Excerpt from Fifth Gospel: Leave Taking

Lea fell quiet. Her words were spent.

I went to the window, for I could see the sun was rising, throwing a gold mantle on the world beyond Montsegur. For a moment, the entire Gospel stood before my eyes in the awakening clouds that were spread over the skies above the valleys and mountains, rivers and streams of the world.

‘Yes…it is magnificent!’ I said.

She pointed to the dawn and she seemed to grow tall, and white, and fair before my eyes. I trembled, for her voice was grave, ‘Look there! Do you see a world full of wonders and marvels?

I looked, and I saw a twilight land of strange buildings and contraptions.  

‘That is the future…do you see, pairé, how there are castles that fly, carriages that go at great speeds without horses, and torches that have no flame! In this future, pairé, the thoughts of men will travel like lightning, from one end of the earth to the other, and a man will be able to hold all the books in the world in the palm of one hand!’

‘All the books in the world!’ I smiled to think on it. ‘This is truly remarkable!’

‘Yes, but every light casts a shadow.’ She looked at me, cold and solemn and said, ‘The greater the light of goodness, the darker the shadow of evil. Wars will continue…there are dark times ahead, and it will grow darker still, for you see pairé, in the past, men fought over their misunderstandings of Jesus and Christ, now, they battle because they no longer understand the Spirit, but in the future the battle will be for the human Soul, pairé. It shall be more heinous and violent than any other battle that has come before! In those far flung days what is written in John’s Apocalypse shall come to pass again: the woman with the sun in her belly and the moon at her feet shall come to give birth to the spirit of Christ in the clouds, the soul of humanity will give birth to the spirit and the dragon will try to kill it as soon as it is born in the same way that Herod tried to kill Yeshua. That is when this gospel shall be needed pairé; before the end of the fifth age.’

I was breathless, caught in the swirl of images which she had shown in the sky before my eyes. Fear and dread entered into my heart and a sudden thought came. ‘Soon I will descend this pog, Lea, and what you have had me write down on those parchments,’ I pointed to them, ‘will turn to dust. It has all been for nothing! No man will know the Fifth Gospel!’

‘There is no accident in the universe pairé, nothing is ever lost. What you have written will come to you again, though differently, and you will remember.’

‘What must I remember?’

‘Look at me, pairé, what do you see?’

Before my open gaze her face seemed to change: one moment I saw the evening star, the next she was Demeter the mother of nature; again she was the lady who steals into the heart of every troubadour, the ideal woman, the good and beautiful and true in the soul of every poet. When her face paused in its transformations, I realised with a sense of wonder and awe that I was gazing at a countenance that I had only seen in my imaginations...I had been in the company of Wisdom all along... 

Nostradamus and the Acquisition of Wisdom

‘How long have you been with me now, Chavigny?’ Nostradamus said to Jean, with an expectant eye.

‘Ten years or thereabouts.’

‘How many hurdles did Dorat place in your way when you said you wanted to be my pupil?’ he said, setting the box down.

‘It took me near a year to convince him and then he gave me no letters of introduction.’

‘That’s right, and you made the two month journey south to my home and arrived empty handed at my door. What did I tell you then?’

‘That if I intended to become a student of the mystic arts I would have to be prepared to do those tasks you set me.’

He nodded.

‘But in all this time there have been no tasks and no instruction! Only menial jobs have you set me that any fool might be capable of doing!’

‘Really?’ he raised one bushy brow, ‘Do you think so? Have I told you the story of Antonius?’

‘Antonius?’

‘Antonius was a teacher. A simple man named Paul arrived at his door one day, much like you, and said he wanted to be his pupil. Antonius accepted him and caused him year after year do such menial tasks as seemed to have no reason. For instance he had him carry water from one place to another in perforated buckets, he asked him carry rocks up a hill and had him roll them back down again on the other side. He had him stitch and unstitch clothes. This he did year after year! Why? Because the simple man Paul who had come to him, in the process of these tasks, year after year, underwent a tremendous deepening of his soul.'
'By doing menial tasks he deepened his soul?'
'Oh you are still a fool Chavigny, for you do not know how gratitude even for menial tasks, reverence for the master who sets them and devotion which becomes a habit in the soul is what changes a man -  a thousand books will not do the same! You see, that is how Paul the Simpleton became Paul the Wise. '

Excerpt from Fifth Gospel: Bath-Kol

Jesus looked about him at the expectation on the faces of the men and women and children. He was no priest, how could he give them what they desired? Looking at them he saw all the pagan peoples that he had met in his travels gathered together into one great corpse made from unwashed bodies and wild faces; a corpse of human suffering overflowing with wickedness and with desperation and disease. He sensed the smell of rotted flesh, of darkness, stagnant, dank – the odour of human degradation. The world whirled around him and in that moment he felt the universal suffering of humanity as if it were his own. It streamed into him like a rush of white fire from all the faces that looked up to him for comfort and he could not take a breath for the immensity of its weight.

‘What’s the matter? Don’t you like my handiwork?’ said the being.

Jesus shouted at it, ‘Who are you? Why do you do this?’

When the people heard his words they seemed to grow afraid, for they sensed an open traffic with evil and began to push and shove to flee from the temple.

But Jesus felt a pain, a dart of poisoned ice; it burst into a thousand lighted candles, each shimmering in the air ahead of his eyes. He was removed then, from that place and the people and the evil being.

In this realm of nothingness, he heard these words:

‘Listen Jesus.’

Aum

Evils hold sway

The ego of man struggles free

And guilt is incurred at the expense of others,

Which is experienced in the daily bread

Wherein the will of the heavens does not rule

Because man has separated himself from your realms,

And forgot your names

You fathers in the heavens!

Jesus recognised this voice! He shouted into the open vaults of the deserted temple, ‘Yes…evil holds sway because men have wanted freedom from the gods but now everything falls into ruin, the world is old, how can the people rise up to remember the gods again?’

The voice said.

‘Watch and wait Jesus, soon comes my Son and He will make the old new again!

‘Who are you?’ he asked.

A warm, love-giving radiance, entered into his heart.

‘I am knowledge and ignorance, I am shame and boldness, I am shameless; I am ashamed, I am strength and I am fear and I am war and peace, I am the truth and the speech that cannot be grasped. I am the name of the sound and the sound of the name; I am the sign of the letter and the designation of the division …I am Bath-Kol, the voice of So-ph-ea, the Wisdom that is All.’

Excerpt from Fifth Gospel: Water and Wine

‘What do you see?’ His eyes held hers.

To look at him near blinded her and so she looked away. ‘I don’t know what to tell you…I see a dazzling glory!’ she looked again, ‘Praise be God! I see…’

‘What?’

‘I see the Son of God!’ Immediately she put a hand to her mouth as if she had blasphemed.

‘Don’t be afraid, you have committed no wrong…’ he said, ‘trust in your heart.’

Tears came into her eyes. ‘I feel joy!’ She lost her balance and he steadied her and held her face close to his.

‘This is heaven expressing itself through you, for this is the first time my mother in heaven sees the Son who long ago departed from her…she sees Him who is in me through your eyes!’

Again she felt she would faint, and to forestall it he held her with one hand and took the cup of water and brought it to her lips. ‘Drink this,’ he said, ‘it will sustain you.’

When she took a sip she was full of confusion. She looked into the cup trying to decide whether she believed it.

She said, ‘How does this taste of wine Jesus?’  

Jesus nodded. ‘It is only water…but what lives between you and me can make even water taste of wine.’

She had heard these words before, they echoed the words of the Anchorite in Egypt, spoken so many years ago.

‘This is a mother’s love for her son,’ she marvelled.

‘And a son's love for his mother,’ he replied.

Before she could say more the storm of light that had surrounded Jesus ebbed away. So swiftly did it go that she wondered if she’d seen it at all.

Returned to those eyes was the calm expression she knew. 
‘You look tired…’ he said to her, ‘Tomorrow is another busy day.’

She hesitated, ‘I have been saying fare-thee-well to you all your life Jesus, and now I find myself not wanting to leave you, lest you disappear into thin air!’

Jesus let his face open in a smile, ‘I know. But this is a new season, and we must not say fare-thee-well, we must say, Shalom! Shalom, mother…shalom!’

He hugged her and she hugged him back. Embarrassed, happy, she closed her eyes, settling the word into her heart.

When the moment was over she took the pitcher and cup and walked out of the workshop, feeling the swelling of a love so great, that she could neither contain it, nor properly express it.

The Painter and the Shepherd

The painter had chosen the church because here the light was the most pure and the darkness the most profound. Without light, colour had no language with which to express its sentiments. Without darkness light could not find its forms.

His father had taught him how to use both.

After his father's death he had been sent a long way from home to become an artist under the wise guidance of another master whose skill he soon surpassed.

He had learnt many lessons. But one lesson his master could not teach him was the one lesson he needed to learn for himself.

He ate a sparse meal under the stars, listening to the lapping of the ocean. The stars told him of his spirit home. The sea told him of places far from Italy and the Urbino of his youth.

Tired from his travels he cleared a spot inside the old church and lay down. Looking at the darkened ribbed vaults he soon fell asleep. 

In the morning he awoke refreshed and began making ready the colours and set the linseed oil in a pan to cook over the little fire. He liked preparation, which to him was as important as the execution. While he organised himself he remembered Florence, where he met Leonardo the great painter, who already an old man, had taught him of darkness and light and the problem of the human skin. The great master too had a problem with faces. At Santa Marie de la Grazie he could not find a model for Judas and for years had worked to understand how to paint the darkness that was the absence of light inside Judas’ soul.

He did not achieve it.

The painter stirred his oil now, peaceful and composed. He was not a scientist like Leonardo who loved him, he was not a tortured man like Michelangelo who hated him. His life was simple and uncomplicated. He was loved and he loved in return. He owned no man and no man owed him. He had a belief that if God had chosen Him as painter of his works then he would also show him how to express his face through the language of light and dark. 

He would wait. 

The day was mild.  He took out the lime and made his way to the beach. He brought back sand to make the mortar. He sifted two parts sand with one part lime and wet it until it was the right consistency then he let it stand while he swept the walls. When they were clean he watered them down thoroughly and after that working the mortar with a trowel he plastered the mixture on a section of the walls to the right of the door. A small amount to begin with to get the plaster flat, then adding more to make it uneven and rough. 

When it was dry he took the charcoal in his hand and stood a moment thinking on what to draw when a figure blotted out the light coming through the door. 

It was a man, tall dark though he could not see the face. He came into the church and looked around. The painter could hear the sound of sheep moving beyond the gaping mouth of the church. 

The man sat down with his back to the ruined altar as if to peruse his art. He took an apple from a canvas bag and polished it on his clothing.

“You are like the Greeks you have no models,” he said.

The painter was puzzled and amused. He set down his charcoal and frowned coming nearer to the man. The light from the door fell on his face and the painter observed him more clearly. It was symmetrical, open, with almond shaped eyes, melancholy in their depths, framed by well-shaped brows, dark like his hair and beard beneath which full lips spread in a smile.

“The Greeks did not use models?” the painter asked the man.

“No.” The man said chewing, “They knew the laws that rule form and movement - the forces of life. They had a memory of the origins of balance and rhythm. They looked to the stars, the moving planets and knew from them concerning the heights. They looked to earth to the heaviness of the bones and they knew the depths..."

“But you are a shepherd. How does a shepherd know so much about painting?”

“When I see a rainbow I do not see colour but the sufferings and joys of light!”

The painter was spellbound. He sat down and fell to smiling.

“Yes...yes...and what is God?”

The other man finished his apple, “God is colour poised between darkness and light. When the sky is red it is His wrath which pours over the world, He knows our sins, our evils. Red is the judgement of God. In the trees the grass, the meadows, the verdant colour I find strength, it brings new life, health to the animals and calmness to the world. I feel Him within myself in green. In blue on the other hand He moves away from me. I want to follow Him to heaven. In yellow He radiates his warmth and life-giving power...He is like the sun ...”

Something moved in the painter’s heart. The man’s voice echoed in sympathy with his soul.

“Do you wish to understand how to paint God, is that it?” the man asked.

The painter nodded, “Yes. I want to paint how He is between darkness and light!”

“Then go to your wall. Begin.” 

“But...how shall I start...what shall I paint?”

The Shepherd made to go and looked behind his shoulder. "Start at the end...and paint Yourself!"

Some Words of Wisdom from History...

History is dressed in resplendent colours. Moving through the ocean of everything that has been she comes upon the chariot of her consort Chronos. She passes with a thunderous roar and a stirring of god-dust and as she does she glances into the weaving of my soul. With her ice-like clarity she sees all. I must be content with only a portion of it.

“What is time?”


Her voice is breathless in the air.

A mirror. 

“What is the past?”

What lives behind it. 

She smiles now, rubies and diamonds, waterfalls and age-worn rivers, a dread beauty full of strife and love, pregnant with the misery of war and the coming of age; the waxing and waning of creation. 

O Man you cannot understand history if you look only to that which is written and falls from pages. Look to what is recorded upon the rarefied airs of my soul! Break the mirror!

"Will I see what I am?"   

“You shall know what you have been as the seed of what you are, and what you are as the flower from which will come the fruit of what you will be!”

Excerpt from Fifth Gospel: Scorpion

The sun entered Scorpio on the night of his birth. That night, in a dream, his mother saw that her boy child would be the agent of three betrayals: he would kill his father; he would marry his mother; and he would bring about a disaster so great that it would taint his name and stain the blood of his people for all ages to come.

The father wanted to rid himself of the child, but the woman, desirous not to kill the new-born for fear of committing a sin, convinced her husband to have the boy taken from Cariot in Judea to a far distant land, to avert his maleficent destiny. This is how it came about, that in the night, the child was spirited away and taken by merchants to a community of Diaspora Jews on the Tigris, near Seleucia in Parthia.

This was a quiet, hidden community, peopled by a community of Mandeans, who had brought together the mysteries of the Persians and combined them with the religion of the Hebrews. Within this community, there lived a wealthy, childless couple known to the Jew merchants. They brought the child to this couple who, upon seeing the tiny innocent creature, grew warm with love, exclaiming to one another that here at last was a son delivered to them by God! Gladly, they paid the merchants thirty pieces of silver for him, and raised him as their own.

They named him Judas.