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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780977140541 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Sierra Dreams Press |
| Publication date: | 12/28/2019 |
| Series: | God Child , #1 |
| Pages: | 184 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.51(w) x 8.50(h) x 0.39(d) |
Read an Excerpt
Another Messiah
By Stuart Rawlings
Sierra Dreams Press
Copyright © 2005 Stuart RawlingsAll right reserved.
ISBN: 0-9771405-0-4
Chapter One
NativityAnd it came to pass, at the start of the twenty-first century after the birth of Jesus, that much of the land was in chaos. Religious and patriotic zeal, weapons of mass destruction, environmental devastation, global warming, greed, hunger, poverty, and floods were just a few of the forces ruling over Planet Earth. And there were no clear answers or even approaches to these problems. There were no policies which seemed to be working, and no people to whom the conscientious ones on this planet might turn for help.
One day-it is not known precisely when or where-a child was born in a home in the Old City of Jerusalem. There was no bright star in the sky that night, no wise men or women who came bearing gifts, and no indication that this was anything but a normal birth-one of millions which took place every day on the planet.
The mother's name was Hagar, taken from the maidservant of Abraham who had given birth to Ishmael at the site now known as Mecca. The father was unknown. Hagar was only fourteen, and nothing was known about her background. At the time of the birth, those in attendance believed that Hagar may have been a prostitute, may have been raped, or maybe didn't even know what made babies. She may have been Jewish, Islamic, Christian, a combination of these, or none of them.
The delivery was long and hard, and the mother died soon after it was finished.
The child was a girl. Her legs were withered, and although the attendants slapped her on the back and bottom to fill her with life, she did not utter a single sound. Several attendants, knowing the difficulty of raising such a child, suggested that it be put to death. No one would know, and the world might be better off. But one attendant, called Maya, said no-the baby should be spared, and that she would raise it.
For some reason, the child was never given a name. Perhaps the new mother was afraid that this would attract attention and lead to problems. Perhaps it was that the child had not yet developed into a being who could be described by a name. At any rate, the child was raised in Maya's home in Jerusalem-a tiny room in the back of a merchant's hut. She came to be known as just "the girl."
As the child grew, it became apparent that she would never have a normal body-never be able to walk or talk. She was never taken to a physician. Some people believed that she might be autistic, have multiple sclerosis, or be afflicted with a combination of such ailments. Some took one look at her and considered that she was lucky to be alive and to have anyone who might give her sustenance.
As time passed, there was a quality which some people noticed: her smile. It radiated a special warmth which reached inside of those around her and made them feel blessed. No one knew where this smile came from-indeed, it was said that this girl had nothing to smile about. But every so often, sometimes when least expected, there it was.
Little is known about the early life of the girl. She lived in a tiny bare room with her mother, whose main occupation appeared to be begging for food. Maya always dressed her in a white robe with a slight shade of pink. Maya was very protective of her daughter, and never left her alone. They rarely left the street oil which they lived. They clung to each other, while watching the world around them. The girl ate, slept, performed basic bodily functions, was carried around by her mother, and never uttered a sound.
When the girl was three years old, a curious incident happened so fast that it was soon forgotten by those who were there.
Three old men came to the door of the house and knocked. They were dressed in maroon robes and appeared to be kind, yet nervous. After the merchant invited them to come in, they asked to see the girl. They were led to Maya's room in the back, where the little girl lay on the floor. When she saw them, her eyes grew large and she immediately started to cry, with big tears running down her tiny cheeks. The old men also began to cry, weeping out loud, and they bowed down on the floor and prayed. The little girl reached out with her tiny hands and touched each of them in turn.
Some said later that these visitors were an entourage of rinpoches from Tibet, sent in search of an incarnated child after the death of a Buddhist leader, but there was no prominent Buddhist leader who had died recently. Nor was there any report of a cane or cup, or other sacred object, shown to the girl to evidence special qualities. And no one came later to bring her to Lhasa, Dharamsala, or any other place for traditional Tibetan Buddhist teaching. Nothing.
At the age of five, the little girl was sent five days a week to a non-sectarian school for the deaf in Old Town Jerusalem. She interacted some with other children her age, but also kept a distance from them. Her teacher tried to instruct her in sign language, but this failed. There was no lack of intelligence, for her eyes were intent on listening to everything that was said to her. She smiled when others laughed, again without uttering a sound. She was particularly interested when her teacher read the news of the day-about what was happening in Jerusalem, Israel, and other parts of the world. Having worked with deaf children for many years, the teacher believed that the little girl was holding back all communication and, that some day, at the right time, she would break her silence.
On her seventh birthday, the little girl was given a very special present by one of the Catholic nuns who visited her school. She received a motorized wheelchair. Since the girl had no movement in her legs, but some use of her arms and hands, she was thenceforth able to go places by herself. Upon receiving this gift, the girl looked at the nun with infinite gratitude, but there was also a slightly detectible look of strength-a quality few had ever noticed. At that moment, the nun smiled back and looked deeply into the child's eyes. And then, like the early visitors in maroon robes, the nun bowed down to the floor, wept, and prayed.
It did not take long for the child to learn how to direct her wheelchair. With help from Maya, she soon learned to navigate the cobblestone streets of the Old City. She learned how to avoid cars, donkeys, and people carrying merchandise. She learned how to visit the religious shrines-the Dome of the Rock, the Wailing Wall, and the Via Dolorosa-and to return safely home. She spent one whole day at Yad Vashem, the memorial to Jews who died in the holocaust. Later she went with Maya on longer trips by bus-to Bethlehem, to visit the birthplace of Jesus, to Masada, where Jews were massacred by Romans in 73 AD, and to towns such as Nablus and Ramalla in the "occupied" territories.
One morning, just a few months after her seventh birthday, gunshots were heard in the Jerusalem neighborhood of the little girl. There were shouts, the sound of running footsteps, and the rumbling of heavy vehicles. More shots were fired, and a man opened the door of the merchant's store to warn him that he and the other residents there must leave.
As they filed out, the merchant tried to lead them away from the noise and the danger-but the little girl did not follow him. She steered her wheelchair directly toward the noise-and her mother let her go, as if understanding that there was some higher purpose involved than personal safety. In a plaza, not far away, a column of Israeli tanks appeared. There were more shouts from several directions, and then the sound of automatic weapons.
As the little girl wheeled her chair into the center of the plaza, yelling was directed at her from both sides, telling her to go back.
She did not.
Instead, she moved to the exact center of the square and faced the tanks, which had stopped a short distance away. There were more shouts for her to leave, and she did not. The lead Israeli tank then pointed its immense gun barrel directly at the little girl.
Then there was silence, as both Israeli and Palestinian gunfighters stared at the scene and pondered what to do.
There are differing accounts of what happened next.
Some say an Israeli commander yelled that she was wired with explosives and should be blown up immediately. Others say that a Palestinian commander, noting the distraction of the girl, gave the order for his soldiers to fire at the Israeli forces. In any case, the following events were recorded:
The little girl spoke for the first time in her life, stating in clear Hebrew for all to hear, a single word, "Maspeek!" (Enough!)
Immediately afterward, the lead Israeli tank tried to fire its gun and blow her to the heavens-but the gun barrel twisted in a strange fashion and became inoperable. Then the second, third, and fourth Israeli tanks also tried to fire at the girl, and their gun barrels also twisted and became inoperable. As this was happening, the Palestinian gunmen tried to fire at the Israelis with automatic weapons, but the barrels of their weapons also twisted strangely. There were malfunctions of every weapon used at the site that day. After two full minutes of such inconsequential militance, both sides retreated.
A crowd of confused and delighted onlookers gathered in the square. The little girl and her mother went home.
In the newspapers the next day, there were varying accounts of what had happened. Some merely reported that there had been a skirmish in the Old City, from which both sides had withdrawn for strategic reasons, and no one had been hurt. Others reported on the simultaneous weapons malfunctions. One report told of the bravery of a little girl facing down the tanks-along with a photograph-but this account had limited circulation and there was no follow-up.
In a larger view, this incident was important for what didn't happen. Since no one was killed on either side, neither Israelis nor Palestinians felt a need for reprisal, and so the fragile peace could continue.
In none of the circles of world leaders was there any mention of a small girl in a wheelchair standing up to a column of Israeli tanks. Her participation in this sequence of events, if known, was believed to be mere coincidence, and nothing more.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Another Messiah by Stuart Rawlings Copyright © 2005 by Stuart Rawlings. Excerpted by permission.
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