Aj1/dr

JERUSALEM


Hell stared out through human eyes. Satan, the ancient enemy, now incarnate in the body of a man called Jesus. It was the ultimate coup; in the battle that had raged since before time, he was the victor.

He sat at a dressing table in the Royal Waiting Room. Like the surrounding temple, the room was magnificent. The trappings of royalty surrounded him, gold and silver, jewels, priceless rugs, and paintings worth millions of Euros abounded in overstuffed abandon. He was no Shepherd born in a stable; he would have none of that.

As he stared at the human face in the mirror, he thought how the open wound above his right eye made him look like that Shepherd from Galilee. Although not scarred beyond recognition, he too would have a visible scar. It pleased him to think that this was a more handsome body than the Nazarene had used. This body was tall and solidly built. Light skinned with the features of an Arab prince. Only that open sore kept the visage from being perfect. The wound was necessary, the wound proved the resurrection; it was enough.

It was his Coronation. Today was his day. The Scriptures of Jews and Christians had given him magnificent titles, “The Prince of the Power of the Air” and “The God of This World.” Today mankind would crown him “Supreme Leader” and worship him. He felt anxious but he had waited millennia and he could wait an hour more.

Outside, in public view, a second figure waited. Chained spread-eagled to a wall, his feet inches above the ground, Jeremiah waited. His muscles cramped and pulled against the chains; he was in agony; he had fought hard and long but he had lost.

Today the man Jeremiah knew to be the Antichrist would be crowned. Today the first truly “One World Government” since Babel would be empowered. Even his beloved Israel had lowered the Star of David in exchange for this temple. He knew his future; today he would die. The crowd taunted him, holding up their golden programs showing where his execution fit into the ceremony. Even the sure and certain knowledge of a future in Heaven could not remove the fear from his stomach or the shame from his heart. It would be over in an hour; he had no choice but to wait.

The battle is ancient and the victory is sure but we must go back three years to where my story starts.

JESUS

Three men lay dead on the bloody dessert sand; their heads lay in disarray, separated cleanly by a sharp and heavy sword. A fourth man knelt in front of his executioner. He was not bound; he could have run but he only knelt obediently, waiting. If it were Allah’s will that he die today, he would die with dignity. The man with the sword, sensing his power, dropped it near the condemned man’s right hand. There was no movement, only the softly uttered cry, “Allah is great.” The executioner pulled out a long curved knife. Grabbing the man by his hair, lifting his head, he drew the blade slowly across the throat. When he heard no cry of pain or fear, he quickly finished the job. Killing a man like that excited him and he felt his manhood rising.

Now that the last man on earth who knew Ishmael Mohamed was dead, Ishmael too was dead. Tomorrow he would have a different name. The peoples of the world would call that name in many different ways; in English, they would call him Jesus.

The spirits, speaking plainly, urged him to hurry. In religious mockery, they caused him to arrange the bodies with feet, and the heads placed neatly on their chests, facing Mecca. Dressed in a white robe and turban, Jesus mounted a large, white Arabian stallion and headed off toward the lights of Babylon and his destiny. He must be there by dawn, they said; the future of mankind lay in his hands.

SPIRIT

She was short and slender. Her skin was black, her features distinctly European. Her mother had been a prostitute in an African port. Her father was an Italian sailor; a secret her mother whispered from her deathbed. She had a name but no one living knew it. From birth, she was called Spirit.

For form and public consumption, Spirit was a Muslim; it was the law, the tradition and the culture. In her heart, she was an Animist like her mother. She had called out to the spirits before she said “Mama.” They had always been there; they consumed her. In the spirits, she found power. Through the spirits, she could bless or heal. Speaking to the spirits, she could curse or kill those she opposed. Frail in her humanity, Spirit spoke with her Jinn as one would with close friends. Allah had decreed that she would have a part in the salvation of the world. The jinn had told her this, and even the taunts of her schoolmates could not dissuade her from speaking of her destiny.

Today, she was in Babylon. Tomorrow, Jesus would come. She would not leave her house or contact anyone until he came. Conversing with Jinn, she was very much in control. There was no need to work with the people directly; every thing would be ready on time. In her veil and simple Muslim dress, she would be invisible in the crowd but it was Spirit who had scripted every detail and her jinn who would bring it to pass.

JEREMIAH

The great-grandson of Holocaust survivors, Jeremiah Goldberg was tall and strong with the distinctive features of a European Jew. In his early forties, Jeremiah had accomplished much. With a PhD in Political Science, he had moved rapidly up the ranks at The Institute. The Mossad had been good to him and he for them.

His superiors said nothing but Jeremiah knew when to quit. His wife’s conversion to Christianity and her vocal attempts to convert others brought his loyalty in question. Jeremiah’s career was over and he was angry. A friend arraigned the interview and, almost overnight, Dr. Goldberg was a Professor of Political Science at the University of Jerusalem. In this more open setting, his brilliance did not go unnoticed. Soon he was a Counselor to the Knesset on matters of international intrigue and a friend of the Prime Minister.

Things changed when Jeremiah’s wife and six year-old daughter Ruth went missing in The Great Disappearance. It was then that Jeremiah made a decision. Confusion followed the disappearance of millions of people but the media published photos of a giant space ship with what appeared to be bodies floating up in some kind of a funnel cloud. The world’s military were placed on alert. The United Nations issued an order that all nations prepare to defend the earth. Jeremiah could have made better photos on his computer. It amazed him that the world chose to believe such an obvious lie. It was the stories his wife had told him that came together and caused Jeremiah to fall to his knees. In agony of soul, he cried out to Jesus. He could not have known the far-reaching consequences of that dreadful hour.
Six months passed and every news source in the world was reporting the same story. Jesus was to return and make a speech to the world from Babylon on Saturday morning. They all seemed so certain and there was an unreal level of excitement everywhere. It didn’t make sense to Jeremiah. Nothing in the Jewish Scriptures put the Messiah in Babylon. He didn’t know much about the Christian Bible but he was sure that nothing in it placed Jesus in Iraq. The Scripture used much in Mossad circles said, "Where no counsel is, the people fall, but in the multitude of counselors there is safety." Jeremiah needed counselors but there were none. He would go to Babylon and see this Jesus for himself.
BABYLON

Before the Great Disappearance, Baghdad had been utterly destroyed by American forces. The Islamic militants had lined up two hundred captured American soldiers and Machine-gunned them to death on television. The response was swift and violent. When it was over, eighty percent of Baghdad’s population was dead and not one building was left standing. The world turned against the United States, the United Nations moved their headquarters to Babylon and declared it the capital of Iraq. OPEC moved to Babylon and shut off all petroleum exports to the United States. The miracle called Babylon was birthed in one angry moment and the balance of power shifted eastward.

Babylon was two cities, really; there was the Ancient City, restored to its former glory and the New City. The New City was an instant mega city. It grew from the empty dessert sands into a city of eleven million inhabitants in three years. There were many reasons for the rapid growth, the offer of free fossil fuels to any company relocating its headquarters there, not the least of them. After the Great Disappearance, Islam unified and established a united front in the city. More than a billion people had converted to Islam in the six months following that catastrophe and they were flocking to Babylon.

Now, three years since the establishment of the New City and six months following the Great Disappearance, Babylon was the de facto capital of the world. The United Nations had reformed itself and had announced the formation of a One World Government that would rule the world from Babylon. With Babylon in complete control of the world’s oil reserves, the nations were falling at its feet. The United States and Israel were among a handful of nations holding out. Israel was a mighty midget but with the whole world in opposition, no one knew how long they could hold out. The trade embargo, imposed against the U.S. by the United Nations after the destruction of Baghdad had effectively reduced that once mighty nation to third world status. In spite of the threat posed by their nuclear arsenal, few believed they had the heart or the will to use it. They were isolated and out of oil, Babylon considered the U.S. neutralized and was certain they would join the rest of the world in a very short time.

COMING TOGETHER

It was Friday night. Jesus was riding his large, white horse across the dessert with a mandate from Allah to be in Babylon by sunrise. It was a little cold but the sky was clear and the lights of Babylon left no need for a compass or navigation device. The horse was strong and its rider sat in the straight pose of royalty enthroned. One who saw him riding in the moonlight would have thought him to be prince or king. They could not have guessed that, beyond what had just happened and the mandate from the Jinn to be at the Royal Gate by sunrise, the man was clueless. He knew neither the future nor even his own name. Had he known his destiny, he would never have made that ride.

Jeremiah was making his way through the main bus terminal. With all the excitement in Babylon, there were no hotel rooms available and no taxis. Soon, he would walk the twenty blocks to the square facing the ancient Temple of the Moon. He didn’t know what would happen there. Jeremiah simply knew that something deep down in his bones was burning. He could not explain it but Jeremiah knew he had a mandate from Jehovah to be in that square at dawn.

Spirit had been kneeling on her prayer mat for hours listening to reports from jinn and dispatching them on new errands. It was almost time; soon she would leave for her rendezvous with destiny at the gloriously rebuilt Temple of The Moon. Her legs ached and she struggled to stand. Limping to the spacious kitchen of her luxurious apartment, she would gulp down a tiny cup of Arabian coffee, put on a modest dress and veil, and then make the twenty-minute drive to the Old City. Her long time companion, her personal Jinni leaned against her. He appeared now in human form and offered to pleasure her. Tempted only for a minute, she quickly dismissed him. Today, even if through the body of a man, she would rule the world, love could wait.



SATURDAY MORNING

The Royal Gate faced the morning sun and an unbroken expanse of dessert. This was by design; royalty should not fight through traffic and sprawling suburbs to reach the gate and the temple just inside. It was a lone rider who approached the gate. The road was a well worn but unimproved dessert path and in the predawn glow it was deserted.

That rider, dispatched by jinn, was on a mission for Allah. He knew neither his new identity, nor what would happen when he passed through that gate. Allah had sent a holy messenger and declared that he, the man who only yesterday was called Ishmael, was to be here; for the man on the horse, it was enough.

As he passed through the gate, the sun made its appearance, a great red ball of fire, behind him. To the thousands of people gathered on the square, the effect was electrifying. The billions watching on live TV saw only a grey colored silhouette surrounded by a light so brilliant that it confused the video and created spectacular special effects. The presence of hundreds of unseen potentates and warriors made the atmosphere heavy. The sense of religious awe spread from the square and overpowered the television audience around the world. The crowd was silent; the horse’s footsteps on the ancient square were heard around the world. As if by magic, a way opened through the crowd and an unseen hand led the horse to the foot of the steps.

Understanding nothing but aware of the importance of the moment, the man dismounted with the flourish of a king. The hand that led the horse to the steps of the Temple seemed to push the man slightly as he mounted the steps of that ancient pagan shrine and approached the podium. The crowd in the square heard a loud voice in Arabic. The English translator followed for the TV audience, “Allah is Great, Behold the Prince of Allah, Jesus the Christ.”

For a moment, Jesus felt confused. Then, it was as if the man slipped into a coma and a mighty Jinni stepped to the front overpowering his human senses. The man had never heard the words that issued from his lips but they were scripted and well rehearsed, in the burning fires of a lower Hell. He began, “In the Name of God, amen.”

The speech, though more than an hour in length, could be condensed into two main points: Allah is God and Allah is setting up his government with Jesus as the head. The commentators, who always tell us what we just heard, would say that they were the words of God. In dark corners, old men whispered how he reminded them of Hitler or Stalin.


Across the square, behind a pillar, Jeremiah fell to his knees and quietly swore his allegiance to another Jesus. Destinies were set and the battle had begun. It was 7: 13 AM; Jeremiah looked at his watch and began to make his way towards the Bus Station. It would be a long ride home.


TEMPLE OF THE MOON

The name, Saddam Hussein was inscribed in the bricks of the Temple wall. It was he who started the restoration long before the fall of his regime. The crescent moon is the most pervasive of Islamic symbols. Allah is not a name; rather it is a generic word in Arabic for “the god.” It is for this reason that Christian Arabs refer to Jehovah as Allah. Muslims use Allah as the name for their monotheistic God who created all things. The word Allah, in Muhammad’s time, was used to address the chief god of the region, Hubbal, the Moon God.

The interest in rebuilding the Temple of the Moon confounded Muslim Scholars. It was the largest and most magnificent building in the old city. The historical value of the site could not explain the religious fervor with which the Government of Iraq pursued its reconstruction. Billions of Euros had been spent and the result was awe-inspiring.

It was into the grand sanctuary of this building that the Secret Police lead Jesus. The echo of his final words had not settled when two men took him firmly by the arms and led him through the small access door in the bottom of the huge, ceremonial door that towered over the podium.

The front of the room was dominated by a polished stone alter twenty meters across and two meters deep. It was the height of a man’s waist. A curl of smoke rose from the center and the smell of last night’s sacrifice permeated the air. Behind the altar was a simple, stone column about three meters tall. Above the column, suspended from the ceiling was the magnificent, solid gold, crescent moon and morning star. The artist had used more than two hundred kilos of gold in its founding. Visitors could not take their eyes off the object and often stumbled over the simple stone benches that filled the room.

The men led Jesus to the front and stood him facing the altar and the pillar. Bowing slightly, they quickly exited, leaving him alone. The man, now called Jesus, was very much afraid. He could not comprehend what was happening. The jinni that had spoken through him was gone and he suddenly felt like a little boy, lost and motherless.

GABRIEL

A statue representing a human or an animal would have offended Muslims everywhere; the stone pillar behind the altar was an acceptable substitute. As Jesus’ eyes lowered from the golden moon and morning star, they focused on that polished, marble shaft. He was about to lower his eyes again when something caught his attention. Suddenly, a thick burst of steam or vapor ejaculated from the rounded top of the pole; vapor slid down the sides of the pole shaping and molding it into something else altogether.

What the man saw caused him to fall prostrate on the polished stones of the ancient floor. A mighty Angel stood behind the altar. A terror never felt by man or jinn filled the man’s heart. A mighty weight seemed to push his face into the stone, he could not move.

Seconds or hours later, he could not tell, a voice spoke. The sound of the voice, though not mechanical, seemed more than human; it was deep and guttural. “Up on your knees, mortal,” the angel commanded, “Look on my face.” Crawling and clawing his way up to his knees as quickly as his trauma-wracked brain would allow, the man obeyed.

The man, growing up in dessert tents, had not often looked in mirrors but at thirty, he knew his own face. Looking up at the being behind the altar, Jesus saw that face. Shocked he began to examine the creature before him. The appearance was that of a man almost three meters tall. He was dressed in a white, dessert robe. There were what appeared to be white, feathered wings folded by his side. There was a halo above his head, and an aura that emanated around his body like an eerie orange glow. His eyes could not be seen; there was a glow like that of a blast furnace where they should have been. No mortal could endure this presence without fear. Jesus was awestruck. The heat coming from such a being should have warmed him but Jesus felt a sudden chill and shivered visibly.

“I am Gabriel; these are the words of Allah the merciful, Allah the just.” ‘When you sit on the throne you shall be silent. By my Jinni shall I speak through you. The words spoken through you shall be the words of Allah.” The voice continued, “Swear by the moon that you shall remain silent on the throne. Swear by the daystar that from the throne you shall not speak.”

“I swear,” his voice cracked. “I swear, by the moon and the daystar that I shall not speak from the throne,” he said, amazed at the strength he suddenly felt. “What is Allah’s will? What do I do next?” he asked. “You are the Chosen One. You shall rescue men from chaos and restore the language and the glory that was Babel.” The angel continued to speak, “Allah’s jinn will show you the way, and I will speak with you often. There is a woman named Spirit, she will take care of your needs and desires. Behold, she is here now.”

Startled by the presence of the woman suddenly at his side, Jesus turned to look at the diminutive, dark skinned woman. When he turned again to see the Angel, he saw only a stone post. Turning to the woman, he said nothing. Spirit, too, was silent. Taking the man by the arm, she gently guided him towards a small door behind the altar.

THE RIDE HOME

The bus was full and Jeremiah took the last seat somewhere near the back. He was asleep before the bus left the station. In spite of all that troubled his mind, he slept peacefully for several hours.

Waking slowly, Jeremiah found that he had fallen to one side and his head was resting on the shoulder of the passenger seated beside him. Slowly, he pulled himself erect in his seat. Only when he was comfortably upright did Jeremiah steal a glimpse at the person beside him.

The woman was in her twenties, neatly dressed, and, to a trained eye, very Jewish. She was staring at him and crying softly. “Are you OK?” Jeremiah asked quietly. Trying to find her voice, she said, “I was dreaming that you were my husband; I’m sorry.” “I’m sorry I leaned against you that way. I was asleep.” Jeremiah fumbled for words. He felt embarrassed. Something about her tears and the pretty face, backlit in the window, stole his voice and it cracked, “You are married?”

“My husband and my baby disappeared.” She said bluntly. He did not need to ask when or how. “My wife and daughter are gone too.” He said. Your husband must have been a Christian?” Suddenly secretive and quiet, she whispered, “How did you know?” “They all were.” Jeremiah replied softly. “All the babies and all the children are gone but the adults were Christians; they were all Christians! I’ve looked and asked everywhere; I can’t find a case where any adult who disappeared was not a Christian.”

“Were you there?” she asked, “Did you hear that Jesus guy?” “Yes, you?” he returned the question. “Yes,” she said, “What did you think?” Jeremiah pondered for a minute, “That wasn’t the Jesus my wife knew.” he replied candidly. “No, no it wasn’t, was it?” the question was whispered. Without giving time for Jeremiah to answer, she continued, “You’re a believer now, aren’t you?”

This time Jeremiah was caught off guard. “Me?” he choked, “a believer?” “Yes, you,” she spoke firmly, “a non believer wouldn’t answer that way. Besides, I can see it in your face.” “You too, I guess?” he asked. “Yes, of course.” her voice softened, “there is no other way, at least, not for me.”

Her name was Sandy Isaacs. She had been sent, she said, by a group of believers in Jerusalem. She was to attend the speech by this Jesus and report back to the group. Jeremiah knew he had to meet that group. He had been silent about his conversion and he was thrilled to know that he was not the only believer. It was a Divine appointment and the next step toward destiny.

SPIRIT AND JESUS

The door led into a formal sitting room. Spirit indicated that Jesus should sit on a couch and then took a seat in the chair facing him. Jesus looked uncomfortable in that setting. To tell the truth, he would have been more comfortable seated on the floor of a Bedouin tent. He had not been chosen for his social status or breeding. It was his sensitivity to the jinn and his face and royal bearing that had brought him here. They would build up his self-esteem. It would not take long to acclimate the man to his surroundings. He would feel important enough but in the end, he was only a tool.

Spirit addressed the man, “You will be called Jesus; you will learn your role.” She continued, “You may speak freely to me and to the household staff. Anything you desire will be provided for you. Do not leave the palace without your protectors and do not speak to outsiders. If your jinni is silent, you will be silent in the presence of visitors. Do you understand this?”

“Yes,” Jesus said, “Who are you and why should I listen to a woman?” “I am Spirit,” the woman snarled, “I am your contact with Allah; without me you can do nothing!” Jesus did not question this. Fear knotted his gut so tightly that an answer was impossible. Jesus would be the face but Spirit would be the power behind the man. This was a truth he would learn well.


Spirit rose and left the room without another word. Two young women, their faces veiled, entered the room. For Jesus it had been a long time. He did not question why they had been sent to him. Taking a large draft from the bottle one of them carried, he quickly and roughly had his way. He was dressing when a young man appeared and led him down a maze of hallways to his quarters. Jesus was starved and he needed a bath.


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