THE SOPHIA OF THREE LIVES - A Fictional Exploration of karma.

The man is an Egyptian priest. He is a priest because he is one of the few still capable of communing with the upper Gods collectively called - Osiris. When he stands before the stars and observes the patterns of light they make, he looks into his soul to find understanding, into that part of him that still remembers the language of God, this he knows is the Isis in his soul, which the Greeks call Theososophia - the wisdom of God.

Though he cannot see Isis, like the priests of older times, he has always been able to hear her interpretations, and because he is unclouded by personal feelings he has been made the chief of all priests. Isis helps him and his priests to know many things of great importance for the guidance of his people and while ever he can read the words in the stars and understand them through Isis selflessly, he is able to lead the priestly circle to direct the people in a way that is wise and just and fruitful.


One day something creeps into his nightly ritual, when with the other twelve he looks up to what the stars would say. A longing rises in him for something other than the words of the gods, he desires to speak out his own words, what lives in his own thoughts and instead of intoning the 'We' he intones the forbidden word - 'I'! Immediately there rings out a stern and awful warning which shakes him and the other priests to their very foundations. He has mingled his own self into the prayers and this has polluted the ritual. He has to leave the circle and never return and he is shunned from the temple forever. He is too egoistic to be a priest.


In his next life the Egyptian priest returns again with a certain attitude of soul which longs for nature. He wants to be a farmer but his life has led him into that army which follows the God of the Sun, the young Alexander, into Egypt.

He is an honourable man and a good soldier, and his common sense leads Alexander himself to take note of him on more than one occasion, and so he is given many responsibilities. He is outwardly honoured but inwardly sad for he does not like this foreign land they call Egypt and he does not trust the decadence of its priests.


To all he seems an ordinary man but he has a special gift. At certain moments, unbidden by him, he is able to dream into nature and to observe there the workings of the lower gods collectively called Dionysus. In those moments he sees Demeter and although she never speaks he discerns her intentions in relation to those gods, in that part of his soul that is one with nature, that part that Aristotle is said to have called, Philosophy.


At a certain point upon the army's march in the south lands they begin to traverse a narrow beach close by a hard cliff wall. Here he sees the Goddess and she points to the tide and he understands that the army will not reach higher ground before it turns again. He hesitates, for surely this is only a dream! It is plain to see that higher ground is near and they will have time to reach it. He will not bother the generals with a dream and entice their ridicule!


But the cart carrying provisions loses a wheel in the sand and by the time it is repaired the tide has turned. Many men and horses perish and the soldier realises with bitterness and sorrow his mistake and decides that he has failed the Goddess and her consort Alexander - the God of the Sun - the image of Apollo on earth! He tells himself he is too cowardly for Revelation and so he closes his eyes to his dreams and the world of nature loses its colour. When he returns home he does not buy a farm but turns his eyes to books and becomes very learned about the natural world though no one could guess it, for on the surface he seems just a simple man.

In his next life he returns again, this time as a teacher. One day this teacher, now a woman, learns about biodynamic farming and she takes herself to a conference being given locally about it. She finds that she is drawn to the speaker because he is a great philosopher, a clear thinker like Aristotle, who speaks about the spirit in nature and the language of the stars without a trace of dreaminess or priestly dogma. She feels he is enchanting memories from the depths of her soul of things she has always known in a different way. These fill her heart with warmth and enthusiasm, but most of all a desire to learn more about this Anthroposophy he teaches, and so she embarks on a deep study. 

She finds that the more she studies, the more she senses in her soul an impression, in that place where she is used to sensing what is right and what is wrong during quiet moments of reflection. This part of her is that part that helps her to understand herself and now she realises that something lives there and that it is a being called Anthroposophia - the wisdom in the human being. She realises that she has always felt the guidance of this being in her heart. And she knows that although Anthroposophia lives in all human beings only those who are truly conscious of her can call themselves Anthroposophists, just as those who were once conscious of her could call themselves priests and philosophers. She also realises that because this being is a part of her, its life is dependent upon her own consciousness. This fills the teacher with a great urgency. She must teach young children in such a way that they will become conscious of this being. So she goes to the great lecturer and he gives her the task of teaching in the first Waldorf School.

Here she meets those priests from whose circle she was once banished, these are her peers; she meets those soldiers who died on that beach in Phoenicia because she was afraid of being ridiculed, these are her pupils. More and more when she walks in nature she begins to see the spirit behind everything in the world, and when she gazes out at the stars she begins to understand the pattern-language of the gods. She can say 'I' and she is not in a dream! She knows she can do this because many lives have prepared her to find within her the Wisdom, the Isis/Sophia of Christ.

THE BOY

The boy is walking on a beach. He looks ahead as he walks on the sand and does not see the foot prints made by his feet because his focus is on the view ahead and what might be around the corner, his destination. At one point he turns around but as he sees no footprints, because the sea has wiped them away, he is sad. He had a faint but dim impression that he had come from somewhere but now he can see that he only exists while ever he is moving forward and looking ahead and so he vows never to look behind again. To look behind is to face the nothingness of his being.

When he reaches his destination for the night, therefore, he can't remember how he got there, but he doesn't care. What is important is what will happen around the next corner during his walk the next day. This preoccupies him and fills him also with a certain fear.

Later, however, a voice in his heart tells him.

"If you are making footprints when you walk, surely you must have left footprints behind you? This means you are always in a different place from where you have been.' 

He tells this voice he has no evidence and as he won't look backwards he vows to find evidence for what is behind him by observing what is ahead.

On his next walk he begins to gather shells and sand and other things, trying to explore their properties for any clue. He studies the sea that comes and goes and the sky that hangs over him in its vast and endless blueness. The sand, sky and surf are always there, ahead and in front, surely this will help him to understand where he has come from? He calls this gathering up of evidence of what he can see, Science. But this helps him to know only about what he isn't, and nothing about what he truly is and where he has come from. 

So he decides he must understand how his legs move the way they do, the muscles, sinews, veins and arteries. He investigates his heart and lungs and finally his head because his eyes are what help him to see where he is going, and though they never see what is around a corner which inspires fear, he thinks they must surely be capable of explaining where he has been. And yet he doesn't use his eyes to look behind him again, because he will be too sad when he finds nothing. 

One day he realises that there is a bird always following him, and this gives him comfort though this bird flies too high for him to see it clearly. Even so, that voice in his heart tells him to walk tall and to keep watching the bird because it might lead him to where he should be going.

In the evening as he sits by his fire, however, he is still no closer to understanding how he got here again he assuages his concerns by trying to think of what his journey might be like tomorrow. Yet again when he thinks about what could be around the corner it frightens him, because he is frightened of what he can't see. He is only comforted by the thought that if he keeps doing the same things he has been doing always, and if he follows the right path, that is, always looking ahead, he will eventually find not only a better place but also someone who can tell him about where he has been - he calls faith in what he can't yet see, religion.

One day he hears a voice in his heart say, 'get up and look for the bird'. 

Because the sea is rough he decides not to walk so close to the shore and when he sees the great bird flying overhead he is so taken with joy in following its flight that without realising he turns around and notices something quite extraordinary! He notices his footprints and they lead around the corner! They are soon washed away by the pounding surf but he follows them and finds where he has slept the night before! At first he wonders if it isn't an illusion, and realises that by mistake he has left something of himself there. This is what helps him to recognise his sleeping place. So he begins to walk backwards to every place he has slept, and he sees signs of where he has been and with each walk he grows more and more certain that he will find his origins.

One day he comes to a hut.

In this hut he finds his mother and father. They have been waiting for him to find his way home.

The boy says to them - why did you not come and find me? I have been lost! Why did you leave me alone to walk so far from you? Science and Religion didn't help me to find you. It was the bird! I turned around, saw the bird and retraced my steps!

The mother says, 'Yes! You had to leave us, so you could find us again in this new way, a way that is not science or religion but something born out of the two! You were never alone, I was the voice in your heart and your father was the bird that followed you on your walk. Now you can go forward with joy for what is behind you and with confidence for what is in front of you, because you can see and hear that we are always with you.

The Eleventh Holy Night

BULL/TAURUS

In exploring this Zodiac of the Bull we now move from the sphere of the hierarchies to the the region of the Holy Cosmic Spirit from which forces emanate towards the planets.

The Holy Spirit is also called the Lunar Logos because of its kinship to the Moon. This kinship was the result of an important task during Christ's descent towards the earth. The birth of the Sun Logos into the Body of the Sun was made possible by the Holy Spirit principle working into the sphere of the Moon through the communion of the entire circle of the 6 Elohim and Jehova as we have seen in previous posts. The Holy Spirit is connected, therefore, to the Moon Sphere by virtue of this union and the entire third hierarchy of angels, in particular their representatives the Angels.  It is for this reason that the Holy Spirit has a special connection to the Astral body of man or the soul, which was created on old Moon and its connection with the consciousness of the entire soul - the Consciousness Soul - or the 'Conscience Soul'.

We see this relationship between the Moon and the Sun through the Holy Spirit in the various cults of the Bull in Egypt and Sumeria. In Egypt the Egyptian Goddess Isis was the Goddess of the Moon, and her image arose out of the union of the Moon with the Sun, that is, of Sophia with Isis and through them, the union of the region of Virgo with the region of the Bull. This connection was depicted in various ways depending on what forces were prevalent at the time, for instance:

In the Third Cultural Epoch whenever the influence from the sphere of the Virgin was the more prevalent there arose the image of the Moon Goddess Isis, representing the Sun spirit, the Divine Sophia, the World-Soul, carrying her Sun-child Horus. Whenever the image of the Bull or the entire macrocosm prevailed in Egypt, Isis was seen with Cow Horns on her head - as an image of her representation of the World Spirit. Furthermore when, within these cow horns was  depicted the Solar disc, it signified the upward striving of the Spirit of the Bull from the Sphere of the Moon to the Sphere of the Sun or the region of Ram. This depicted an ascent from Holy Spirit to Christ, which signified a move from the Third Cultural Epoch, Egypt to the Fourth, Greco-Roman Epoch, when Christ would be born on earth.

The Luciferic principle had cut itself off from the Holy Spirit on old moon. It chose not to strive upwards to the Sun Sphere but to remain egoistically within the boundaries of the Moon Sphere. The  Luciferic Holy Spirit did not seek to find Christ and, it is for this reason, that in the Greco Roman era the Bull was associated with the Luciferic principle.

The Holy Spirit that emanates from the region of the Bull down into the Moon Sphere was seen at the baptism of Jesus by John the Baptist through the agency of his angel in the form of a Dove. He saw this image of the dove because, interestingly, Rudolf Steiner tells us, the cow seen inspiratively, takes on the image of a dove, since astrally the cow is like a bird. 

It is the Holy Spirit, which once again enables the birth of Christ into the Nathan Sun-Soul, the being of Jesus of Nazareth at the baptism in the Jordan. Christ is born, not only through the highest earthly representative of the region of the angels or Waterman - John the Baptist - but also because of another mystery.

The Luke Mary is that being who was once seen as Isis by the Egyptian Initiates. And her own descent into the human soul ran parallel to the descent of the Nathan soul to earth carrying the Christ being through his sacrifices. Isis/Mary descended from the region of the Sophia and enabled human beings to develop the Sentient and intellectual souls in preparation for Christ's incarnation. After her own short incarnation, the heavenly Isis/Mary was united once more with the Divine Sophia at her death. It was her unification with Mary of the Matthew Gospel which connected the Matthew Mary with the Sophia making the birth of Christ into the soul of Jesus of Nazareth, possible. This communion of heavenly and earthly representatives from the Sphere of the Bull and the Virgin - was the archetypal image of the spirit which must enter the soul to enable the birth of Christ there.

Similarly, it is also the Holy Spirit from the region of the Bull that, in uniting with the sphere of Twins or Seraphim, (represented by the sacrifice enacted by both Christ and the Zarathustra individuality at the baptism), that created the possibility for the birth of the highest principle of Sacrificial love, Christ, on earth. Christ, the Sun Being was then able to walk the earth and to speak of a love that is not inspired by 'blood' kinship, but a love that is free and inspired instead by 'spirit' kinship. He could do this through the agency of this region which rules the Larynx and speech (Bull) and the Spirit of Community (Twins).  It is for this reason that speech connects us with others in a loving marriage of souls. Rudolf Steiner even goes so far as to say that the Larynx will one day not only speak forth words, but will be a creative organ, a higher version of the organs of reproduction which are, at present, possessed by human beings. The larynx will offer itself up, chastely, to the Holy Lance of  Love - the Holy Spirit - in order to bring to 'birth' the spirit of Christ, not only in the soul, but within the soul of a 'community' and in the Soul of the earth, as a moral creative force. In this way The Bull also connects the realm of Twins with the realm of Goat, the realm of Archangels, in particular Michael who, as the highest Archangel of the Sun and the Countenance of Jehova, had a special relationship both to the Sun Logos and the Holy spirit  - the Word and Thought - that is, the Cosmic Intelligence of Christ.

Luke was the apostle connected to the Sphere of the Bull. Luke was a 'Bull Initiate' and therefore a doctor because the Holy Spirit is connected with all forms healing. It is connected with healing because it is the Holy Spirit which brings about a connection between the human being and Christ - the great healer. Luke therefore, sees the Mystery of Golgotha from the perspective of the healing Nathan Soul, or Jesus son of the Isis Mary. When we see the image of Mary holding her child in her arms in Bethlehem as Luke depicts it, it is the fulfilment of the prophecy seen by the Egyptian Priests, who saw the image of Isis holding the Horus child. 

It is the human being who also heals Lucifer by connecting Lucifer with the Holy Spirit again in the human soul.

So on this Holy Night when we gaze up at the region of the Bull (Thought), may we see the connection between it and the Holy Spirit, the Lunar Logos working particularly through the Moon Sphere realm of the angels to enable the birth of Christ (The Word) firstly into the body of the Sun and secondly into the body of the Sun-Soul Jesus of Nazareth. May we see the Gospel writer Luke writing of the Nathan Soul and the Isis Mary. May we see how the Luke Mary united with the Solomon Mary so that she became, the Mother of God, a 'Vicarious' incarnation of the Sophia on earth, and how the Holy Spirit united again with the Mother of God twice more: at the Wedding at Cana and at the Pentecost in order to bring about a free 'common love' among men who are not blood kin.

May the Spirit of this Holy Night working in our souls unite us with the Spirit of Christ in the sun of our hearts so that we may unite in loving communion and speak forth the word of God!

On Writing THE SIXTH KEY

THE FOURTH KEY

The Roman God, Janus, is depicted with two faces staring in opposite directions: one face looking into the past and the other into the future.

The past can tell us a lot about who we are and what we will one day create, or do. That’s why I find it essential to retrace the steps that led me to a new novel and in so doing the fourth key to writing The Sixth Key is closely linked to my love of history and my passion for mysteries.

My love of history began at around age fifteen when I first read Gone With the Wind. I became a lover of historic novels and developed a fascination for history itself. My passion for mysteries was ignited when I saw my first Indiana Jones movie. The idea of lost artefacts, codes, puzzles and unsolved enigmas, excited me so much that I told myself I would one day write thrilling mystery novels based on true history.

Two books later, the protagonist in my historic mystery thriller, The Sixth Key, is Otto Rahn - the living inspiration for Steven Spielberg’s Indiana Jones. Rahn is racing against time to solve numerous puzzles, codes and enigmas to find a lost artefact that actually existed in history and although the book is predominantly set in the late 1930’s, it is interwoven with other historic time-lines.

I guess we never know what influences will work on us strongly enough to become actions. The best we can do is to look back every so often, like the God Janus. We might then better understand the present and even prepare ourselves for the future. In this case – a sequel!

On Writing the SIXTH KEY - The Third Key:

The Third Key to writing The Sixth Key has to do with the fact that some people belong to their time and others do not. What do I mean by this? Like Otto Rahn, my protagonist, I realised at an early age that I didn’t belong to the Australia of the 1970’s but to the America and Europe of the 1930’s and 40’s.

I didn’t fit in at all. While my friends were listening to the soundtrack of Jesus Christ Superstar, or the music of Jimi Hendrix, I was enjoying old recordings of Bing Crosby, Nat King Cole and Billy Holiday.  Skirts were getting shorter, hair was becoming straighter and longer and the shoes were growing chunkier, but I wanted to dress in flowing silk gowns and beautiful stiletto heels like Ginger Rogers, with my hair short and curly, like June Allyson. And when my generation was flocking to movies like Mash or The Godfather, I snubbed my nose at them, preferring to stay at home to watch The Maltese Falcon, Frankenstein or Alfred Hitchock movies on TV. I even recorded them with my little cassette tape recorder, so that I could practice the lines. I was such a dork!

So when the time came to write The Sixth Key, it is not so hard to see why I was drawn to set it primarily in the late 1930’s, with a protagonist who is a mix of all the sensitive male heroes to have ever graced the silver screen, partnered by a heroine who has the moxie of Katherine Hepburn, the intelligence of Lauren Bacall, and the vulnerable, ethereal beauty of Louise Brooks.

I know my parents worried about me in those days, when I wanted to spend half my life in ‘hot rollers’, trying to speak with a husky voice like Greta Garbo. But as you can see, not belonging to your time can sometimes come in handy!

WOMAN WITH THE ALABASTER JAR

  

S

INCE that experience in the field, beneath the shading tree, Mary had carried her mother’s jar with her wherever she went, and it was with her now as she snuck out of the rooming house, and made her way to the residence of Simon the Pharisee.

Months ago, when Mary and her sister heard Lazarus’ retelling of his experience at the Baptism of Jesus, they had felt a sense of destiny, and had begged their brother to take them to Capernaum, to the place where Jesus taught and healed the people.

Mary’s only fear had been, what she might see, hovering over him. But she had not seen anything but light, and love, and life. A life so abundant that she understood instantly, she must offer herself up as his disciple. And yet, she hesitated, for her malady continued to plague her, and the words of the rabbi at Magadala still echoed in her ears, even after all these years.

The courage to go to Jesus had only come this night, when she heard him say these words to those who needed healing:

Come unto me all who are heavy laden, all of you who are burdened and I will give you rest.

She thought of these words now, and warmth entered into her heart as she walked resolutely, clutching that jar made from cool translucent stone, which held her mother’s oil.

It seemed to her appropriate to use this very oil, in just this very jar, to perform the most humbling act which she knew how to perform: to prostrate herself before him, to anoint his feet, and deliver her soul into his care. And it did not matter to her that her Lord was dining at a house that belonged to a well-known and respected Pharisee, among men of wealth and stature, who would make fun of her and call her to account, for her madness. She did not even fear their opinion, nor indeed, did she worry for her family’s shame!

Something beyond these trivial things moved her legs. A sense of the wonder-working-magic of destiny had taken a hold, and it worked deeper than her doubts and fears, to fire up her limbs, and to guide her up the steps, through the antechamber and through an open door that led to the sumptuous and well-appointed dining hall.

The reception room was grandly lit, music played and servants hurried past, backwards and forwards, carrying food and drink to be laid out on the long table. She was dressed simply and could seem like one of them, and so she slipped in unnoticed. She was not prevented from finding Jesus at the table and from going to him where he was seated on a couch.

She saw that he was in deep conversation with the Pharisee Simon and with the other rabbis, who were scattered here and there among the closest Disciples of Christ Jesus. 

Simon said to him, ‘This evening, John’s disciples asked you if you were the awaited one. You said you were not a prophet, for the age of prophets is past, the age of Abraham is past. You said you were something more. What do you say that you are then? John the Baptist would not eat and drink with us, but fasted and lived in the wilderness…you, on the other hand, are here among us, drinking and eating…is this the conduct of a Messiah?’

Magdalena came from behind him to kneel at his feet. She set down the jar and took out the stopper. She bent reverently to pour the oil but paused, for he had begun to speak.

She heard him say, ‘How shall I liken the sons of Abraham? They are like children who sit in the market place, and say to one another: ‘We have played a happy tune, and yet you do not dance to it! We have played a mournful tune, but you have not wept!

‘You expected quite another Elijah, and quite another Christ – you expected a prophet who was one of you, and a king, who will not be among you for his high mightiness! You say that John the Baptist is no prophet, for he will not eat bread nor drink wine with you, and you say the Son of Man, who eats with you and drinks with you, is a gluttonous man, a wine bibber, and therefore, cannot be the Messiah! But your eyes see only outward forms…and so you do not recognise that what lives within John the Baptist makes him the greatest of the sons of Abraham, the greatest of those that are born of a woman. And you do not see that I am not a king, but I that I am the kingdom, for I am not the son of a woman, I am the Son of God!’

At this point, he turned to look at Mary and in that moment the sun and the stars were his eyes! She saw a darkened chamber and moonlight, and she was once more a bride. For she recognised the bridegroom of her dream!

Her heart fluttered with panic, like a bird caught in the confines of a house. And yet, in her heart’s voice, she heard these words,

When a bridegroom knows his bride, this knowing leads to love. So it is with a teacher and a pupil. I love you because I see the light in your heart. See these men, they are learned, but you possess in abundance what they do not have!

Stunned, trembling, her heart asked him, ‘But I am a sinner…I have a curse!’

You see many things, Mary. In the past those who had spirit sight, carried this power in the length and thickness of their hair, now you must let go of this power, if you are to gain a new knowledge through me.’

He had said this in silence, and she felt the warmth of his life entering into her.

‘If you do so, I shall close your eyes to what is troubling you…’

She began to cry and her tears fell over his feet. Hastily, for she did not wish to defile him, she gathered her hair to wipe them away, and realised, that in so doing, she was laying at his feet all of her old treasures. This affected her heart so dearly, that she found herself bending further and touching her lips to his feet in a kiss! And another! In a moment she was pouring her mother’s oil over them, and while the tears continued to flow, she rubbed his skin and anointed his feet with her mother’s very essence, and kissed them again and again, for he was now her comforter and her guide.

This is what I have done for you so that will perform a task for me. One day, before my death, you will anoint me with this oil once more and wipe my feet with your hair. Your soul will be the tower that shall bring the God in my soul closer to the man in my body so that I can accomplish my task - the task of dying. Until then you shall be the flooring of my soul.

She would give up her life, she said to him silently, to do this.

He touched her head with one hand, and a spark flew from it and it was as if it entered into her spine. Of a sudden she was a child again and yet wise also. Rest, warmth, love, goodness had entered her to the marrow, and from the heights of this ecstatic ritual of forgiveness and acceptance, she heard the thoughts of the Pharisee and they pulled her down to earth:

If you are the prophet they say you are, why don't you not know what kind of woman this is that touches you? She is a sinner and she defiles you!

She had heard it, but once again, not with her ears, with her heart-sense.

Taking his eyes from her, Jesus said to Simon the Pharisee, ‘Why do you forsake this woman?’

The man was aghast. Christ Jesus had read his thoughts!

 ‘Answer me this riddle,’ Christ Jesus said to him. ‘There was a certain creditor who had two debtors: the one owed five times more than the other. When they had no money to repay the debt, the creditor forgave them both. Tell me, therefore, which man loved the creditor the most?’

Simon did not need to think on it, for he spoke directly, ‘I suppose it must be the man who was forgiven the most. He will love the most, who owes the most. Much for much…little for little.’

‘Shall I apply your principles to this woman then…?’ he looked down at Mary, ‘See how she kneels! How she washes my feet with her tears and wipes them with the hair on her head. When I entered into your house, you did not give me water for my feet, you did not anoint my head with oil. This woman has anointed my feet and kissed them, while you have not even given me a kiss of welcome. You, who have much, have given me little, yet she, who has little, has given me much. Why does she treat me so well, while you show me not even those polite attentions and tokens of respect that one should offer a guest at a feast? It is because in her heart, she has a light that sees who I am, and that is why she loves me! She does not love me because I forgive her the most. It is her abundant love, the light in her heart, which attracts my forgiveness. The little love you show me is a sign, that you do not know who I am, that is why I forgive you less.’

Then to Mary he said, ‘Magdalena…your love is great, and in the same measure, so are your sins forgiven you…go in peace.’

She gathered up her alabaster jar and left the room. Behind her she could hear a great commotion, for those who were present were saying in their hearts, ‘Who is this sinner who can see what others cannot? How can this Jesus of Nazareth, think himself able to forgive sins, when he is only the son of a Carpenter…he is not even a rabbi?’

Magdalena came out into the night, leaving those words behind as if they were dust on her shoes, and looked about at the trees and the air and the sky. She saw no devils, she heard no whispers. She saw only the light of those pinpointed stars above, and she heard only the nudging of the sky onwards in its rounds. There was a solace in this quiet, in this peace, a solace that she could not describe even to herself!

The chill autumn air touched her skin only lightly, as she walked back to where she was staying with her brother Lazarus and her sister Martha.

For within her, radiated a warmth that was like a midday sun.

INCE that experience in the field, beneath the shading tree, Mary had carried her mother’s jar with her wherever she went, and it was with her now as she snuck out of the rooming house, and made her way to the residence of Simon the Pharisee.

Months ago, when Mary and her sister heard Lazarus’ retelling of his experience at the Baptism of Jesus, they had felt a sense of destiny, and had begged their brother to take them to Capernaum, to the place where Jesus taught and healed the people.

Mary’s only fear had been, what she might see, hovering over him. But she had not seen anything but light, and love, and life. A life so abundant that she understood instantly, she must offer herself up as his disciple. And yet, she hesitated, for her malady continued to plague her, and the words of the rabbi at Magadala still echoed in her ears, even after all these years.

The courage to go to Jesus had only come this night, when she heard him say these words to those who needed healing:

Come unto me all who are heavy laden, all of you who are burdened and I will give you rest.

She thought of these words now, and warmth entered into her heart as she walked resolutely, clutching that jar made from cool translucent stone, which held her mother’s oil.

It seemed to her appropriate to use this very oil, in just this very jar, to perform the most humbling act which she knew how to perform: to prostrate herself before him, to anoint his feet, and deliver her soul into his care. And it did not matter to her that her Lord was dining at a house that belonged to a well-known and respected Pharisee, among men of wealth and stature, who would make fun of her and call her to account, for her madness. She did not even fear their opinion, nor indeed, did she worry for her family’s shame!

Something beyond these trivial things moved her legs. A sense of the wonder-working-magic of destiny had taken a hold, and it worked deeper than her doubts and fears, to fire up her limbs, and to guide her up the steps, through the antechamber and through an open door that led to the sumptuous and well-appointed dining hall.

The reception room was grandly lit, music played and servants hurried past, backwards and forwards, carrying food and drink to be laid out on the long table. She was dressed simply and could seem like one of them, and so she slipped in unnoticed. She was not prevented from finding Jesus at the table and from going to him where he was seated on a couch.

She saw that he was in deep conversation with the Pharisee Simon and with the other rabbis, who were scattered here and there among the closest Disciples of Christ Jesus. 

Simon said to him, ‘This evening, John’s disciples asked you if you were the awaited one. You said you were not a prophet, for the age of prophets is past, the age of Abraham is past. You said you were something more. What do you say that you are then? John the Baptist would not eat and drink with us, but fasted and lived in the wilderness…you, on the other hand, are here among us, drinking and eating…is this the conduct of a Messiah?’

Magdalena came from behind him to kneel at his feet. She set down the jar and took out the stopper. She bent reverently to pour the oil but paused, for he had begun to speak.

She heard him say, ‘How shall I liken the sons of Abraham? They are like children who sit in the market place, and say to one another: ‘We have played a happy tune, and yet you do not dance to it! We have played a mournful tune, but you have not wept!

‘You expected quite another Elijah, and quite another Christ – you expected a prophet who was one of you, and a king, who will not be among you for his high mightiness! You say that John the Baptist is no prophet, for he will not eat bread nor drink wine with you, and you say the Son of Man, who eats with you and drinks with you, is a gluttonous man, a wine bibber, and therefore, cannot be the Messiah! But your eyes see only outward forms…and so you do not recognise that what lives within John the Baptist makes him the greatest of the sons of Abraham, the greatest of those that are born of a woman. And you do not see that I am not a king, but I that I am the kingdom, for I am not the son of a woman, I am the Son of God!’

At this point, he turned to look at Mary and in that moment the sun and the stars were his eyes! She saw a darkened chamber and moonlight, and she was once more a bride. For she recognised the bridegroom of her dream!

Her heart fluttered with panic, like a bird caught in the confines of a house. And yet, in her heart’s voice, she heard these words,

When a bridegroom knows his bride, this knowing leads to love. So it is with a teacher and a pupil. I love you because I see the light in your heart. See these men, they are learned, but you possess in abundance what they do not have!

Stunned, trembling, her heart asked him, ‘But I am a sinner…I have a curse!’

You see many things, Mary. In the past those who had spirit sight, carried this power in the length and thickness of their hair, now you must let go of this power, if you are to gain a new knowledge through me.’

He had said this in silence, and she felt the warmth of his life entering into her.

‘If you do so, I shall close your eyes to what is troubling you…’

She began to cry and her tears fell over his feet. Hastily, for she did not wish to defile him, she gathered her hair to wipe them away, and realised, that in so doing, she was laying at his feet all of her old treasures. This affected her heart so dearly, that she found herself bending further and touching her lips to his feet in a kiss! And another! In a moment she was pouring her mother’s oil over them, and while the tears continued to flow, she rubbed his skin and anointed his feet with her mother’s very essence, and kissed them again and again, for he was now her comforter and her guide.

This is what I have done for you so that will perform a task for me. One day, before my death, you will anoint me with this oil once more and wipe my feet with your hair. Your clairvoyance will be the tower that shall bring the God in my soul closer to the man in my body so that I can accomplish my task. Until then you shall be the flooring of my soul.

She would give up her life, she said to him silently, to do this.

He touched her head with one hand, and a spark flew from it and it was as if it entered into her spine. Of a sudden she was a child again and yet wise also. Rest, warmth, love, goodness had entered her to the marrow, and from the heights of this ecstatic ritual of forgiveness and acceptance, she heard the thoughts of the Pharisee and they pulled her down to earth:

If you are the prophet they say you are, why don't you not know what kind of woman this is that touches you? She is a sinner and she defiles you!

She had heard it, but once again, not with her ears, with her heart-sense.

Taking his eyes from her, Jesus said to Simon the Pharisee, ‘Why do you forsake this woman?’

The man was aghast. Christ Jesus had read his thoughts!

 ‘Answer me this riddle,’ Christ Jesus said to him. ‘There was a certain creditor who had two debtors: the one owed five times more than the other. When they had no money to repay the debt, the creditor forgave them both. Tell me, therefore, which man loved the creditor the most?’

Simon did not need to think on it, for he spoke directly, ‘I suppose it must be the man who was forgiven the most. He will love the most, who owes the most. Much for much…little for little.’

‘Shall I apply your principles to this woman then…?’ he looked down at Mary, ‘See how she kneels! How she washes my feet with her tears and wipes them with the hair on her head. When I entered into your house, you did not give me water for my feet, you did not anoint my head with oil. This woman has anointed my feet and kissed them, while you have not even given me a kiss of welcome. You, who have much, have given me little, yet she, who has little, has given me much. Why does she treat me so well, while you show me not even those polite attentions and tokens of respect that one should offer a guest at a feast? It is because in her heart, she has a light that sees who I am, and that is why she loves me! She does not love me because I forgive her the most. It is her abundant love, the light in her heart, which attracts my forgiveness. The little love you show me is a sign, that you do not know who I am, that is why I forgive you less.’

Then to Mary he said, ‘Magdalena…your love is great, and in the same measure, so are your sins forgiven you…go in peace.’

She gathered up her alabaster jar and left the room. Behind her she could hear a great commotion, for those who were present were saying in their hearts, ‘Who is this sinner who can see what others cannot? How can this Jesus of Nazareth, think himself able to forgive sins, when he is only the son of a Carpenter…he is not even a rabbi?’

Magdalena came out into the night, leaving those words behind as if they were dust on her shoes, and looked about at the trees and the air and the sky. She saw no devils, she heard no whispers. She saw only the light of those pinpointed stars above, and she heard only the nudging of the sky onwards in its rounds. There was a solace in this quiet, in this peace, a solace that she could not describe even to herself!

The chill autumn air touched her skin only lightly, as she walked back to where she was staying with her brother Lazarus and her sister Martha.

For within her, radiated a warmth that was like a midday sun.

THE FOURTH KEY

The Roman God, Janus, is depicted with two faces staring in opposite directions: one face looking into the past and the other into the future.

The past can tell us a lot about who we are and what we will one day create, or do. That’s why I find it essential to retrace the steps that led me to a new novel and in so doing the fourth key to writing The Sixth Key is closely linked to my love of history and my passion for mysteries.

My love of history began at around age fifteen when I first read Gone With the Wind. I became a lover of historic novels and developed a fascination for history itself. My passion for mysteries was ignited when I saw my first Indiana Jones movie. The idea of lost artefacts, codes, puzzles and unsolved enigmas, excited me so much that I told myself I would one day write thrilling mystery novels based on true history.

Two books later, the protagonist in my historic mystery thriller, The Sixth Key, is Otto Rahn - the living inspiration for Steven Spielberg’s Indiana Jones. Rahn is racing against time to solve numerous puzzles, codes and enigmas to find a lost artefact that actually existed in history and although the book is predominantly set in the late 1930’s, it is interwoven with other historic time-lines.

I guess we never know what influences will work on us strongly enough to become actions. The best we can do is to look back every so often, like the God Janus. We might then better understand the present and even prepare ourselves for the future. In this case – a sequel!