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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781504393539 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Balboa Press |
| Publication date: | 12/15/2017 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 128 |
| File size: | 142 KB |
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CHAPTER 1
The Chosen Seven
Santiago
The sun was just rising outside a modest apartment in a lower-income neighborhood of Mar Del Plata, Argentina. The birds were beginning to chirp, the sounds of the city were starting to rise, and suddenly a seventeen-year-old boy was awakened by his mother, yelling at the top of her lungs....
"Santiago Garcia ... ven a comer ahora!" Santiago's mom, Victoria, was yelling up at him from downstairs.
"English, Victoria, we are all working on our English," her husband, Fernando, said, sitting patiently at the breakfast table.
"Well, if he heard me the first three times, I wouldn't have to yell," she replied.
"Okay, okay," Fernando sighed, trying to calm her down.
"It's not okay ... your son spends too much time with his head in those astronomy books. This moon eclipse thing ... He needs to spend more time in church and studying."
"Tranquila, Victoria ... tranquila," he replied, sipping on his yerba mate.
"English, Fernando — remember?" Victoria teased him with a loving grin on her face.
Like most Argentine families, the Garcia family was very close. As for Santiago, he was a typical Argentine teenager: smart, handsome, educated, and devoted to his family. He had quite a few friends, but was something of an introvert, and spent much of his time looking at the stars.
"Sorry, Mama. Sorry, Papa," he said as he ran down the stairs. "Did you know the eclipse is only a few weeks away?"
"Yes, son, you've told us," replied his father. "Many times."
"It can only be seen in North America though. I wish I could travel there to see it in person."
"Well, that's a wonderful dream, but right now you need to get good grades, so you can get into college and then get a good job."
"Okay, Papa, I'm going," he replied, grabbing a medialuna for the road. "Wait, Santiago, your book bag!" his mother yelled. "Y un beso!"
Santiago ran back, got his book bag, and gave both parents a hug and kiss on both cheeks. "Okay, ciao!"
As he was going out, the postman stopped him and said, "Santiago, there is a letter for you."
"For me?" Santiago asked, excited. "Yes — a fancy one," the postman said.
Santiago took the envelope and stared at it. It was black, square, with a thick, ornate gold trim around the edges. On the front, in finely written gold calligraphy, it read To Mr. Santiago Garcia, Calle Del Estero 71443, Mar De Plata, Buenos Aires, Argentina.
He opened the envelope quickly, finding a letter written in the same fancy handwriting, with gold inlaid paper. It read,
Congratulations, Santiago! You are one of only seven people randomly selected from Earth's 7.5 billion inhabitants to enjoy a weekend at the home of billionaire Gerald O Donald, during the upcoming solar eclipse.
You will experience a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see the eclipse, under the best possible conditions.
On August 18, you will be picked up and driven to Astor Piazzolla International Airport, where Mr. O Donald s private jet will take you directly to his hilltop mansion in Portland, Oregon. You will return to Argentina on August 21.
All expenses are included. Please RSVP by email to GO@Smartguy. com.
Santiago stood on his doorstep, shocked, rereading the invitation repeatedly. He ran back into his house, saying, "Papa! Papa, look what just came for me!"
"Another bill?" Fernando asked.
"No. An invitation to go to America and see the eclipse! Can it be for real?"
"What? Let me see that!" Fernando jumped out of his father's old chair and snatched the letter from his son's hand. He fumbled to get his reading glasses out of his front pocket and then read the letter in amazement.
"It's true ... it's true!" Santiago said, watching the look on his father's face. "Mama! Mama! I am going to America!"
Rachel
In a small city in Israel, a woman by the name of Lottie Bernstein lit candles, about twenty minutes before sunset, in front of her husband, Saul, and two kids, Rachel and Jerry. She then passed her hands over the candles a few times, and then covered her eyes and began to chant, "Barukh atah Adonai, Eloheinu, melekh haolam."
The Bernsteins were not unlike many other Jewish families. Saul Bernstein worked hard all his life and became a successful accountant, while his wife, Lottie, took care of the home and family, ensuring they keep to Jewish tradition.
Once the entire blessing was complete, she uncovered her eyes and remained there looking at the lit candles, as if for the first time, in complete wonder.
Suddenly, Rachel burst out, "Oh, my God, can we eat now?" "Shh. Quiet, honey," her father responded.
"'Can we eat now?'" Lottie Bernstein repeated angrily. "Really, Saul? She interrupts me at prayer and you don't do anything about it? Baruch hashem, my parents aren't still alive to see this."
Saul sat back and sighed, prepared to endure a long-winded speech for defending his daughter.
"No, really, Saul," Lottie continued. "The Sabbath is commanded by God, not by me! Every week Rachel interrupts me and you don't do a thing. Is it so terrible for me to want to observe the Sabbath, the Jewish holy day, and keep its laws and customs?"
"No, dear," he responded as Rachel rolled her eyes. "I saw that, Rachel!" Lottie yelled.
"Okay, dear, can we continue?" Saul asked. "Rachel is sorry."
"No, I'm not," Rachel said. "I mean, every week? C'mon. Between temple, constant praying, Mom kissing doorstops whether there's a mezuzah there or not, and Hebrew lessons — it's enough!"
Lottie responded, "At least I am not plucking random Jewish strangers off the street like your father and making them pray!"
"That was only a few times," Saul said, "when we had nine guys and we needed one more to complete the minyan."
After dinner, when the children went up to bed, they could hear their mother badgering their father. Then, suddenly, the doorbell rang.
"A delivery at this hour?" Saul wondered. He jumped out of his chair and walked toward the door, happy for an excuse to get away from his wife's complaining.
"Yes?" he said as he opened the door.
"Special delivery for Ms. Rachel Bernstein," replied the messenger.
"For Rachel?" After looking at the envelope, he turned towards Rachel, who had come halfway down the steps to see who was at the door. "Rachel, a special delivery for you! Looks fancy. A secret admirer, perhaps?" He grinned.
Rachel blushed. "Dad!" She ran to the door, grabbed the envelope, and ran upstairs to her room. She carefully inspected the envelope from every side. Finally, she opened it carefully, and found the same ornate invitation that Santiago had received.
"OMG! I just got invited to a billionaire's house in America for the weekend!"
Jack
On the other side of the planet, in the sunny city of Los Angeles, California lived Jack Rollins and his family.
Jack lived in a nice, cozy home with a large American flag hanging out front. Although he attended the prestigious Beverly Hills High School, Jack and his family were less economically fortunate than most of the families at the school, though still in the school's district.
Since he was young, Jack had wanted to become either a doctor or an astronomer. By the age of eight, he could locate and name all the human organs, as well as many stars.
Jack's parents worked very hard to remain living in the BHHS school district. Jack's mother worked at the library, while his father worked at the Veteran's Administration building a short distance away. Jack's father was a former Marine and very patriotic, and he began every dinner with the same patriotic prayer:
"Dear Heavenly Father, our Supreme Governor General. We thank you for our many wonderful blessings, particularly the pleasure of enjoying the special fellowship that comes from our common heritage. We gratefully remember our forebears, who through their suffering and death maintained stout hearts to lay the foundations of our country and preserve its liberties...."
Over dinner, the family discussed world affairs.
"You know, Karen," Carl said to his wife. "This thing with the Muslims is getting out of hand. Did you know that they are complaining about the text on a monument honoring the victims of 9/11, which says, and I quote, 'Nineteen Islamic terrorists unsuspectedly boarded four airliners departing East Coast airports to hijack the planes and carry out a series of coordinated attacks against the United States.'"
"So?" Karen replied.
"They are saying that the words engraved in the granite memorial would encourage hatred toward Muslims," Carl explained. His voice rising, he continued, "They want to change it from 'Islamic terrorist' to either 'terrorist' or 'Al Qaeda terrorist' ... I am going to send them an email with MY opinion!"
"Okay, dear," Karen replied calmly.
Carl continued, "I don't live in a politically correct world, I live in a historically correct world. And we don't whitewash things, especially here and especially now!" Carl looked over at Jack and paused. "What do you think, son?"
Jack replied, "I think you're right, Dad. We must protect our country, which our forefathers fought so hard to build for us. They should all just be sent home!"
"That's right!" Carl exclaimed.
About an hour later, the doorbell rang and Jack received the same letter the others had.
Maybe this is my ticket out of here, he thought.
Nin
In a small apartment in Hong Kong, a seventeen-year-old Buddhist girl woke up, rubbing her eyes and saying to herself in Cantonese, "Today, as much as possible, I will not harm anybody. Today, as much as possible, I will try to be of great service and benefit to others. Today, I will do all actions so that I can assist all living beings attain the long-term happiness of enlightenment."
Unlike most teenagers, Nin started each morning by setting a positive intention. After getting out of bed, and washing up, she would normally have a cup of tea, and then meditate or recite prayers.
On this morning, her parents said they needed to speak with her. "Nin," her father said, "your school has notified us that your grades have dropped."
Nin was silent. She knew she hadn't been working hard enough lately and wasn't surprised that she wasn't doing well. The fact was, she found school to be quite boring, with no connection to the greater world that she wished to explore. Her older brother, though, had been a perfect student, and it was inevitable that her parents and teachers would compare Nin to him.
Rather than yelling at her or reacting out of fear, however, Nin's parents sat with her, to calmly look at the problem.
His father began, "You know, Nin, you need to begin to realize that you are responsible for the course of your life. We will always be here, but we will no longer try to rescue you from every difficulty. We must let you suffer your falls, for you to realize your dreams."
Nin lowered her head. "I understand," she replied. "Maybe this is my karma." She excused herself and went to her room to meditate about it.
Shortly thereafter, her father followed her upstairs, and spoke with her again. "Daughter, don't forget — we can change our karma. We are still happy to help you if you need it."
Nin's parents always tried to express their love and never made promises they couldn't keep. To foster her growth, and that of all their kids, they tried their best to accept change and remain open, allowing them to experience life.
Just as Nin was about to leave for school, the doorbell rang. It was her special invitation.
Soon she too would be joining the invited few, as her parents continued to allow her path to unfold.
Mohammed
In Saudi Arabia, a troubled seventeen-year-old teenager suddenly woke up, walked downstairs, and approached his parents, who were sitting in their living room.
"I am gay," Mohammed announced proudly in Arabic.
"What?" His father, Ahmed Khan, almost choked on his cardamom shortbread.
Mohammed repeated, "You heard me. I am gay. You should know this."
Although Mohammed's parents had suspected he might be gay, they had ignored their premonitions, instead spending their energy on keeping their son Muslim. They took parenting very seriously and adjusted their work hours to be able to spend more time with him. They read the Koran with Mohammed, helping him understand its meaning, and they all attended a weekly halaqa, where the Koran was studied. They treated their son with respect.
Gays and lesbians are not recognized by the government of Saudi Arabia. Homosexuality and transgenderism are widely seen as immoral and indecent, and the law punishes these acts with execution, imprisonment, fines, corporal punishment, and/or whipping/flogging.
"If you're gay, then you can't call yourself Muslim! It's like saying 'I'm a vegetarian, but I'm going to eat piri-piri chicken,'" his father said.
"That's not true!" Mohammed responded with conviction. "As Muslims, we are always trying to reconcile our faith with our sexuality. Reinforcing prejudice just pushes people away from their authentic selves."
"No!" Ahmed yelled back. His mother sat, silent, her eyes welling with tears.
Mohammed continued, "I don't see why I can't be religious and also true to myself. They are not mutually exclusive."
"Being a Muslim means we submit ourselves to God," his father said forcefully. "We must learn to let go of our own desires and our own opinions, and trust God to show us the right way to live."
"I have tried to submit myself fully to God. I have increased my prayer and fasting. I have increased my reading of the Koran and developed my God consciousness, but nothing has changed. I am attracted to males rather than females. I have always felt this way."
Mohammed's mother, Khalida, asked quietly, "Well ... you could still get married, right?"
Mohammed responded gently, "Yes ... but it's not going to be to a woman."
Just then, just as Ahmed slammed his fist on the table, there was a knocking at the door. They almost didn't hear it, and at the sound all three looked at one another.
Mohammed had received the same special invitation. Although they were still upset with his revelation, Ahmed and Khalida agreed that a change could only help, and let him go on the trip. Maybe, they thought, he would meet a nice girl.
David
Halfway across the globe, in London, Ontario, Max got a phone call from his son, who had travelled to Charlottesville, North Carolina, to attend a rally.
"I'm here at the rally, can you hear what's going on?" David said to his father. "Are you and Mom watching?"
On the TV, in front of a statue of Robert E. Lee, hundreds of white nationalists, white supremacists, and Ku Klux Klan members were marching and carrying torches. "You will not replace us! You will not replace us! You will not replace us!" they chanted.
Somewhere in the middle of all of them was a rebellious nineteen-year-old white supremacist by the name of David Ashworth, yelling and marching along with the crowd.
David had grown up in a relatively normal Canadian family. But both of his parents worked seven days a week, sometimes up to fifteen hours a day, leaving David feeling isolated and abandoned. He suffered from overwhelming anxiety and low self-esteem. Constantly feeling the need to prove himself, he often found himself getting into fights at school, and it seemed like he was always in detention.
His parents' racism had increased over the years, along with their stress. "Is it a good turnout?" his father asked.
"Yes! I talked to some other Canucks," David said. "We're going to set up a rally at home. We've been deprived of our right to freedom of speech for too long!"
"Be brave!" his father said. "Eliminate any enemy that's trying to take your pride away!"
As a teenager, David had sought acceptance, and he had found it in others who shared his father's racist views. There was a strange sort of comfort in the midst of the mayhem, of uniting with these strangers against the left-wing counter-protesters.
After a long day, David got into bed at his motel, exhausted. Before he shut off his phone, he saw he had a text from his dad: a photo.
It looked to be an invitation of some sort. To some billionaire's house in Portland, Oregon. David's tired brain could not compute the strangeness of receiving this, out of the blue. Why me? he wondered.
But his parents thought it sounded like a great opportunity. They had looked the guy up, and he was white, so they gave their blessing.
Imani
One last invitation was sent: to Imani, nineteen-year-old daughter of a poor Ethiopian family.
Imani had just started her hour-long walk home from school when she ran into her best friend, Kaya.
"Have you seen Kagiso?" Imani asked in Amharic.
"No, I haven't," Kaya said. "Nor have I seen Lesidi, or Masego either.... Things are getting worse."
Imani nodded. "We can walk together, some of the way, at least."
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "The Book Of 7"
by .
Copyright © 2018 J.R. Wexler.
Excerpted by permission of Balboa Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
The Chosen Seven, 1,
The Day of the Event, 19,
The River, 29,
The Woods, 51,
The Mountain, 67,
The Eclipse, 91,
The Wisdom of Peter, 99,