For surely you realize that this is NOT the end, but instead only The Beginning.
From afar I saw a road begin to take shape upon the devastated landscape – a highway of hope, and immediately I knew its name – for it had already been foretold by Isaiah as The Way of Holiness.
The Highway of Hope
All around the road, the earth was still smoldering from where it had been scorched by the Fires of Hell, but the newly forming highway was unblemished and soon the grounds in the immediate vicinity of the roadway began to be transformed as well.
From afar I saw people walking upon The Way — at first I wondered who they could be for I remembered that all of the wicked peoples had already been taken away and I knew they were not meant for The Way.
But then I realized that only the Redeemed would walk upon this highway, and only those ransomed by Christ could return.
Led by the Victorious Angels, the ranks of the pilgrims grew and as they approached New Zion; I could hear them rejoicing. Their white garments were gleaming with splendor; and yet still their numbers swelled. Although too many for me to count, I knew their number regardless: 144,000.
Joy had overtaken them as they returned to the source of Life and stood in front of The Great Altar.
And there stood Pope Benedict too – encouraging his flock to come forward and receive their Salvation.
I wondered how I could have ever doubted my friend Joseph’s loyalty to Christ, for although Lazarus, Mary, and I never did complete our Commission (at least not in the way we always envisioned it), it was Benedict who had emerged as our world’s true champion.
But then the blinding Whiteness washed out that scene and I was instead left with a multitude of hazy images.
Struggling to make sense of it, I caught only a glimpse of a few faces – yet all were smiling and at peace: Lazarus, Mary, Benedict, and yes even myself.
Lazarus
Mary Magdalene
Joseph Ratzinger
Me – John
Indeed, as I gazed upon the beautiful faces of my friends, and as I basked in the wonder that was my own restored visage, there is one more thing that I cannot fail to mention…
For above and around and in each of our faces there was also one other, and it was a face that I have been waiting to see for nearly 2,000 years…
The vision of that face overwhelmed me with Joy!
It was a glorious <presence> that my soul ran to with all its might.
It was He who accepted me completely — in peace – at last.
Despite the agony of my pain on the cross, I knew that death would not come easy.
With a nod, the man who was Ghaz al’ Ridwan Ma’bus signaled to The Pope to carry out his orders…
To deliver death to the immortals.
I watched as Benedict picked up one of three spears that were lying before the altar. Each of the weapons had one of the Nails of Jesus affixed to its head as a killing blade.
Spear in hand, and in full battle array, Pope Benedict looked like a legendary knight from the fantasy world as he proceeded to walk over towards the cross upon which Lazarus hung.
The Pope was ready for action
Standing beneath my friend’s limp body, Benedict waited only for a moment – as Lazarus’ blood dripped down and stained the pontiff’s white robe – and then the leader of the Church slammed his pike up and into Lazarus’ side.
“YAAAAAAAAAR!” Lazarus suddenly came to life, his arms and legs nearly ripping themselves away from the cross.
Closing my eyes against the gruesome sight, I failed to see that Lazarus’ screams woke Mary from her own snatch of death but my ears soon ached as I heard Miriam begin to wail. I opened my eyes in time to catch a glimpse of Benedict as he stoically twisted his spear up and into Lazarus’ heart – an action that abruptly ended Lazarus’ screams.
The Nail that killed Lazarus
My God, he’s dead! I panicked. It’s finally going to happen? But alas, Lord, I am NOT ready yet!
Believe it or not, I was suddenly afraid at the unknown of Death – a specter that hadn’t threatened me in nearly two thousand years.
In the silence that followed, I looked upon our unexpected Deliverer – after killing Lazarus Pope Benedict had removed his blood spattered helmet and I saw that face was as hard as stone. He appeared to study the Nail that was now dripping with Lazarus’s blood at the end of his lance.
<BOOOM! DOOM!> <BOOM! BOOM!> <DOOM!>
The drums started up again at a signal from Bates.
I watched as Benedict looked over at The Beast.
And then, I saw the Pope take a deep breath before doing something that I have never seen anyone other than myself or my two friends do…
Benedict reached up and took hold of The Nail.
“You Fool! Don’t touch it!” I roared, even as Mary screamed a similar warning.
Yet, Benedict did not die.
In fact, if nothing else, he seemed suddenly more alive!
Bates and Klaus Schwab began dancing around triumphantly at the sight – surely reading this as a sign of Bates’ coming victory – now confident that The Pope was indeed The Second Helper.
For his part, Benedict’s face remained hardset while he proceeded to tear the Nail off of the spear. Discarding the staff, he affixed the dripping Nail to his belt. Next I watched him proceed to confidently walk back towards the Altar and pick up another pike, before heading over towards his next victim.
Mary’s screams bespoke of sheer terror. Unable to look away this time, I watched Benedict prepare to deliver a deathblow to her as well.
“Oh, Babylon,” I roared out, suddenly finding new strength. “You will be destroyed!”
Hearing me quote from Psalm 137, for a moment Benedict paused, and I watched a strange shadow pass over his face.
“Happy is the one who pays you back for what you have done.” I tried to goad him away from Mary. “You shall be smashed against the rocks upon this very day.” Then, looking up to heaven, I cried, “Father, do not forsake us now!”
Yet, The Lord did not come to save the day.
And with Lazarus already dead and Mary soon to follow the skies only roiled blacker than before.
For The Moment had not yet arrived, and I knew that the Prophecies — my own prophecies – were still waiting to be fulfilled.
Pope Benedict knew this as well, and therefore he took only a moment to prepare himself to forge on – after which he pushed his spear into Mary’s heart, killing her as well.
Unable to control myself, I vomited up the last of the bile from my stomach – its acidity scorching my throat and mouth. Tears streamed down my face as I wailed in regret, “Their torture is because of me. My friends are paying the price of my sins!”
Yet Fate no longer cared about my feelings and in truth I knew that what was happening went far beyond my small part in this Divine Event.
And so, with two bloody Nails hanging from his corded belt and his robe now blotched red, Pope Benedict began to approach me with the final Nail – and his face was Death.
And so, the Dome at al-Aqsa remained, even unto this day, waiting, ever waiting. Waiting for The Beast.
My head jerked up as I suddenly remembered…
The Well of Souls — it lies beneath The Dome. If Ma’bus moves The Foundation Stone, The Well shall be opened – for the first time since Solomon hid the ark there. For the first time since…
Yet my strength failed me again, and that which I was trying to recall was lost.
<BOOOM! DOOM!> <BOOM! BOOM!> <DOOM!>
After a time, my unconscious mind remembered — a natural cave, The Well of Souls was originally accessible only by a narrow hole in the rock of this plateau.
It was I who inspired The Templar’s to hack open an entrance to the cave – yet in spite of my recommendations they would go no further. And so, the foundation stone of The Dome – The Sakhrah – remained untouched.
“If you open it, you’ll unleash The Abyss of Chaos!” I wailed, not realizing that I was suddenly screaming aloud — my voice somehow carrying even above The Drums.
<BOOOM! DOOM!> <BO–> The drums stopped.
The Masked Chosen looked up at me.
Pope Benedict and Klaus Schwab also present but unmasked like Bates, both looked up at me.
And Bates himself, standing at the Altar Of the One True God – upon which lay the gored body of Rabbi Yona Metzger – yes, Bill Bates as Ghaz al’ Ridwan Ma’bus, The Beast, also looked up at me.
The Beast wasn’t happy that I interrupted him.
There was Silence – and I felt as if all of creation was waiting for me to die.
Yet as I looked over to my left and saw Lazarus and Mary languishing on their own crosses, I knew that my friends were not yet dead either.
Then looking down at Bill Bates, I saw that The Beast also realized this fact… and smiled.
Trying to force myself to be unimpressed by the man who called himself Dr. Ma’bus as he spoke to the crowd at this uber-secret meeting of the high ranking members of the Brotherhood of EArth, I turned my attention to my meal — meticulously carving into the blood red meat that draped my plate: venison, tartar-style — having been freshly killed and butchered just hours before. While the meat was intensely good, I didn’t care much for the rest of the items on my plate: a radiant display of uncooked root vegetables, warm but unleavened bread, and bright field greens.
And while I knew that this has been the standard Brotherhood Meal for the last century– for it signified ‘an eternal connection to the Living Earth’ – it still didn’t make it any more appetizing. (You might find it ironic to hear that we were actually still consuming real meat when Bates has been on record for over a decade promoting the benefits of his fake meat, but I’d remind you that what Bates says is good for you peons of the public is a far cry from what he believes is good for himself).
I did my best to pay as little attention as possible to Bates’ speech – for although most of the Brothers were captivated by the man Dr. Ma’bus’ oratory style, the fact of the matter was that the Dinner Reading was standard fare for every Brotherhood meeting for those who had reached the enlightenment of the Fifth School of The Serpent Incarnate onward.
“Lest they should ever forget” was the theme of this famous discourse and it recanted the primary theology of our group – as, for security purposes, we have always been told that there was only ONE copy of our sacred book (The Annals of the Brotherhood), this oral history was the only way that we Brothers were given access to the tenants of our religion (or at least what we were told were the true beliefs – to be honest with you I’m still not sure what the Inner Circle’s ultimate plans are since, like most of the sheep at this dinner, I’d never attained that rank).
Even though I wasn’t part of the top 1% of Brotherhood elite, I was still pretty high up (enough to make it to this meeting at least). Therefore I smiled inside as I recalled some of the ruses The Brotherhood used to dupe the lower levels of membership – for, like any secret society, The Brotherhood of the EArth had an assortment of ranks – each one holding a new set of supposed ‘illuminating’ knowledge for the advancing member. Although the actual specifics for most of the early ranks had changed over the years – and the hazing associated with them – the basic premise of level advancement had remained the same…
Satisfy the desire to belong of the new recruits – give them something exciting to feel a part of and then see who proved themselves by completing the supposedly important (yet in reality quite meaningless) “world-saving” projects.
Those that excelled were chosen to move along The Path to Enlightenment…
The Path was obviously a sham of a concept for those of us in the know, but it was a key principle for new Seekers to aspire to.
Meanwhile, those among the recruits that failed in their early tasks were either disposed of (if they posed a threat to The Brotherhood from their ineptitude) or allowed to continue to toil in those early ranks without ever really getting anywhere (if they were deemed harmless).
In this manner, was the Brotherhood able to build a steady stream of recruits, ever develop new talent, and weed out those individuals who didn’t fit the bill.
My thoughts were interrupted by Ma’bus speech — I could feel his silky words enticing me too, and though I tried to resist, his <presence> called out to me, beckoning me to pay attention…
In desperation I turned my mind inwards, searching for another distraction — the first thing that came to me was the memory of when I myself reached the Third School of the Rite of Inanna.
The Brotherhood bastardized Inanna’s memory by setting her up as the “Queen of Anu” – supplying mystical information to the wannabe brothers who reached this rank.
Attainment of the Third School was the time during which The Brotherhood offered the opportunity for enlightenment through sexual immortality. In spite of it’s cliche nature (or perhaps because of it), the Brotherhood attempted to satisfy this innate fleshly desire of its lower level members.
For my part, I experienced my first Third School initiation in the year 327 – under the identity of Zosimos — in a secret chamber beneath the Great Sphinx of Egypt.
What started as a typical roman-style orgy – with Brothers encouraged to engage in debauchery of all kinds amidst a sea of flesh – took on a rather unique twist when a vat of lukewarm olive oil was poured into the brothel pit where our orgy was taking place.
Even more unusual was the fact that the oil carried with it a sea of serpents.
Third School Rite of Inanna Initiation Ceremony
Now all of us initiates had previously been told by our upper-level mentors to ‘expect the unexpected’ and to ‘go with the flow’ – being advised to allow our bodies to literally mold and melt with whatever we encountered as the oil carried us around the orgy pit. The snakes, they advised us, were all non-venomous and their purpose was to heighten our sensations in such a way as to allow us to (and I quote)…
“Experience such waves of pleasure that we would leave our earthly bodies and catch a glimpse of the true spirit world.”
My Brotherhood coach had also made it clear that my colleagues and I would be judged for our sexual conquests by the Inner Circle who would be watching us from concealed locations in the shadows of the great room.
Now I realize this is pretty appalling stuff for me to reveal – especially given the fact that I have experienced this Third School Initiation in some similar form MANY times, yet as I told you before, this was the Old Me, and back then I wasn’t concerned about committing any number of sins such as this. (Obviously, I would never allow myself to engage in such debauchery again – and I sure hope that YOU don’t either! Hmm, but this makes me wonder — how did Lazarus ever get past this rank? Surely he wouldn’t have done…? But I digress…)
OK, let’s be clear on something – I knew what I was getting into and I knew this whole charade was merely a mythological archetype that tapped into the whole satanic rituals require sexual immorality motif, but I must admit that, between the bonfires that ringed the orgy pit, the religious prostitutes who offered their bodies as living sacrifices, the pseudo-boiling oil, and the multitude of snakes, this rite did fulfill its mission because…
I really was able to transcend my flesh and escape into a world of full-on spiritual pleasure.
Had the ritual stopped there, it would have been enough.
However, The Brotherhood was not known for just satisfying cliches and using borrowed rituals. Instead, unbeknownst to me and my fellow orgy participants, mid-way through the debauchery, another wave of oil was released – this a bit more heated and, instead of the clear olive oil, this new oil was burned black. Now this last fact was important for it served to mask the nature that the second wave of serpents carried within its viscosity: black mambas – the most deadly snakes known to man at the time!
While the second vats of oil were poured in, the tribal drummers on the sidelines picked up their intensity and further worked us into a frenzy. Thus, when the mambas struck, the screams of their victims failed to instill panic into the rest of us – for trust me when I tell you that the pleasure and pain of sexual immorality cascaded in waves throughout the throng in a manner that was indescribably powerful!
I learned later that only a handful of mambas were released into the orgy pit, but this was intentional, for that small number was more than enough – after all, a single mamba can strike in rapid succession – sometimes up to twelve times in a row.
Obviously The Brotherhood did not want to murder all of us prospective Third School members; instead the deadly snakes were released so they could act on behalf of the Goddess Inanna and weed out those of us unworthy of her knowledge – as any who were fatally bitten were later said to have been discovered with the Mark of Mortality and thus deemed unfit to continue as Brothers.
For my part, I can tell you that I was in fact bitten by one of the venomous snakes — twice!
I was first aware of a fifteen foot, steel-colored mamba after it had already delivered a deadly bite to the shrine prostitute with whom I was entangled with at the time – as the mamba’s venomous neurotoxin quickly worked its way through the woman’s body, I saw her begin to convulse and scream, and minutes later she was glassy eyed and paralyzed.
Just moments later I felt the snake writhing around my own heel!
Quelling my nausea, I looked the mamba dead in the eye — and the mamba stared back.
Even today I cannot escape the dreaded image of the mamba’s inky black mouth as it opened its jaws to expose <DEATH> just before it viciously tore into my heel – pumping nearly 100 mg of venom into me!
What was it like?
Immediately my body seized up as the mamba’s toxins surged through me. After the initial pain that gripped my heel grew numb, I felt a tingling sensation in my mouth and arms. That’s when the snake struck again – this time biting into my calf – and I thought that perhaps this was the hand of Divine Providence at work – punishing me for my sins and sending me to Hell.
Then, just as suddenly as it appeared, the mamba vanished — carried off by the swirling oils.
Unfortunately I continued to suffer.
I lost my sense of where I was, experienced double vision, confusion, and quickly lost muscle control. Another Brother came over and attempted to body up to me, but I vomited on him and that sent the lecherous man reeling away in disgust. As the mamba’s cardio-toxin took further effect, I began to foam at the mouth, and then of a sudden, my heart stopped.
At this point, my body sank down into the murky oils and I truly tasted – albeit ever so briefly – Sweet Death.
Inanna’s orgy carried on – how much longer I never knew – but eventually the fleshly desires of the Brothers were sated and at last the oils were drained from the brothel pits.
Exhausted beyond compare, none of the Brothers or the shrine prostitutes were lucid when the servants came to clean up the mass of humanity and serpents that remained in the pit. The mambas and the rest of the non-venomous snakes were rounded up, and so too were us men and women – carried off to various recovery rooms.
At first I guess I was going to be thrown in with a pile of the dead, but just as I was about to be tossed, I awoke… before passing out yet again. After being confirmed alive, I was then taken to the nurses stations for recovery assistance.
Although I’d come so close to Death as a result of the mamba’s bites, because of my cursed immortality, I managed to survive and was thus proclaimed as a worthy member of the Third School.
Of the hundred persons or so who were engaged in the orgy, I never knew how many had perished – but more than a few Brothers that I once knew, I never saw again. And I was smart enough NOT to ask what happened to them.
Now that, my friends, is how you conduct a secret society initiation!
This memory successfully served to distract me from Bates’ speech, yet I knew it was high time I paid attention again – for I didn’t want to miss anything important – especially if it was news about my friends…
Ironically, the Annals of the Brotherhood reflect only a small footnote about Tower Bay, and the official version of events describes only the lie that I told them.
To this day it is my firm belief is that nobody else on earth ever knew the truth about Tower Bay — expect me (and now YOU).
My experiments failed
As I said previously, after realizing my colossal failure with my 409 Experiment, I razed the town to ashes and burned myself to cover my tracks so the Brotherhood wouldn’t get their hands on the true weapon of mass destruction I’d created. I didn’t die from my horrific burns, nor did I perish in any of the intense torture sessions my brothers put me through. In fact, after the Brotherhood finished with me, my needs were well cared for by the Sisters of the Holy Cross and I remained with them in seclusion at Poitiers for the next thirty years.
I enjoyed my time with the sisters. More importantly though, during those three decades a generation of powerful Brotherhood leadership eventually passed from this world — and forgot about me.
After I deemed it safe to re-enter the world I was so soured by the experience with The Brotherhood, that I didn’t seek a renewed alliance with them for over 500 years. Instead I pursued another path to enlightenment (recall my time as Merlin and my foray into the arts of sorcery – which in truth really wasn’t magic at all, just a bit of good old fashioned science and mathematics, all aided by my ability to see the future via The Sight. Magic? Sorcery? Pah! Don’t get me started…)
As for the evils that occurred at the former site of Tower Bay, they too became forgotten legends, for History marched on and, as always, the earth eventually repaired itself. And even while I (as Merlin) became trapped in a crystal cave by the witch Nimue, future generations returned to the Tower Bay locale – completely ignorant to the horrors that occurred there.
A new settlement called Streoneshalhwas built on the ruins of Tower Bay in the 650’s by the Anglo-Saxon King Oswiu. It was Oswiu who built the original abbey — that church lasting until 867, when it fell to Viking attack. (I can confirm the Viking raid because I was back on the surface by that time).
The abbey was eventually re-founded in the late 1070’s and it was a majestic sight to behold. It flourished in the region that became known as Yorkshire until 1540.
Whitby Abbey
Unfortunately Henry VIII’s Dissolution of the Monasteries doctrine signified the beginning of the end for Whitbey – opening the way for the abbey to fall into disrepair and allowing for miners to pilfer its stones.
As far as The Brotherhood is concerned, it was my friend Lazarus who later encouraged me to (re)connect with the group – although Lazarus never knew about my earlier associations.
Alan Zarus, nee Lazarus
Lazarus first recruited me sometime around mid 960’s. I knew that he had been keeping tabs on The Brotherhood since the fall of Rome, but this was not unusual for him because he’s been a member of many elite secret societies (remember, he always loved the cloak and dagger crowd). And yet, although Lazarus also took all the same oaths of allegiance that I did (at least where The Brotherhood was concerned), I believe Lazarus never really wavered in his true allegiance to Christianity (although I can’t say the same for myself). And so, I “let” Lazarus recruit me back into the Brotherhood – if only because I had nothing else to do.
Initiation Rituals are so cliche, huh?
Meanwhile, after I’d confirmed that there was no chance anyone could associate me with the past failures of Ambrosius, I continued to insinuate myself into the ranks of The Brotherhood — yet always under a different persona.
Obviously when one is immortal, one has all the time in the world to create new identities – complete with a full lifetime of back story. Furthermore, my knowledge of the alchemical arts allowed me to subtly modify my appearance – a priceless skill that helped me sell each new identity. In fact, I guarded my secrets so well that even Lazarus did not know all of my alter egos!
But what’s important now, for our story, is that, for over 1,000 years I’d remained abreast of The Brotherhood’s activities.
As a result, learning about the meeting tonight had taken me very little effort – despite the fact that I hadn’t been all that active lately, and that the world as a whole was completely unaware of this secret conference.
And so I sat – or rather, Baron Von Bodenwerner sat — and waited for dinner to get started.
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!”
A couple nights later I had my sleep interrupted again – this time with another vision of The Two Witnesses as the word became flesh before my eyes…
<Drip… drip… drip…>
<Drip… drip… drip…>
<Drip… drip… drip…>
I watched as a frustrated Enoch, despite his blindness, arose from the prison floor and tried to ferret out the source of the annoying drip. After a time, he did successfully locate the trickle, but unfortunately the crack in the cell’s ceiling was simply too high for him to do anything about.
<Drip… drip… drip…>
Ice cold rivulets splashed into Enoch’s maw – smelling of raw sewage they were far from refreshing. And so, backing away dejectedly, he slumped back down onto the pile of filthy straw that was his bedding and did the only thing he could – endure.
As for Elijah, he might as well have been a dead log. During this brief respite from their visions, I was certain that sleep, if the prophets’ could grasp it, was a welcome relief. (Even though my own was currently being interrupted!)
Turning my attention back to Enoch, I wondered if he ever remembered that he was once a man of renown – and if so, would that knowledge cause him to curse his present condition? For the fact that he formerly enjoyed the favor of God but was now subject to a fate worse than Job seemed like a pretty raw deal to me. (After all, this was something I could definitely relate to). Or was Enoch foolish enough to believe he was going to be rewarded for this ‘righteous’ suffering?
<Drip… drip… drip…>
“Will this never end?” Enoch muttered, head hanging in misery. “Where is our savior?”
(Well I guess that answers my question).
Suddenly my vision shifted – torn from the prophets’ cell, I was again looking upon the man calling himself Ghaz al’ Ridwan Ma’bus. He was in his private quarters and again watching a webcam of the prophets, but this time he was not alone.
“Don’t worry, my friend, I’ll save you.” An unmasked Ma’bus replied to Enoch’s question, even though the prophet never heard him.
“What does he mean?” Mystery said. Not only was the woman not wearing any Covid personal protection, but she was wearing little else – climbing off the bed she clasped a wisp of silk around heras she came up behind her lover to look at his computer. “What will never end? The virus? The world? His revelations?”
“Who cares? He’s clearly not having a true vision, so it doesn’t matter.”
“How do you know he is not prophesying?” Mystery wrapped her arms seductively around the technocrat’s shoulders.
“Look at Elijah — he’s out.” Dr. Mab’us casually brushed off Mystery’s advances. “The Two Witnesses never reveal wisdom unless they both speak. So perhaps Enoch’s just complaining about the food?”
Mystery ignored her lover’s rebuff and chuckled along at his last comment before growing serious, “Benedict suspects something about all this, you know.”
“So?” The computer whiz turned dictator continued to stare at his webcam, allowing his mind to think of ways to improve the tech in the device.
“So, he never got around to asking about the prophets, nor how Alan escaped — but only because I got out of there before he could dig too deep.”
“He knows about all of it by now.”
“How? Did you tell him? Did he—“
Bates raised a hand, “Don’t forget the kind of power we’re dealing with. Joseph Ratzinger is no ordinary man. He is one of the Chosen.”
(A Chosen — Joe? Again, I’m as confused as you are).
And closing his computer screen, Dr. Ma’bus turned to look at Mystery, ignoring the temptation of her seductive body, “Benedict already knows that I have the witnesses. And as for Lazarus, surely Benedict knows that Mary came to my lair to rescue him… and that I let Mary succeed.” (Whoa, what’s that?)
“But he wasn’t happy to learn that you kept Alan’s Nail.”
“Of course not. He wants The Nails for himself – and he’ll stop at nothing to get them. I’m sure he’s already planning to influence Mary and John to bring him the other two.” (Hey, don’t bring ME into it!)
“But he won’t succeed.” Mystery smiled. “Alan’s nearly dead because of what Dr. Flipflop and you did to him to him with The Chair of Woe, and John is out of the game permanently.”
“On the contrary. Lazarus will be fine. John will repent. And Benedict will eventually get his hands on all three of The Nails.” (La, la, la, I can’t hear you!)
“What?” Mystery gasped – apparently wondering if she’d chosen the right side.
Bates seemed to know what she was thinking, “Dost thou have so little faith in me?”And before Mystery could stutter a response, he explained, “This is all part of MY plan, dear – just like with Covid. As for Lazarus, you know I only wanted to toy with him in The Chair — you know he is needed for something far more important… later. I knew that Mary would come to rescue him once she was informed by Gabriel. So by torturing Lazarus, I forced Mary to take him to the one person on earth who could cure him of the wounds I inflicted.”
“The Apostle John.” Mystery nodded.
(No, this is not happening! Please don’t let me just be a pawn. Don’t let all of my actions be predetermined! Quick, what am I thinking right now? What am I going to do next? See, YOU don’t know, right? And neither do I. So how can they?)
“Correct.” Dr. Ma’bus replied. “Mary had to take Lazarus to John. Given his resentment against Jesus, I’m sure John resisted getting involved, but I expect that Mary was quite convincing.”
Mystery smiled knowingly at that comment.
“Oh, not in the way that you are thinking.” Ma’bus explained, pulling Mystery over to lap and ripping away her coverlet. “John’s too old to care about this sort of thing.”(Hey, you’re wrong there). “And I’ve always wondered if he liked women anyway – after all his own gospel says that he is the apostle that Jesus loved. Ha!” (Now that’s a low blow. I’m not gay – not that there’s anything wrong with it — that lifestyle just doesn’t appeal to me). “And Mary doesn’t have your… talents. But the bottom line is that she has learned how to control minds – remember the havoc she caused here – my people are still suffering from her rampage. And I don’t doubt she would use that power on John too.”
(Wrong again — I did not agree to help because I was influe– Wait a second, DID Mary use her Psychic Probe on me?)
“But, even if John cures Alan,” Mystery asked, still sitting in the nerd’s lap, “how do you know they will go to Benedict? And why in Hell would they give him their Nails?”
“My dear, let’s not forget WHY these Nails exist in the first place.”
Mystery hesitated, “Er… ah… to destroy… you.”
“Don’t be afraid to say it, love. After all, what you said IS the truth.” And here the flaccid man pushed Mystery off as he rose up and took on a pompous air, “These are the very nails by which Jesus of Nazareth was gloriously crucified nearly two thousand years ago. The holy spikes that pierced his flesh and sent him to the grave. Why, the beat-up iron still retains his blood! Enemy or not, I understand the power these instruments contain — they will be the glorious tools by which I complete the Armageddon Rite and thus stop the Nazarene’s Second Coming once and for all. Indeed, December 21st will mark the official beginning to my own reign upon this world!”
Although Mystery smiled back, it was clear she was still unsure.
“I sense your uncertainty. Care to see what the Nails can do?”
Mystery took a step back, grasping for her coverlet again, “Here? Now? No. I’m confident in what I already know about them from my father, and in what you’ve told me.”
“Ah, but I don’t think you are.” The dictator reached out and grabbed her by the hair! (Damn, this girl’s been taking a beating lately, huh?)
“Ghaz, no!” Mystery shrieked, unable to break his iron grip.
Spinning her around, the man slammed her into a chair and ripped her silk away again, “Don’t move!” As he spoke, his eyes rolled back – showing nothing but the whites – and his voice became rich with an ancient <power>. “Now you’ll get a taste of what I possess.”
Although Dr. Ma’bus’ demonic persona quickly receded, Mystery remained trapped in place, whilst the man tapped his watch to activate its communication feature, “Oh Jamir, be a good sport and bring me The Nail of Lazarus.”
Was Mary Magdalene the Adulteress from The Gospel of John? Many Christians have been brought up believing that famous Adulteress from the Gospel of John was in fact Mary Magdalene and for nearly 1,300 years this is what was formally taught in Catholic doctrine – but is this legend even true?
In this article, we’ll explore the connection between the woman caught in adultery from John’s Gospel and the disciple Mary Magdalene from the Bible.
In order to make the association stick, Pope Gregory also had to connect the dots by proclaiming that Mary Magdalene was in fact also Mary of Bethany – the sister of Martha and Lazarus. This was necessary because Mary of Bethany was the proclaimed to be the woman with the sinful past who washed Jesus’ feet with her tears and/or anointed him with the alabaster jar of perfume in various gospels).
Why all the Mary’s?
The reason Mary of Bethany had to be the woman who anointed Jesus in order to trace her back to Mary Magdalene is a bit of a circuitous route. The apparent basis for Pope Gregory’s decision relates to Luke 8:2 where Mary Magdalene is specifically named as having been cured of “7 demons” by Christ. One or more of these ‘demons’ was thought to relate to a sinful ‘sexual’ past and from there it was apparently just a hop, skip, and a jump for Pope Gregory to connect the dots from Mary Magdalene, to Mary of Bethany, to the woman who anointed Jesus, to the Adulteress of John.
Well that makes perfect sense, right? Not!
Is there ANY Evidence that Supports Mary Magdalene is the Adulteress?
To wit: Mary Magdalene also means Mary of Magdala. This is important because Magdala, located along the Sea of Galilee near Tiberias, was a prosperous port city during the time of Christ. And what do we know about nearly all ‘port cities’ the world over? They are a haven for prostitutes.
It’s reported that Rome eventually destroyed Magdala “because of its moral depravity and its participation in the Jewish revolt.”
Additionally, the Jewish Talmud word Magdalene may be translated to “curling women’s hair,” which apparently is code word for “adulteress.”
Thus more ammunition to support Pope Gregory’s claims that Mary Magdalene was a woman of ill-repute and that she was committed to Christ for saving her from her unsavory past.
So Was Mary Magdalene the Adulteress?
Honestly we may never really know, however it’s worth digging a bit deeper into Pope Gregory’s decision.
Clearly we can conclude that Mary Magdalene was definitively the “Mary” of Luke 8 – after all she was specifically named by her full name in this verse. However one is left to wonder why the mention of her past demons and her place of birth must also necessarily mean that she was the adulteress, or Mary the sister of Martha, or the penitent woman with the perfume.
Consider the following…
Mary was one of the most common names among the people of this time in Israel (even Jesus’ mother was named Mary), so just because a “Mary” is mentioned in the Bible that doesn’t mean it must be Mary Magdalene, right?
In every other Biblical story that references Mary Magdalene, she is called by her full name at some point in the story. Why would she not be identified by name in the story about the adulteress or if Mary Magdalene was also Mary of Bethany?
We may never know why Pope Gregory made this decision (although our discussion of Conspiracy Theories about Mary Magdalene is of interest here), however it should be noted that while the Catholic Church held this view from the 6th century onward, it was officially reversed in 1969 by Pope Paul VI (although without much fanfare). As it stands now, the Church no longer associates Mary Magdalene with Mary of Bethany or the Adulteress. And as an interesting side note, the Eastern Orthodox Church apparently never did.
What’s the Truth about Mary Magdalene in the Bible?
In spite of her past demons and her place of birth the fact is that there is no concrete evidence that Mary Magdalene is the famous adulteress from the Gospel of John 8:3-11.
The name of the adulteress in these verses is actually not given so we have no way of knowing who the woman was.
The Adulteress could have been Mary Magdalene…or pretty much any other woman alive at the time who lived there.
Just as quickly as the Witnesses came, they were gone; once more I was looking back at Alan – and his new visitor…
So who was it that entered Alan’s room?
I’ve got to say, I was a bit shocked myself when I saw none other than Bill Bates!
Look, I’m the first to admit that I hate “The News” and I believe that President Trump is right when we says that most of it is just ‘fake’ news anyway.
But that said, even I, who hate listening to this hogwash, even I knew enough about current events to know that Bill Bates was the most beloved world-saving philanthropists of our times. To think that he of all people would show up here as Alan’s captor was beyond belief.
I shifted my attention back to Alan and his visitor…
“Bill Bates? You are The Beast!” Alan averred to the man who had entered his prison cell.
(Surprised though I was to see Bates standing there, there could be no denying it was him – especially since he wasn’t wearing a face mask. I found myself intrigued by the vision and eager for answers – how in the hell did Bill Bates turn himself into Satan’s son?!?)
“Call me Ishmael.” Bates quipped in reply to Alan. “Or call me Irresistible. Although I’d prefer you stop calling me by my White Privilege name and instead kindly recognize me by the more racially equitable moniker Ghaz ‘al Ridwan Ma’bus.”
“Well, this is certainly a break from your impeccable image, Mr Bates.” Alan refused to use the made up name. “What would the rest of the world think of you torturing me?”
“Torturing you?” Bates sighed. “Why I have done no such thing. My team is merely holding you for your own good. I’d say that’s pretty altruistic. And as for my image, apparently the world likes me quite a bit. After all, the U.N. elected me Secretary General.” Upon seeing Alan’s surprised look, Bates added, “Oh, that’s right. You didn’t hear the news. Well, allow me to fill you in: Ki-Moon is dead – don’t ask me how, I’m sure your friend Benedict had something to do with it. In any case, I am the new Secretary General. As usual, I gave an impassioned speech at my coronation. It was a lovely ceremony. But more importantly, this is just another stepping stone in The Great Reset – soon enough I’ll be named the first World President and then I’ll control the world forever more.”
“But…but…?”
“What’s the matter?” Bates teased, when Alan didn’t respond. “Cat got your tongue?”
“What do you need ME for?” Alan relaxed back into his bonds. “In your own words you already said you’ll control the world. What else is there?”
“I want souls, dear Brother, SOULS…”
(The way Bates said his last comment caused me to feel a terrible chill – as if his was emanating malevolence. Sorry, Alan, but immortal or not, I’m glad you’re there and not me).
Fighting against this, Alan cried out, “There’s nothing you could do to make me help you! I don’t care if The Brotherhood did help you gain control of the world’s resources after your made up plandemic – clearly we underestimated how you would use The Great Reset and your Climate Change agenda. But even still, you’re nothing more than a glorified nerd. You’ve already been given more than you deserve and when I get out of here, I’ll personally see to it that you are finished. You can’t harm me and you know it.”
“I may not be able to kill you, but I have ways to influence you.”
“Such as?”
“Well, rather than have me tell you, why don’t I SHOW you, eh?” And calling back through the doorway, “Iffat, enter.”
His servant dutifully entered — head down, awaiting his instructions.
“Iffat, kindly arrange it so that our guest can go on a little tour,” Bates commanded. Then to Alan he added, “To the Life Labs.”
The Last Temptation of John 