During
meetings that took place in 1948 at the Four Seasons Hotel in
Georgetown, Northwest, in Washington, DC, between Sinhar Ambar Anati,
a Middle Eastern-American lady who claimed to be an Anunnaki/Human
hybrid envoy, and a group of officials and scientists representing
the United States, and consisting of civilian and military
scientists, members of NSA, CIA,
scientists-astrophysicists-cosmologists from NASA, two generals from
the United States Air Force, and a representative from The White
House, questions regarding all manner of human concerns were asked.
The following narrative is from official records sequestered in both
national archives and at the Vatican... and recently made publicly
available online.
Synopsis
of what the envoy told us about Jesus:
1-During
his lifetime, Yashou or Imanuil (Jesus) was not an important figure,
and was known to few in small and poor villages.
2-Jesus
was not a Jew. He was Phoenician.
3-Jesus
did not die on the cross. And after his crucifixion, he was rescued,
and spent the rest of his life with his wife Myriam Magdala in
Massilia in Southern France.
4-Jesus
was a man and not God or the son of God.
5-Jesus
did not perform supernatural miracles, only extraordinary healing.
6-The
wedding of Jesus and Myriam Magdala took place in Cana, a small
village in Southern Phoenicia (Modern day Lebanon).
One of
the weirdest and unexpected things about what the aliens said to an
archbishop about Jesus Christ, who was seated next to a famous
scientist from Los Alamos laboratory at one of the early meetings
with an alien was this: Jesus Christ did exist; he had wisdom but he
put himself into lots of troubles, really unnecessary. He was not a
dominant social figure. We have a true account of his life that you
should consider, and when we meet again we’ll bring you this
account.”
The
alien added: “We have watched various episodes from your history
and your civilizations on our “Cosmic Screen” (An extraordinary
tool used to rewind time and learn about past events.) None of the
four Bibles written by the disciples of your Jesus Christ was ever
written by any disciple, for they were totally illiterate, and could
not write or read, or understand ancient Greek, Latin or any foreign
language. Note:
In fact, only scholars, historians and an elite of the ruling class,
and highly educated people (in and outside the Roman Empire) could
read and speak Greek, Latin, and/or any foreign language.
Worth
mentioning here is that Jesus spoke in Aramaic, not in Hebrew. His
disciples who were illiterate and from the the lowest social class spoke
only Aramaic. Only Judas was fluent in both Hebrew and Aramaic. Of
course Jesus knew both languages. He learned those languages
at the Phoenician Temple of Melkart, in healing centers in Phoenicia
and from the Essenes. When he argued with the rabbis he could have
used either of the two languages, but his disciples could not.
Hebrew was spoken only a few kilometers from where the disciples lived,
but they did not know a word in Hebrew. So, don’t expect the
disciples to know and to understand Greek or Latin, languages which
were spoken thousands of miles away from their homeland.
The
alien added “The four Bibles are not authentic. And this is very
sad for you because your people can’t distinguish between the real
Jesus and the mythical one you have created. More than ¾ of
your Bible is incorrect, distorted, copied and recopied several times
over, and each time new stories were added and old ones were
deleted. That is why you see many contradictions in you Bible.
Archbishop:
Do you believe in Jesus Christ?
Alien:
Jesus did exist. He was a man of wisdom.
Archbishop:
Was Jesus the son of God?
Alien:
You created the idea of God.
Archbishop:
How did we create the idea of God?
Alien:
God as you define it exists only on your planet. I have already
explained this.
Q: Do
you believe in Jesus Christ’s resurrection?
Alien:
Resurrection?
Archbishop:
Yes, resurrection from death. Didn’t he die on the cross and come
back to life?
Alien:
None of your species can come back from death.
Note:
The registration of the alien’s answer on the screen was
originally: “Your kind dies. And
none of your kind comes back from life’s termination (Meaning death).
Archbishop:
How do you know that?
Alien:
By rewinding time. You wouldn’t understand.
Archbishop:
What is rewinding time?
Alien:
You wouldn’t understand.
An
archbishop asked the alien:
Q: How
about the other bibles written by the heretics? (Note: He meant the
Gnostics.)
Alien:
Same thing, many stories were fabricated, but at least they got the
most important thing right.”
Archbishop:
What do you mean? What did they get right?
Alien:
Let me give you a few examples that you can easily understand.
a-The
Gnostics said, Jesus is not divine; he is not the son of God, and,
they got it right.
b-They
said that Jesus did not die on the cross, and, they got it right.
c-The
Gnostic said Jesus never came back from the dead, and they got it
right.
***
*** ***
On
Jesus Christ and Mary Magdalene according to the account of Ambar
Anati as told to Maximillien de Lafayette.
Sinhar
Ambar Anati, an Anunnaki hybrid woman born on Earth of Anunnaki
lineage, who married an Anunnaki Sinhar, traveled to Nibiru
(Ashtari), lived there for several years, and studied the true
history of humanity here on earth as well as learning much about life
on Nibiru.
Regardless
of whether you believe or disbelieve the account of Ambar
Anati, or you ridicule and mock this most extraordinary
account based upon time-travel and rewinding time, I remain very
confident that the information and revelations contained in Anati’s
account will captivate your mind.
But
before you read any part of Anati’s account, remind yourself of
what quantum physics’ contemporary scientists (Dr. Michio Kaku to
name one), and the leaders of the parallel dimension and
super-symmetry theories have said about the multiverse, and the
“continuous existence” of people (Our Life) in other dimensions. You
will never believe the story of Anati unless and until you revisit
the Super-symmetry and multiple dimensions’ theories as advanced by
said quantum physics’ scientists.
Anati, in her own words:
We,
who live such short lives, make many historical mistakes, even when
written records are available. Take, for instance, the issue of Jesus
and the crucifixion. I was raised a Presbyterian, and my parents took
me quite often to church. It had become a habit, and I never
questioned or even thought about the Crucifixion.
Well,
imagine my surprise when Sinhar Marduchk told me that Jesus did not
die on the cross! I hope I am not upsetting anyone, but the real
story involves the existence of two tombs. Apparently, it was
planned. Jesus was given a rag soaked in vinegar and
“Moukhadar” which caused deep anesthesia, and made him sleep.
Later
in the day he was indeed stabbed with a spear, but not fatally, and
at sunset the soldiers assumed he was dead and took him down.
His
uncle Joseph of Arimathea, who had arranged the matter, wrapped him with
a shroud and took him to a faraway cave (a second grave) to hide him
and help him recover, but then two persons hired by his uncle took
the bloody shroud and left it in the tomb that everyone expected him to be
in. He was never there, thus giving rise to the story of the
resurrection. A few days later, Jesus was secretly taken to
Phoenicia, where he partially recovered.
His
uncle Joseph of Arimathea put Jesus and his wife on a Phoenician boat
that went to Cyprus. Eventually, they fled to Marseille, France,
where they settled permanently and had children. Jesus worked in his
profession, a handyman (he never really was a carpenter, this is a
translation mistake), lived peacefully, and avoided all matters of
religion for the rest of his life.
His
descendants lived in France, and some of them still exist.
“Does
that story bother you?” asked Sinhar Marduchk. “Not at all,” I
said. “I am no longer a religious person, and I would much rather
know the truth than live in ignorance.” Sinhar Marduchk smiled with
appreciation. Apparently he liked to see that I kept an open mind.
I must
tell how I was later rewarded by being taught how to time travel, and
thus be able to meet Mary Magdalene and Jesus in person.
My
first time travel; how I met Jesus and Mary Magdalene – who turned
out very differently than expected.
It is
impossible to describe my feelings regarding my expected visit with
Mary Magdalene.
I
always had a deep interest in her and thought she must have been a
most complicated
personality, and her place in history, next to Jesus himself, was
enough to make me revere her. The thought of seeing her was an
emotional whirlwind, particularly since Sinhar Inannaschamra was
quite sure that I will be able to meet Jesus as well. Having been
brought up a Christian, it was difficult for me to accept the
possibility that Jesus not only did not die on the cross, but lived
happily in Massilia (modern Marseille) with his wife and family. I
assumed I would have to use a cone to learn the language spoken in
ancient Gallia Narbonensis, the part of France where Massilia
existed, prepare my clothing, and practice shape shifting, but it
turned out I was wrong. All I had to do, said Sinhar Inannaschamra,
was to wear my Monitor around my neck, exactly the way I wore it when
I went to my mission at the military base, and use the same code, so
she could keep an eye on me. She was going to check on me
periodically, and if anything, went wrong, come and get me.
But
she expected everything to go smoothly, and as always, I trusted her.
She gave me exact directions as to what to do and how to behave, and
indeed, it seemed so simple I could hardly believe it.
“How
do I get back?” I asked.
“Very
easy,” said Sinhar Inannaschamra. “Just speak the code to the
Monitor. It will do the rest, you will hardly feel it.”
Next
morning I went to the Akashic Library, wearing normal clothes and
carrying nothing other than the Monitor around my neck. I repeated
the steps I took when I met with the Council, only this time
requested the Departures Room. The pad took me to an octagon-shaped
glass pavilion that stood out of the main building, surrounded by
ancient conifers. The glass was transparent, so I could see that the
room was entirely empty, other than one stool in the middle of it.
The
room was not very big, and it had a glass door, also transparent. I
entered, and to my amazement, I could not see anything outside,
because the glass became opaque.
I had
no idea at the time what caused it, since Sinhar Inannaschamra forgot
to tell me about it. Later, I found out that the air in the room has
a special quality that made the glass opaque.
As
instructed, I sat on the stool, and that started the action. One of
the panels opened up, and millions of charts with codes started to
flicker on a screen. At the same time, all the other panels turned
black. The whole room darkened, and only the front panel, which
showed the charts, had any light on it.
At
this moment, the screen seemed to release a plasma-like substance,
and it came toward me and circled my body. I began to spin around
myself, feeling very dizzy and strangely heavy.
I am
not sure how long it lasted, but it seemed that in an instant I found
myself in an ancient town by the sea. To me it seemed not much larger
than a fishing village, but this was only because I was not used to
first century towns and had the prejudices of a modern person as to
what a town should look like. This was Massilia, the Roman name for
present day Marseille, a thriving, growing Roman trading port, and I
knew it did well because it was the first town of Gallia Narbonensis
to have a public sewer system.
Actually,
it was already an old town, since originally it was built by the
Greeks and had archaeological remnants of the Greek settlement. But
the Romans had added quite a lot of buildings, streets, and roads
since Julius Caesar conquered it. I knew what to expect, but the
experience was nevertheless incredibly bizarre.
Most
people seem to think that time travel is simply going to the time and
place you wish to visit, and entering it as if it were a normal
place. This is not so.
When
time traveling, it is almost as if one travels in virtual reality,
and the experience has to build upon itself, to materialize.
Therefore, the place was entirely empty, with only a few fishermen
standing at a distance on the shore. But they were not moving, they
were like statues. The rest of the town was completely empty of
people. I felt the town was alive, as if expecting something to
happen, but no one was in sight.
All of
a sudden, people started to appear in the street, but they came from
nowhere, from the empty space in the air. Materializing one by one,
they filled the town; it felt as if I was meeting apparitions. Then,
in a few minutes, I adapted, and started experiencing real life in a
real town. Everything became normal.
I
decided to take a short walk to just study the town a little.
Massilia was a bustling
town. The houses were made of stone fixed with mud, low and sturdy,
but a few houses were truly elegant. Walking toward the opposite
direction from the sea, I entered the open market, full of little
stores and workshops. Each workshop
was a small, rather dark room, that opened into the street with a
large, open doorway.
You
could see the craftsman working on the goods he hoped to sell, or the merchant
surrounded by his goods. Most of the stores were devoted to
foodstuffs, such as stores of neatly packaged spices, or one devoted
to cheeses and pickles.
But
there were also some shops that sold fabrics and various notions
needed for weaving, sewing, and embroidery. The market, with its
noisy cries of the merchants, the interesting smells, and colorful
sights, was extremely appealing. After enjoying strolling in the
market, I turned back and walked to the shore. The whole place
smelled like fresh fish, but it was not terribly unpleasant despite
my growing dislike for animal food.
Those
fishermen who were not at sea were mending nets, cleaning their
catch, and doing other chores. Some little fishing boats were turned
upside down, being mended. The sun was shining, the light
Mediterranean breeze was blowing, and beautiful, big white shells
were strewn everywhere. I picked a little warm sand in my hand.
Having been brought up in Maine, I was very fond of the sea. The
place felt like home and I felt a twinge of homesickness, remembering
how my mother used to bring me to the shore and help me collect
shells and smooth sea glass and pebbles.
I
decided the time came to drag myself away from nostalgia and go visit
Mary Magdalene, fully aware that I was postponing this very thing I
wished to do because I was quite nervous about it. Resolutely, I
turned away and went into the town proper. Many women were carrying
baskets on their way to the market, and to my relief, as I looked at
myself, I was assured that I was wearing the same clothes as any of
the better dressed women who walked the streets. I had on a long
woolen outfit, white with multicolor stripes on the sleeves and on
the hem, soft leather sandals, and a thin silk scarf loosely covering
my head.
Obviously,
I matched the upper class ladies, just as Sinhar Inannaschamra told
me I would. I took my Monitor, which was still hanging around my
neck, and looked at my face in the mirror that was part of the
Monitor. I looked different than the usual, in a subtle way. The
spinning that turns into shape shifting, really affects all the
molecules in one’s body, even helps one fit into the climate and
environment one travels to.
Sometimes
one does look different for the duration of the trip. I looked a
little older, I thought. That was good, I would inspire confidence in
Mary Magdalene as an older woman. I must say I liked the ornate
silver earrings I was wearing, just showing under the white silk
scarf.
The
only thing left was to rehearse the language. At the moment of
arrival, I did not know the language, but all it took was hearing one
or two words spoken on the street.
This
is because the spinning opens up the Conduit “Mind’s Cellular
Conduit”, and triggers the part of the knowledge depot which is the
seat of all languages.
As
soon as I heard those words, I knew the language as if I had spoken
it all my life. I rehearsed a few words, just in case, and felt
comfortable. But I was determined to speak to Mary Magdalene in
Aramaic, her own language.
I
looked at the Monitor, got directions to Mary Magdalene’s house,
and strolled there, still enjoying the sights and sounds of the busy
town. I did not have far to go to the small, neat house, well
maintained, and standing in a little garden planted with herbs and
flowers. Like all the other houses, it was made of stone and mud, and
two stories high.
I
stood on the other side of the street, wondering how to approach Mary
Magdalene. I was so excited about the meeting, that I did not think
about what lines to use to persuade her to talk to me. But everything
worked out very well. As luck would have it, I saw a woman
approaching the house, carrying a basket. One look and I knew it was
Mary Magdalene, because Sinhar Inannaschamra showed her to me on the
monitor. She was not beautiful, exactly, but nevertheless was
extremely attractive. She must have been in her late thirties, small
and slight but with an elegant figure, and she carried herself with
poise and dignity.
She
had lovely, warm brown eyes, and dark chestnut hair slightly touched
with white at the temple, which I could see because her scarf was
sitting way back on her head. She was simply and neatly dressed in an
outfit very much like mine.
I
approached her, and greeted her in Aramaic, introducing myself. She
seemed extremely surprised and delighted. “Are you from Judea?”
she asked in a very pleasant voice.
“No,
I am Phoenician,” I said. A half-truth, but I really could not do
any better.
“It
is nice to hear you speak Aramaic,” she said.
“My
husband and I speak it at home, and taught it to the children, but
most of our friends here do not know it. Won’t you come in and
rest, and have some refreshments? And tell me what is it that you
wished to speak to me about?”
I
accepted with pleasure, and we entered the living room, a simply
furnished but very clean and pleasant place. She went to place her
basket elsewhere, probably a separate little room devoted to cooking,
thus giving me time to observe the room carefully.
This
was clearly the house of a middle class family. It had many comforts
and conveniences, though certainly not ostentation or overt luxury.
The walls were neatly plastered and whitewashed, the floor was tiled,
and the windows had a lattice structure that provided security and
decoration at the same time. There were three or four niches in the
walls, each containing an oil lamp. This family obviously did not go
to bed with the sun, as poor people were forced to do; the lamps
spoke of reading and writing and spending time with family and
friends after the sun had set.
A few
small rugs covered the floor. The room was very adequately furnished
with a large table with two benches, each with a few colorful,
embroidered pillows on it, storage boxes made from beautiful dark
wood, and a built-in stone pallet, with a throw and pillows providing
comfortable sitting.
Here
and there, on the rugs, there were also large cassock-like pillows
covered with beautiful fabrics. A couple of copper braziers stood by
the wall, awaiting the season of winter and glowing softly. In a
corner stood another large table, covered with manuscripts, including
one that was currently worked on, writing implements,
and inks. The whole room was scented by a big bunch of cut herbs and
flowers in a clay jar that stood on the dining table. Mary Magdalene
came back with cold water, wine, cakes, dried figs, and honey.
“As
you might know, the Romans decided to make a law here that women
cannot drink wine when a man is not around, but we don’t pay much
attention to it… they don’t really follow you into the privacy of
your home, I must say.”
She
poured me a glass of wine. The wine was delicious, and she pressed
some of the food on me.
“I
noticed that your beautiful throw on the couch is white and striped
with blue,”
I said. “These are our colors in Phoenicia, the symbolic colors of
the god Melkart.”
“Well,
there is little difference between our nations, and white and blue
are our colors as well. I knitted this throw, thinking all the time
of Judea…” said Mary Magdalene. “Our nations are related, you
know. Not only through the marriage of King Solomon and King Hiram’s
daughter, but even before. I like to hear Yeshua tell me, and the
children, about the history of our people. And he told us that many
people believe that Joshua, the one that helped Moses during the
Exodus, really was a Phoenician Prince. As a matter of fact, he
entered Canaan independently, from the north, and settled peacefully.
He never even knew Moses, they say.”
“I
had no idea,” I said, making a mental note that this would be a
subject worth pursuing at the Akashic Library on my next visit there.
“This is fascinating. I really must look into it. I like history
too, you know, very much.”
“You
must visit us often, then, and discuss this matter with Yeshua. He
will be happy to meet another enthusiast of his favorite subject.”
“I
would love that… I promise I will come back, if you will let me.
But I might as well tell you what I came to ask you, before I go on
enjoying your hospitality,” I said, a little guiltily. “You may
be angry with me, since I am about to rake up your husband’s past.”
“I
am rarely angry,” said Mary Magdalene. “And
I don’t really mind talking about the past, as long as it is with
another woman. I am still afraid of men, though. I always feel we are
forever in danger. I constantly warn my husband to stay out of
trouble. Now that he is older, he listens better. Yeshua is a very
nice, kind man, and he does listen to me when I advise him on many
matters, but sometimes I wonder if he understands that we should be
careful for as long as we live. He is very intelligent, and extremely
well-educated, but between you and me, he has absolutely no common
sense.”
“I
know little about your husband, only that he was falsely arrested by
the Romans and you had to leave Judea.”
“Indeed,
that is the truth. I always knew we would get in trouble,” said
Mary Magdalene, her smile disappearing.
“As
I said before, and I mean it, Yeshua just did not have any sense
whatsoever. He was a healer, and he had great success in curing many
people. Unfortunately, he was also a bit of a magician, and instead
of keeping his talents to himself, he would go and perform his
healings and miracles in front of important people. They hated him.”
“But
they could not object to his healings?” I asked. “Nothing is
wrong with making people feel better.”
“Even
healing can seem to be blasphemy, particularly if you also do magical
tricks as part of your performance. There was even foolish talk about
his making the dead rise – of course this was sheer nonsense. The
person that ‘rose’ from the dead, his name was Lazarus, a
relative, simply fainted and Yeshua made him feel better – but such
stupid talk would cause trouble. Yeshua never even heard of the story
– he was away with his friends the Essenes when it circulated, and
I kept it from him when he came back; no point in giving him ideas...
But his talents of healing got him a bunch of followers, disciples of
sort, and they were good for nothing. All they wanted was magic and
sensational tricks, and they went about saying
blasphemous things about Yeshua being the Messiah. Naturally, the
Sanhedrin, once they heard the word Messiah, took a dislike to him.”
“They
would be sensitive about it, I suppose,” I said. “The Messiah is
an important issue with your religion.”
“Well,
yes, and I must admit Yeshua was quite annoying,” said Mary
Magdalene, smiling somewhat indulgently at the memory. “The
business of having disciples made him think himself of more
importance than was good for him. He insisted on preaching, and told
people he was the Son of God. Now, that was a common thing to say if
you knew the Essenes, a group of desert recluses he once lived with
and kept on visiting; actually he spent quite a long time with them,
enough to get him to believe in much of their doctrines. They call
every honest person ‘Son of God.’ But the authorities did not
like it.
“Again,
it sounded to them like blasphemy. The Sanhedrin members were very
set in their ways, except for one man, Joseph of Arimathea. That is
because Joseph was an Essene, too, and the uncle of Yeshua. No one
knew it, he kept it a secret, since belonging to a sect would have
spoiled his business and his reputation, but he never gave up the
connection. And of course there was Nicodemus, his young protégé.
He was also an Essene. Joseph and Nicodemus were real friends to us.
I don’t know what we would have done without Joseph, he really
handled everything when the trouble
began.”
“And
Yeshua was tried before the Sanhedrin, right?”
“Not
right away. First, he was arrested and taken to an interview with the
Procurator.”
“Am
I right that this was Pontius Pilate?” I asked.
“Yes,”
said Mary Magdalene. “That was him. Do you know he was replaced a
few years later?”
“No,
I had no idea. Why was he replaced?”
“He
was accused of some crimes, which of course he did not commit. He
simply fell out of favor. Joseph told us on one of his visits to
Massilia, since he was very much surprised when the replacement
happened. The Romans are sometimes very cruel; it is possible, though
we are not sure, that they forced him to commit suicide. Anyway,
Pontius Pilate was not terribly interested in Yeshua… it seems he
even wanted to acquit him. We know a little because his bodyguard, a
Roman centurion, heard everything that was said when Pilate spoke to
the representative of the Sanhedrin, and later wrote it all down.
“That
is because he knew Yeshua, who once cured his daughter from a
terrible illness. He really saved her life, and from a distance, too.
Yeshua never saw the child; he was good at such things. The Roman
centurion was very grateful to Yeshua, and thought it would help if
he took these notes for posterity. I imagine he knew that between the
Romans and the Sanhedrin, they would execute Yeshua. But there was
more to it than just this interview.
“As
I said, Pontius Pilate probably would have let Yeshua go free,
because he could not care less about religious matters, which were
the chief complaints of the Sanhedrin. Rather, Pilate asked him if he
had any designs against Caesar, and Yeshua answered that of course
not, he had no problem with Caesar at all, he knew Caesar ruled Judea
legally. So Pilate asked him if he would admit to Caesar being the
strongest god, which was the standard thing to ask, and that was
Yeshua’s downfall.
“I
would have advised him to admit Caesar’s superiority, since it was
a private interview and none of his friends was there to hear it. But
Yeshua could not bring himself to blaspheme against God. The fool,
all he had to do was just nod his head… and what is more, he went
very far in his protestations about Caesar. He told Pilate that he,
Yeshua, was more powerful than Caesar because there was only one God,
and he was the son of God. Again, more Essene nonsense. “Naturally,
after that, Pilate simply had to turn him over to the Sanhedrin, he
had no choice. Someone, years later, was circulating the rumor that
Pontius Pilate never forgot Yeshua. Apparently, he was quite
interested in his capacity as a healer, and even intended to send him
to Caesarea, to be his own healer, since he had some illnesses. Ah,
well. Sometimes, the Sanhedrin can be more cruel than the Romans.”
“And
what happened then?”
“A
huge, famous trial took place. The high priest, Caiaphas, was after
Yeshua’s blood. He was a Sadducee, you know, one of the rich,
higher classes. He felt that Yeshua was a threat to the usual order
of rich and poor, high and low… you know, a rebel. Caiaphas was a
really nasty man, eager for power. And he had power, lots of it.
“Our
friend, Joseph of Arimathea, did a brilliant job of defending Yeshua,
and it would have gone well, but for once Joseph made a horrible
mistake. He questioned him, ‘Do you consider yourself the Messiah?’
and Yeshua denied that in the most sensible manner; after all, Yeshua
never thought of himself as the Messiah! Never came into his head to
imagine that! Then, Joseph asked the question that destroyed
everything. He said, ‘Who are you, then, Yeshua?’ and Yeshua was
stupid enough to say, ‘I am the Son of God.’
“I
know, I know, he should have known better, but he was very foolish at
that time. That gave the Sanhedrin the excuse to send him to the
crucifixion. Caiaphas practically jumped with joy when he heard
Yeshua say this thing. Horrible, horrible man, Caiaphas. I will hate
him as long as I live, and believe me, I am not quick to hate.”
“So
he really was crucified,” I said, sadly.
“Yes,
Yeshua was crucified. I cannot tell you how cruel, how horrible, this
practice is. He suffered so much, blood all over his body. I was with
his mother, and one of his disciples, but nobody else. All the other
disciples ran away, they were scared to death, fearing they would be
arrested by the Sanhedrin. It broke my heart that these people, who
always claimed to love Yeshua so much, were not there for him as he
was dying.
“A
few people gathered around, probably just curious people, and they
stood near the
cross, but not very close, because the Roman soldiers did not allow
them to do so. His poor mother collapsed twice in my arms.”
“His
mother, Mary of Nazareth… Yes, please tell me, what was Mary like?”
“Mary…
I miss her so much. She was very kind, always so sweet. I loved her
very much; she never said an unkind word to me. And she had every
reason to be mad at me, because I broke God’s law and lived with
Yeshua before we were legally married, I am ashamed to say…”
“But
you always meant to be married, so it does not signify,” I said.
“Oh,
indeed, we always meant to be married. It was just because of all
these delays and troubles, and things sometimes just happen when you
are young…Still, many other women would have held it against me.
But not Mary. She was too kind.”
“What
did she look like?”
“She
was incredibly beautiful,” said Mary Magdalene, her eyes misty with
the memory. “I have never seen anyone as beautiful as Mary. She was
only fourteen when Yeshua was born, so she was still young when the
trouble happened. She had very long black hair, which she always put
in one long braid.
“Her
skin was white, like the finest ivory, and she had big, clear blue
eyes, rather unusual for our people. She always wore a lot of blue,
she was a little vain about her eyes and about her great beauty, but
not in an unpleasant way, and who could blame her.
“My
daughter Sarah inherited these amazing eyes; every time I look at her
I think of Mary…” She wiped a tear.
“Do
you know, Mary’s hair began to gray very quickly after Yeshua’s
crucifixion. It only took a couple of months before it was all
silvery white; it must have been the agony she went through, seeing
her son undergo such pain. But even with the silver hair she looked
young and beautiful. Perhaps even more beautiful. There was something
so delicate, so soulful about Mary.”
“So
the two of you stayed by Yeshua’s side. It must have been
heartbreaking.”
“We
just stood there, crying and helpless. The men on the two crosses on
Yeshua’s sides fainted, off and on, like Yeshua. Then, Nicodemus
came and asked the Roman soldier, who was guarding this row of
crucifixes, if he can wipe the face of Yeshua, and give him something
to drink from a sponge.
“The
soldier said ‘Yes, go ahead,’ so Nicodemus dipped the sponge in a
bucket and brought it to Yeshua’s mouth. I saw him sipping from the
sponge, and blood kept pouring and pouring from his hands and his
feet.
“A
few moments later, it was clear that he passed away; Mary fainted and
fell to the
floor. As for me, I felt this was not happening, as if it was a
nightmare, and I was expecting to wake up. As if in a dream, I
approached the Roman soldier and asked him if I could take Yeshua
home for burial. I simply could not bear to leave him there on the
cross. But he said that this was against the rules.
“I
asked him, ‘What are you going to do with his body? He is dead,
after all.’ The soldier told me that the law requires that all
crucified people first be checked to see if they were really dead,
because sometimes it takes them two or three days to die. And after
that, the Romans would take them and dump them in a place reserved
for crucified people and other condemned dead prisoners.”
“This
is disgraceful,” I said
“Yes,
it was very hard. But we were helpless. What could two women do
against the Roman soldiers? So we left, and returned to the house,
where we kept crying all of the late afternoon and evening.
“Suddenly
the door opened, and Joseph of Arimathea came in. He looked hurried
and upset. ‘I have some news for you,’ he said. ‘I went to
Pontius Pilate and I asked him for a favor. I know Pilate through
business, so they let me in. I asked him if I could take Yeshua’s
body to be buried in my own family grave. Pilate said ‘Fine, go
ahead.’
“To
tell you the truth, I don’t think Pilate cared one bit about anyone
in Judea. He was so bored with us and all he wanted was to get out of
this nasty job.”
“So
Joseph got the body? What did he do with it?” I asked.
“I
can repeat the exact conversation, I remember it like yesterday,”
said Mary Magdalene. “Joseph said, ‘this is a great secret, which
you cannot tell anyone, especially Simon and Peter and the rest of
the disciples.’”
“I
will say nothing,” I said to him. “Just tell me what you have
done.”
“I
had to do something very quickly so no one will find his body,”
said Joseph. “I got Nicodemus, and we took Yeshua right away to the
grave of my family, making sure everyone saw that. Then I put some of
his clothes there, arranging them so that they would look as if they
contained the body, but we only stayed there for a few minutes.”
“Clothes?
But what did you do with the body?” I asked him, perplexed.
“As
soon as we were alone, Nicodemus and I transferred Yeshua to another
place, which for the moment must remain secret. We rushed to do it as
fast as possible, which was extremely lucky, because as soon as I
came back to my family grave I saw Roman centurions marching toward
it. I asked the Romans what did they come for, and one of them told
me that they got an order to guard the tomb, and they must seal it
first.
“I
did not want to ask them who gave the orders, but I suspect it was
some of my friends at the Sanhedrin…The Romans helped me to roll
the big stone that usually sealed
the grave. I felt so relieved, since I knew no one will get in
anymore, and no one will ever know that Yeshua was not there.”
“I
don’t understand anything, Joseph,” I said. “Why did you have
to go through all that? Why not simply bury Yeshua properly?”
“Just
wait, Mary,” he said. “I find it very hard to explain. I went to
your relative, Elizabeth, and told her what I did. She said that she
would like to go and anoint the body in preparation for the burial.
So I told her, ‘You don’t need to do that.’ ‘What do you
mean?’ she said. ‘This is our tradition!’ So I told her the
truth. ‘Yeshua is not going to be buried. He is going to be all
right.’ She thought I was crazy, probably you think I am crazy
too.”
I
interrupted him, and I asked, “Are you mad? Are you trying to tell
me that Yeshua is alive? How can that be? I saw him die on the cross,
right after Nicodemus washed his face and let him sip some water. Did
you witness a miracle? Is Yeshua really the son of God?”
“It
was not a miracle, Mary, but the water was not plain water, either,”
he said. “I know something about herbs, from my days with the
Essenes. I put a very strong herbal concoction in the water, one that
creates a deathlike state that would last a few hours. And with the
blood that Yeshua lost, and his weakened condition, he will be like
dead for at least a night, but then he will wake up.”
“My
mother-in-law heard all that in total silence, in complete shock. She
obviously could not accept the good news so soon after the horrible
ordeal. But then she said, “I must go to him, right away. I have to
help my child, whether he is dead or alive.”
“You
cannot do so, my dear,” said Joseph gently. “If you don’t stay
at home, and receive your friends and neighbors’ condolences, the
Romans will suspect something. Tomorrow morning, very early,
Elizabeth and Mary Magdalene will come to see him. But you must be
brave and stay here and pretend that Yeshua is dead and buried. It is
essential if we are to save his life.”
“And
this is exactly what we did. We stayed all night. The next day, Mary
stayed home, but Joseph came and led me to a cave, quite a distance
from our village.
“Nicodemus
was guarding the entrance, and moved to let us in. Yeshua was lying
on a large stone, which was covered with some soft blankets. He was
exhausted and could not talk at all, but he was alive! Joseph saved
him! I immediately saw that Joseph thought of everything. There was a
bowl of grapes and olives by Yeshua’s side, and some flat bread,
and a jar of water. And Joseph brought clean clothes for Yeshua. We
treated his wounds as best we could, cleaned him, and dressed him
with the fresh clothes. He felt better and could mumble a few words
of thanks, but he was not entirely conscious.
“What
will happen now, Joseph?” I asked.
“We
are going to take Yeshua away, to the house of two fishermen I regularly
do business with. They are very loyal to me, and one of them is from
Tyre, which will ease our escape. We went there, a rather long journey,
Joseph and Nicodemus carrying Yeshua on a large board which they
covered with the blankets."
“The
fishermen were waiting for us. They were really very scared, but they
were trustworthy and kept their word. We took Yeshua inside the
house, and there were two women there, one of them a Phoenician woman
who rushed to help us, and took Yeshua to a small room where he could
rest. We spent a short time with him inside the room, while the two
other men were guarding the house."
“Mary,”
said Joseph, “Yeshua must leave Judea right away. He is in grave danger
here.”
“That
is fine,” I said. “I have some money, perhaps we should hire a
boat?”
“Do
not concern yourself with that,” said Joseph very kindly.
“Everything has been taken care of. You stay right here, look after
Yeshua, and I will go and talk to his mother and his brothers.”
“The
next day Yeshua’s brother James came, with his mother; the other
brothers and sisters did not believe what Joseph told them. But Mary
and James came, and they could not believe their eyes. James behaved
rather strangely; he told Joseph, ‘What kind of trick was that?
This is not my brother!’ So Yeshua looked at him and told him, ‘Do
you remember the cut I had on the upper side of my left shoulder?’
I knew he had the cut. So James, said, ‘Yes, let me see.’ And
Yeshua showed him the cut, and James fainted.
“Joseph
told us that by tomorrow at the latest, we would go to Tyre for a few
days, then get a bigger ship and go the Island of Arwad. He had
friends there, business associates, dealing with the olives and olive
oil business.
“I
went to Arwad with Yeshua, Nicodemus, and Joseph, while Mary and
James went back home to Judea. Joseph told Mary that within a week,
or ten days, I don’t remember exactly, he would come back to Judea
and take her with him to see us somewhere else. He did not tell her
where we would be, just in case if she would
be questioned. So Mary, James, and the other brothers and sisters
stayed in Judea. We spent three days in Arwad, a beautiful small
island. Many Phoenicians were there, of course speaking fluent
Aramaic, so we could mingle with the crowd and nobody knew who we
were. Nevertheless, we mostly stayed inside the house Joseph rented
for us. We did not feel safe.
“Then
one afternoon, Yeshua was amusing himself doing one of his old tricks.
He was trying to lift himself up in the air, attempting to fly, or
float. He did
manage to float a little bit. He used to do a lot of tricks like
that. While
we were enjoying his attempts, Joseph returned from an errand, and told
us that tomorrow we were going to Cyprus, since Arwad was not really
safe.
“Unfortunately,
I started to feel extremely tired, and I suspected I was pregnant,
but nobody knew; I did not want to worry either Yeshua or Joseph,
particularly since we were not married yet. We were planning on
getting married, as we discussed before, but so many things happened
to prevent it. However, now, there was not time to lose; we had to be
married before the child was born. But
first, we had to get to Cyprus.
“So
when we arrived, a few days later, the very first thing we did was to
get married, and I felt so much the better for it. Joseph again
rented a house for us, and then he and Nicodemus returned to Judea.
Actually, his plan was to bring Mary to us. He was uneasy about her
safety there, and so were we.
“One
month later, he indeed brought her to Cyprus, and I was so happy to
see her and tell her about our marriage and the coming child. Joseph
stayed a very short time, and then returned again to Judea. He warned
us to stay put and wait until we hear from him before we did
anything. And so we lived quietly, and Yeshua regained his strength,
but he was limping, and could not walk straight without leaning on me
as he walked. “I realized that his full healing will take some
time, but I was very happy in Cyprus, away from the trouble in Judea.
“After
another month, Joseph returned. I asked him, in confidence, about the
disciples. He told me to forget them; never count on any of them.
They were cowards. Only Peter showed some regret, and visited Joseph
once in a while. The others just went on with their lives. I am sorry
to say that Yeshua’s brothers and sisters also avoided him,
pretending they did not know he was alive. Fear would do such things
to people.
“Eventually
I gave birth to my eldest daughter, Sarah. We stayed in Cyprus until
Sarah was three years old, and in the meantime Yeshua found jobs here
and there. Everybody liked him, but he lived very quietly and did not
go out much. Most important, I insisted that he should not make
trouble, or start preaching. No more stories or sermons. The truth
is, he did not want to do so anyway. I think he had enough of
sermons, disciples, and preaching.
“Of
course, he could no longer do physical work, so there was no
carpentry or handyman jobs for him, which made him a little sad
because he liked physical labor. But he put to use his considerable
knowledge of languages, and became a scribe.
“Once
every five or six months, Joseph came to see us. Life was pleasant
enough, but Mary never quite recovered from the ordeal of the
crucifixion. She was so delicate, and the ordeal broke her health for
good. Eventually she became very ill, and even though we tried
everything to cure her, she died rather suddenly.
“We
buried her in Cyprus, but years later, Joseph took her body back to
Judea for her final resting place, next to her husband, who was also
called Joseph and who I have never known, to my sorrow, since he died
before I met Yeshua.
“I
still miss my dear Mary. Following Joseph’s advice, we decided to
go to Gallia Narbonensis, which had a few large Jewish communities.
We planned to settle in Massilia. Joseph went with us, and also an
Ethiopian maid we had in Cyprus, a seventeen
years old girl that Joseph brought us for help. She loved us and did
not want to part from us.
“Later,
in Massilia, she married a very nice young man, had a family, and we
still visit each other. On the way, I asked Joseph why he took so
much trouble
to help us.
“You
went beyond friendship, even beyond family requirement, Joseph,” I said
to him with gratitude. “Why are you so kind to us?”
“Joseph
was quiet for a short time, thinking, musing. “I love you like my
own family,” he said to me, his honest black eyes looking earnestly
into mine. “But it is more than that. I have caused Yeshua, his
mother, and you, all the suffering that you have undergone. I will
never forgive myself, and forever I will have to atone for my sin.”
“You?
Caused us suffering?” I asked, incredulously.
“Don’t
you remember?” he said. “I was the one who asked Yeshua the fatal question
during the trial. If I had not asked him who he was, they would have
set him free.”
I had
to cry. “No, Joseph, it was not you. Certainly, the question was
misjudged. But the Sanhedrin would have tried to kill Yeshua no
matter what. Please, please, don’t think about it anymore.” We
never discussed it again, but I don’t think I had any luck in
changing his mind, the poor, good man that he was.
“Joseph,
of course, knew many people in Massilia, since he had much business
with them. He took us to a small shop owned by a Jewish friend, who
had rented a house for us and got it ready. I loved our house from
the first day; it felt like home; even the smell of the house was a
little like the houses in Judea, for some reason, possibly because we
always lived in fishing villages, and Massilia was a fishing town.
“For
the first time I felt really safe, far from everyone, Caiaphas in
particular. You see, until we came here, I was always afraid Caiaphas
will somehow hear about us. He had his spies everywhere. But Gallia
Narbonensis was far enough from Judea, and only business people, like
Joseph, would have much to do with it.
“Yeshua,
too, began to get used to the place, and consorted with Jews only,
since we thought they were the safest. He got a job as a scribe. He
kept on surprising me. In Cyprus, I saw him writing Greek. I told him
I never knew he spoke Greek, and he laughed and said, ‘I speak all
the languages.’
“I
asked him, ' did you learn it?’ He said, ‘I learned it in Qumran,
from the Essenes’. So here he developed more skills. He brushed up
on his Latin, and started to learn Gaelic; he was so good with
languages, so now with
Hebrew, Aramaic, Greek, Latin, and Gaelic, business was okay, and life
became comfortable.
“We
had two more children, a boy and a girl. The boy is called Joseph,
after Yeshua’s father. You can’t say he is named also after
Joseph of Arimathea, since we are not allowed to call babies after
living people. The girl is called Rachel. And you know our eldest is
Sarah. They are all good children, I am happy to say.”
Mary
Magdalene suddenly stopped talking, and I saw she was smiling at
someone behind me. I turned my head, and saw a man entering the room.
“'This
is my husband, Yeshua.'
“'Yeshua,
this is a new friend, she came all the way to hear your story.'”
We
greeted each other. It was hard to believe that I was looking,
meeting, talking with Jesus Christ. This pleasant, ordinary, normal
man. Could it be?
He was
not at all what I expected. He did not have fair long hair, he did
not possess an ascetic, pale face, or an emaciated body. Instead,
Yeshua had frizzy dark hair, a little curly on the back. He had dark
skin, black eyes, and was strongly built, stocky, and not very tall,
probably five eight or nine; you could say he was a little plump,
though certainly not fat, Just comfortable looking.
He
wore sandals, a blue gray outfit, and carried two bags. One was a leather
book bag, and the other a basket full of eggs and dry fruits. Jesus
Christ, shopping at market? And yet, it had to be him, Jesus of
Nazareth,
Jesus
Christ... There could be no one else with a history so similar. I lost
my head and I asked him, “Are you the One?”
Fortunately,
he did not understand what I meant. He smiled and said, “I am sorry,
what did you say?” Stupidly, I asked him again, “Are you the
Messiah?”
He
laughed like a child, and said, “Don’t bring up old stories and
memories, all this is well behind me…”
Well,
at least I did not kneel before him. That would have not gone too
well. So I recovered myself and smiled at him, just as if he were a
normal new acquaintance.
“Let
me make some supper,” said Mary Magdalene. “Please stay and eat with
us. You will also like to meet the children, I am sure.”
“I
am sorry, Mary. I really must go, I have to meet someone and go
home.”
“May
I take you where you need to go?” Yeshua asked helpfully.
“No,
really, there is no need. I am meeting them by the shore, just a few steps.”
“If
there is any trouble, though, and they don’t arrive on time, come
right back,
won’t you?” said Mary Magdalene.
“I
will. And with your permission, I would like to visit again, and meet
the children.”
“I
am counting on it,” said Mary Magdalene.
We
parted cordially, and I left. I was going to the shore, where I could
be hidden from sight as I planned to give the code and go back
through my Monitor. As I was turning around the house, slowly,
thinking about this wonderful experience, I was passing the window
and heard Yeshua’s voice. I stood for a moment, listening. I did
not mean to eavesdrop, it was just that it was hard for me to part
from these two wonderful people who meant so much to me, and I just
lingered.
“Wait
one minute, Mary, before you go to make the supper,” Yeshua said.
“I have something really interesting to tell you, which I want to
do before the children come. I don’t want them to hear it. It is
downright amazing.
“There
is a Greek man out there in the public plaza; he is doing what I used
to do... but he is much smarter than me. He was preaching about God,
and of all things, who do you think he was also talking about, to a
dozen of people? Me! was talking about me!”
There
was a short silence. Then I
heard Mary Magdalene say, her voice full of anxiety, even terror.
“Yeshua, did you get in trouble? Did you do something stupid?”
“No,
no, I did nothing dangerous. I just asked the fishermen, ‘Who is
this man?’ They said he was a Roman, or a Greek, and his name is
Paul, or Saul, or something like that… he came from Judea. They
said he personally knew a demigod, Jesus, something like that…
Well, I had to talk to him, because I know the language, and Jesus is
a version of my own name. I was terribly curious.”
“You
talked to him? He could have gotten you arrested!” cried Mary
Magdalene, aghast.
“He
is much more likely to be arrested himself, my dear. He is talking
blasphemy, while I am just the respectable scribe everyone knows
around here. I took him aside and we talked for a short time. I said
to him that I think it was I he was talking about... my name is
Yeshua.
“He
looked at me, and his eyes were shifty, mean, and shrewd. I usually
like people,
as you know, but I did not like this man. He said, ‘Maybe you are,
maybe you are not my man. I really don’t care either way, because
you don’t count.
“I
have come with a new religion; I have brought the Messiah. Don’t
interfere with me – I plan to have a following all over the world.’
“Now,
when he mentioned the word Messiah, I just had to laugh, and so I
slapped him on
the shoulder and left him alone to continue with his business.”
“So
did he go back to his preaching?” asked Mary Magdalene. Her voice,
I was pleased
to tell, was not so strained anymore.
“Yes,
he went right back to his preaching,” said Yeshua, his voice full
of laughter. “I stood at a little distance and listened to him as
he talked on and on. Do you know what he said? He was telling
everyone that I died on the cross, and then I rose from the dead and
came back to life! Even I, in my best days as a magician, could have
never invented such nonsense. Rose from the dead! Can you believe
it?”
from
the book What the Aliens Told Us About God, Jesus, Human Soul and
the Afterlife, by
Maximillien de Lafayette, pp. 96-121
