Petra Sanctuary, Petra; late morning.
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Petra Sanctuary Image Cr. |
Fortified earthwork barricaded the terra cotta walls of the Petra Sanctuary. This was a housing complex nestled behind the rugged mountains of Petra. The apartment complex was the brainchild of the Lord’s remnants that comprised great minds such as architects, engineers and geologists from Eretz-Israel. Every one of the shelters at Petra Sanctuary had been hewn into rock clefts or caves. The builders had staked their lives on their fail-safety against earthquakes and landslides.
Gabriel and I were finalizing the aunt’s and her children’s accommodation needs. We had just sped Mish home in the helicopter with the angels, Jekuthiel and Saraqael. Gabriel had introduced Avalin Harary to Iddo Peleg, one of the oldest residents at the sanctuary and its housing warden. He was also one of a small handful of saints who were privy to the angels’ secret identities and mission on earth.
“If you need anything at all,” Gabriel had informed Avalin, “Iddo’s the go-to man.”
Avalin’s tour of the facility was continuing with Iddo Peleg. Gabriel and I tagged along to be sure the Sanctuary fitted its newest occupants’ lifestyle.
“We have food, medicine and books, and toys for the children,” Iddo stated. “Anything you need – I’ll do my best to provide. Though, of course, it’s the Lord who’s the Source of all our needs. We’ve never wanted for anything.”
“But how did you manage to get all these readers?” Avalin asked, gushing at the children’s classics. “And the rest of these banned books as well?”
Avalin was alluding to the book burning that had been ordered by the Antichrist two years ago. Everything had been ordered burned, in particular all holy books and associated religious literature. There were exceptions and at the present time there was outstanding litigation to suspend the bans in some countries. The most reactionary toward the bans had been the rulers in the imperial East.
“Almost everything you see here was donated to us by the underground home churches that closed shop when their members were evacuated to Petra,” Iddo explained. “Before the mandatory book ban was issued, these home churches that had foreseen the mandate were already actively salvaging and collecting every book they could find to hide in the underground bunkers they had built prior to the start of Antichrist’s reign.”
“Oh . . . I see,” Avalin nodded.
On our return to Avalin’s allotted quarters below the library, Gabriel and I proceeded to inspect them. Avalin’s twins had adapted to their high chairs without fuss. They were being fed by one of the house mothers at the sanctuary; she had been watching them in Avalin’s absence. Her name was Abigail Rubenfeld, formerly of Melbourne, Australia, who had made her Aliyah to Israel in the late twenty hundreds before settling down in the West Bank. She was only a recent resident of Petra Sanctuary.
“So cute,” Abigail Rubenfeld enthused. She handed a stuffed panda bear to Samantha, who cooed and hugged it to her little chest. Meanwhile, Samantha’s twin brother, Samuel, was contemplating the risk to his happiness of the baby food that was contained in the yellow plastic bowl in his hand. His parochial palate had yet to adapt to its foreign taste and texture.
A comely albeit gamine-faced girl sneaked up behind Ms. Rubenfeld. She folded her arms around the latter’s neck. “Here I am, Mommy,” she cried, “I heard you were looking for me.”
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| "Here I am, Mommy." |
“Samantha,” Abigail whispered to the little girl in her cutened voice, “this is my daughter, Selkie. Selkie, honey, say hello to Samantha and her brother, Samuel. Selkie can be your new big sister, would you both like that?”
Samantha nodded. “Hi,” she greeted in her shrill little voice, sucking on a finger under her tongue.
“Hello,” Selkie reciprocated with a big smile. She hopped down from her mother’s back, adding: “That’s a cute little bear you have there, Samantha.”
I caught Gabriel smiling in Selkie’s direction. I knew exactly where he was for my mind had strayed to a similar place in both of our pasts. Both Gabriel and I were acquainted with Selkie Striuelin and her mother; we were familiar with their story of conversion, which was one of the triumph of good over evil. Familiar because we were witnesses.
It was an archetypical activity of childhood. From the time Selkie could enjoy a bedtime story, her mother, Abigail, would read to her fairy tales that ran the gamut from Lewis Carroll and Hans Christian Anderson to the Brothers Grimm. Abigail noticed that even at a young age, her daughter had an unnatural fascination with morbid stories, stories that bordered on the macabre such as The Red Shoes and Blue Beard. Selkie would derive such a sense of enthralment from these tales that she often insisted that her mother read them to her every night.
By the time she was six, Selkie had progressed to reading independently. Her reading skills were well in advance of her years. She was also a voracious reader, consuming such horror classics as The Picture of Dorian Gray and Bram Stoker’s Dracula, and all the stories written by Edgar Allan Poe.
One day, Abigail, a single mother, heard conversation inside the child’s bedroom. When she entered the room to investigate, she found her daughter alone. Two days of interrogation yielded the discovery that Selkie had been building a friendship with an invisible friend who told her to call her ‘Senka’. Senka was invisible to Abigail and everyone else, but was very real to Selkie.
Gabriel and I first met Selkie when she was ten. Four years had elapsed from the first time Senka began appearing to her, but the child hadn’t outgrown what many had thought was a perfectly normal phase of childhood. On the contrary, the friendship between Senka and Selkie had become antagonistic – it had ceased being a friendship of mutual respect and equality – with the invisible friend treating the child as her subordinate and compelling her to act on her orders, which the latter did. Selkie had no other choice, for disobedience came with dire consequences, so she was warned. And, so, the child would act on Senka’s orders to harm herself or her mother, frequently in an enactment of a scene from one of her favourite childhood story books.
Needless to say, Senka’s influence on Selkie that was externalized in the latter’s aggressive behaviour made inroads into her school and social life. One by one, her friends stopped associating with her or coming round to visit. Neither did anyone want to sit next to her at the cafeteria. Her one-time best friend, Eden Ellison, severed all ties with her, once and for all, after she had shoved her into a row of bicycles out at the bicycle shed. That was at Mrs. Ellison’s insistence: it had been the last straw for the soignée former Manhattan socialite whose refined sensibilities had been offended by Selkie’s latest shenanigans. Eliam and Avila Ellison came from landed wealth but this didn’t mean they should deplete their only child’s college education fund on medical fees.
So unmanageable was Selkie’s behaviour that the adults around her feared she was displaying the makings of a violent sociopath. Indeed, Selkie was according a new kind of dread to the notion of playground competitiveness and school yard bullying – to get her way, she made terrorist declarations on both her male and female classmates, albeit she had almost always been unprovoked. More than once, she had to be sent to after-class detention following a visit to the headmistress’s office. At least once a week, she’d bring home a note from her disgruntled homeroom teacher. She always never completed her homework and was frequently soporific in class. She was unengaged and unmotivated to contribute to any of her activities in the International School she attended. When reprimanded, she talked back with an acrimonious tone. She was ill-mannered to both her teachers and peers and became withdrawn and lonely. This only drove her to seek the solace of her invisible friend. Senka’s words of comfort to her were always the same: don’t get sad, get even. The cycle of violence was set in motion.
Realizing her daughter was becoming a high risk factor in and outside the home, an anxious Abigail consulted a psychologist who, after months of tests, therapy and observation, diagnosed the child with acute paranoid schizophrenia. The bad news truly came, and it hit Abigail hard, when she was informed that there was no possibility of her daughter’s being cured and they’d have to live with the child’s mental disorder all her life. It was a crushing verdict to hear but one Abigail refused to accept, for it meant handing down a life sentence on her own daughter.
Abigail came from a devout Jewish background. In her desperation, she cried out to God for help, which appeared in the forms of two men named Mykhail Disraeli and Abel Benlish. Having been delegated this assignment, Gabriel and I turned up at her home in Judea the same evening Abigail was struggling to wrench a kitchen knife from her daughter. Senka had ordered Selkie to effect fatal incisions in her own wrists.
“Ms. Rubenfeld, my name is Mykhail and this is my colleague, Abel,” I informed Abigail as soon as she met us at the door. “God has heard your prayers. He’s seen your tears and sent us to deliver your daughter, Selkie, from her afflictions.”
“How do you know such intimate details about my family and me? Are you rabbis?” asked Abigail who was concealing the kitchen knife behind her back.
“No,” Gabriel replied, “we are followers of Yeshua Ha Mashiach. As Mykhail said, the God of your forefathers, Yah, has sent us.”
Abigail seemed apprehensive, even suspicious of us, but she realized also that we could be her last gasp opportunity to save her daughter. She invited us in. Gabriel and I were directed to the bathroom where we found a subdued but weepy Selkie arched over the edge of the bath tub.
“Contrary to her clinical diagnosis, Selkie’s not suffering from a mental disorder,” I explained to Abigail while I comforted the child in my arms. “The Lord has given us word that she’s in the grip of demonic possession. Her exorcism will be quick.”
I passed the child to Gabriel who held her close to his bosom. Then, he placed a hand on top of her head. I advised the child’s mother to stand at the door.
“Do not interfere under any circumstances,” I instructed her.
I stood in front of Selkie afterward. Raising my right hand over her head, I bellowed out with authority: “Nisroch, in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, Your God and Creator, tell your minion to leave this child at once.”
Selkie’s body writhed and shuddered while the evil spirit of the demonic Nisroch fought against his expulsion. For a full minute, the Evil One was blaspheming against the Lord and spitting out profanities at us.
“Nisroch, the Lord Jesus, your God, rebukes you. By the power and authority of the Lord God, Jesus Christ, I command you one last time: come out of this child at once,” I commanded a second time, speaking aloud over the demoniac’s expletives.
In a final violent shudder, Selkie’s body convulsed and, then, she was dry retching. I knew she was being freed of Nisroch’s hold on her.
Later, while her mother was putting a sleeping Selkie to bed, Gabriel and I witnessed to her.
“Believe in the Lord Jesus and you will be saved, you and your household,” I advised Abigail. “This is just the start for Selkie. Unless she’s covered by the blood of Jesus Christ, the demonic spirit will return to possess her but it’ll be worse for her the next time around. Chances are Nisroch’s minion will not be the only demonic spirit to inhabit and torment her next time.”
“Here, take this Bible: it’s the Word of God,” Gabriel offered. “Read it every day with your daughter. The Lord is faithful; His Word will transform you for He’s said that His Word shall not return void.”
I added: “Another thing: destroy all her other books that delve into the occult and black arts. Her childhood preoccupation with books in the horror genre, expressed in both the prose of the narratives and the static imagery of the illustrations, had unlocked the occult milieu to her, putting her at risk of demonic possession. Her obsession with witches and fairies . . . extraterrestrials, vampires, magic, everything in the supernatural, in fact – has all but desensitized her to their dangerous influences. There’s a reason the Lord warns against the very real dangers of being involved in the things of Satan, for they are precisely that – they belong in the realm of demons, which are very real.”
Gabriel jumped in: “The hidden things of the occult appear harmless to the youth of today and it’s why the occult culture has become mainstream for the last twenty years. Hundreds of thousands of youth are involved in some form of the dark arts like witchcraft, Satanism and vampirism, without the realization of the human carnage they can cause through ritual sacrifices, mutilation and the casting of curses and spells. For many, their obsession with the occult began as a simple act of reading a story book or watching a film.”
I nodded, according full support to my colleague. After that, I led Abigail to her daughter’s closet. I opened it. In back, leaning against a corner, was a planchette. I reached for it and informed the mother: “This also must be burned.”
“What is it?” she asked me.
“It’s used for séances and channelling,” I replied, handing the instrument to her. “Your daughter’s been involved in spiritism and witchcraft ever since Senka’s appearance to her.”
Ms. Rubenfeld examined the planchette before handing it back to me. She maintained: “I’ve never seen this before. I guess I mustn’t have paid as much attention to Selkie as I used to pride myself for doing. Please get rid of it for me, Mr. Disraeli. The sight of it gives me the chills.”
I told her I would.
Abigail’s faith in the God of her forefathers had started her daughter on the road to recovery. Moreover, the Lord’s power and glory were revealed to her when Nisroch was cast out, and this convinced her that Jesus Christ was the true Messiah and God of the Jews. As a result, she made a conversion to faith in Christ there and then. Gabriel and I had prayed with her; we had also denounced her daughter’s involvement in the occult and demonic arts in our prayer.
Before we took leave of her, Abigail gave us her word that her goal for the rest of her life was Selkie’s conversion to faith in the Lord Jesus as well.
“Truly you are men of the living God who’s sent you to me,” Abigail submitted, full of gratitude. “Assuredly, I will burn all those books you mentioned. Whatever it takes, no matter how busy I am, I will make a point of reading the Bible with Selkie every single day. I will pray to the Lord with her and we will renounce Satan once more. The Lord Jesus has saved Selkie’s life today and I want her to know this. I want my people to know that Yeshua Ha Mashiach is the Messiah of the Jews; Jesus Christ is the only begotten Son of God and the only true God of Israel.”
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| "Jesus Christ is the only begotten Son of God and the only true God of Israel.” |
Abigail kept her word. Four months later, the Lord revealed to Gabriel and me that Selkie Striuelin had been added to His fold. As He had said, His Word had not returned void.
I heard Avalin Harary excuse herself from the company of Iddo and Abigail. She courteously pulled us aside, drawing us into a corner of her den. I gave her my full attention.
“Mr. Weber,” she described in a soft voice, “on the way here, I told the Lord God everything that was in my heart, like you suggested. I also surrendered my life to His Son, Jesus Christ. I just wanted to let you know; I’ve never known such joy and hope than the moment I asked the Lord into my life. My brother had used to witness to me before the accident that killed him. But I always blew him off; I had always felt undeserving of anyone else’s love and forgiveness, especially God’s. But I know now I had been very wrong about God. He is a forgiving God, I’m sure of that now; I felt my guilt lifted the moment I turned my life over to Him. I feel so much at peace now. And, so, I want to thank you for what you’ve done, putting your own life at risk and all that.”
“I’m glad to have made your acquaintance,” I told her. “You’re going to be very safe here. God bless you.”
We hugged briefly. Then, I motioned for Gabriel: “Let’s go home.”
Gabriel and I shed our human disguises while still in the air. Below us, in the exercise oval, some of the kindred and brethren were engaged in the competitive sport of Scalar, the angels’ version of harness racing.
“No sign of our child,” I noted.
Gabriel nodded: “It’s unlike Mish to pass on Scalar.”
“Perhaps he’s still resting,” I opined. “He did find our mission in New Canaan emotionally arduous. His sense of ethics was on a collision course with the essence of the task the entire time.”
I felt on edge while we were approaching Headquarters. Despite the distance, I could sense trouble within our underling’s quarters. I stopped Gabriel from descending upon him, floating above the roof instead. We eavesdropped on Mish’s conversation. He was having a dialogue with the Devil.
“Lucifer,” Gabriel exclaimed, chagrined by the Devil’s audacious visit.
We landed outside Mish’s door. It was quiet inside. We knocked twice and let ourselves in.
“I had a visit from Lucifer,” he immediately told us. He brooded on his armchair, looking adrift and gripping the hilt of his Katana. “It was an interesting discourse.”
“We know,” Gabriel claimed, looking around him. “Where is he?”
“He’s not here,” Mish answered. “He never was here, not in any of his manifestations, either as the dragon or as the shadowy hooded entity. He spoke to my mind; that was all. He . . . he wanted me to visit him in his citadel.”
Gabriel looked incensed. Despite his feelings, he stated calmly: “Well, Mishael, you’re not going to visit him. I’m your Commanding General and I’m giving you an order.”
My child turned to me for support. I folded my arms and silently contemplated him.
Gabriel spoke again, still remaining calm: “You’re not trying to tell us you’re considering taking him up on his offer, are you?”
“I’ve been giving it some thought,” the child whispered, nervously anticipating our disapproval or a scolding.
His Commanding Officer shook his head: “Well, you can put it out of your mind. Don’t you have training this afternoon anyway? What’s on your schedule?”
“I have combat exercises, practical and theory,” the child replied, “but it’s a review lesson. I’ve been through this training with Remiel and Uriel before.”
“Nevertheless it’s still important,” Gabriel opined. “Well, that’s that, then. You’re staying put. You have your orders.”
He started to leave.
Mish stopped him. “Gabriel, please,” he begged. “What’s going on with you?”
The elder sighed, shutting his eyes. He leaned against the lectern behind him. “Do you really have to ask?” he replied, his voice soft.
Mish nodded: “Yes, I really have to ask. I mean no disrespect but you’ve never been overbearing with me before, strict but not uncompromising. What’s changed?”
“What’s changed?” Gabriel answered. “For one, your circumstances have changed. For another, the foes you have to deal with have changed. Do you need me to go on?”
Frowning, the child turned to me again. “You have veto power, Mika,” he pleaded. “Talk to him. Please. Tell him I cannot be treated like a child. You are the head of this family, aren’t you, Mika? Gabriel must listen to you?”
My oldest friend looked nonplussed: “And when did you start believing in an imaginary pecking order . . . applying its theory to us?”
The child’s palms flew to his eyes. “I can’t win!” he cried.
I intervened: “All right, Mish, calm down. Let’s clarify some things from the outset. Right now, we’re relating as a family, not as a military unit. I’m your brother in the Lord. As is Gabriel our brother in the Lord; and Mishael also is our brother in the Lord. I’m not acting as your General. Neither is Gabriel acting as your Commanding General. We’re a family unit, as I said; however, although a family unit, we do not live by any birth order hypothesis invented by humanity and popularized by secular family-interest TV. We’re equal brothers in the Lord. Nevertheless, Gabriel and I have a role to uphold, as elders, to oversee the welfare of our young ones, which is all Gabriel is trying to do. Now, do we all have a clear understanding of our situational dynamics?”
I got their nods.
I unfolded my arms. I walked up to my surrogate son and stood before him. “What’s Lucifer’s reason for making the invitation?” I asked him.
“He said he wanted to tell me in person that he was sorry for the injury his demons had caused me,” he explained, his gaze shifting back and forth between his elders.
“And you believe him?” Gabriel asked, his head shaking with concern. He removed himself from the lectern and began to pace the limited space around the child.
“I believe he would like a chance to explain why he did what he did, to give his side of the story,” my son replied, shrinking further back into his armchair. He had seemed smaller in it this afternoon than at any other time that I could recall.
For the first time in our discussion, Gabriel was admonishing the child: “Mishael, are you really this gullible or just so tragically lonely that you would seek your allies among our greatest foes? Look around you: when are you going to realize that you’re surrounded by hundreds of the brethren who love you? That the elders love you? You’re not alone and you don’t have to feel lonely. Have you tried to reach out to the brethren? Take the brethren in Kemuel’s circle, for instance. They’ve been reaching out to you to make amends to you but you’ve shown them so little regard as to withhold from them even the courtesy of a smile. You keep saying you have forgiven them; well, forgiving someone includes forgetting the wrong that person has done to you. If you can’t do this, you have not forgiven. Do not let sin be found in you, Little One. And if you’re that in need of a friend, reach out to Kemuel and prove that you have truly forgiven him.”
Mish threw his palms over his ears. His face screwed up in a grimace. “Please don’t talk about them, Gabriel,” he exclaimed, shaking his head. “You won’t understand unless you were in my skin, unless you were human, and you’re not. And you’re building a strawman fallacy to suggest that there’s unforgiveness in me. I don’t hold anything against Kemuel and the brethren. I don’t despise them. I don’t devise plans to carry out my vendetta on them. I just can’t get past their betrayal when I think about them; but why is this my fault? Emotional risks are the accompaniments of our God-given right to choose. I chose to put my trust in Kemuel but he let me down. End of story. What’s more, I had pleaded with Kemuel multiple times that I would not steal from our company . . . that I could never steal. I pleaded with him!”
“You don’t need to raise your voice, youngling,” the elder castigated. “I can hear you perfectly clearly.”
“I’m sorry,” the child whispered. Then, he added quickly: “I mean no disrespect.”
“I apologize, too,” the Archangel rejoined. He walked back to the lectern. “And I concede that I’m not human; but freedom of choice isn’t the preserve of human beings and Halflings alone. Angels have free will like you, too. We make the choice to sin or not, like you, too. And the brethren choose daily not to sin. You’d be surprised to learn that I understand your struggles more than you realize. I understand that you don’t have a thick skin. I understand that you need time to warm to Kemuel and feel safe with him again. And I understand that trust takes time to build but it’s a risk to trust in someone you feel may betray and hurt you again. Is there anything I’ve omitted?”
Mish shook his head. “Only that it’s extraneous from the first to bring Kemuel into this discussion. Lucifer’s invitation has nothing to do with him. What’s between Kemuel and me is between him and me alone.”
Gabriel nodded, relenting: “You’re right; Lucifer’s invitation has nothing to do with your relationship with Kemuel . . . and what’s between Kemuel and you is just that. It’s something you need to work through between yourselves and you have my word not to meddle again.”
The elder returned to the child and knelt before him. “Nevertheless, you shouldn’t even have to think twice about declining Lucifer’s invitation,” he pointed out. “I’m pained and aggrieved that you would even give the Devil a hint you wanted anything to do with him. Besides, you can’t put stock in anything the Accuser has to say to you. Lucifer is a liar, or have you forgotten? The Lord calls him the father of lies. And have you so soon forgotten how severe your injuries were at his hands? Worse, have you forgotten the intensity of the pain and suffering he put you through?”
At this stage, I killed Gabriel’s censure from proceeding further. It was pointless for him to dredge up the matter of Mishael’s pain and suffering and sabotage his uphill acclivity in putting it behind him. I squatted in front of the child.
“Gabriel’s quite right,” I began. “What business has Lucifer to solicit you for a visit? Mish, you ought not to have allowed him access to your mind and thoughts. You’re capable of shutting out your thoughts to any of us; you have that choice and power. Exercise discretion and be discerning of whom you allow into your mind.
“You already allowed Satan access to your mind once before with disastrous results, and this is where I’m going to bring up the matter of your relationship with Kemuel again.”
“You’re not going to tell me I’ve been playing the victim card too long, are you?” the child interrupted. “I love my brother, Ari, but I get it in my ears often enough from him.”
“Well, Ariel is right,” I told him.
He shut his eyes: “Not you, too, Dad.”
“And Gabriel’s right, too,” I added. “Again, I must take Gabriel’s point of view when he submitted that there’s still unforgiveness in you; by your own admission, you haven’t been able to forget being betrayed by Kemuel and the brethren. Little One, we’re not trying to circle you on all sides like sharks out for fresh blood; however, the Apostle Paul makes a compelling point about forgiveness: ‘But one thing I do: forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.’
“Heed the Apostle’s advice, Mishka; God cannot relate to you while your heart is full of emotions that can impede you from enjoying the full benefits of a relationship with Him, emotions such as hate and bitterness, and resentment and envy. More often than not, it’s failure to forgive which gets in the way of a closer walk with God. Whether you perceive them to be justified or not, these emotions are sin.
“Lucifer had hoped that damaging your relationship with Kemuel and others of our brethren would cause you to dwell on these emotions which could make you impure and, as such, accord him access to stumble you, which he did. Because you had felt betrayed, you resolved that the brethren’s defense over you was expendable, and this gave Lucifer an opening to find you alone and vulnerable, which was when he struck you with his sword. Undoubtedly, the Lord had allowed him this access, since Yah cannot tolerate the presence of sin and is unwilling to interfere with your free will; He can’t do otherwise.
“But the very moment we ask, we’re forgiven and the sin is forgotten, the price having been paid at the cross, and we’re back in fellowship with the Lord. Then, the Lord turns that which Satan has intended for evil into good, demonstrating His forgiveness.
“Since God has forgiven everything for all who have repented and trusted in Jesus, we too must forgive each other. By failing to forgive and harbouring the negative, painful emotional memories in your heart, do you realize you’re the one who suffers most? Therefore, forgetting goes hand in hand with forgiving. If you say that you have forgiven someone but continue to dwell on the negative memories, it’s a sure sign that you have not forgiven that person at all.
“As far as Kemuel, though he was in error, his motive for the charges he brought against you was defensible. He had no reason, at first, to believe Special Operations had erred. It was a Catch-22 situation for Kemuel. What did you suppose, Little One? That he had filed those charges without any misgivings? Did you suppose he had not anticipated the relationship corollary of his charges? Or that he did what he did because he loved you any less? No, for true love means upholding justice, and this was what Kemuel believed, still believes. If you sin and Kemuel turns a blind eye to it, he will not be demonstrating his love to you since he will be perpetuating your sin. What message will he, then, be sending to the kindred? Do you understand everything that I’m saying, Mishka?”
The child nodded. He whispered: “Yes, Dad, I understand everything you’re saying.”
“Good, but search your heart to see if we’re not right, that there isn’t sin in you,” I advised him. “My child, two years is a long time to carry on a cold war with a brother who desires only your forgiveness and reconciliation. We talked about this in Galilee, remember? We were at sea in Reuel Brasch’s Ocean Skipper. You told me, then, that you would try your best to see things from Kemuel’s point of view. Do you remember that, right after making that statement of oath to me, you had felt a large weight lifted from your shoulders?”
My child nodded once more: “I do remember. It wasn’t my intention to break the oath I had made to you. But I had found it difficult to approach Kemuel after our return from Galilee. Every time I looked at him, I felt all over again the sense of shame at being called a thief and a liar.”
I stroked my son’s cheek: “Of course we, now, realize that it was Lucifer that had intentionally set you up to be accused of theft in order to damage your relationship with Kemuel and the brethren. Nevertheless, only you are responsible for what you do with this information that you now have. Do you continue blaming Lucifer and everyone else who had wronged you, therefore, playing into the Devil’s hands? Or do you take responsibility for your own feelings by taking control of them? For only you are accountable for the bitter feelings you’re allowing to grow inside you. Not Kemuel and not Lucifer.”
My son nodded pensively: “I know. I haven’t tried hard enough to reconcile with the brethren. And I do feel tired from carrying this chip on my shoulder all this time.”
A thought occurred to him suddenly and he added: “This is the lesson you wanted me to learn from the tale of the two brothers, Cian and Llyr? Unlike Llyr, I ought to take stock of my feelings and not play the blame game or the victim card.”
“Exactly,” I stated. “That’s exactly the lesson I wanted you to learn from that tale. Because harbouring negative and destructive feelings such as bitterness, unforgiveness and revenge are liable to wreak havoc in the lives of the people around you. They damage not only relationships but also one’s heritage and legacy.”
To this point, Mish whispered solemnly: “Yes, sir.”
“As for the brethren and your relationship with them, you know what you need to do,” I advised him again. “There’s still time. Do what’s right for your own sense of well-being: you’re going to notice a lightness in your gait because you’d finally be walking around without the weight of unforgiveness on your shoulders.”
I glanced briefly at my peer beside me before continuing: “Now, as far as Lucifer’s invitation, this is my decision. The invitation has already been given; it’s done, and if you feel you must see him for some reason, it must be important to you. I have faith in you, Mish, so go ahead. Go to Lucifer.”
“What?” Gabriel exclaimed, rising from the floor. “Have you now also lost your senses, Mika?”
“Sometimes we have to do what we have to do,” I told Gabriel, straightening up with him. I put the back of my hand on his chest, momentarily silencing him.
Turning to my child again, I asked: “What does the Lord say about all this?”
He shook his head, but his gaze was fixed on Gabriel: “I believe He’s letting me make up my own mind about it.”
I nodded. Once more, I consented to his visit.
An evil spirit, a minion belonging to Lucifer, was in attendance at once. We ignored him, unfazed by his appearance, for we had sensed him skulking about us, listening to our discussion from the time it commenced.
Gabriel crouched before the child once more. He promptly collected the latter into his embrace.
“I don’t want you to go,” he implored unequivocally, “because you’re only going to get hurt. You must believe me when I tell you that Lucifer only intends evil for you. I’m not saying this to instil in you a fear of the Enemy . . . or remind you of your suffering. I care what happens to you.”
Mish tilted his head toward me before squeezing his eyes together. “I have to go, Gabriel,” he whispered. “It’s something I have to do. I have to know why Lucifer desired my destruction last time. He claims to be sorry that I was harmed, but I have to know if he meant to destroy me that time. I love you with all my heart, Gabriel, but please, don’t try to stop me.”
He rose from his armchair. Glancing at the evil spirit momentarily, he drew out his wings and, as a dour mood overtook us all, quietly followed the latter into the sky. I noticed he had forsaken his sword. Suddenly remembering something, he did a hasty U-turn.
He approached Gabriel. “Forgive me, Gabriel,” he whispered.
“You’re on your own,” Gabriel stated, wiping his hands of the child. “This time you’re going to find out that you’re digging yourself a hole big enough to be your coffin.”
“Gabriel,” I scolded, raising my voice.
He shook his head at me: “No, Michael, you don’t get to assume that tone with me. I know where I stand with my friends and my enemies, and I know where my loyalties lie. Abysmally, neither of you do. Am I the only one who isn’t treating Satan’s invitation as though it were child’s play?”
Mish would have his turn at being enraged: “Everyone deserves a second chance. Why not him?”
“Because I know him,” Gabriel remarked. “I’ve had six millennia of knowing him . . . and so have you, Michael. You should rein in this child’s disobedience since he’s your charge. Why do you let the child run rings around you?”
Mish winced, his feelings hurt. He threw a palm over both his eyes: “It’s not what I’m trying to do.”
“You sure could have fooled me,” Gabriel retorted.
Swallowing his pride, my child asked: “Will you bless me on my journey just the same . . . even if you won’t give me your consent?”
“You know better than to ask that of me,” a conflicted Gabriel replied. Nevertheless he was adamant about sticking to his decision. “I cannot do that which goes against the grain of my convictions.”
The child visibly fought to control his emotions. He asked sadly: “Is giving me a simple blessing to take on my journey too much of a concession on your principles?”
“I must remain true to them,” Gabriel replied in a sad voice.
Mish nodded, accepting his mentor’s final decision. He approached me for my blessing.
“Are you the only one who understands me?” he asked.
I gave him a tight hold and squeeze: “Try to understand where Gabriel is coming from. He does love you.”
“I do understand,” he nodded. “And I love Gabriel, as I said. But I can’t comply with his wishes this time. I’m not afraid of Lucifer, Dad. I refuse to be afraid of him. And I’m not going to hide from him. I refuse to let him intimidate me.”
“Then go in peace, precious child,” I commended. “May the Lord be with you. And may His protection go before you and be upon you.”
“I don’t plan on staying long,” he whispered, managing a sad smile.
Avoiding looking at Gabriel, Mish proceeded with the hooded spirit. They headed for the window together. I felt some turmoil in my heart for the scene I was beholding was wide of the mark. Gabriel’s face was wan.
“Mishael,” he said quickly.
Mish glanced over his shoulder.
“Godspeed,” the elder said, giving the child a complimentary smile.
The child hastened back toward the elder. He gave his mentor a long appreciative hug. He could now embark on his journey in good spirits.
My son and his escort quickly disappeared behind the low clouds. I allowed them a head start and, then, rigged a strong connection to my son’s thoughts in order to follow him later.
Alone, I must first face Gabriel’s wrath.
