask, he seemed fairly unfazed as he approached the Pope. “I found this on the woman.” And here his left hand emerged from his robes as he handed over a small scroll.
(Now for some reason I had a fleeting thought that something was off about the way that Marrollo had just handed over his prize to Joe, yet before I could consider further the inkling was lost).
Marrollo added, “I have fulfilled my duties. You have the prisoners and that which they sought. I leave the remainder of the matter to you.”
Joseph looked long at the Cardinalate, before finally nodding his ascent. With the Pope’s approval, Marrollo turned around and left – without a further glance at his captives.
(Strange man, huh?)
Once they were alone, Joseph turned towards Miriam and Alan, “Do my eyes deceive me? Is it really you? Darling, you can remove that silly mask here, don’t you remember the Covid Rules don’t apply here.”
“I feel more comfortable with it on, thank you, Your Grace.” Miriam replied guardedly.
“Suit yourself. But I must say – how pleasant it is when brothers and sisters come together in unity, right?” Joseph smiled, but then, remembering the circumstances, “But what happened? You know you have full reign of my city; why would you ever need to sneak around behind my back? Unless… do you no longer trust ME?”
“No, it’s not that.” Miriam lied. “Well, you see, it’s just that… what we had to do… er, it didn’t really involve…”
“Enough!” The Pope slammed his fist.
“Let’s cut to the heart of the matter.” Pope Benedict continued. “The real reason you are here is… the time is now.” And before Miriam could reply, he added, “The Beast is Bill Bates in the form of Ghaz al’ Ridwan Ma’bus and we all know it.”
(Is it? I honestly don’t know anymore).
Miriam looked over at Alan who appeared to have recovered. Sitting up in his chair, ALan flashed a wink to Miriam, then nodded to The Pope.
“I can see that you agree.” Joe concluded
“But, why do YOU agree, Your Grace?” Alan asked.
“Lazarus, how can you doubt that I would be informed about this situation? Why, ensuring The Second Coming is a matter of state around here. Come now, I represent an entire world of believers. The tapestry of history that my Catholic children have lived surely rivals what you, Mary, and John have done – despite your long lives.” And then, as if realizing it for the first time, “But wait, where is John?”
“He chose not to come, Your Grace.” Alan explained sadly. “We still hold out hope that he will join us, but his participation is very much in question. You see, John is experiencing a period of doubt.”
“We all have our doubts. Frankly, I’m a bit upset with you for not coming to me sooner – it made me doubt the intelligence I’d received proclaiming BAVI, er, Bates as The Beast — for I knew that Satan’s son would not emerge with you three idling in the background. Do you realize that your hesitation has allowed the man calling himself Dr. Ma’bus extra time to secure his place?” And looking at Miriam he grumbled, “How many lives have been lost in your Book of Life?”
Miriam avoided his glance, “You know the final number is only 144,000. It cannot be avoided. And we are not there yet.”
“Then why do you cry about it? It is what it is. We all have our part to play and some of us will be required to die for the cause – that’s why it’s called ‘sacrifice.’ All that matters is the End Game.” And, with a snicker the Pope added, “Ah, but don’t worry about your own hesitation — because I have not been so idle. In fact, I’ve been orchestrating events behind the scenes and playing our moves to perfection. As a result, the outcome is inevitable – why Kasparov himself couldn’t have played a better game!”
Confident in his plans, Benedict said encouragingly, “Buck up, friends, keep your eye on the prize and remember what we’re playing for — our Lord is about to return! And WE are responsible for making it happen!”
(Is Joe really one of the Good Guys or is he just playing us?)
“Excuse us if we don’t quite share your exuberance.” Alan replied. “The game is not over, thus the outcome is far from certain.”
“It’s called ‘Faith,’ my friends. Try it for a change.” And before they could dispute him, Joe spoke on, “In any event, the fact of the matter is that Bates IS The Beast, the time IS now, and WE are responsible for stopping him.” And after the briefest of pauses to lick his lips, “Am I to assume that you have The Nails with you?”
(Oh, Joe, you sly dog!)
Miriam’s gaze fell into her lap, and Alan stuttered to reply, “We don’t have all three Nails anymore. Ah, er… Dr. Ma’bus… has mine.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry. How did it happen?” The Pope was clearly fishing.
All the while Joe listened as if hearing the information for the first time.
(He is such a good actor – I guess it goes with the office).
In case you’re wondering, there was no point for Miriam to try her Psychic Probe on the Pope — this wasn’t the first time she and Joe had crossed paths – like me, she had known him for many years prior to his ascension to the papal throne. I remember one of her letters from a while back (one that I actually read) in which she described meeting an unusual clergyman whose mind was closed to her. In the letter, she warned Alan and I to keep an eye on this priest named Joseph Ratzinger. I didn’t pay it much mind back then (this was perhaps 50 years ago), but I guess Miriam’s inclination was right. And yet, I’m sure that, as she sat before him on this day, she was more than a little bitter than she couldn’t sift through the Pope’s mental fibers to find out if he was really a friend or a foe.
Just then I realized that I hadn’t been paying attention to the conversation…
“…see that you agree.” Joseph was saying. “But what I don’t understand is where are Mary and John’s Nails?”
“They are safe.” Miriam averred.
“Well, let me see them.”
“We don’t have them on us.”
“That’s preposterous! Considering what happened with Alan’s Nail, I should think that you would have them strapped to your side. Come. Come. No lies. I know you have them, let’s see them.”
“Miriam speaks the truth.” Alan said. “Don’t worry, they are safe.”
“As safe as your Budapest bank vault? Alan. Mary. I have known you my whole life. I don’t understand what has happened between us. Why do you doubt me now? What have I done to make you think I am not who I really am?”
(Well for starters, Joe, you’ve been hanging around with Mystery. And you’re an open supporter of Ma’bus. And then there was my dream about you actually killing Ma’bus!)
“It’s not you,” Miriam began.
“Oh don’t you dare try to give me the it’s not you, it’s me speech.” The Pope interrupted. “I think you owe me a little more than that.”
“What do you want us to say?” Alan squirmed.
“I want the truth!” Joseph’s face grew red with anger.
“Then what would YOU do if you were in our position?” Miriam’s anger matched The Pope’s. “Why are you surprised if we are hesitant about you if all we see of you in the public eye is you palling around with Bates?” And with even more passion, “Joseph, surely you know that your actions are driving people around the world to follow this man Ma’bus – yet to us it seems as if they were merely sheep being led to the slaughter!”
“Ah, but most of them are.” The Pope was grinning from ear to ear and his eyes were suddenly blazing with fire.
(What? Joe, say it ain’t so? Are you revealing yourself as The Beast?!?)
Bored out of my mind, at last I watched as Alan followed Miriam out of the cubby they’d been hiding in and back into the wooden stall they started from yesterday, and then out from there and into the Chapel of the Choir at St. Peter’s Basilica. Once more they were masked, gloved, and wearing their Covid QR Passes.
Miriam took a quick walk to the chapel’s entrance and, when she felt comfortable that the coast was clear, she motioned Alan to follow. I watched as they blended into a nearby tour group that was on its way to the piazza. Here Alan took a deep breath and then proceeded forward.
Unfortunately his happy attitude was short lived – for as the tour group began leaving the atrium to exit the basilica, he and Miriam were suddenly awash in a new wave of people – a group of masked monks who surrounded them and, covertly yet forcibly, moved my friends towards the Patio of Saint Gregory the Illuminator.
“The 4 Monks” by Rinaldi
“What’s going on?” Alan asked the clergymen holding his arms.
“Resistance is futile.” One of the priests replied stoically, as he and his rank continued to maneuver their captives into an elevator.
“But we’ve already seen The Dome.” Miriam protested, still playing the part of tourist.
“Don’t worry, madam,” the same priest spoke again, “you’re not going Up.”
And with that, he inserted a key into the elevator panel and and caused the lift to go in a direction the public never went – Down.
“Oh joy,” Alan quipped, “yet another secret locale. I’ve had about enough of all this covert maneuvering for one day.”
None of the monks replied to that comment, but soon enough the ride was over and the priests forced their prey out into a dim corridor.
“Kneel!” The lead monk barked. “Kneel before The Hand of God!”
(Ah, that’s a bit over dramatic, don’t you think?)
From out of nowhere a menacing figure emerged – his presence oozing of an ancient <power>.
He was a mass of black robes – layers of heavy fabric obscuring his true form; and curiously enough, his face was hidden by a venetian mask – a full-face Carne Ricci, with golden highlights around the curved mouth, raised eyebrows, black fabric folds pluming out in all directions above the mask’s forehead, and pearls to outline the trim work. (Like all other face masks, it was more for show than for protection against any virus, but at least the Carne Ricci didn’t claim to be anything other than it actually was).
The person wearing the mask was none other than Cardinalate Giovanni Marrollo – the new Confuto Penitentiary of The Vatican
(Oh no, not this crazy mite again).
The cascade of robes that graced the macabre figure made it seem as if he were gliding over the walkway towards Alan and Miriam, and he didn’t stop his approach until he was nearly on top of them.
I saw suddenly Miriam blanch white and guessed that she had just tried using her Psychic Probe but was repelled – clearly not a good omen.
“Don’t look up to your superior, dog!” Their clergyman captor yelled, while his cohorts forced Alan and Miriam to bow their heads.
At last, the mystery man spoke, “I believe you have something that belongs to me?” And he held out his hand to Miriam.
Miriam kept her head down. “I don’t know what you’re talk—“
<SMACK!> One of the monks struck Alan with a vicious slap, knocking off his mask and sending him to the ground in a heap. Before Alan could yelp out in pain, his attacker laid into him with multiple kicks to the midsection while the other monks struggled to hold him open to more blows – and all the while Marrollo looked upon the scene in stoic silence.
“STOP!” Miriam screamed. “STOP!!” She shook an arm free in order to reach into her pocket and pull out the Doomsday Missive.
“Ah, good.” The mystery man said as he accepted the scroll Miriam held out to him. “I was afraid you were going to make me ask you twice. That would not have turned out well for your friend here.”
For his part, Alan was trying hard to catch his breath as he struggled to put back on his mask. The side of his face was torn, his ear on that side was puffy and red, and I wouldn’t be surprised if one of his ribs was broken from those vicious kicks. Nonetheless, it was the look of dejection on his face that caught me most – disappointed to see that Miriam had just given up the object they had worked so hard to retrieve.
Meanwhile Marrollo cast but a glance at the scroll, and quickly pulled it into the overhanging sleeve of his right arm. “Well and good. Shall we?”
“Where are we going?” Miriam asked, as the guards forced them up.
<SMASH!> At a signal from the robed man, one of the monks pummeled Alan with a right cross to the jaw – buckling the professor’s knees and throwing his mask askew again.
Marrollo turned back to address Miriam, “I’d prefer that you not speak unless spoken to. But, since I was of a mind to tell you the answer to that question anyway, I’ll respond – after all, there is only one thing to do with you…” And he let the thought hang invitingly.
Luckily for Alan’s sake, Miriam didn’t take the bait and after it became obvious that she was not going to speak up – and thus give the monks a chance to further abuse Alan.
At last the cardinal snickered, “I see that you learn quickly. In any event, you’ve been caught stealing priceless artifacts and the penalty for that offense is death.” And here he paused again, as if he had something distasteful in his mouth, before he continued with a sigh. “Nonetheless, only the Pope can deliver the verdict. And unfortunately it won’t be my puppet Francis; instead you’ll be taken to Benedict immediately so he can pronounce your fate.” Then in a more chipper tone, “After that, you’ll be given back to Friar James and his crew. They will oversee your… execution.”
The Sight continued for me as I saw that the small room that Alan and Miriam had emerged into.
By the look on Alan’s unmasked face I could tell that it wasn’t exactly what he had expected to find. (And I had to agree with him).
“It looks like an olde world safe deposit box room.” Alan was confused. “This is the sacred crypt of La Papessa?
“Well, your description is not far from the truth.” Miriam replied still wearing that damned Nano Mask.
The walls of the room were filled with a multitude of small openings, each covered with a now-corroded iron door – these were the safe deposit boxes Alan had referred to — and nearly every inch seemed to have such a box built in.
“Hmm. Although this was a nice touch,” Alan joked, “it’s well known that during medieval times locksmithing technology was not all that secure. I can’t imagine this would do much to keep out a determined thief.”
“Take a closer look.” Miriam flashed the light over a block of the boxes. “As you can see, each door has multiple locking systems – to include a spring loaded bolt, interlocking wards on the case, and a padlock. Also notice that each door has no less than seven key-holes – this is significant, because for each box only one keyhole provides access to the interior – choose any of the incorrect key holes, and the final security measure is triggered.”
“What’s that?”
“A small capsule is stored within each of the incorrect keyholes. If their wards are moved, the capsule will be punctured – causing trace amounts of sulfur, naphtha, and quicklime to be released inside the box.”
“Wait,” Alan interrupted. “That combination of chemicals is known as Greek Fire and it’s highly combustible! I recall John telling me how he helped the Byzantines perfect its use in the 7th century to help defend Constantinople from attacking Arabs.”
Alan’s little history lesson is true – WE smoked those Arab attackers!
Pondering further, Alan added, “Miriam, do you realize that if a liquid fire like that was released into such a small space it would burn indefinitely, becoming so pressurized, that if and when the doorway ever was opened, the Greek Fire would explode outwards, scorching the intruder!”
(Wow, I’m pretty impressed).
“The consequence of an errant deed.” Miriam confirmed, unmoved.
“But what about the treasures inside? They would be burned up too.”
“Only one box actually has anything inside — the one containing my letter from La Papessa.” And here she moved over towards the left hand wall and placed her hand on the door to one of the boxes. “As you can see, this door is still intact, thus my letter is safe.”
“But, what if an intruder had pried at the locks on your box and failed?” Alan was still incredulous at the security system that Miriam and Pope Joan had devised. “Your letter would be gone.”
“That would have been just as well. After all, I know what it says. Remember, we are here to ensure that no one else does.” And before Alan could remark again, she continued. “Time is running short. The Sacra Crypta we stand in now is located exactly under where the old altar of Saint Stephen’s used to be. It is now time for us to retrieve that which La Papessa locked inside.” And she reached into her blouse and pulled out a chain, revealing a small key – one that she then used to unlock the padlock.
<Click!> the device opened.
Miriam then proceeded to turn the dials necessary to unlock the various tumblers that released multiple bolts in turn. Finally she used the same key that opened the padlock and plunged it into one of the seven keyholes – the third from the left. Miriam turned the key a full rotation, only to cause the tumblers to fall in line with a <HIIIiiiisssss…>
At the sound, Alan pulled Miriam backwards, “Greek Fire!”
Yet Miriam shrugged him off, “Don’t worry. My efforts were correct, that was just a small bit of air trapped inside.” With full confidence, she proceeded to open the portal. “This box has been locked for centuries… until today.”
Alan watched as Miriam reached inside the box and pulled out a small scroll – although it was tiny and non-descript, he did not make the mistake of underestimating its importance, “The Doomsday Missive. Can I finally see it?”
“There’s no time.” Miriam stuffed the scroll into her blouse and began looking all around the room, as if expecting something to happen.
“What do you mean no time?” Alan queried.
Just then, the floor began to <Rumble>.
“Get ready!” Miriam called out above the increasing din.
And as soon as she said it, the floor tilted down, giving way beneath them and sending them falling into the darkness below!
“YAWWW!” Alan screamed as the floor of the Sacra Crytpa gave way, causing he and Miriam to land with a <THUD> in the pitch black below.
“Some ride!” Miriam called out. “Are you alright, Alan?”
“Sure. But some advance warning would have been nice. Miriam, I can’t see a thing. How do we get out of this mess?”
“Easy.” Miriam flicked on her lighter again. “Just go up those stairs.”
Now that I could see too, it appeared my friends were in a rough hewn cavern; the location where they dropped from above was once more closed off and there was apparently no other way to go, except up the stairs Miriam just illuminated (how convenient, eh?)
And so, with Miriam leading the way, the pair trudged upwards. After a short while they reached a small landing – yet this too appeared to end in a blank wall.
“So where does this secret doorway take us?” Alan joked.
“I think you’ll be amused at this one.” Miriam reached high on the right wall and pushed in the release mechanism for this portal.
“Wait a second.” Alan hissed as the door opened. “This is the hidden cove behind the wooden stall in the Chapel of the Choir! But, Miriam, why in the world did we go through that escapade to get to the Sacra Crypta if we could have just walked down a flight of stairs? What are you trying to do to me? If I didn—“
“Alan, dear, what good would it have done to go down these stairs? How would you have gotten into the Sacra Crypta? The trap door ceiling can only be released from inside the Sacra Crypta.”
“So, you’re telling me that had we, or anyone, gone down this stairwell from the Chapel of the Choir it would have been to no avail?”
“The only thing you would have discovered would have been that empty chamber below. There is no way to get into the Sacra Crypta — except by that which we traversed.”
“I see.” Alan said through pursed lips, perhaps not yet ready to let Miriam off the hook for the ordeal he just went through. “Well, what now?”
“First let’s don our disguises.” Miriam began putting on her tourist clothes once more. “Then, we wait till the basilica officially opens again.”
Unfortunately for me, my vision did not allow me to skip ahead this time – instead I had to keep a vigil with them.
Time passed by slowly (for all of us) as they waited in that cramped room.
It’s at times like this that I lament not being able to enjoy a good stiff drink while watching these visions. Quite frankly I never understood why He didn’t allow me this little concession – what harm could it have caused? Hell, had I been able to drink a few brews I’d have been much more willing to endure these revelations over the millennia.
Rather than fall backwards into the pit, Alan somehow managed to throw himself forward – he then careened down into Miriam and sent them both rolling in a pile down the remaining steps.
“Ouch!” Miriam tried to catch her breath as they came to a stop on the damp stones at the bottom of the steps.
“Sorry,” Alan rolled off of Miriam, removing his masks as he gasped for breath. Then looking back at the chasm he asked. “How are we going to get back out? There’s no way we can make that leap back UP those missing steps – if any steps are still there.”
“No time for that. We’ve got to keep moving.” Miriam got up and raced ahead, following the only path available – a sharp curve to the left.
This cave was level – yet even more slippery than before because of a slimy mildew that clung to the rocks. Eventually they came to yet another triple fork. Miriam again chose to go left, yet the cobwebs filling this doorway were so thick she actually had to use her flame to burn them away.
Nonetheless, when they entered the next cavern, not only were the walls narrow, but worse yet the ceiling grade sloped in upon them and after just a few paces, Alan was forced to bend down further and further until eventually he was crawling, “Are we almost there?”
The masked Miriam didn’t reply, but instead pressed ahead.
Crawling on hands and knees, at last she wriggled her way through a tiny opening and then called back, “Don’t worry, I can stand up – this room is larger. Come on.”
Yet when she flashed the light back to give Alan a view, he panicked upon seeing that the opening was the size of a watermelon.
“I can’t do it!” Alan began to hyperventilate even without his mask on. “I’ll get stuck.”
“You CAN do it. Just stick your right arm and head through first, then I will pull you the rest of the way.”
Alan hesitated. For nearly a candlemark he refused to move, regardless of Miriam’s encouragements.
At last Miriam reached her limits and not even trying to mask her frustration she growled, “Would you rather just stay where you are and have me go on without you?”
That’s all it took to get Alan to move. Closing his eyes, he began squeezing into the hole before him…
Only to get himself stuck!
Alan wriggled.
He writhed.
He huffed and puffed, and all the while the rocks tore into his clothes and scratched at the flesh beneath.
Yet no matter what, he couldn’t get through. “ARRRGH! I’m going to die here.”
“Hush, you’re not going to die.” Miriam tried to calm Alan as he remained stuck in the cave. “You can’t die. Remember?”
“But that’s even worse!” Alan whined. “I’ll be stuck here forever.”
“Sshh. Just give me a moment to think.” After a pause, Miriam joked, “Well, look on the bright side, after a couple months, you’ll lose a few pounds and maybe you can squeak through then.”
“Not funny. Just get me out.”
Miriam stood for a moment more, and then came up with an idea. “Close your eyes.” Then after taking a deep breath, she kicked hard three times against the edge of the portal under Alan’s arm which was sticking through on her side – the rock cracked! After a more kicks, large chunks fell away – making the opening wide enough for Alan to push his way through.
“Thank you, Jesus!” Alan gasped, trying to regain his senses.
He and Miriam were now in another antechamber – and although it was only about five feet by six feet, and Alan still had to stoop a bit, this place must have seemed like a coliseum compared to the suffocating corridor he just came from.
“Don’t worry.” Miriam advised. “The rest of the way should be no problem. Er, assuming that nothing else has changed.”
“Hrmpf.” Alan clenched his teeth. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Miriam took the only way available – a sharp turn to the right – followed this a short way, but then suddenly she stopped.
“What’s the matter?” Alan asked.
Miriam held up the light before her – revealing a blank wall.
“Did we take a wrong turn?” Alan asked anxiously, surely feeling the weight of the earth above him and dreading a return back towards that tiny hole. Yet before the phobia took further hold of him, Miriam bent forward and pushed at the lower right corner of the wall, causing the stones to grate apart.
“Ah good, another wall that moves.” Alan remarked casually — no longer surprised to see that Miriam had found yet another secret cavern.
“This is it – The Sacra Crypta.” Miriam rejoiced. “We found it – praise God!”
(Well, this should be interesting – even I don’t know what to expect now…)
Time shifted in my vision and and I now saw Alan and Miriam leave their hiding spot.
I guessed that it was probably sometime after midnight since the church was now deserted.
As for my friends, they were now dressed in black clothing, having ditched their bright tourist garb within the choir stall. Both wore black Nano Masks (although I guessed that Alan did so more because he wanted to impress Miriam than because he thought it was necessary against Covid).
“It’s after hours, security is tight.” Miriam whispered through her mask. “I can sense a number of the guards’ minds who are patrolling on foot, as well as those operating cameras. I’ll do my best to direct their thoughts elsewhere, but you must only move when I say so and only go where I tell you to. We have one chance at this. May the Lord be with us!”
Alan merely nodded, yet if he thought they would get moving immediately he was wrong – for Miriam merely stood in place without moving and her eyes became unfocused as her mind turned inward.
After long moments, I could tell Alan was getting more and more worried, yet just as he was getting ready to poke at Miriam, suddenly she hissed, “Now. Follow me. Quickly!”
I managed but a brief glance at one of the mosaics that I’d always found to be a curious edition to the Basilica’s collection – for Cristoforo Roncalli’s altarpiece representing the punishment of Ananias and Sapphira from Acts, Chapter Five was certainly NOT the most heartwarming of scenes – after all, Peter was quite unforgiving to that pair, wasn’t he? Nonetheless, Miriam didn’t give me much time to ponder that mystery, and instead she drove Alan behind the altar and right up to the massive mosaic, then she took her gloved thumb and pressed hard into the left eye of Sapphira – immediately a bottom section of the right arch clicked open – revealing another secret chamber!
(Now that’s interesting — even I wasn’t aware of this secret spot).
Miriam pushed Alan into the cramped darkness, “Ssssh! They’re coming.” And she pulled fast the portal behind her.
<Click. Clop. Click.> Roving footfalls sounded in the hallway.
Both of my friends held their breath, knowing that if the guard used his 5G sensors their Identichips would give away their positions.
<CLOP. CLOP.> The steps paused just outside the altar.
Seconds ticked anxiously by, until at last, <CLOP. Click. Click. Click.> The guard moseyed away.
Breathing a sigh of relief (a rather stupid gesture inside her mask) Miriam flicked her lighter, igniting a yellow glow and revealing that they were not just in a small stall like back in the Chapel of the Choir, but instead in a long hallway – one that led down into the darkness…
“Watch your step.” Miriam advised. “The way is narrow and the stone steps are centuries old. I’d move ahead of you, but there’s no room.”
She spoke the truth on that last, for Alan had to walk sideways in order to squeeze through the hallway – the ragged stones snagging at his clothes.
After they had descended about twenty stairs, the way leveled off, and after another ten paces, Miriam directed, “Stop here.”
The hallway had reached a triple doorway, giving Miriam the opportunity to take the lead. After choosing the far left door and going down more stairs, they were presented with a new set of doorways – here she went straight ahead. Another ten paces, another set of caves – another left and another stairway.
All the while both of my foolish friends had continued to wear their face masks (despite nobody else around and despite the fact that, as immortals, they were immune to Covid) – like so many others they’d long since been brainwashed on the need to live their lives in masks. (How sad, huh?)
Meanwhile, Miriam’s light flashed over the walls, revealing a glimpse of bones stacked into carved out sections of the cave.
“Catacombs?” Alan’s voice was muffled behind his mask. “Something more I didn’t know? Ugh!”
“They were crafted to look like such — La Papessa wanted to keep everything authentic and we agreed that if this vault was ever discovered that having the bones of unknown ‘saints’ would surely keep everyone preoccupied — away from the real purpose of this place.” She pulled down a cobweb, “Although it seems as if nobody has been down this far?”
By now the walls and floor had become slick, slowing their progress considerably. More than once Alan caught Miriam as she lost her balance and I could tell both of them were being taxed by this dark maze. Even still, onward they went over level, yet slippery ground.
Another set of doors, but just as Miriam was about to step down onto this next stairwell, Alan grabbed her, “Beware, the steps are gone!”
<tick-tick-trickle.> The pebbles under Miriam’s feet scruffed off the shelf, cascading down the hole before her.
After regaining her balance, she knelt and held her lighter out, “Three stairs are missing – leaving a jagged chasm. But, I can see the rest of the steps just a short jump ahead.”
“Miriam, I can’t let you go first on this.” Alan held her back. “What happens if you land on the steps but they crumble beneath you?”
“Don’t underestimate me. I call upon the Lord… now!” And she wriggled away from Alan and leapt like a cat into the darkness….
Leaving Alan’s gloved hand to grasp at thin air.
Luckily for Miriam, she’d successfully landed on the top step of the other side of the chasm and it held firm beneath her. “Praise God, I’m OK,” she called back to Alan. “Wait just a moment while I move down to give you room.” And after a pause, “OK, come on.”
Alan said a quick prayer and then he jumped into the inky darkness.
<CRACK!> Alan’s weight broke the step he landed on and it immediately started to crumbled – causing him to lose his balance and fall backwards as the hungry cavern below opened its maw to receive him.
God has set eternity in the hearts of men, yet they cannot fathom it.
I was sitting on my back porch, wasting another day. Off in the distance I spied a raccoon nosing around the area that covered the body of my intruder from a month ago. It set me to thinking…
I took another sip of my version of Stone Pale Ale and got ready to ponder further, when suddenly a new vision was forced upon me — a view of my friends as they continued on with their pointless escapade…
Alan and Miriam were now sitting at a corner table outside a small cafe in Rome. Like the other diners, my friends were masked and gloved and all the tables were socially distant – as always this was claimed to be for protection against the virus, but was in reality just another population control method to keep the people separated so they couldn’t ‘conspire’ against their NWO overlords. Waiters (read: guards) constantly checked on guests (read: patrolled) to ensure the diners wear wearing their specialized Meal Masks correctly.
(You’ll recall that Meal Masks were an invention that came out around 2022 that allowed diners to wear a specially fitted mask that had a small opening around the mouth. That opening could be used to insert a paper straw into for drinking liquids or it could be configured so that it sensed when food was near the face and thus briefly opened to allow the diner to insert a small amount into their mouth. When used in the latter manner, the masks included a timer that only allowed the diner to insert food no more than once per minute to ensure the diner wasn’t contaminating the air with too much of their own breath. All of this was beyond absurd in my opinion, since like everything else with the Covid plandemic, there wasn’t any science to support Meal Masks doing anything to prevent the spread of the virus, but since Dr. Flipflop and the WHO recommended Meal Masks they’d long since become a fixture at public restaurants. Meanwhile, on a more positive note, one of the unanticipated side effects of Meal Masks is that, by limiting people’s time to eat, they became a fantastic method for portion control and in turn weight loss. You’ll probably remember the Meal Mask Diets that were all the rage a few years back – when it seemed like every celebrity was peddling some version of their own glammed up Meal Mask that they sold for a massive upcharge – causing more than a few fools to spend their entire monthly UBI’s on so they could show off to their friends).
“Why didn’t you tell me you about Purgatory?” Alan was chagrined as he left his espresso untouched on the table.
“Alan, it was not my place to tell YOU about your own secrets.” Miriam soothed, knowing that he was both embarrassed and pained.
(Lord, do I really have to sit here and watch this lover’s quarrel?)
“But, Miriam, what a fool I have been in front of you all these years!”
“Of course — for surely if Jesus was willing to tell me about your purposes, why did I not realize he would explain to you about me? Oh, how bloody stupid I’ve been!”
“Alan, stop. What’s done is done. I knew eventually you would come clean with me before our time was through.”
“And yet… would it… have been different between us?”
Miriam fiddled with her mask and whispered, “Oh, Alan, who can say? We can’t change the past.”
Miriam reached her gloved hand across the table to grasp Alan’s hand, “Thank you, Lazarus.”
“But, what about the future? What happens now, Mary?” Alan’s eyes was hopeful.
(Sorry, buddy, it’s not happening…)
Looking down, Miriam pulled her hand away, “Alan, right now we have a mission to complete.”
And after a pause, she whispered, “I’m sorry, but there is no time for a love that might have been.”
(Ouch!)
I watched as Alan did his best to swallow a (re)broken heart. In a stony voice he replied, “Alas, Miriam. You speak the truth. Even Solomon echoed your words, ‘No man can control the evil times that fall unexpectedly upon him.’ Such is the case with us too, neh?” And rising from the cafe table, “Well, we best be moving forward again. Ready?”
“Ready.” Miriam nodded, keeping her head down as she arose so that Alan would not see her tears.
There was a brief haziness to my Sight, but soon enough it returned.
Apparently some time had passed, because when I saw Alan and Miriam again they were disguised as tourists – complete with obtrusive cameras, dollar-store sunglasses, and an armful of sightseeing brochures. Naturally they also had on their Covid QR Cards hanging around their necks so that the omnipresent patrols could scan them to verify their Vax Status. And of course they were masked and gloved like all the other visitors to The Vatican.
My friends looked to be part of socially distant tourist group on a tour of Saint Peter’s Basilica. It was amusing to see them pretending to listen to the masked clergyman giving the tour as he told all about the history of the grand structure – pointing out the architectural contributions of grand masters like Bramante, Michelangelo, and Bernini; explaining how the church could seat upwards of 60,000 people for a mass; and even giving interesting tidbits of knowledge about some of the unique furnishings inside the cathedral.
I could tell that Alan was rather enjoying the tour. Oh, probably not because the information provided was new to him – for in truth, Alan knew far more about this place than the young priest who was their guide – but instead because the subject of Religious Antiquities was his passion. I’m sure that such a discussion allowed his mind to escape some of the recent pains that had been reopened regarding Miriam.
Unable to resist, Alan ventured a question – modifying his voice in a Hungarian accent, “My friend, I noticed that you didn’t mention the old church of Santo Stefano degli Ungheresi?”
Miriam’s looked in surprise at Alan’s unexpected query, yet her Nano Mask effectively hid her facial expression from others.
Meanwhile, the tour guide hesitated only a moment before advising, “Oh, scusi me please, I didn’t realize you were Hungarian. How could I forget to mention your country’s national church? Certainly, my friend, Santo Stefano once stood over here.” And he led the group to a different area of Saint Peter’s. “In 1776, Santo Stefano was torn down in order to make this section of the Grand Basilica. My apologies, friend, but surely you’ll agree the space was put to good use, eh?”
“Of course. Grazie.” Alan replied.
“Shall we move outside to the Piazza?” The guide asked the group.
As it turned out, Alan and Miriam never did go outside with the rest of the tour; instead they loitered inside Saint Peter’s, using the mandated social distancing requirements to get lost in the shuffle and eventually making their way into a cordoned off section known as the Chapel of the Choir.
Once inside, Miriam shuffled Alan into one of three wooden stalls.
“We can’t hide here,” Alan protested as he removed his mask to get some fresh air. “Surely the guards will check these stalls before closing.”
Miriam kept her mask on, but pulled a hidden lever under a section of molding that opened a secret inner chamber and then proceeded to pull her startled friend into it.
(Oh, you didn’t know about that hide-away? No matter. But surely you DO realize that The Vatican is filled with hidden labyrinths, right? Why there are probably more secret meeting places there than anywhere else in the world).
Ensconced in their hiding place, Alan and Miriam were able to remain on site long after the church closed. Although my Sight thankfully did not force me to endure the monotony of waiting in real-time, I was amused to catch one tidbit of their conversation – Alan coaxing Miriam to tell him the history of this secret chamber, clearly unable to believe that there was yet another piece of religious history that he was not aware of.
(It wasn’t the last time he was due to get such a surprise).
My vision about Lazarus’ Resurrection Day faded to black, yet my Sight continued.
Once more I found myself looking at the present day — my friends were apparently still on their flight to Rome and Miriam’s head continued to rest upon Alan’s shoulder.
But just as quickly, I remembered something else – an inkling of a memory of Alan’s that I got just before The Negrido ended back in my workshop a few days ago.
At the time, I didn’t think much of it, but now I realized that it was important — for, as the quirkiness of life sometimes churns out, I realized that the piece of Alan’s memory that came back to me concerned that same fateful day which I had just re-lived!
I wasn’t really honest with her that day.
That’s what Alan’s mind kept screaming during The Negrido over and over.
(OK, it’s time you understand something – even I knew that Alan, nee Lazarus, had been harboring a secret from Miriam, nee Mary of Magdala, for a long time, and while it might have been truthful for Alan to tell Mary that he had heard Jesus’ calling to him, asking him to come back and help her in a mission to save the world, when you discover the whole truth, I think you’re going to agree that Alan was a bit deceptive in the description of the afterlife that he related to her).
Peace? Love? Fulfillment? Alan’s mind had chided himself during my ritual. Ha! More like Uncertainty, Regret, and Longing. I made Miriam believe I was in Heaven, when in reality I was only in Purgatory!
But that’s not all Alan’s mind revealed. I remember him also harboring this secret…
Had I told her that Jesus offered me the opportunity to escape the sorrow of Purgatory simply by agreeing to come back and aid her, how noble would that make me look? Certainly it wouldn’t prove how much I loved her!
Do YOU see the problem here?
Alan didn’t believe the truth was dynamic enough to attract Mary and so he embellished it to make his sacrifice appear more noble – apparently because he knew he was competing against Jesus himself for Mary’s heart.
Yet, if I’ve told Alan once, I’ve told him a thousand times – chivalry doesn’t pay.
Unfortunately the fool would never listen to me. He always wanted to be the Shining Knight who came to save the day – too bad for him, he never played that role very well.
I then remember Alan’s thoughts turning blacker – even as my Negrido reached its climax.
Where has all my chivalry gotten me? Alan lamented, his soul refusing to respond to my alchemy. Miriam still doesn’t love me. She’s still saving herself for The Teacher. How can she do it? What kind of a life is that? Oh, why didn’t I just tell Mary the truth? I thought when Jesus called me from the grave I would have it all – an escape from Purgatory, a chance to be with the woman I love, a glorious place in history after fulfilling His mission, and upon death – an immediate entrance into Heaven!”
And still Alan’s mind kept on, Instead nothing has gone as expected – we failed in our mission, and more importantly to me, I never did get my time with Mary! For twenty centuries I did my best to win her heart, but to no avail. What more could a man do to prove his love? Alas, she never wanted me.
I also recalled that, as The Negrido wore on, Alan started sinking into a dangerous state of self-loathing — fighting against me pulling him back to life.
But that was a battle I refused to let him win – for that would have meant he found a way to die without me!
In desperation I forced him to drink a poison potion — essentially what you might call a happy pill. I know it sounds crazy, but hey, an alchemy master like myself has a lot of tricks up his sleeve.
(What’s that – why don’t I take my own medicine and just be happy? Enough questions!)
NO, these are the thoughts of a madman! Alan’s mind had told himself during my ritual – after the effects of my special potion began. I am Lazarus. Jesus of Nazareth was my friend, my teacher, my Lord. I DO BELIEVE!
And that was the very moment that I successfully pulled Alan out of his stupor — when I knew The Negrido had been a success!
(Naturally I didn’t tell Miriam all of this. Hey, let her wonder a bit, right?).
All this I now remembered as I look at Alan and Miriam on that plane to Rome. (And by the way, all this movement with the Sight and my memories was making me pretty dizzy – just in case you’re wondering!)
At first glance, both of my friends appeared relaxed.
But of a sudden, Alan’s eyes opened wide in revelation, “My God, She knows!”
Miriam stirred but didn’t wake up.
Softly Alan continued to himself, “She knows my secret. She didn’t need her mental powers to guess it. Jesus must have told her way back when. She knows the truth — and she has always known!”
My forced revelation about Alan and Miriam continued.
I had to wade through the grueling experience of watching all the passengers and crew complete their numerous Covid health safety checks – with the process delayed because of an unchipped family requiring additional on-the-spot testing before they were allowed to board – their angry fellow passengers then berating the family for their selfishness in not being chipped. After this the flight attendants did their rounds to ensure everyone was masked and gloved. (It was #PopulationControl at its finest and I know Orwell would have been proud).
When they were finally airborne, I watched Alan lean over to Miriam and say, “Did you bring The Book with you or did you put it in your checked bags?”
“That’s absurd,” Miriam was aghast.” You know I could never check that!”
“May I see it?”
“What, here? Now?”
“Nobody knows what it is. Please. I haven’t viewed it in centuries…”
“But, why do you want to see it? It will only make you sad.”
“Miriam.” Alan gazed into her eyes. “Please.”
Not wanting to hold the eye contract, Miriam reached under the seat in front of her and pulled out a large, leather-bound tome from her carry on. After unlocking it, she hefted it over to Alan. He then flipped to the latter pages of The Book of Life — looking for text.
“So many lives lost.” Miriam whimpered. “I’ll never understand it.“
“Here you go.” Alan slammed the book and shoved it back at her.
“Er. OK?” Miriam gingerly took it back, surprised at how quickly Alan was done with it. Fumbling with the lock, she asked, “Is everything ok?”
“How very sad. Miriam, how do you live daily with this burden?”
Miriam’s tears began to soil her face mask as she replied, “Ours is not to question God’s way. We must continue in faith that all will work out, and that… maybe, there will be a final redemption when even the lost sheep will come back into the fold. At least that is MY hope.”
Alan grasped her gloved hand gently, “An admirable hope indeed.”
Miriam placed her head on Alan’s shoulder, while he continued to hold her hand, and as they sat, both of them remembered the past…
(How do I know their thoughts? Keep reading and see for yourself).
My vision shifted with theirs, I guess, because after a hazy shading, I found myself looking upon a scene I hadn’t recalled in many years…
There we were, a group of disciples and hangers-on, following Jesus of Nazareth as he led us back to Bethany – just outside of Jerusalem. We were on the way to visit with the family of our friend Lazarus. There was much confusion among the disciples about the purpose of this trip — some among the group tried to keep Jesus from going back there because our last visit to The Holy City nearly resulted in his death from the Jewish mobs who were incensed about his heretical teachings. Others were under the impression that Jesus was on his way to cure Lazarus of a mysterious illness which his sisters had urgently come to tell us about just two days before.
Yet, only myself, Mary of Magdala, and a few others knew the truth…
Lazarus was already dead.
I watched as our group moved along the road.
Then I caught a close-up glimpse of myself.
(Oh how young and strong I once was! Why can’t I relive those days again? Quickly, I looked away – it was no use living in the past – especially knowing what I know now. Instead I focused my Sight on someone else).
“St John” by Pieter Paul Reubens, c 1611
Eventually my sight fixed itself upon Mary and Jesus. They were walking together a bit separated from the others.
“But, I don’t understand, Lord.” Mary questioned Jesus. “If your friend Lazarus is already dead, why are we going back?”
“Dear one, why do you not listen to me?” Jesus replied.
“What am I missing?”
“Lazarus IS dead. But, for your sake, he will not stay that way.”
“MY sake? What do I have to do with anything concerning your friend Lazarus?”
“Lazarus is a friend to both of us and he loves you, Mary.”
“Lord!” Miriam blushed. “You know my heart beats only for you.”
“What you want cannot be.” Jesus said gently. “Each of us has a different path to walk. You and Lazarus will journey together; while I have another road. But fear not. I will always be with you.”
(Hogwash! I’ve heard that same line countless times – it ain’t true).
Clearly frustrated that the man she loved was trying to pass her off onto someone else, Mary abruptly stormed off to the back of the group to be alone – surely wondering if her destiny was still to follow Jesus or if instead she was being led down a road to nowhere.
I didn’t have time to ponder about this further because, for me, Time began to flash by…
When I got my bearings again I realized a day or more must have passed, for we were all at a party – celebrating Lazarus’ Resurrection!
(Despite my current beef with Jesus, I couldn’t help remembering the profound amazement we all experienced back when we witnessed Jesus raise Lazarus from the dead – do you have any idea what it’s like to see a man come out of the grave? Truly Jesus was a miracle worker!)
The celebration was chaotic to say the least, but I happened to catch a glimpse of Mary sitting alone in a quiet grove. Lazarus walked over to her. Not knowing what to say, Mary stuttered, “How… er, how do you feel?”
“Better… now.” Lazarus smiled calmly.
“I’m glad.” She replied automatically. “Jesus is amazing, huh?”
“He is. And so are you, Mary.”
(Can you be any more obvious, Laz?)
“Oh, looks like I need some more wine.” Mary squirmed. “Would you excuse me?”
But Lazarus grasped her hand, “Mary, I let you get away from me once before. I can’t let that happen again. I love you. Stay with me.”
“Lazarus, please! This is not the time or the place.”
“Mary, don’t you realize I was a dead man less than a day ago?”
“That’s not a very comforting thought to a girl.”
“I was experiencing the afterlife!” Lazarus related, his eyes peering inwards. “Peace. Love. Fulfillment.”
“I don’t understand, why did you come back?”
Lazarus looked intently at her. “I came back for YOU, Mary.”
“But why? Er, I know, I know, you love me.” She hissed the words under her breath. “But, it doesn’t make sense! If you were already experiencing the afterlife, surely the thought of ME could not compare?”
“I heard his voice — The Teacher. Jesus said I needed to come back to… to… help you.”
“What are you trying to tell me? That Jesus is playing matchmaker and he brought you back from the dead to save me from being an old maid?”
(Ooh, this is not going to go over well!).
Mary was fuming, “Why the nerve of th—“
But Lazarus touched her hand gently, “It’s not like that, Mary.”
“Then what is it like?”
“I DO love you.” Lazarus said, as a touch of sadness entered his words, “However, I know how you feel about The Teacher. And about me.”
“Well, Lazarus, I… we… you and I, well, we hardly know each other.”
“Be that as it may. If nothing else, I came back to help you… with your mission.”
“What are you talking about?”
Now it was Lazarus’ turn to be confused. “Wait, are you telling me that The Teacher hasn’t discussed your mission with you?”
“Does he want me to lead a new group of disciples?” Mary suddenly perked up.
Seeing that she really had no idea what he was talking about, Lazarus advised, “Perhaps this conversation was not the best idea. I’m sorry, I thought Jesus had already discussed all this with you.” And he got up to leave.
Now it was Mary’s turn to pull him back down, “Just a moment. You can’t walk away now; explain yourself!”
Unable to resist the woman he loved, Lazarus answered, “Mary, you are going to save the world! And I am going to help you!”
The Last Temptation of John 