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.
I think my jaw fell open at Miriam’s revelation, but it was Alan who first asked, “Archangel Michael is actually in battle again? This is momentous indeed!”
“Why are you so surprised? I already told you about this back in 856, I wrote about this very event in a letter to… er… Pope John VIII.”
“Loannes Octavus?” Alan was confused. “But, he reigned from 872 to 882?”
“I wasn’t talking about Octavus. I was referring to Joanna Anglicus.”
“Pope Joan?” I cackled in delight – grateful for the change of subject. “Oh how I always loved that fiasco.”
“What choice did the Church have but to cover up that scandal?” Alan was quick to defend. And before we could stop him, he embarked on a history lecture. “You know the story told by the chronicler Martin of Opava – the orphan Joanna Anglicus was raised to live as a man by her older lover, a Greek named Frumentius. In Athens, Joanna became proficient in a wide range of knowledge, and as time wore on her intellect knew no equal. When she later went to Rome, a high opinion of her arose in the city, and she became first a papal secretary, then a cardinal, and finally, when her respect was at its peak, she was elected Pope John VIII – the FIRST to be called that name.”
“Ah, but she couldn’t abide by the Vow of Celibacy, eh?” I chuckled, “for while pope she became pregnant by Frumentius!”
“Indeed. And through ignorance of the time when she was to deliver,” Alan continued, “while Joanna was mounting a horse, she was delivered of a child. That event occurred in a lane once named Via Sacra, but now known as the shunned street – its location is between the Coliseum and St. Clement’s, and as you both know, no current popes will travel down that street. In the end, to avoid a scandal of momentous proportions, Joanna’s name was removed from the list of holy pontiffs — both because of her female sex and on account of the… delicacy of the matter.”
“A changing of the records made all the easier because of the destruction of knowledge that occurred during the Dark Ages.” Miriam said gloomily. “And yet, I still believe Joanna could have been one of the greatest Church leaders of all time. After all, she was the one who–.”
“And but let’s not overlook the legendary ending to this tale,” I interrupted. “After giving birth, our Pope Joan was bound by the feet to her horse’s tail and dragged through the streets and stoned. And until 1485, at the place of her supposed grave, it was written: Petre, Pater Patrum, Papisse Prodito Partum– ‘O Peter, Father of Fathers, Betray the childbearing of the woman pope’.”
“Wait, as I recall,” Alan said, “Joanna wasn’t really stoned to death?”
“Correct,” I advised. “The official unofficial version was that she was deposed for incontinence and forced into a convent. Meanwhile, to keep her quiet the new pope made Joanna’s son the Bishop of Hostia. And, in a final twist of irony, when Joanna was on her deathbed, she instructed that her burial should be in that place where she had given birth – the Via Sacra! Ha, oh the miracles which God works, eh?”
“But what has all this—“ Alan began.
“Wait,” I was still laughing. “Don’t forget the sedes stercoraria!”
“What’s he talking about?” Miriam was annoyed with this tangent.
“He’s referring to… defecation seats.” Alan stammered. “It seems, after Joanna, pope-elects were forced to sit on a special throne — with a hole in it.”
“For what purpose?” Miriam asked, confused.
“To verify the sex of the pope!” I grinned impishly.
“Preposterous!” Miriam gasped. “You two are making all this up.”
“Ah, I’m afraid John is telling the truth.” Alan blushed. “After Joanna, prior to any official announcement, the new pope-elect was made to sit upon thesedes stercoraria, robes lifted so that his bare bottom touched the seat. The chair was hollow in the middle and underneath, therefore the cardinals were allowed to reach underneath and… ah, confirm he was indeed a man.”
A long line of cardinals could make for a long day…
(This is true, my friends. Check it out for yourself if you don’t believe me).
“Why that’s just horrible.” Miriam was aghast at the thought.
“What’s so bad about a little—“ I started off again.
“Be that as it may.” Alan raised his voice to drown out my bawdy humor. “We must get back to the tale at hand. Miriam, regarding what you wrote to Pope Joanna about Michael’s war on terror, please, tell us more.”
Thankful to be past that last bit of the conversation, Miriam advised, “Among other things, I wrote about the climax of The Infernal War – a covert attack led by Michael against the walls of the underworld.”
“Moving the battle lines,” Alan agreed, “from Heaven’s Bates — where they have been since Lucifer’s Fall – to a new front: The Doors of Hell! Yes, I remember, now; it was a bold tactical move – something I ever wondered why Michael didn’t do previously.”
“Because that time was never right… until now.”
(Damn, if she’s right about this…)
“But how can you be sure, Miriam?” Alan asked.
“Shortly before I rescued you, Alan, Gabriel revealed that Michael is on the move and that Hell itself was about to be laid to waste.”
“Well, that settles it then, eh?” I chimed in. “If Michael is taking matters into his own hands, then what do they need us for? I guess we can all relax. Seems like our entire existence has been nothing but—“
“John, stop!” Miriam yelled. “You know that even if Michael does open the gates of Hell, if the Antichrist stops the Second Coming of Jesus in this world, then Lucifer can escape Michael and come here. God would be driven away and the earth would then become Lucifer’s new home!”
“All hope would be gone.” Alan surmised. “The battle would be over, and we would end up be on the losing side.”
“Not if we change sides now.” I said in a deadpan tone, looking at each of my companions and waiting to see how they replied.
(I’m a stinker, I know. But an old man’s gotta have some fun, neh?)
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.”
OK, out with it – let’s hear your questions. I can tell that you won’t let me move on with my tale unless I start answering some of your nagging questions so let’s get it over with.
Am I immortal?
Yes. Alan, Miriam, and I are all immortal – we have been since He made us that way – nearly two thousand years ago. It’s a bitch. Trust me.
Take today for instance – here I am just sitting in my bed trying to get some sleep and shake this drunken haze. Yet I can’t get any peace because He keeps sending me more revelations. Enough already!
Being immortal is just not all it’s cracked up to be.
I know Alan and Miriam may feel different, but what do they know?
Oh sure, there was a time when I had a different opinion, but those days were long gone — two thousand years on this planet will do that to a guy.
Well, now that the cat’s out of the bag, I suppose I’ll have to tell you a few more things to keep you from bombarding me with questions…
Here’s a few more tidbits about my life – take them for what you will.
Obviously I haven’t always lived in upstate Pennsylvania; I was actually born half a world away and some two millennia past. And although I’m a persona unknown to most of the world now, long ago I was actually rather famous. Let’s see how quickly you can figure it out…
My father’s name was Zebedee and my mom was Mary Salome. My family was Jewish and originally lived in the Bethsaida region around the Lake of Gennesaret in what is now modern day Israel.
I also had a rather famous brother too – a man who later became known as Saint James The Greater. I’m kinda proud of my older brother so obviously I have to show you a picture of him too.
Click to learn more about my brother
To say James and I were close is an understatement – back in the day we tore it up and were known by all as The Sons of Thunder. Sure we got into a bit of trouble, but it was all in good fun.
Meanwhile, my dad had a fishing business that James and I helped him with it. The business was profitable enough to allow me to afford my own house and it even gave me a bit of status (I was a personal friend of the Jewish high priest at the time – hey, if you give anyone enough money, they’ll be your friend, right?).
Now Jesus and I we also cousins of another famous preacher – the legendary Jewish apocalyptist known as John The Baptist.
The Baptizer was the first great speaker I had ever met and I actually found myself captivated by all his talk about how “the Kingdom of Heaven was at hand” and what it meant for me and my fellow Jews.
(I wouldn’t fall for all that talk now, mind you, but back then it sounded rather good).
In any case, at the time Jesus and I were both looking for something meaningful to do with our lives (fishing just wasn’t exciting enough) so we decided to follow The Baptizer around for awhile.
Eventually Jesus became a pretty hardcore apocalyptic teacher himself and he too began evangelizing. Since I was closer to Jesus, I left The Baptizer’s group and followed Jesus around for a bit. But soon enough Jesus’s group ran out of money and reality set in, so we had to give it up — I went back home to my boring life in the fishing business, while Jesus wandered off into the desert to find himself.
I honestly thought that was the end of my time as a disciple (of anybody) and I was happy just living the life of a village fisherman. However, about a year later, Jesus came back home – and he was now a changed man.
Jesus claimed he’d a revelation that he was the Son of God!
Perhaps just as importantly, he also had a new plan for his evangelical work: expansion via recruitment.
He asked me and my brother James to join him and leave our fishing business to instead become “Fishers of Men.”
We took the bait and helped Jesus find more recruits. It was a wild success – we travelled around like rock stars for awhile and after that I was pretty much by Jesus’ side from there on out – until Jesus was crucified that is!
As you can imagine Jesus’s death at the hands of his jealous adversaries was quite an ordeal – events certainly didn’t work out as I thought they were going to when Jesus first roped me into the experience and when he was murdered so unexpectedly it left myself and the other disciples in a bit of shock. We had no idea what to do next and most of us were just trying to lay low for awhile in order to save our own skins.
Thankfully Jesus proved he was the Son of God when he rose from the dead just three days after his crucifixion and that, as I’m sure you can imagine, was rather inspiring.
On fire for his message, I took it upon myself to continue his Christ’s mission. In fact, I later wrote about my time with Jesus in a book called The Gospel of John. Watch it today on Amazon Prime (everybody has that now, right?)
Looking back now I regret the decision to get caught up with Jesus — it was all just a crazy idea. Back then I was young and stupid. Oh sure there was something charismatic about Jesus – even more so than The Baptizer.
But Jesus clearly said that he would return.
And he said that he was going to do so during our lifetimes back then.
So where the hell is he? And what’s taking him so damn long?
That’s right. I said it.
You wanted to know what has me so upset. Well now you know.
The Last Temptation of John 