Soul Matters: Book Three: Towering Confusion

The next three days were uneventful. Betty busied herself with ministering to a bereaved community, which left her little time to question Phil about his ‘odd’ behavior of late.

Phil would have admired her spontaneous and imaginative compassion for the grieving church-members, because selfless service was a blessing to them all. However, it was also on behalf of Pastor Jones, who in life and in the afterlife, meant to destroy Phil. Betty was on the wrong side. Without really knowing it, she had betrayed Phil and chosen to stand with those who would like nothing better than to see Phil executed as a heretic.

Phil didn’t let himself dwell on this unpleasant turn of events. Mostly he stayed out of Betty’s way. When she was on a mission, she became single-minded, focused, abrupt, and expected immediate obedience to her stated needs. She assumed everyone around her was put there by Divine decree to aid her in accomplishing her sacred goals.

Consequently, Phil ran her errands without protest, but generally avoided her as much as he could.

Tuesday night rolled around, and Phil left a message with Betty’s answering service he had a late meeting with a new client. It wasn’t entirely a lie, as he had scheduled such a meeting, but he also rescheduled it for later in the week after he called Betty. He did make sure both meetings were in his schedule in case Betty checked with his secretary.

Phil settled into the dirt alcove as the sun was setting over the ocean. If this was to be his last day on Earth, he wanted the picture of the sun-splattered ocean to be in his mind.

When the sun was gone, he lowered his eyes and brought himself to Manuel’s patio.

“As you might imagine,” the angel said, “they have forbidden me to help you. But I suppose I can ask a few questions.”

Phil walked over to the marble bench and sat next to the angel. The flowers were still yellow throughout the garden, and Phil dressed himself in jeans and T-shirt.

“Where is the Void?” Manuel asked.

Phil frowned at the question. The Void, as he understood it, was the matrix for reality itself. As such, it was everywhere and nowhere.

Then he caught the angel’s meaning, “It’s inside me. It’s my center.”

“Like a conduit,” Manuel added. Then he questioned, “What can come through it?”

“Anything I want,” Phil answered. “I think.”

Manuel smiled and changed his line of questioning, “What would block the conduit?”

Phil knew that answer. It was one of the more disturbing insights he received lately.

“The ego must block all knowledge of the Void,” Phil said. “It does so by feeling the Void as an empty hole needing to be filled up.”

“Good,” Manuel said and stood. “Let’s go.”

The angel placed a hand on Phil’s shoulder to initiate flight, and soon they were on their way to Jehovah’s Compound. It was located on the white plain of the archetypal world, and within minutes they approached pearly gates. Gatekeepers waved them through.

“No, it’s not St. Peter,” Manuel chuckled. “The gatekeepers are angels assigned to this Compound.”

Jehovah’s heaven was divided into three main sections. Phil could see how they were divided as they flew to the center of the vast network. In one, there was the Temple of Solomon sitting high above Jerusalem. The second section looked like an oasis with domed structures rising higher than the palm trees. The third section was a massive throne room with regiments of worshippers neatly lined into chaste choirs singing God’s praises.

Where these three sections met was a large circular coliseum. Outside the stadium’s walls was an international market place of booths lining narrow cobblestone alleyways.

“They all long for the good old days,” Manuel explained the archaic look of this Compound. “Jerusalem, in the Middle Ages, was a meeting place for all three monotheistic faiths. They lived in some harmony back then – up until the Moslems decided to conquer the world, and Urban II decided to get rid of all the surplus knights by mounting the Crusades to halt Moslem expansion.”

The angel landed them in the center of the coliseum. A crowd was already in attendance, and Phil looked up from the sandy floor to the thousands in their seats. As they noticed his arrival, they began booing him, stomping their feet, shaking their fists, and throwing what they had at him. Those projectiles bounced off an energy shield to land harmlessly just inside the arena.

“Well,” Manuel shrugged and smiled, “have fun. I need to go take care of Pastor Jones. He can’t remember much more than his last moments with you. I get to help him remember not only this last life, but all his other lives. When he can do so, he will be able to begin the necessary review, which will lead to his next reincarnation. Until he can do so, he’s stuck here.”

“And you would just as soon leave him stuck here,” Phil observed.

Manuel’s grin deepened, “It would keep him out of trouble.”

Phil grinned back at the angel as he lifted off the arena floor and left the coliseum.

Presently Jehovah made his entrance. He descended on pure white clouds with winged angels fluttering about sounding trumpets.

This was the first time Phil had seen angels with wings. They also wore thicker robes encircling their bodies in artful folds. It was a magnificent sight.

After that, the air became perfumed with incense. A series of bells began ringing. And the crowd burst into songs of praise -- songs with Alleluia as the dominant theme.

Jehovah stepped off his cloud and strode forwards. His robes were white and a rich purple sleeveless cloak was over the robe. His forked beard was braided, and his graying hair was thick curls to his shoulders.

“Silence!” he commanded.

The crowd-noise rumbled to a halt as Jehovah stood quietly in their adoration.

After a long pause, he spoke, “We have a task before us today, a task of singular significance -- a task I loathe to undertake because of my infinite mercy. But mercy can only be truly bestowed upon the righteous. Therefore, we must bring this lost soul back to us.”

The crowd liked it, Phil noticed. The people cheered the tortured logic as they would no doubt cheer his destruction.

Jehovah waited for the cheers to die down before he took another few steps towards Phil. Some fifty paces now separated Phil from the twenty-foot-tall Jehovah. The angels withdrew to hover above the arena. It was just the two of them now. The duel could begin.

“Kneel before me,” Jehovah demanded. “Kneel and you will be spared the wrath of God.”

Phil didn’t kneel. Instead, he began drawing energy from the realms of Flesh, Force and Spirit. The combined energies poured into him more quickly this time, and he absently thought Michael would approve.

He moved the energy outside his body to fill his aura. Once again, he could see the swirling colors of the mixed energies. He hoped it was a strong enough shield to protect him from the wrath of God.

Bolts of white lightning shot from Jehovah’s hands. He hurled them with dramatic arm gestures -- like a maestro of mayhem. And the crowd cheered.

The bolts flared against Phil’s shield, but the impact drove him backwards. None of the bolts actually penetrated the shield, but the force of the collision bounced him like a tetherball around a pole.

After a few minutes of scrambling back to his feet, and circling to avoid being pinned against the arena wall, Phil realized it would only be a matter of time before his concentration wavered. When it happened, one of those bolts would penetrate his shield, and that would be the end.

“Virgnous,” Phil heard in his mind.

“Morrigan,” he answered. “Help me.”

“I’ve been trying to,” she said, “but your mind has not focused on me.”

“It is now,” Phil said as he rolled to his feet again.

Then he took a deep breath and invited Morrigan into him. Her presence flowed quickly and decisively to fill his entire spirit-body -- flowed into him through that hole in his center Manuel reminded him of.

“Call in the Lord of the Elements,” she directed Phil. “You will need the aid of both your parents in this battle. Hurry, now. I’ll hold him off.”

Phil flinched as Jehovah shot another bolt at him, but this time there was no impact. The bolt flared against his -- or Morrigan’s -- shield and simply evaporated.

Phil brought the image of Green Man to mind and called to the leafy statue. He came to life and Phil asked him to enter Phil’s spirit-body.

As the Lord of the Elements flowed into him, Phil had the distinct feeling of a reunion. He felt whole and uniquely complete. The feeling nearly brought him to tears.

Green Man spoke, “We can be nostalgic later, my son. Right now, we must deal with Lord Jehovah.”

A sudden influx of energy gathered in Phil’s chest. He directed it out of his hands, and two bolts of yellow light lanced towards Jehovah.

This time, the mask of God fundamentalists worshipped staggered back. The crowd noise changed to shock, then anger.

Looking confused, Jehovah shouted, “You dare to attack me?”

Then Jehovah glared at the hovering angels and demanded, “Seize him.”

“We cannot,” one replied. “Your oath to the Council of Punishment binds us to inaction.”

“What trickery is this?” Jehovah shouted back.

But before the angels could answer, Phil nailed Jehovah with two more shots. He staggered backwards again.

Then Phil began speaking. He wasn’t sure where the words were coming from; he just knew he must address not only Jehovah, but the crowd as well.

“Lord Jehovah,” Phil said, and his words had the empowered quality of before. “It must be clear to you and to your followers which of us is the arrogant one.”

The crowd reacted by jeering him once again.

Unfazed, Phil went on, “Allow me to continue my evolution in spirit, and I will honor your name. Prevent it, and I will reduce you to the petty volcano god you once were.”

Phil’s chest charged with energy, and his hands began to glow yellow-gold.

Jehovah must have noticed two more shots were locked onto him, because he announced, “Honor my name, then. Do so, and I send you on a mission of discovery. Find for us the Holy Grail, which has been for so long lost to my kingdom. Do you accept this commission?”

“I do,” Phil answered and genuflected before Jehovah.

“Rise then and depart with my blessings,” Jehovah said, then hurried to climb aboard his cloud.

He exited the coliseum to a thunderous roar of approval from the souls of his hybrid heaven.

Morrigan spoke, “Well, that went nicely. Wouldn’t you agree, my dear?”

Green Man allowed, “It couldn’t have gone better.”

“You may release us, now, Virgnous,” Morrigan said, but added, “Next time, don’t be so macho. Enlightenment is a journey into compassionate connection, not compulsive self-reliance.”

Phil smiled at her chastisement and said, “I’m sorry, mother. Bad habits are hard to break.”

“Indeed,” was her curt reply.

“Thank you both for being there for me,” Phil said formally and his throat tightened with tears. “I release you.”

The presence of his true parents vanished. However, there was a lingering echo, a residue of their love for him. Before he could puzzle out how archetypes could possess the qualities they did, Manuel appeared at his side.

Phil looked at the angel and smiled. Then he noticed the crowd was leaving the coliseum.

Manuel told him, “I was able to help Pastor Jones remember about his Cayman Island accounts. Greed has a lingering hold on spirit. Once he remembered, he got all teary-eyed about not being able to enjoy his ill-gotten gains; so, I let him know I transferred all his money to UNICEF. Boy, did that make him mad.”

Phil laughed as Manuel put his hand on Phil’s shoulder. They flew back to the angel’s patio. The yellow flowers were a welcome sight.

As Phil headed towards the portal back to his body, Manuel said, “It seems you have undone for yourself the tragedy of the Tower of Babel. But do not underestimate the strength of the ego. If there was any lesson the angels learned, that was it. The ego is strong. In one of the Hindu sayings, its strength is commemorated: ‘It takes the mind to slay the mind’.”

Phil knew the saying and finished it for the angel, “Therefore, how do you avoid confusion?”

“Yep,” Manuel ended. “Now, go find the Holy Grail.”