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Chapter 4: A Pious Woman Named Bernice

Spellbound with so much history and local facts Onofrio listened intently to his private mentors. Searching for something intelligent to contribute and knowing his offerings would be miniscule, he settled back to continue his journey into knowledge. But, not before he asked his learned companions, “What more has been said about the woman Bernice? Serou was recipient to many news items in his capacity; the story of Bernice had reached his attention. “Son, you should know this first. The Greeks have been translating the history of our world since the conquest of Alexander the great. Of the three languages in constant use Bernice will most likely be given a Latin name in the future. It’s reasonable to guess it may even be Veronica. Since the Greeks are known to favor the truth regarding what they write. Vera is their word for “truth” and “icona” means image. My guess is they will call her “Veronica of the veil”. Even though Bernice is a respectable Jewish woman, historians will not give her a Hebrew name. Think back to the inscription on a rude plaque over the head of Jesus at the cross. It read “Jesus of Nazareth, king of the Jews.” It was written in Aramaic, Latin and Greek. Based on that, I believe history will call Bernice by her Greek name, Veronica. “The bearer of the truth.”

Bernice (Veronica) suffered from an unexplained blood issue for twelve years and went to consult Jesus. According to the story she was healed of her malady the very same day. That made her an instant believer with no qualms. She repeated her story to all that would listen. It was rumored that she was at the beheading of John, the Baptizer. How she fit into those high ranking guests, I do not know. That story would make her a witness to the sorrows that plague young Salome. The horror of seeing the head of John on a platter then passed around for all to see put a tamper on the evening’s festivities. Friend, foe or critic of John’s accusations found reason to be elsewhere. Bernice may have been a front row witness to all that. Her pious ways would urge her to be home instead of such a place. After seeing all that and knowing that Jesus and John were related, her reverence for Jesus may have amplified. Should that be the case, imagine her agony to see Jesus in torment on his way to Golgotha. The weight of the cross and the crude surfaces adding grief to His painful journey.” Serou stopped his story to look at his adopted son. “Onofrio, may I go on. Can you stand to hear of that ordeal once more?”  Glassy eyed Onofrio looked at him and crimped his lips. “Yes, it’s become easier over time. And I want to hear how Bernice fits into His final journey. I was there but cannot remember ever knowing who she was.”

Many of the Jews read the sign, for the
Place where Jesus was crucified was near
The city, and the sign was written in
Aramaic, Latin and Greek.

John 19:20 NIV

“Bernice is the woman that struggled past the guards and used the mantle from her head to wipe His face of sweat and blood. She is a kind and gentle local woman with no malice in her heart. She was severely torn to see this kind and gentle man so brutally penalized. So deep was her torment that she felt the pains Iesus suffered herself. Once His face was cleansed to a reasonable degree she was forced from His side but not before Iesus thanked her.

 

Just then a woman who had been subject to bleeding for 12 years came up behind him and touched the edge of His cloak. 21. She said to herself, “If I only touch his cloak, I will be healed!” 22. Jesus turned and saw her. “Take heart daughter,” He said “Your faith has healed you.” And the woman was healed at that moment.

Matthew 9: 20-22

Then Serou placed a gentle hand on his adopted son’s shoulder and added with cautious wording. “Son, what I tell you next is to help console your heart. I know you still suffer from your day at Golgotha. This is for you to carry in your heart. Salome the dancer is said to have become intrigued with all the talk of stone castles in the sky, eternal life and the healing power of Jesus. She knew Jesus and John the Baptizer were cousins and she risked going to Golgotha. She feared hell fire and damnation from the heavenly father of Jesus. In disguise she was at His crucifixion. She was still hounded by the eyes of John looking at her in eternal condemnation. She wanted to sleep in peace and could not do so. In the depths of her grief and close to witnessing a second murder, she begged Jesus to forgive her for her part in His cousin’s beheading. The furious rains came down and Salome with her companions were forced from the scene. Only Salome went untouched by the downpour and saw the blood stains on her forearms and chest disappear in the midst of that hellacious storm. She was forgiven for her actions with the same words that forgave you, for building the cross.

“Forgive them father, for they know not what they do.”

Only a stone heart would not want to be held in loving arms at that moment. Onofrio was not a stone heart. No words were exchanged in that loving and peaceful embrace. None were necessary. Onofrio had learned to accept his pardon and grew ever more curious about Jesus and the things that happened around him. It was Onofrio’s turn to pour the wine and asked for what happened to Bernice after the crucifixion?

“Bernice went home in arduous lament with the mantle over her head as her only protection in that awful storm. Finally safe, she took it off and almost suffered a heart attack to see a portrait of her healer’s face emblazoned on her mantle. She fell to the floor in awe as well as fear. How could it be? The portrait of Jesus complete with blood trickling down his face and thorn wounds dug into his flesh.

But, there it was. A miracle appearance by the healer from Nazareth. A man of destiny, a man on a mission not yet fulfilled.

The cloth she used was common among housewives and often called a sudarium in Latin. It means a “sweat cloth.” The humble cloth with the face of Jesus vividly imprinted will no doubt become an object of envy and plots to obtain. The Hebrew council will go far to discredit the image as a hoax. They have yet to accept the workings of their God. If I were God, I would quit trying so hard. Some knowledgeable people examined the cloth and have not come up with a conclusive answer. Other than to say that the image is definitely not a painting and the image shows up in the color red. More mystifying is the fact that the image seems to disappear into the fabric under various positions. Some seem to think that it is affected by light. Held to the light, the image comes forth and fades when in darkness. Jesus may be relaying a message through that mysterious veil. “Come unto me in the light for I am the way and away from me remain in the dark.” I cannot say for sure, but it’s possible. Close associates of Bernice felt healing power from the cloth and now people are calling it a veil. A sweat rag is hardly a veil. However, the imprint of Jesus’ face makes it the finest piece of fabric in the known world.” The Egyptian had listened well to his paid messenger. Having seen the works of various Gods in his youth as well as his mature years, Serou was an open door to the magic of his most recent Godly guest. Iesus, son of IamthatIam. Yehovah. Thinking deeper, Serou reached another point of vital interest. Isis had been totally helpless against the works of Yehovah in Egypt. The plagues, the death of Egypt’s first born, the insect infestations and the parting of the Red Sea were marveled even by the powerful Goddess Isis and held the works in reverence with head bowed. Perhaps it was time for Serou, the Egyptian to reinvest his faith.

A few days passed and the hunger to hear his learned scholars speak urged Onofrio to seek them out and re-gather their knowledge in Tremiyo’s back yard. Pleasant warmth rode on the desert breeze causing overhead branches to gently sigh and sway. No clouds sashayed across the sky. Only a mantle of pale blue announced the makings of a flawless day. The usual birds flew, fluttered and flitted around the patio while baby Horacio played with a wooden horse Onofrio carved. It was the Sabbath and most people were spared the task of going to work. A day of rest and meditation.  A day to praise individual Gods for the generosity of their gifts. Onofrio was no exception.

Although Serou’s wife, the lady Clavenia had called on the young man for various errands and minor tasks she remained reserved not to ask too much of her adopted son. She had developed into a refined lady with impeccable manners and a beauty rare among women. Her skin was a flawless sheath of glowing mellow tan. She had eyes the color of muted chocolate with flashes of light when she made sudden turns. Posture and stride were reflections of unpretentious grace. She liked being in the company of Onofrio but would delay their time together as much as possible. She would never betray her husband but she had an inherited right to fantasize. It’s possible she harbored a secret jealousy of Senobia and her time with Onofrio. She nonetheless felt obligated to contribute to Onofrio’s ongoing education conducted by her husband and Tremiyo. Serou was at a distant location and would be gone a few days. Tremiyo gathered his wife, Camia, Senobia and the children then went into the city for a prayer meeting and some needed items in Tremiyo’s vast kitchens. The lady Clavenia summoned Onofrio to her presence by way of a faithful servant. A sumptuous array of edibles and wine rested on a large low level table along with finger bowls and fresh linen towels. Serou’s two young daughters were in a music class in the distant corner of the vast banquet hall. Special people roamed around cleaning, sweeping, wiping and generally just going through the motions of working. Re-arranging the furniture was ignored today. Their interest was divided between the handsome young man dressed in white with touches of gold and the girls plunking off key notes on their string instruments. One of the girls was practicing her vocal notes that sounded more like crickets chirping in the night.

Clavenia was first to speak, “My husband tells me how interested you were in our local history and I thought I could contribute to your store of knowledge. It is often said that women understand the plight of their fellow women far better than the most learned man. You were at the crucifixion and suffered much for your part in that. In your state of mind, you may have missed some vital instances. I have all the respect in the world for your ordeal. I could not endure what you went through. But, your quest for knowledge must fill in all the gaps, that you may have a fuller picture. My husband said you called Yerushalayim (Jerusalem in Hebrew) a cradle of miracles. Son, that is only partially true. The miracles we see are the workings of Gods that we mere humans cannot understand. Take heed and beware where you place your faith and dedication. Jupiter, the God of Rome is considered a heavenly father by name. Numerous Gods have found earth women attractive and have sired children through them. Our history is filled with such stories. Therefore the Romans are making a serious effort to achieve two goals. Unite all people in Judea under their God or Gods  and second bring peace and prosperity to the region without bloodshed. Son, the Greeks are advancing to the same goal from an opposite direction. The Greek God Zeus is closer to being connected to our local son of god, Iesus. Listen carefully when they’re saying “hail Zeus”. It sounds close to saying hay-sus, the birth name of the Nazarene. The people hunger for a god to bring an answer to all their problems free of charge. Iesus came close to answering that wish with his miracle cures. His being conceived by the Holy Spirit and Mary is much talked about. But the young girl within Mary is cast aside by people anxious to pass out unpleasant labels. My heavens son, she was only fourteen years old. Brought up in the bowels of sanctity and devotion to the God the Hebrews worship. The child was pushed into obedience to the temple rules at the age of three. She never had the opportunity to take the knowledge she gained, sort it out and decide what she wanted to believe and what to reject. The child never had a will or her own.  That an angel named Gabriel came to her is well known. Such an apparition can scare a grown person into docile submission. Moses is said to have groveled on the ground in the presence of his God. Can you not see how intimidated the child Mary could be? She was scared out of her wits. Hardened Romans were rendered like dead men in the presence of the angel that came to collect the corpse of Iesus. The Gods have much business to conduct in Judea. Add a miracle to the list of the obvious. The Gods have chosen Judea for their battle ground. Mary the virgin is a key in the ongoing struggle for supremacy. Mortals may condemn and call her unfavorable names. Stone hearts make mockery of the Immaculate Conception but the Gods will give her an honorable place in their domain. The Holy spirits visit to her was like a sun beam passing through a drop of clear water. Seemingly disturbing nothing, yet leaving a seed of life to develop in warmth and protection. Only a God could leave young Mary’s virginity intact. And, don’t forget that while on earth she was a child bride with no say in her own destiny. I am proud and happy to see you frolic with your son, Horacio. Can you fathom the depth of your grief, if he was claimed by death? Can you not accept that your grief would be equal to Mary’s as her only son was spiked to a cross and waited in deathly agony for him to die and pray and wish that a miracle would occur? You had your day with Iesus, now think of Mary. Iesus is gone to be with his heavenly father. Mary is still alive living and reliving her son’s ordeal every day of her life. Her day at Golgotha will last a lifetime. Nobody pays heed to her daily ordeal. Nobody reflects on her as a child, programmed and guided to her present position. She is treated as though she was born a mature adult in full command of her decisions. I feel safe to say that people accept the stories of Gabriel’s visit with a degree of uncertainty. Furthermore she is not poor. Her parents left two homes and some gold for her support. She was entrusted to the disciple John by Iesus while on the cross. The gossip heads have a new question: What does Mary and John do after the candles are snuffed?

When Jesus saw his mother, and the
disciple whom he loved standing near
He said to his mother, “Woman, behold
your son!” Then he said to the disciple,
“Behold, your mother!” And from that
hour the disciple took her to his home.

John 19: 26-27  NIV

Onofrio remained speechless before the insight of his step mother.  Momentarily amazed at what she knew from her secluded domain. She seemed to always be home. She was surrounded by people that served her every need. Rightfully Onofrio surmised they were the lady Clavenia’s fountain of knowledge. An obvious source of information would be a lady music and voice teacher that came every day to instruct Clavenia and her two daughters, Banafrit (beautiful soul) and Irisi (fashioned by Isis). The girls had a mature woman tutor them every day on all matters of life. Clavenia’s quest to learn was constantly nourished by three sources. Serou was generous in sharing many things he gathered from his sources of information. She was always a good listener being a perpetual student of the world. Onofrio realized that her concept of events around her, were well based. It led him to wonder if men gave serious thought to the tribulations of women.

He left the company of the lady Clavenia after extended good buys from his step sisters who adored him. Banafrit and Irisi clung and begged for his attention at every opportunity.

His wife Senobia had been raised with the liberty of her thoughts. Her father and step mother, Camia were careful daily instructors in all matters of life. She was invited and spent much time in the same tutorship as the lady Clavenia. In that ambience of learning Senobia gathered much knowledge about music, voice and other feminine interests. She grew into the graceful manners of lady Clavenia by association. Senobia by standards was a free mind like few other females. She read and wrote fluently like an experienced scholar. She  wrote an entire story about the humble beginnings of Iesus and recorded all his sermons and lessons on numbered scrolls. They were in fact books on the life of the Nazarene for future reference. And though her father allowed her the privilege of indulging in such work, he had ulterior motives. The activity kept her from dwelling too much on her growing biological needs. He was staunchly devoted to preserving her virginity for her wedding night. Senobia was too innocent to understand his motives and obeyed as any child would.

It was not uncommon for Onofrio to encounter a phrase or word he did not understand and call on his wife for help. It grated him at first to ask but soon learned how much she liked being a help to him and so he accepted her assistance. It nourished a special time together.

In a far away dream Onofrio often remembered his introduction to Senobia’s butterfly kisses. She fluttered her eyelashes on his cheek to cause a miniature thrill on his masculine senses. To this day and on special occasions Senobia would come to his side and flutter her eye lashes on his cheek. It was in fact an invitation to some private time. It pleased him infinitely that she would take his hand and lead them to their private chambers, as if he needed help finding the way.  These were times when she was a miniature dictator. Love was a wondrous thing that lived comfortably in his home. Lady Clavenia’s oratory opened a new door to Onofrio’s life. He compared how Tremiyo and Camia had carefully tutored their child to obey the same things taught to the Virgin Mary at the temple. An undeniable correlation to both young girls’ lives opened brightly in his mind. A deeper appreciation of Mary’s ordeal and her daily torments found reverence in his heart. While Iesus recuperated comfortably in the house of his heavenly father.

Out in the streets dissention, political unrest and religious upheaval were having a game day for all parties. There remained no doubt that the Hebrew authorities used every possible means to eradicate the followers of the Nazarene. Supposedly righteous men committed heinous crimes removing human obstacles to regain control of their eroding congregations. Many members of the Hebrew council resolved never to be penniless slaves again. There was power in gold and they used it as a weapon. A practice in use since the birth of greed.

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With his right hand on a low overhead limb Onofrio bowed to pray in his own style. The God he praised was a close friend and the need for a formal address was cast aside. Onofrio knew the power of resurrection in his own young life. His father, valiant warrior and protector of his domain passed over dense forest, vale and mountain high and even crossed a mighty sea to find his son and spend precious time with him. On a previous visit Horacio brought news of his wife’s location. Onofrio finally remembered his father calling his wife by her full maiden name, Maria Elena De Las Montanas. (Mary Ellen from the mountains.) She was in eternal rest now, on a picturesque hillside. A site boasting grand views of fertile valleys in multiple shades of green, snow capped mountains and fresh breezes to soothe the soul. A huge white stone marked the location and a clear stream meandered slowly by. One could clearly hear the musical gush of water roiling over stones. The green of peace was her everlasting blanket and a sky of heavenly blue was her veil. Mother earth held Maria Elena in her bosom and enfolded her gently into herself. Maria Elena was the foster child of Mother Earth. She had been on loan to a just and rightful man. Born in two worlds united in one by God. Between the sun and the moon was the realm of his mother, Maria Elena de las montanas. (Mary Ellen of the mountains.)

A collection of birds found reason to reside at this location. They were a daily symphony directed by angels for the lovely Maria Elena. She lived in the heart of Onofrio as a gentle beautiful image of unfathomed love. He was too young to know about marital devotion, but he knew it existed in the loving scenes he often saw his parents in. Horacio was granted passage from beyond his grave to this strange land. As an alien being without map or compass he instilled lessons in his son as was his paternal duty. “The storms of men will be countless. The peace of heaven will always be one. Be a righteous man and all righteous things will come to you.”Senobia was a living model of righteousness as Maria Elena had been in life. There was not a fleck is malice in their hearts. They knew love and devotion only in full gear. No in betweens existed. Onofrio’s prayer was one of immense gratitude to the father of Jesus, who was said to reside in heaven. Without heavenly guidance, he would have died on a long forgotten desert trail. To that Devine guidance Onofrio owed allegiance.

Relieved of a soulful call Onofrio resumed his place among his personal scholars, Tremiyo and Serou. Senobia and Camia came to check on their men and refresh their snack tray and wine. Senobia asked her father, “Papa, when you go into the city, I would like to have some fish. I’ve been craving baked fish for days with a tart sauce overlay.” Camia and the men all looked at Senobia in wonder if perhaps a fourth arrival into Senobia’s family was being announced? The ladies self discharged into their other obligations as if they were not wanted at this conference of learned men.

Serou commented how happy young Senobia appeared. Then praised his adopted son for being a good father. It was apparent Senobia was devoted to her husband and that brought about another round of resurrection stories. “Egypt is a land with an awesome past. There is no greater love story and portrait of devotion in all of Egypt than the love of the goddess Isis and the God Osiris. The statement sparked immense curiosity in the mind of Onofrio. What possible connection could there be to the ancient God and goddess Isis and Osiris to the current events with Jesus. But, the young man had learned to always listen to the wisdom of Serou. Quietly he rested easy waiting for his foster father to relate his story.
“They were brother and sister and as was the royal habit they fell in love and had a son named, Horus. Many royal lines were kept intact by these family love affairs. To a degree the practice preserved royal lines. Family fortunes remained intact and often multiplied.
Jealousy gave life to the wickedness of the brother of Osiris, named Seth. Legends will unfold for millennia regarding his plots to destroy Osiris and take over the kingdom. He hated his own sister Isis with a deadly passion. Legend has it that the envy of Seth was so enormous that he urged his Gods to grant him guidance and remove the obstacle of his glory. Helped by 72 constituents, he secretly secured his brother’s exact physical measurements. From only the most costly materials he had an ornate box built in human form to only fit his brother Osiris. At a great feast with only the followers of Seth present, they each tried to fit into the box as a game to win the expensive prize for themselves. His guests toyed, and jested about fitting in the box. Some were too tall, others too fat and some too short to make a proper fit. Music, wine, food, laughter and good cheer rang throughout as each contestant failed to win the prize. With no malice in his heart and trusting his conniving brother Osiris tried the box. It was a perfect fit and when he went into it, Seth and his cohorts closed the lid and sealed it with molten lead. The box was the coffin of Osiris and it was caste into the Nile to float out to sea and dissolve into nothing. Isis suffered greatly from the loss of her brother/lover and searched the entire world for his remains. Driven by powerful devotion she tirelessly searched the immensity of the Nile river swamps in all directions. At last, she found a Tamarisk tree where the coffin had lodged. The tree was admired by the king and queen of Byblos and had it cut down then fashioned into a column for their palatial home. Isis became a slave at their palace just to be close to the coffin that held her lover/brother.

Finally she was discovered to be the goddess Isis and was given the contents of the coffin in return for services rendered. She had used her magic to heal the sick and bring solace to the bereaved. Isis used all her magical powers to restore life to her brother. Painfully, methodically she slowly fused life and blood flow back to Osiris. In joyful splendor they had a honeymoon that cheered the angels in heaven. Music rang from the motion of their love and the world heard it all. When Seth learned of the success of Isis he kidnapped Osiris while he still struggled to fully recover. This time he cut the remains into fourteen pieces and spread them out into the vast marshlands of the Nile as a feast for the crocodiles. Devotion, my young friend. Pure and undiluted devotion moved Isis to search the immensity of the wild swamps again for the pieces and used her magic to re-construct her brother. She found all the pieces except his manhood. That part had been eaten by fish that no human will ever taste. Twice Osiris was brought to life by the magic and the love of his devoted sister, Isis. After that Osiris resigned to be ruler of the dead. And Isis was left to suffer her life without her brother/lover. It was believed that the mighty Nile River flooded every year with the depth of her tears. That deep love and devotion was given an eternal monument in the skies. The star of Isis and the star Osiris will reside in heaven forever.” “I see a reflection of that devotion in our current hero lady Mary of Magdala towards Jesus of Nazareth. You, of course know that Jesus started calling her “Magdalene” to distinguish her from so many other women named Mary including his mother. She is the daughter of Syrus along with her brother Lazarus and sister Martha. The family is descended from the royal line of David and was extremely well off. The castle of Magdala on the shores of the Sea of Galilee was Mary’s part of her inheritance. The fortress Magdala as it is called by some people. Magdalene suffered from a malady that affects many people of wealth. For a woman she was overly curious about all the workings of the world. The world was an open book she delved into it with voracious hunger. It is not wrong to want to grow mentally. It is an obligation we inherit to serve humanity. It is ordained by every known god since time immemorial. She explored the teachings of Isis at the temple of the goddess and effectively became a devoted slave to that doctrine. That doctrine placed her in many objectionable circumstances, but she made a commitment and like it or not she lived up to it. Her devotion to Isis has gained her some ugly names but that is close to normal. People find more pleasure in finding fault with others than they find by looking into themselves. She also suffered from gluttony, she loved food. Other personal maladies plagued her. Her beauty inflated her ego and fanned her vanity into a constant display of her feminine attributes. Which, I must say were admirable. I saw her a few times in the streets of Jerusalem. She was quick to anger and that is a human fault. As Isis was a goddess of good so appears to be the teachings of Jesus. Benevolence and empathy appear to be their scepter of power. Magdalene’s thirst for knowledge propelled her to search the teachings of Jesus as a comparison to what she learned as a devotee of Isis. It is not for me to say conclusively, since I know not the innermost workings of the lady’s mind. But, I feel safe to say that in Jesus she finally found a man worthy of a devotion she denied any other man she may have known. Jesus did not plot to gain her wealth. He instilled love and peace in her heart and soul. He won her dedication when he set her free of her human faults and more so when He rose her brother from his would have been eternal grave. Those are two powerful incentives for devotion and even love. The fortunes of her family are in careful management by their sister Martha. She is prudent and infinitely trustworthy. As a way to play the guiding mother of her family, Martha persuaded Magdalene to get close to Jesus and hopefully it would cure her of her humanly demons. She was said to suffer from seven of them and Jesus cast them all out. Her devotion to Jesus has been called a love affair by some of the same people that dare not look into themselves. Jesus would not profane his father’s mandate with such a base human behavior. The work Jesus knew to lay ahead of his journey through earth was of far greater importance. As a student of the world, the knowledge gained by Magdalene served her well in understanding what Jesus spoke of better than his faithful disciples. She was not a mind reader but a mind quicker to grasp the in depth meanings of his teachings. She believed in greatness such as Isis, Osiris and the father of Jesus. I feel safe to say that she sensed a far more meaningful destiny developing for the humble carpenter from Nazareth. More so now that she knew Jesus was taken from his grave by a greater power and escorted to heaven by angels before a multitude of witnesses. It was said the Hebrew council made an effort to logically explain the apparition as a flock of migratory birds. Some even said it was somebody’s laundry rambling wild on the desert wind.

It was spell binding to Onofrio to hear such a comparison of an ancient love affair from far away Egypt to the current day Jesus and Magdalene. But Jesus was not a God like Osiris, he was the earthly son of a humble carpenter and it was said he was miraculously conceived by the Holy Spirit. That phase in the life of Jesus still gnawed at Onofrio’s biological knowledge.\

Beyond the intricacies of politics, religious convictions and Roman law and order, down in the heart of the outrageous crowd was the mother of Jesus being shoved and pushed aside as she struggled to see her son being spiked to hardwood timbers. There to suffer painfully until slowly the last breath was forced from his tormented body by his own weight. The rude crowd all too focused on achieving the best views showed no concern or mercy for the grieving mother. Finally a strong armed somewhat friendly face pushed people aside to let Mary and her companions pass. An angry individual shoved aside had to ask, “Who in the hell are they and what are they doing in this madness.” “Shut up, idiot. That’s the mother of the one on the center cross”, came the stern reply. Cheers mixed with catcalls to blush the air followed in profusion. Obnoxious name calling with hoots and hollers rang throughout as melee and disorder reigned supreme. Along with Mary Magdalene and other women, his mother came to witness her son’s death.

Enormous trauma wrapped in deep seated grief must have gripped her heart. The child she carried in her womb was now the subject of scorn and ridicule. A frightful helplessness governed her heart forbidden by law to help her child. With human strength drained from her, she accepted helping arms from her companions. Magdalene and His mother both wore the mask of painful grief. She too was helpless to intervene or subdue her own pains. She waited painfully at the summit for the end to come and prayed it would not. Rest assured, son. She prayed that He be spared by a God sent miracle. She took her heart in hand and prayed to her only God that like Abraham was stopped by an angel and ordered not to sacrifice his only son Isaac. Jesus was the only son of her God. And though Mary may have wished to stop the killing of her only son, she knew better than any other human on earth that this was not the final destiny of her beloved son. There were far greater plans yet to unfold. “But Onofrio, you must grasp the reality of the moment that was here and now. The future was a promise made by an unseen God with no name.” The ordeal of Mary was equal to dying without a God’s hand to hold. She had a right to wonder if perhaps she had placed her faith in the wrong hands. As a human female, with little or no voice in a world dominated by men, that reality had to be a terrible penalty to pay for giving away her faith. I wish her grief never befall on any woman I know or have known. It pains me terribly just to think of my wife, Clavenia suffering such an ordeal. That you may see deeper into the strength of the human soul, Mary, mother of the son of God regained her faith with a single story of her son Jesus rising to heaven escorted by angels. Taken to where none of his enemies would ever go. Mary and Joseph from the obscure village of Nazareth have struggled much to bring Jesus to this end.” Pensively Serou brought his oratory to an end looking to Tremiyo for confirmation and received a broad smile and a positive nod.

“Mary of Magdala, now known as Magdalene is a portrait of faith unhampered by devious minds. She dedicated her faith to Isis until she was called to cleanse her life. She abandoned her post as a temple priestess, which carries notable respect. Casting away the mandates that came with that membership to serve a greater purpose. Magdalene has considerable means of income, managed by Martha. They pooled their resources to provide for the disciples without showing their hand. The family has considerable social contacts which they maintain honorably. There are still splinters of Magdalene’s weaknesses. She over eats and most likely drinks a bit too much. But, nobody has ever said that she over takes her dose of wine. Even though she may trip a bit in her new role, she has made remarkable progress. She is now called the disciple of the disciples. An honorable position with no pay, except for paying a debt to Jesus for resurrecting her brother. That obligation will go to the grave with her. She sees to some of the needs of the poor. She sends the disciples to render assistance where it is needed. She constantly reminds them that these are the things Jesus would do. It’s been said that she clarifies what Jesus said to his disciples assisted by her learning’s at the temple of Isis.

Do not seek straight paths in
The darkness possessed by fear.
But gather force and support each
other. He who supports his
neighbor strengthens himself.

The woman has my utmost respect for rising head and shoulders above her foul mouthed critics and doing a service to people that need it. She is not doing this for fame or glory. She became the favorite disciple people choose to call beloved, because she understood the depth of his teachings. Jesus took a long educational expedition to other cradles of knowledge to the east. He was sixteen or seventeen when he left Judea and returned as a mature individual. The things he learned on his epic twelve or fourteen year journey eclipsed the understanding of his followers. She has no aspirations of becoming immortal. My dear son, She’s a portrait of devotion. Pure and simple. Her presence at the crucifixion fed the gossip mongers a lesson they may not understand. Gossipers chose to call her appearance a physical love for Jesus and could not think deep enough to attribute her presence as a pilgrimage of faith, a show of devotion. She made an open declaration when she stood firm alongside His mother and the son of God before man and the tempest that followed. She was not shaken by the earthquake nor did she fear the noon day night. She was there with stout heart and unquestioned dedication. It took volumes of love to stand her ground. She is like Isis waiting for her Osiris to rise again. I have no doubt that Jesus and Magdalene will meet somewhere in the promised afterlife. They will walk hand in hand before a greater glory. Like Isis and Osiris did before his second abduction by Seth. All God men have a female counterpart who resurrects them from death. Osiris by Isis- Attis by Cylele – Tammuz by Ishtar. This part is as old as humanity. It is in God’s plan to always have a male and a female to set the pattern for mankind. It is a part of the myth of the goddess and speaks of the true worth of the female and her part in the dance of reality. We are seeing that dance of reality pass before our eyes. I predict that Jesus and Magdalene will become icons of faith in the distant future.”

“Mary Magdalene and Mary of Nazareth knew each other. It is too much to say that they were close friends, because I do not know for sure.

But it would be impossible not to know about each other, living in the same community with daily stories of current events coming to them. They were women drawn to the same man, for different reasons but none the less true. Their torment at the cross brought them closer together. They were united in pain, in hope and in grief. I would go so far as to say that Magdalene may have wished to carry the child of the son of God in her womb. It is as you say the will of nature to seek out the most worthy for reproduction. The grandson of God would qualify. But, that was not the plan of the almighty. Jesus and Magdalene would sail in different directions to each a separate destiny. It has been said Jesus will sit on the right hand side of his father. There they will wait for Mary and Magdalene to make their journey to heaven as both have earned their passage.” Tremiyo was simply awed by the knowledge and understanding of his long time friend, Master Serou.

While Onofrio was curious to know, “why was the supposedly virgin Mary chosen for such an arduous task?” Her suffering through all this required a far stronger person than Mary appeared to be. She sacrificed her entire life to arrive at her son’s demise. His rising into the sky accompanied by angels still leaves Mary earthbound without her son. Who praises her? Who rewards her ordeal? She is alone with the world as her critics. Not everybody believes the virgin story. There’s ugly rumors’ floating around regarding her past. It’s even been said that she was forced to know a Roman centurion named Panterra while she was so carefully guarded at the temple.” Tremiyo came to the rescue of that rumor. “What callous hearts do not know for fact, they will embellish to suit themselves. That reality is woven into the history of mankind. And true, there’s many stories floating around regarding Mary’s history and it is true that the centurion Panterra lusted for the Virgin Mary. She was very pretty and referred to as being green fruit come to ripening and the Centurion lusted much for her. In spite of the compliment, she was forbidden fruit. Most especially to a transient centurion of dubious distinction. Mary had been entrusted to the priest Zachariah and he was responsible for her in every way. Should he fail in his duty, he stood to be severely reprimanded. His priesthood was in jeopardy. He would be disgraced and other parents would withdraw their daughters and their monetary support from such disregard for their young virgins. The temple was a place of worship and we must accept the fact that it was an educational center for young eager minds also. It was the responsibility of the temple elders that the girls in their care were kept virgin. Respectable older women were often used to safe guard and chaperone these young ladies. The girls would be awarded to worthy men as wives. There should be no unhappy husbands wanting to return a disqualified wife. I was told that Zachariah approached the centurion Panterra with a declaration of vital concern to the Roman’s future. “I strongly advise you to seek a post away from these virtuous young girls. Should you disregard my advice, I will be forced to report your behavior to your commanding officer. Since your comportment can have disastrous effects, I will strongly urge your superior to transfer you to a battle front, where your true manhood can be tested. Zachariah is an old man but his physical strength is considerable. His tone of voice carries much authority worth accepting. I later heard that centurion Panterra was moved to Germania.” Such is the power of Zachariah and his regard for those young girls left in his care to serve God. God had other plans for the virgin Mary and centurion Panterra was not included. We must remember that Mary made a commitment to God and the centurion was not a God.”

The doubtful Mary Salome

Tremiyo was on a roll defending the integrity of Mary from Nazareth. Rumors of the unbelievable virgin birth ran wild throughout the countryside. Countless people found great humor in the story. It became barroom jokes and back yard discussions to many. “Onofrio go a bit deeper and resign to accept the facts. Mary Salome was the virgin’s aunt by marriage and when she was told of the miraculous delivery, she had to know for herself. Mary Salome confronted the virgin and asked that she show herself. Along came the midwife to verify what she previously reported and add proof to her future stories. Mary Salome tested the virgin with her finger and her hand gnarled up painfully before her eyes. She screamed in agony and proclaimed on the spot that the living God almost severed her hand. I will not say that she fell to the floor in painful lament for her previous doubt. But, it would be a good time to do so. She was made a confirmed believer of the virgin delivery and the mission of Jesus.” In later years the sons of Zebedee and Mary Salome, John and James became disciples of Jesus and  Mary Salome begged Jesus to bring her sons into His Kingdom and give them an honorable place at His side. But Jesus said it would be decided by His heavenly father and they must follow what his heavenly father ordered. She is still a devoted believer in the Nazarene and holds meetings repeating his lectures. She’s now into doing that for life“. It was time for Tremiyo to refresh his drink and then continued. “Legends and myths will be born from what we see and hear passing by. Each story will have an origin and suffer embellishments by language and geography. Some story tellers will blatantly exaggerate the facts to make an impression on their listeners. Others will be dedicated to relate the facts as close to the truth as possible. Take for instance the daughter of Herodias, Salome the young dancing girl.”
Tremiyo looked at Serou and asked,”What have you heard about that young lady? Is she as guilty of being an accomplice to murder as the rumors say? Or is she a victim of the powers that be?”
Serou gave the question some thought with a crimped brow and eyes in mental conference. “One of my tell tale contacts rode with me one morning wanting a bit extra for his story. It seems that young Salome was coerced by her mother Herodias to ask for the head of John. Herodias is a clever and scheming woman. When the opportunity presented itself, she put it to work. She was quite fired up to dispose of John because he criticized her marriage to Herod Antipas. Her anger flared from the fact that the Baptizer gave her no room to love. On a visit to Rome she fell hopelessly in love with her husband’s brother. With money placed in the proper hands she secured legal aid in getting a divorce to marry the man she loves. As we all know love is blind to politics and public opinion. John the Baptizer called Herod out for marrying his brother’s wife. In reality it violates Mosaic Law. But that put young Salome between two awesome forces. Public opinion of her mother’s marital misconduct and wanting to protect her from John hammering away at her relationship. Her step father is legally her uncle and she owed some allegiance to him also. Herod Antipas was kind to her. She suffered for nothing from the material world. She is no doubt a spoiled royal child. That is common among children of the highborn. The solution seemed simple. Getting rid of John would shut his mouth. Public opinion has a tendency to dissolve with time. John violated the law by what he did. Right or wrong, it was not for him to say that Herod Antipas and Herodias violated Mosaic law. It was the Hebrew council’s place not to allow the divorce or grant her license to marry her brother in law. With money in hand the authorities agreed to the divorce vocally but never in written form.

Mother and daughter did not set out to ask for the murder of John, the baptizer. Herodias saw an opportunity present itself when she saw the lust in her husband’s eyes for her daughter, his niece. Salome had a desirable physique for a girl her age. Her dancing lessons came to her from Arabia where women use their bodies to lure men into webs of intrigue. The lusty minds of men have been baited with that routine since the birth of time. Her provocative dance was not intentional; she was exercising her lessons and entertaining her step father’s guests at his birthday celebration. The evening was filled with excellent food, drink and good cheer. Companionship and friendly conversations filled the hall. There were no premeditated plans for murder. The penalty for John’s transgression was not decapitation. A serious lashing or exile, yes. But not death. Herod Antipas was fully intoxicated. He lusted for the youthful Salome and his wife saw it. The spectators could all plainly see the desire for her gleaming in his eyes. His hands twitched to caress her sensuous flesh. In that inebriated state Herod made Salome an offer that everybody heard. He offered anything she wanted including half his kingdom if she would only dance for him. Such an offer by a king cannot be taken back. Herod was obligated to keep his word before the high ranking people in his presence. Serious apprehension ran wild among the guests. How could Herod make such an outrageous offer? It was beyond logical comprehension. It was insane.
Rest assured my good friends, Salome was not anxious to comply with her mother’s macabre request. Salome is not insane. Only an insane person would find joy in complying with such a gruesome demand. She was a teen aged girl. Not a hardened warrior. The truth of my statement comes to light when my tell tale reporter announced that Salome had been suffering from nightmares of immense proportions. It is said that she hears John, the Baptizer calling her name. Another tale from one of her personal maids declares that they had to pacify her one night because John the Baptizer was reaching out from his grave to touch her. Salome was screaming and running around the room escaping a phantom John the Baptizer who was calling and chasing her. The blood of the Baptizer that splattered on her arms and breasts brought horror to her dreams. She had the costume and the seven veils she used burned immediately. She has been bathing two and three times a day to wash away the stains of his blood on her skin. The story goes on to say that his blood stains will not wash off. But only Salome can see them. None of her ladies or staff at the palace has found a single spot of his blood on her skin. The horror lives with her nightly. She has someone sleep in the same room with her to help if the nightmare returns. She is said to wake up screaming to horror only she can see. The gleaming silver platter with John’s head is never at her bedside table as she seems to believe.
Herod made a terrible mistake offering Salome anything she wanted including half his kingdom, if she would only dance for him. That was the cue for Herodias to formulate a plan on the spot. Salome had to be horrified to comply and yet she was forced to obey her mother. It is horror to see a decapitation looking up at you. More so for young Salome. It’s rumored that Phillip the tetrarch of Ituraea and Trakonitis will send emissaries and ask for Salome’s hand in marriage. Herod and Herodias will most likely comply. But Phillip is too old for her. There’s reason to believe the marriage will not last long. Salome is young and being from a royal line will marry again. Who knows to whom and she may even become a queen. Herod Antipas does not openly show a lust for power. His wife, Herodias is the ambitious one. That ambition can produce catastrophic results when playing in the parlor of high politics. Time will prove that philosophy correct.” Serou concluded, nonchalantly reaching for another snack.
Outside the pleasant surroundings of Tremiyo’s court yard the world continued its daily quest to achieve their goals.

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Serou continued his story with thoughtful looks upon his face, “The Virgin Mary is the second miracle in her own existence, you should know, that her mother and father were equally favored by God. Their love story is the fuel of legends young girls dream about. Iochim needed no introduction to Anna. He had a full report come to him from her handmaidens and nanny. He knew her likes and dislikes before their parents spoke about a family arranged marriage. Rightfully so, Anna held fear in her heart not knowing to whom she would be betrothed. There had been other inquiries about her. At their formal introduction, Iochim dressed like an imperial prince. He had a young man’s beard and mustache struggling for maturity. His eyes were radiant brown and his smile could melt snow. The apparition awed the young girl beyond her wildest expectations. He loved her childlike innocence. Her devotion to Yahweh as her parents was an added bonus. One could tell that within the multiple robes she wore there was a well formed young woman in her budding years. She had eyes of onyx black that sparkled like silver fire. She had a pretty face equipped with high cheek bones and her hair had a natural curl in places. Pretty pink lips with pearl white teeth adorned her oval face.  She wore braids that crossed the crown of her head to add height to her petite stature. In all, she comprised a delectable morsel of femininity. Add to all that her cooking ability and household knowledge. She was a good catch and Iochim wasted no time in putting his bid in for her hand. When her parents were presented with the ketubah (the marriage contract) Iochim included a designated home that would belong to Anna if he should meet with some misfortune. His own home was near the Probatic pool close to the temple. Along came the Mohar (payment to her parents) and a note that her folks would read to Anna. It promised to make her queen of his world. Her soul would dance with joy when he announced his arrival by having one of his companions blow the Shofar.(A wind instrument made from a Ram’s horn.) It advised her that her suitor was coming to call. Love did not take long to develop into full blossom by mutual consent.

Fifty wondrous years filled their lives with countless blessings and cheerful memories. In spite of all their joyful efforts they remained childless. Anna became castigated on two fronts. She blamed herself for being barren. Knowing without doubt that Iochim had done his best to plant seed in her womb to bear no result. Her prayers were the kind that moved mountains and her suffering for lack of a child was worse than death.

She knew without being told that her husband would be held accountable. She suffered agony for the pain and disgrace she caused Iochim to endure. Iochim was dishonored by his council members for not producing a child. All men of standing contributed to the population with their off spring. He was no longer allowed to contribute to the council’s coffers. Furthermore he was banned from their gatherings. He descended from the tribe of David and bore his ancestry with justified pride. Anna (Channah, in Hebrew meaning favor or grace.) was the daughter of Matthan, a priest from the tribe of Levi. Joachim and Anna made an admirable pair and their standing in the community was well noted. Respected and admired they lived well within their social circle. They owned a large comfortable house in Jerusalem with a staff to maintain the home and bring comfort to their lives. Somehow they managed to buy a second home close to Gethsemane, the garden of olives. not far from Jerusalem. Ioachim was an honorable man and his flocks provided a comfortable life. He sheared his sheep and sold the wool to the highest bidder. People from all over the region came to milk his carefully chosen stock and buy what they produced. He sold goats for their meat, sun cured skins for leather and milk for cheeses. Lambs and kid goats for sacrificial purposes were common sales from his flocks. All his endeavors paid him well and he was never without coins in his purse. He shared his good fortune with God. He gave one third of his earnings to the poor; one third went to the temple while he and Anna lived on the remaining one third. And yet they never lacked for anything except a family to call their own. In painful shame Joachim took his flocks and went into isolation in the desert. There he prayed with soul wrenching strength that God deliver him from the shame he bore and grant him a child. He lived in bitter solace away from his loving wife of a lifetime. Perhaps in the desert he cleansed his soul of unwanted debris and became worthy. He found no comfort in his increasing flocks, the food provided and the good pastures laid before him. With a small campfire burning he listened to his animals baying in the night. He knelt before the infinite sky and prayed to God once again. Within his soul, he knew God would not abandon him during this awful time of need and heart torn grief for his home life. His life with Anna had been a paradise on earth. Unmeasured love abounded in their union and yet no child came forth. A purple canopy sparkling with countless stars hosted the visiting angel, Gabriel. The messenger of God stood before the frightened shepherd, Joachim. A fearsome apparition even to a braver man. Intimidated by the awesome presence of Gabriel, Joachim bowed to the ground like a scared child. “Rise” the angel spoke. “I bring glad tidings from the Lord, our God. Round up your flocks and make haste to the gates of Jerusalem. Your wife awaits you there and you will be father to a baby girl.” Joachim had reason to question his sanity. Had he actually seen Gabriel or was it a wishful dream? He resolved to believe that God would not torture him further without just cause. Anna’s loneliness for Iochim was a penalty she suffered nightly. The sun did not shine in Iochim’s absence. During a night without sleep Anna had an equal vision and met her exhausted, bearded and dust covered husband in unfathomed joy by the gates of Jerusalem. It was a reunion that rang the bells in heaven. And in due course their child came forth as foretold by Gabriel. Joachim and Anna were devoted to the God of Abraham without recourse. Together they decided to return the child to the service of their God. She was presented to the priest Zachariah at the age of three. She grew up in the guarded company of other girls at the temple. They were all students preparing for their future. And so the Virgin Mary, Mother of Jesus would develop in total reverence and devotion to the words of her parent’s God. Her heart was full of it. After their faithful service to God and the temple it was customary to give the temple virgins to worthy men. Mary of Nazareth could not marry just anybody. It was said that she went into the Holy of Holies to ask God for guidance. When the angel Gabriel came to her and announced that she was in favor of the Lord and would bear a child she would name Jesus, she said,” How can that be? I have never known a man. I am innocent of sin.” Then she realized that who spoke to her was the Lord’s messenger. Her parents had been visited by him. And she owed her birth to the miracle Gabriel delivered. There remained no questions in her heart as she proclaimed. “Let it be done to me as you will.” At that early age, she was God’s willing servant. Close to the age of fourteen, she was betrothed to an older man named Joseph. A craftsman by trade. It was the accepted thing of the time.

Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found

favor with God. And behold, you will conceive in

your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his

name Jesus. He will be called great, and will be

called the son of the most high; and the Lord

God will give him the throne of his father

David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob

forever; and of his kingdom there will be no end.

Luke 1: 30-33  NIV

Ioachim passed away at the age of 80. Anna was struck by grief beyond consoling. She felt her heart had been ripped out and could not find reason to stay alive. Nights were an agony of despair and soul tearing loneliness for her husband. She walked the darkened corridors of her home countless times and prayed she would find Joachim working at his desk as he often did. For close to six years she visited Mary at the temple and retold her life story to her daughter many times. She instructed Mary to always follow the Lord’s will.  Once knowing she had done all she could for her daughter, she gave up the will to live. There was nothing to fill her life without Joachim. She had seen to the long range care of Mary. In her heart she felt secure that Mary would develop into a fine young lady and would serve God as she and Joachim had faithfully done. She arranged for Mary to own their family home in Jerusalem and the second home near Gethsemane. What funds were raised from the sale of Joachim’s flocks had been put in safe storage. Anne was by no means poor. She had stored wealth and Mary would not want. Her dowry was far from meager, it was impressive. Anna requested her grave be next to her husband that they may be together for all eternity. She was 79.  Young Mary was about 10 years old when she became an orphan and close to the age of fourteen, she moved into her parent’s home in Jerusalem.” After that long story, serou took the time to catch his breath as well as re-gather his thoughts.

The afternoon was an unblemished tapestry of Nature comprised of an unusually cool breeze from the desert scented by moist sand and wild flowers. It had rained somewhere in the distance. Slowly stray fleecy clouds meandered across a background of hazy pale blue. Birds that made their home in the gardens of Serou were busy with the task of providing for their young. The grounds and patio behind Tremiyo’s home were not the Garden of Eden but it had a close resemblance. The guests at this ambience of peace and well being enjoyed the day as well as each other’s company. Tremiyo prepared to verbally educate his son-in-law. While watching Senobia play with the children nearby. He had prayed for this scene a hundred or more times before and here it was, properly delivered and displayed to fill his heart with joy. From time to time Tremiyo would think of his deceased wife, Sintia. Senobia’s biological mother and silently wished she were here to see the result of their love. Sintia was killed by kidnappers and her memory visited Tremiyo’s mind often as a dream unfulfilled. A story without a loving end. A chapter in his life that never gathered dust.

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When God spoke with actions
Chapter 2.

Tremiyo agreed, “We’re living in a cradle of miracles. Mary Magdalene was the first to see Jesus the morning of his resurrection. God granted a life to Joachim and Anna in their child Mary and has returned Jesus to finish his earthly assignments before residing in the house of his heavenly father.”Tremiyo seemed to be addressing Onofrio directly like a professor at a college lecture. “Nature as you are so fond of saying is an enormous force that governs all living things. But, look at how your favorite item of worship was coerced by an even greater power. As Jesus suffered his final moments a storm was made to develop and progress to Golgotha. The storm was unexpected. It was produced to wash away the torment the son of God endured. Cleanse the soil of his agony. Wash the air of hateful malice. The tempest was timed and guided to the precise location of the cross. Son, that was not a normal rain storm. It was not a little spring shower. Within the bowels of that tempest was the anger of God that Hebrew leaders have grown so blind to the words and prophesies of their fathers. The rain that carried strains of the blood of Jesus healed some of the runaway spectators. People reported hearing sinister laughter in the wind. That could only be Satan himself laughing and rejoicing in his work to turn the heads of the Hebrew council. Those hardheads appear to be following the words of Satan rather than the teachings of their God. The storm hurled violent arcs of fire unto the earth. Lightening splintered boulders into dust. Thunder echoed from the intestines of the earth to resonate in the hearts of frightened men. Your item of worship, Mother Nature has never been given cause to display such violence.  And that was only the rain storm. The earth shook brutally. An earthquake tore down hillsides, destroyed trees, shattered homes and strong buildings and put awesome fear in the hearts of those that plotted against Jesus. People died and some suffered injuries from the shifting of the earth. The earthquake announced the beginning of a new era. A spring time for mankind. A time of rebirth. Only the most perverted mind cannot see or understand that God has spoken. The gloom of darkest night invaded the bright noon day with a blanket of solid black. A cape of ebony to touch even the stoutest heart lay upon the land. But God was not finished delivering a message to his delinquent people. The Hebrew council had been misled by greedy minds and for their misguided obedience God struck the veil at the temple in two. The veil was a sacred shield to protect the Ark of the Covenant in a room called the Holy of Holies inside the Tabernacle. The veil, as it is called is a hand woven tapestry 45 to 60 feet high and four inches thick. It is a protective shield without the need of stone and mortar. The strongest timbers were chosen to support the woven wall suspended as if floating free. It was ripped by a Godly force from top to bottom, indicating the power that struck it came from above. That you may better understand, it was God sent. The council members trembled in fear that the splitting of the awesome veil is God condemning their lack of faith. God has cast aside his commitment to his chosen children until they mend their misguided ways. As unable to agree as they are, it may take forever. God’s penalty could last for Jewish eternity. It was said the temple would fall and be rebuilt in three days. They believed the strength and soul of the temple was the veil. It represents God’s commitment to his chosen people. But even a blind man can see that the chosen children have turned their backs on Him. In effect the temple was destroyed as foretold.  Three days in God’s time in not equal to three days in man’s time.  The temple still lies in shambles, left alone by those that greed for the price of rebuilding it.” Tremiyo was like an energetic college professor delivering his favorite lecture.  “Now son, listen to this carefully. It has been clearly shown throughout history that God speaks to us in ways we do not clearly understand. People were expecting the temple to fall to pieces and be reconstructed stone by stone in three days. As Jesus said it would. Not so be the case, son. Jesus was the keeper of God’s words. The temple veil was simply a road sign. A list of directions, so to speak. Jesus was the temple of God’s soul, His only begotten son.  A temple is also a place deemed sacred by virtue of God’s presence. God resided in the heart of his only begotten son, Jesus. That is the temple of God. Not a stone building. When Jesus died God went into a rage. Three days later the temple of God’s very soul was seen rising to heaven, escorted by angels.  The stone temple was still intact. Fools made mockery of it and did not grasp the full message.” Tremiyo, the unassuming  Stewart of the house of Serou was momentarily a giant of faith pointing a rigid finger at his son-in-law and Serou as well. With head bowed sideways, Serou hawkeyed his long time friend and companion. “Tremiyo, I’ve known you for close to twenty years and to this day, you never cease to amaze me. One of the Hebrew councilmen with whom I often speak stated with a wise look on his face, how glad he was that the demented carpenter from Nazareth was stolen from his charity grave and secretly buried elsewhere. God does not fool around with the unworthy,” were his exact words. I am prone to believe that Jehovah is the best judge of who is worthy and who is not. My Gods have all  faded into a realm beyond my comprehension. I am seeing miracles happen and began to believe that faith and religion are on a new path to greater glory. Based on what I’ve seen, I feel I am not too far wrong. The Hebrew council is searching for willing skills to mend the road sign in their temple and have yet to read the full meanings. Pity they cannot change their ways. They’re good people going down the wrong road.”

The Romans are in dire need of building material, I predict they will find just cause to bring down the temple and use the stones to build something that will benefit their cause.”Tremiyo had captured the attention of the knowledgeable Egyptian, Serou. The Egyptian held his chin in his hand and soaked up every word like a thirsty sponge. While Onofrio was like a child intently listening to his father relate a story. He finally brought himself to ask, “What is the ark of the covenant?” Tremiyo was again called to answer the inquisitive young man from Iberia. Onofrio had made much progress in accepting the miracles of Jesus and the words of his heavenly father. So as an advance course in his beliefs Tremiyo would transfer his thoughts to his son-in-law. But Serou intervened with his knowledge of Hebrew and Egyptian history.

”Moses suffered much with some of his rogue followers feeling the sudden power of freedom and wanting to break away on their own. They were like senseless children never having had a thought of their own. They were unable to fully grasp the miracles their God was delivering to them. They lived by lessons learned in bondage. They took what was given with no intent to repay with allegiance. Moses was hounded by his own people that wished to return to Egypt. There was food, shelter and a semblance of security in Egypt. There was nothing in the desert except scorpions, thirst, heat and hunger. The smell of death rose from the suffering people and became a call to the circling buzzards anxious to cop a meal. Close to death without water and near revolt, Moses tapped on a hillside rock, broke the surface and water flowed freely from the stone to quench their thirst. When they hungered severely, they woke up to a field of bread before them and they called it manna from heaven, because it saved their lives. They saw the red (reed?)  sea part in two and gave them safe passage and to this day many remain unable to believe in their own God. Moses was summoned by his God to a mountaintop in the desert. He obeyed all the Godly mandates and answered His call to this one as well. On that lofty mountain top that no man can rightly say, this is the right mountain Moses received the rules by which man should live.

Alongside a wild bush on fire that would not burn. God represented himself as being the fire within the bush. Not in the form of a man but in the form of an eternal flame. At that location Commandments cut in stone were delivered by an awesome power that intimidated the faithful Moses to the ground. Prostrate on the soil of God, Moses trembled in fear of the awesome power that burned words into stone. He was commanded not to raise his eyes to God and he submitted to that demand. With borrowed courage Moses meekly asked for God’s name that he may share it with his people and that they would have a name to revere. And God answered, “I am that I am.” Then having delivered his message to Moses God went silent leaving Moses to accept or reject what transpired on the holy mountain of “I am that I am.” Some people believe that mountain is Sinai. But it’s never been proven.

Full of Divine guidance he returned to his people. In shock he found mislead Hebrews had created their own version of God and were wanton with sin of all manner. In anger he dashed the tablets onto the rocky ground. The commandments written by the hand of God on a stone tablet were damaged beyond repair. Like an angry mouth the earth split open where the tablets struck and wanton sinners were swept and blown into the burning bowels of hell. They were trash God had no use for. They were beyond forgiving, they belonged to Satan. And God send them there. When the faithful gathered before Moses in tearful lament for they had lost loved ones to the wages of sin they presented him with the remnants of the tablets where God had written their program for life.
In painful labor they built a chest, box or container in which to preserve the words of God. Not to be touched my mortal men, the container became known as the Ark of the Covenant. It harbors God’s laws for mankind. Covered in sacred gold it was carried on a litter to the Tabernacle where God took residence on earth.” Serou also directed his oratory to his adopted son. “You can see that the council has violated their devotion to God. The rupture of the veil verifies what your father-in-law said that God like Pontius Pilate is washing his hands of such delinquents. I have no way to prove it, but I feel safe to say that God has moved his headquarters to a more devoted place.” Serou with his usual eloquence created an impressionable image in Onofrio’s mind. Thoughts and visions Onofrio would carry and share with his children and whoever else would listen.

Rightfully impressed Tremiyo looked to Serou and had to jest fully enter, “I am so happy you gained such deep knowledge by  associating with me.” To which three men found reason to laugh. The time together was irreplaceable as each man wanted to preserve the moments so rarely enjoyed in such a pleasant ambience. It was Senobia that broke into the globe of peaceful exchange. “Papa, baby Sintia has grown cross. She wants to be in papa’s arm so she can sleep. You started that. Now she thinks that afternoon naps are only good when she has them in your arms.”Gently Senobia delivered the child to her grandfather’s cradle of love. Baby Sintia cooed with pleasure and snuggled into the receiving arms with obvious joy and almost immediately closed her eyes. Tremiyo’s heart opened to endless joy at the sight of his loving Sintia in his arms once more. The child was a reflection of Grecian beauty taken from her mother Senobia and the handsome young man de Iberia. Senobia on her way to round up Horacio and pick up Angelica tweaked Onofrio’s ear and gently pulled a lock of his hair. With loving eyes she pursued her lips and cast a silent kiss to her husband. A kiss gratefully accepted and tucked into a secret pocket in his heart, there to dwell forever. Having been raised never to interfere in the talks of men she reluctantly left her husband in his conference with her father and Serou. Senobia’s loving step mother Camia, showed up to more or less check on her husband Tremiyo and help carry baby Angelica to her bed for an afternoon nap. The women in their circle of friends within the Serou’s compound of slaves would chat and plan their evening meals as a feminine ritual so long in practice.

Now a certain man was ill, Lazarus of Bethany,
of the village of Mary and her sister Martha. It
was Mary who anointed the Lord and wiped his
feet with her hair, whose brother Lazarus was
ill. So the sisters went to him, saying,
“Lord, he whom you love is ill.”
John 11: 1-3   NIV

Tremiyo continued in his usual casual but serious tone. “We should not disregard a miracle close to home. Word reached the Nazarene that Lazarus was very ill. It is said Jesus postponed his arrival to further convince the people that he was truly the son of God come to earth on a mission of his father’s design. The sister of Lazarus, Martha met Jesus at the village edge and bewailed her brother’s demise. “Oh, Lord. Dearest Rabbi, had you been here a few days earlier our brother would live.”

To which Jesus replied, “Fear not, Martha. Your brother shall walk again. Lead me to where he is laid.”
Followed by a flock of curious people Jesus went with Martha and Mary of Magdala, (her sister). On the way so all could hear he told them, “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?”

Rightly intimidated the sisters had to agree. “Yes Lord. We believe that you are the Messiah, the son of God, who is to come into the world. Mary of Magdala had already experienced a strong attraction to the Nazarene. It was said that she was a student of the Goddess Isis and seemed to follow in that teaching. The stone that sealed the sepulchre was enormous and it took some strong convincing to have some men in the crowd put their shoulder to the task. A hush took over the anxious crowd. The fear of rotting flesh ran though the mob in whispered tones. “It’s one thing to heal the sick. It is quite another to make the dead walk again.” “Even making the blind see is easier than reviving a man four days dead.” The fear of the stench kept people away from the darkened entrance. Decay would have set in and the flesh would be like shreds falling off his bones. His eyes would be decomposed and falling out of their sockets on strings of moldy flesh. Even the stoutest heart took a few steps back. People were equally divided, by the brave that stood by knowing nothing but stink would come from within the burial vault. Lazarus lay still forever. Nothing could change that. Then there were the frightened children wanting to believe in the power of the Nazarene, supposedly son of God and master of miracles. Yet they were held in place by undeniable logic. The dead do not get up to walk again.

Only Mary Magdalene in that immense gathering held firm to the belief that the Goddess Isis had resurrected her lover Osiris from the dead and Jesus loved mankind enough to give his life for their salvation. The love Jesus held in his heart and the faith he had in his heavenly father would raise her brother. She alone waited for her brother to rise from his eternal slumber and walk again. And so he did.

Jesus stood firm on the ground like a commanding general and called out, “Lazarus, come forth.” Anxious moments passed and nothing happened. The crowd stepped back while stone hearted critics smiled in mockery. As if his voice had not carried into the depths of the tomb Jesus called again, “Lazarus, it is I, come forth.” Before a bewildered crowd Lazarus slowly struggled within his funeral wraps into the faint light at the entrance. Blind and bound in awkward steps he shuffled painfully into the light of life. Jesus was first to attend him and Lazarus recognized his savior and smiled weakly like a frightened child. The awesome realization of coming back to life would intimidate even the strongest man.

People fell to the ground in fear as well as prayer. Some simply fainted and others ran away to regroup their senses and spread the news. Lazarus, four days dead was raised by Jesus of Nazareth and the conviction that he was truly the son of God multiplied.”

Lazarus and Mary
“Take ye away the stone!” Then lifted He
His moisten’d eyes to heaven, and while the Jews
And the disciples bent their heads in awe,
And, trembling, Mary sank to her knees.
The son of God prayed audibly. He ceased.
And for a minute’s space there was a hush,
as if the angelic watchers of the world
had stayed the pulse of all living things,
to listen to that prayer. The face of Christ
shone as he stood, and over Him there came
Command, as ‘twere the living face of God,
And with a loud voice, he cried, “Lazarus!
Come forth!” And instantly, bound hand and foot,
And borne by unseen angels from the cave,
he that was dead stood before them. At the word
of Jesus, the fear stricken Jews unloosed
the bands from off the foldings of his shroud;
And Mary, with her dark veil thrown aside
Ran to him swiftly, and cried, “Lazarus!
My brother Lazarus!” and tore away
The napkin she had bound about his head-
And touched the warm lips with her fearful hand-
And on his neck fell weeping.
Nathaniel Parker Willis    1806-1867

Tremiyo’s summary on the subject of resurrection had touched on Onofrio’s heart. His chest felt constricted, his eyes went glassy and he knew not why. He went to pick up Horacio’s toys but more so to take some time alone. He excused himself from his companions by saying, “I need to pray and pick up my son’s treasures.” Some of those treasures were toys Onofrio made for his son with loving hands. They were reminders of toys his own father made for him when he was a little boy in a faraway place. A place where love resided. A place he would never forget. A modest cottage in farmland Iberia.

Rambling through the back corridors of my mind is the story that brought me to Jerusalem. I was a boy no more than five or six years old. A captive of raiders that came to my father’s farm in Iberia to pillage and plunder all in their sight. I was one of their victims until I became a burden rather than a prize. Left to die on a desert trail as a loss too weak and sick to deserve saving. Migrant farm workers salvaged me and nurtured me in the fields of their labor. There I grew up with no memory of how I came to be where I was. How I got here and haunting memories of my beloved mother and father in a distant land I knew not where it was. Or if it was at all. Somehow I knew I would find them one day. I was unable to yield my faith to man invented Gods. My reverence to graven images was impossible. From the fields I learned that there were no gods in my life. Only nature was worthy of my allegiance to its rules. Nature was the undisputed master of life not some stone or clay god invented by zealous men for personal gain.

For stealing two fish and a honeycomb I was sentenced to three years at hard labor. It didn’t seem fair. It was my first and only effort as a thief. What little I owned, I earned with the sweat and strength of my body. Serou, the Egyptian master of public works paid my debt and fine as a thief and never asked to be repaid. I will always owe a debt of gratitude and loyalty to Serou. He saw merit in me and invested a full purse of patience and guidance bringing me to where I am. He gave me the freedom of my thoughts and guided me into straight paths when I was in error and never raised his voice. I never said it, but he was the father I lost in my infancy. He was a pillar of strength and although I never leaned on it, I found comfort in knowing he was there. He denied me nothing within reason. He gave me his full trust and never asked I return it in equal sums.

I am Onofrio el Segundo, native of Iberia, adopted son of the Egyptian Serou, master of public works in Yerushalayim (Jerusalem).  For reasons still not clear to me I had been a favored recipient of the miracles of Jesus. To pay my debt of honor, I accepted Serou’s advice to use my experience at a building facility where slaves and free men manufactured instruments of punishment. There was much crime in Yerushalayim and I answered a call within me to aid in the reduction of criminal activity. I could draw pay for my labor and pay Serou for my freedom. Without malice or forethought I built the cross on which Jesus suffered and slowly died. For that laborious effort I suffered an enormous soul wrenching guilt. The penalty was an awesome fear that God would seek to destroy me for having built the instrument of His son’s death. An experience I will bear for life. Pain I will never forget. Then came forgiveness of such magnitude that I owe reimbursement to God, personally. And I am proud to say, I always pay my debts.

Jesus was fully grown while I was a near grown boy. It’s safe to say in separate parts of town we grew up together and yet apart. My work as Serou’s personal slave boy led me to infinite places where the Nazarene did his work. He was everywhere, seldom in the same place twice. His followers posted themselves close to his work as protectors against overzealous people seeking his favor and guard against them that would do him harm.

I will not say that my sense of guilt is completely erased since there are times when I feel the presence of Jesus standing nearby. I have re-lived that terrible day of his crucifixion many times. Always grateful to wake up in his forgiveness and still question the true reason for all that Jesus went through. I’ve not been able to justify why his heavenly father would sacrifice his son for sinful and ungrateful strangers. But, then I’m only a man unable to comprehend the will of God. And I know now that Jesus made a journey through earth to achieve a Godly mandate for the sake of us all.

Married and blissfully happy I live with my wife Senobia, the jewel of Jerusalem as she is often called. She had allowed her golden bronze hair to grow to her waist and often had her step mother, Camia braid it and arrange it atop her head. She still used a berry stain on her lips and a minimum amount of other beauty aids. She was delightfully formed by angels in heaven and her natural beauty was widely known. Bluish/green eyes like waves of the Mediterranean Sea. Three children had not destroyed her girlish figure and in fact what little weight she gained made her look even more attractive, in my eyes. Camia is an experienced mid-wife and treasure chest of many feminine secrets. After Senobia delivered our children, she was carefully attended by Camia and retained very few abdominal stretch marks. Short durations of breast feeding and Camia applied her midwife magic to keep her breasts as close to a youthful appearance as possible. Camia was her childhood companion and taught her many feminine things vital to her appearance. It grieved my heart to learn that she would no longer wear her hair in platted braids atop her head. She was a living replica of her murdered mother Sintia and her appearance moved her father to enormous grief. In Senobia, he saw his wife Sintia alive again. Tremiyo, Senobia’s father and husband of Camia is Stewart to the vast Estate of Serou. A responsible position he held for almost twenty years. A distinguished man in his golden years, full of moxie and good spirits. With the exception of an occasional lapse in good cheer, the man was the fountain of positive thoughts and guidance. His hair had gone almost all gray and added distinction to his position. His flowing robes and emblem of his position always centered on his chest made him look like a king come to call. He never flaunted his authority, it was clear without question.

The matter of Mary Salome wandered into my mind. I had only heard of Salome as a dancer at Herod’s court and had recently learned that the world was full of women named Mary and Salome. A whole population with that name existed. I spoke to my father-in-law, Tremiyo about it as he played with his first grandson in the court yard. His daughter Senobia and I are parents to baby Horacio. Tremiyo gave my plea some thought and left my son, Horacio go play by himself. Senobia, my wife of four years came with our daughter named Sintia after her Greek mother and still a warm spot in her father’s heart. Close to four years and we were parents to three children. Horacio, I named after my father, may he rest in eternal peace. Our first little girl immediately became Tremiyo’s favorite child. He claimed the infant looked like his daughter Senobia and his deceased wife, Sintia. He claimed the child was a god-sent answer to his countless prayers, now come true. Our second girl became Angelica on Serou’s insistence. My foster father was not about to be left out of the proceedings and bullied us to have his way. With tongue in cheek and much laughter our second

girl became Angelica granddaughter of the Egyptian, Serou Master of public works in Judea. My foster father after deciding that I had some merit worth saving adopted me to fill a spot in his life. He wanted a son he would never have with his wife the lady Clavenia. I resented the fate that brought me to this place of hellish heat and strange customs. In time I realized that the fate that brought me here was part of a greater plan. The men that were instrumental in my fate were simply tools to a greater purpose. Serou is a generous father and influential spoke within the wheel of power of Judea. As master of public works, nothing gets built without his knowledge and approval. By choice he is not a member of the Hebrew council that governs the region. But they seek his advice and guidance on important issues. He is generous with his time and knowledge and shares what he knows for the good of all.

Serou joined us as we sat in the shaded and ample court yard behind Tremiyo’s home. Birds fluttered in groups and singles before a peaceful canopy of muted blue. The desert breeze slowly pushed a few white clouds like lambs to pasture across the infinite sky. Senobia sent refreshments and without forethought we commenced to talk about Jesus. Serou still hung onto his Egyptian gods and was wise to respect the convictions of Tremiyo, his long-time friend and Stewart of his estate and slave compound. With me sat an Egyptian dedicated to the gods and deities of his ancestors and Tremiyo a devout follower of the laws of Abraham, Moses and most recently, Jesus. And myself, a young man misplaced by Viking raiders, at the same table breaking bread, having wine and talking current events. World of wonders. “It’s come to my attention that the road bandit and insurrectionist Bar Abba was

killed during the planned highjacking of a Roman caravan. How true it is, I do not know yet. However, my reporter is never wrong. I feel safe to accept his word as matter of fact. A battle ensued and in the end his band was conquered and Bar Abba lost. His body was badly damaged by battle wounds and fire. Only his few remaining followers identified him in haste. Among other casualties he was quickly buried since he had no immediate relatives in the area. Some said he was from Greece and his real name was Jesus Bar Abbas. Before the raid, he was celebrating his good luck and new lease on life while people struggled to take the dead Nazarene off his cross. The ladies of the night will sorely miss Bar Abbas. “Serou commented soberly while fishing through the tray for another tasty snack then pouring wine all around.

“Bar Abba, son of the father”, has finally met his fate”, Tremiyo sighed. Nobody really knows if that is his real name. He is even called Jesus by some people. The man courted death once too often. His escape from the cross during the Passover was a near miracle. It has been said that he had the courage to go to Golgotha and watch the Nazarene suffer and die on a cross intended for him. That requires a very cold heart. Barabbas was an earthly man. I doubt seriously that he bowed to a God or believed in one. He believed in himself and indulged himself with all that his ill-gotten ways provided. His cleverness served him well until he cheated lady luck once too often and she caught up to him.”

Tremiyo’s contribution only refreshed Onofrio’s sense of guilt. He found escape by corralling his run around son and brought him unto his lap. Senobia came to claim her children. She knew Serou could use a careless vulgarity from time to time and she did not want

Horacio to learn any of them at his early age. My wife’s strict paternal guidance often showed up. As it did, today.

I learned to thank the son of God, Jesus for the miracles in my life. I wept like a child the night our son Horacio was born. Camia, faithful and loving step mother to Senobia used her vast midwife experience and in spite of all her efforts we were losing Senobia. She was deathly pale from loss of blood. Her lips looked parched. Her brow sparkled from perspiration. Her eyes were portraits of pain. She was weak and hardly recognized me as close as I was to her. The only star in my heaven was near death. I had seen enough agony at Golgotha to last a life time and would not leave my wife to suffer alone. I gripped her hand and whispered in her ear, “I’m here my love and so is Jesus. I invited him to the birth of our child.” A faint smile adorned her lovely face and the next gentle push delivered our son. She sighed in relief and looked at me with soulful eyes that increased my torrent of tears. She was safe, she was almost out of danger, the child was bawling and Camia looked to heaven and thanked somebody. Soon Camia’s helpers came to care for Senobia and I was shoved out of the room. Perhaps it was not the manly thing to do, but I went outside and knelt before a mantle of countless stars.  I thanked the nameless father of Jesus with all my strength. Senobia’s beauty of mind, heart and soul had multiplied in my life. She was more than the gem of Jerusalem, she was my personal Goddess. She later told me that when I came to her side and held her hand, she felt my strength warmly flow into her body. And I knew again that the Devine healer from Nazareth was alive and hard at work. Senobia was a devout follower of Jesus and he answered her plea through me. Since that day our two little girls arrived with little or no stress to their mother.

Bar Abba was a living legend and Rome prepared to meet his successor with added zeal. The governor of Judea, Pontius Pilate was informed that Bar Abba favored the overthrow of Rome. That’s what spies are paid to do.  He also knew full well to whom Bar Abba answered and who bought his stolen armaments. He saw clearly how the council showed their favor by demanding Bar Abba’s release. They obviously roused the crowd against the street healer from Nazareth. Pilate’s favor in Rome lost some of its glow from that decision. He set free a known murdering criminal and crucified a demented street healer. Jesus was a petty concern to Rome. No king would claim a penniless carpenter as family. The whole world knew nobody could build stone kingdoms in the sky and when you died, you were dead forever. Pilate grew angry at anything Jewish for their manipulating schemes. Pilate overreacted on occasion and paid a second price for those decisions. On the other hand, he was thankful for the childish quarrels within the Hebrew leaders. If these sometimes fierce disagreements continued, the seven tribes of Israel would never re-unite. They couldn’t even agree on how or which God to worship.

There was not one council member suffering from poverty. Through taxes, permits, licenses, solicited contributions, fees and under hand extortion they increased the power of their purses. They had ample gold to pay the traitor, Judas Iscariot for betraying Jesus and the soldiers that slept through the theft of Jesus’ body without suffering monetary loss. Wealth had become their scepter of power.

I felt left out listening to Serou and Tremiyo speak so knowledgeably about all that moved in Judea. I finally found a spot into which I could fit.

“It’s been much talked about that soldiers slept through the rolling back of the stone before the burial vault. To move that massive rock without making a tell-tale noise is impossible. Serou and I went there in response to the rumors. I went inside the tomb and inspected it as thorough as my apprehension permitted. I was truly scared but I was looking for something of vital importance. The floor was dusty. I looked for busy foot prints. There were none. I went as deep as I could look for something that a thief could leave behind.  A coin, a rag, a pin or brooch.  A piece of straw or grass. A crushed stone?  Nothing. The thieves would have to work in total darkness and absolute silence. I looked for a candle stub or a snuffed out torch. Smoke on the low ceiling. There was none and yet the mantle that covered Jesus was neatly folded and left on the shelf where He laid. I heard an angelic voice say, “No human thief is that immaculate.”

There would be overwhelming fear that the sentries would awaken and the thieves would meet their death at spear point. None of that occurred. And yet, the corpse of Jesus disappeared. The stone rolled back in total silence. The body slipped out from the cover laid upon him. The sentries reported that an apparition came down from heaven, waved the massive stone aside in one graceful gesture then lifted Jesus on an invisible litter into the unfathomed skies. The sentries reported that the apparition then sat on the stone as if to mock their puny strength. Then slowly faded into the infinite sky. Now, I say to you, No crude Roman’s imagination is that eloquent. I was subject to their mentality while I lived among them at the villa and I take what I learned from them to be a model for their kind. They would say that Jupiter blasted the rock door to pieces and rode away on a prize horse with Jesus laid across the saddle. That surmises the Roman imagination.”

And behold, there was a great earthquake; for

An angel of the Lord descended from heaven

And came and rolled back the stone, and sat

Upon it. His appearance was like lightening,

And his raiment white as snow. And for fear of

          Him the soldiers trembled and became like dead men.

Matthew 28: 2-4 NIV

I asked my mentors a simple question, “Who is the down in the core Jesus?  My experience with him is notable but I still wonder who he really is or was. I asked my foster father for knowledge he would possess.”

But questions were rambling through my mind, and I asked, “If Isis could raise her mortal lover from the grave, why cannot a godly father raise his beloved son after being penalized in such a torturous manner?  If the father of Jesus that some people say is named “I am that I am” can raise his beloved son from three days dead, can he not also grant Jesus immortality? Answer me that gentlemen. It’s talk on the street that God created man in his own image. If that be so, then repairing the damage to the body of Jesus would be elementary. Thus the resurrection occurred.  He appeared healthy to all his witnesses. I have listened to tales on the street for too long to ignore what I heard and saw for myself. The tomb was empty. Jesus was gone. My son, Horacio was delivered in one painless stroke. And Senobia, so close to death is alive. These are facts I can accept. “

Next day … the chief priests and the

Pharisees gathered before Pilate and said,

“Sir, we remember how that imposter said,

               While he was still alive, “After three

Days I will rise again.” Therefore order

the sepulcher to be made secure until

the third day, lest his disciples go and

steal him away, and tell the people “He

has risen from the dead.”

Matthew 27: 62-64   ESV

 

“As you say, Isis did resurrect Osiris from the dead for her worldly yearnings. She wanted him alive to be her lover and life’s companion.  We seem surrounded by the miracles of rebirth and couriers from the gods to lowly earth and deliver life. Such as we all see in Senobia and the children.”

At that moment three men looked at and admired the lovely Senobia playing ball with Horacio, Baby Sintia making an effort to walk and be part of the game. While the tiny baby Angelica laid on a blanket in a field of grass. Happiness rebounded in Senobia and even the birds felt it, since they flew, fluttered and chirped cheerfully nearby. No greater scene existed on earth for her father, Tremiyo. It added joy to his heart that his wife, Camia would come to pick up baby Angelica and shelter her from the glow of the sky. Add to his already happy heart Senobia coming to him and caress his face to sweetly ask, “What can I get you, paw paw?” He nodded his head and a kiss on his forehead made his heart quiver with affection. Life was wonderful.

But we’re starting the story in the middle. We should regress and relate the tale from the beginning.” Serou looked at Tremiyo as if asking permission to proceed. With a nod of friendly approval Serou, the knowledgeable Egyptian began to relate his findings of a lifetime. Comfortably seated in Tremiyo’s back yard he admired Senobia playing with her children not far away. Serou appeared to be searching for a place to start the story unfolding since the dawn of time. Serou’s forefathers knew well the Hebrew history and the miracles of Moses. Such miracles put the Egyptian God, Ra to shame. Such displays of heavenly might made the Goddess Isis bow her head. It behooved Egyptian scholars to know the laws of Abraham and the ordeal of Moses. They are aware of how modern Jews had divorced from the miracles their God Jehovah delivered during their liberation from slavery.

[Next episode]

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This is the first installment of the new serialized novel by Andy Garza, The Gathering of the Eternal Five. Andy Garza is also the author of The Scarab and the Cross, available from Energion Publications, various online retailers, and in a variety of ebook formats.

Links to the various ebook formats are provided on the Energion Direct catalog page, and shipping is free for all orders of $9.99 or more, so even an order of one copy is eligible for free shipping in the U. S. To celebrate the beginning of serialization of this new novel, and for the Christmas season, The Scarab and the Cross is on sale for 30% off, so buy now!

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Starting today we will be serializing a new novel by Andy Garza, author of The Scarab and the Cross. Titled Gathering of the Eternal Five, it will follow five women who encountered Jesus and record their impact on the Christian faith and the world.

Prologue

Walk through the halls of time in search of legendary personalities with whom to speak. Join the virgin Mary in her school days and escort her through the turbulence of her destiny. Live with the youthful disillusions of Mary of Magdala. Rejoice when the only man for her life is Jesus of Nazareth. Live with the penalized Mary Salome for her doubts regarding a virgin birth. Glory in the miracles of Bernice and her head scarf embellished with an image of the Nazarene’s face. Share the joys of Claudia Procula, wife of Pontius Pilate who finds release from torment by the healing power of Jesus. Praise Claudia for her efforts to save the Nazarene from crucifixion. Then be close by to the loves of their lives.

Five women in the life of Jesus high lights biblical events with scene by scene reviews. Their contribution fortified the foundation of Christianity without lance, sword or shield.  In a world dominated by men their only weapon was the strength of faith and the power of devotion.

Join the eternal five as they walk through Yerushalayim, the cradle of miracles to Golgotha and witness a destiny in progress.

Devine providence summons five women to the cradle of miracles, Yerushalayim. To witness moment by painful moment the most renowned execution in the history of mankind. The crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth.

Gathering of the Eternal Five

Written by Andy Garza, author of The Scarab and the Cross

Published by Energion Publications — P. O. Box 841 — Gonzalez, FL 32560

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Note: Energion Publications will release ebook editions of The Gathering of the Eternal Five once the book has been serialized. Expect one chapter per week, each Monday.

Be sure not to miss any chapters of this powerful novel. Subscribe to Nurturing Creativity by e-mail.

To celebrate the beginning of this serialization, we will be offering The Scarab and the Cross at a 30% discount, just in time for Christmas!