The Harvest

by John David Krygelski

  This is the basis for all of the opposition to the belief in God throughout history. Mankind never learned to apply a simple test to the various societal authorities, the test for a conflict of interest. If anyone – any lawmaker, leader, scientist, or parent who urges others to forsake their belief – will gain power should that entreaty be heeded, he or she should be ignored and dismissed, just as a judicious person would dismiss the arguments of a felon wishing to remain free.

  This is not to say that members of the clergy do not have a conflict of interest, for they also gain power by increasing the size and scope of their congregations. When Christ walked the Earth, his sermons were not directed toward the building of a ministry; they spoke of an internal belief in His Father and a personal relationship between each person and God. It was purely the human tendency to congregate with the like-minded which initially created what would become the institutions of Christianity.

  Reese stopped typing. Looking around at the milling crowds, he agonized over the message behind his words, not knowing if this journal – this personal recap of the past few days, this recollection of the words of Elohim – would descend after today into obscurity, a mildly interesting tract only read by a few, or would be elevated to the level of a new Gospel. The last thought shook him, disturbing him profoundly. Did Luke or Matthew or Mark or the other Apostles realize, as they committed their own thoughts to paper, that each sentence, each word, most likely written somewhat casually, would be scrutinized for centuries, plumbed for hidden meanings, argued over endlessly by scholars who had dedicated their lives to understanding those words? If the Apostles knew the import and significance of their words, Reese wondered if they could have written them at all.

  As one of those who had studied the writings, Reese was painfully aware of the times in history when certain phrases, particular word choices within the Gospels, were seized upon to justify both good and evil acts – phrases which, if the Apostles had the benefit of two thousand years of retrospection, might not be as they would write them today.

  “Good grief,” he said aloud. “The Gospel according to Saint Reese. I don’t think I’ll be discussing this concern with Claire.” Smiling at his own words, he realized that, by definition, she would be Saint Claire. “That might help a bit,” he muttered.

  Fighting off the urge to return to the first page of his writings, to meticulously dissect each line for unintended meanings, he assured himself that this was nothing but a journal, a sharing of his experiences with Elohim. It was not a Gospel. Clinging to this thought, he continued typing:

  As has obviously been the case in the many years following each of Elohim’s past visits, the reaffirmation of His presence will again be gradually eroded, subject to the chiseling and whittling away of this reality by those whose thirst for power over mankind is never slackened or quenched. Despite the intensity of belief felt by most on this day, His departure will reopen the door to those who seek to weaken His hold. And they shall rush through the portal, headlong, brimming with intensity and patient with the foreknowledge of their inevitable victories.

  “Shall rush through the portal,” Reese said, again to no one but himself. “I don’t think I’ve ever used the word shall in my life. I’m starting to write like an Apostle.” With this thought, Reese abruptly snapped the laptop closed and rose from the bench, resuming his aimless walk.

  א

  Hours passed. The sun, unseen through the clouds, moved westward across the sky, insinuating barely a trace of its light down to the Earth. Nowhere did it directly shine. Nowhere, either, did a single drop of rain fall. It was as if all was frozen, locked within a gray resin like a mosquito trapped in amber. Earth, the home of mankind for millions of years, was cut off from the rest of the universe. Isolated and segregated. The dense, misty shell was a curtain behind which the stage was being reset for a new play.

  Behind the curtain, as the end of this day drew nearer, life was building to a near frenzy. Hardly a soul was untouched by the commotion, as good-byes were spoken and kissed, passions briefly reignited, scores settled, and minutes prized like years as individuals scurried to complete their goals. Each of the tomorrows would be a day for introspection and reflection, a day to ponder the deeds and choices which caused so many to remain behind. But on this day, with the presence of Elohim palpable, with the fleeting return of the departed evidenced in all directions, and with the final act of the epic play promised to be a miracle, it was a time for immersion, alertness, and awareness.

  It was also a time for vengeance – a final opportunity to wreak havoc upon those who would soon be gone, as well as those renewing their vow to return to the path, caught in the midst of a moral and spiritual rejuvenation. For every man, woman, and child who rejoiced at the ramifications of the incipient transformation caused by the arrival of Elohim, there were hordes who pledged to quash the movement, turning the act of being reborn into a stillbirth. The tempo of their activities also lurched toward a crescendo, not only as plots were put into motion, but in small ways, as well. Petty revenge, thoughtless acts of malice, and vindictive, mean-spirited deeds against those perceived to be favored by Elohim were liberally sprinkled among every group on Earth. They urgently unleashed inner demons as the clock ticked away the countdown, fearing they would run out of time with vitriol yet unspent.

  Only Elohim and his angels carried with them an analogue for this moment in time, as the memory of no living being on Earth held, secreted in an unconscious recess, the events of the prior visit. The metamorphosis expanded to encompass every aspect of life. Leaders, powerful only days before, plummeted to the ranks of the erstwhile. Rabbis, priests, and other religious figures, long frustrated by years of their words falling upon deaf ears, found a broader audience with auditory senses restored, paying rapt attention.

  Those deigned not fit for an eternity in Heaven, also hungry for a leader, found several candidates who pandered to their resentment and anger. From street corners and soapboxes to the airwaves, the eloquence of discontent spewed from the mouths of a multitude of men and women, coveting the robe of authority. All quoted from the words of Elohim, distorting the intent and corrupting the context, in their attempts to expose him as a harsh and uncaring God, their message easily finding a receptive constituency.

  It was, as the verity of human nature would dictate, an inevitable moment of polarization. Only a minute segment of mankind would be immune from the pressure to choose a camp, pick a side, or form an alliance by the waning of this day.

  א

  Rabbi Leo Schmidt stepped from the train, still unsure as to why he had suddenly left his home in New York and returned to Washington, D.C. Without being aware of the parallel, he also noticed the same changes in human interactions that Reese Johnson had observed earlier in the day. He was both pleased and disquieted by them as his eyes swept the platform. His time, since his meeting with Elohim and the mind-shattering events on the front steps of the State building, had been divided between his family and his fellow rabbis, endlessly repeating not only the occurrences of that day, but his own feelings and opinions about them. Leo was pleased by the cautious receptiveness of his peers, for he had feared that their reactions would be as his had been when he first heard of Elohim.

  Arriving without a case or valise, the Rabbi worked through the crowd toward the exit doors and the taxi stand, hoping enough drivers had decided to work today.

  “Leo!”

  Schmidt heard his name shouted from behind. Turning, he saw Mario Bonavente, in formal vestment and cap, waving.

  “Mario,” he answered, stopping to allow him to catch up.

  The Cardinal approached, puffing slightly from exertion. “You’ve come as well, I see.”

  Smiling and hugging Bonavente, the Rabbi answered, “If I only knew why. Why are you here today?”

  Released from the friendly embrace, Mario stepped back and absentmindedly straightened his robe. “I have no clue, my friend.”

  “Would you join me i
n a cab ride, Mario?”

  “The diocese has a driver waiting in the front. Would you be interested in saving yourself a fare and riding with me?”

  “It would be my pleasure. Where are we going?”

  “To Elohim, I presume,” answered Bonavente.

  “Elohim, it is,” said Leo with emphasis. The two men resumed walking to the exit.

  א

  Walter and Doris Penfield climbed into the back of a waiting taxi which was idling at the stand in front of the arrival terminal at Reagan National. The driver, a man whose appearance caused Walter to conclude that he was of Middle Eastern origin, twisted around on the driver’s seat and asked, “Any luggage?” in an accented voice.

  Doris replied, “No. None. We’re going to the State Department. Do you know that address?”

  Smiling, the driver answered, “Yes, lady. I know where it is.” He turned back to the front, slapped up the flag on the meter, slid the Crown Victoria into gear, and pulled away from the curb.

  As he drove, Walter surreptitiously poked Doris in the side and pointed at the cab’s rearview mirror. Hanging from the mirror was a rosary, carved from teak wood, and a St. Christopher’s medallion. They exchanged a brief smile.

  א

  “C’mon, kids. Let’s go.”

  Matthew and Melissa came through the doorway connecting the adjoining suites. “Mom,” asked Matthew, “when we get to Heaven, can you stop calling us ‘kids’?”

  “Of course she will,” answered Melissa. “It wouldn’t be Heaven for us if she didn’t.”

  Claire smiled at both of them and said, “What if it wouldn’t be Heaven for me unless I could?”

  Matthew looked slightly crestfallen until Melissa said, “In Heaven, you’ll just think you’re saying ‘kids,’ but we’ll hear our names. That’s how it’ll work.”

  Claire’s smile changed to a wry grin. “You’re probably right. Are you both ready?”

  “Do you mean, were we both able to complete the process of brushing our teeth and dressing ourselves without direct supervision? Yes,” said Matthew.

  “It’s a good thing for you, Matthew, that Elohim doesn’t have a problem with sarcasm.”

  “Dad said He’s got a great sense of humor,” Matthew replied. “Why are we going to see Him today?”

  Claire pursed her lips, hesitating. “I don’t know,” she answered lightly. “I just felt like all of us going. We can spend the day with Daddy.”

  א

  “Pull over!” Mario abruptly said to the driver.

  “What is it?” Leo asked.

  “Look. It’s Dr. Johnson.”

  Leo’s eyes followed Mario’s outstretched finger, seeing Reese Johnson standing alone at the corner they were approaching. Pressing the button to lower his window, Bonavente leaned out and shouted, “Dr. Johnson!”

  Reese’s head turned, apparently startled from his reverie, and he saw the Cardinal. Smiling and waving, he carefully stepped off the curb and dashed through a clear spot in the traffic to the limousine door as Mario flung it open. Bending forward and climbing in, Reese was taken aback when he saw Leo Schmidt sitting on the rear-facing seat.

  “What’s the matter, Dr. Johnson? Don’t you like rabbis?” Leo asked jovially.

  Momentarily flustered, Reese shook his head, saying, “No. That’s not it. I just didn’t expect you.”

  With the door closed, Reese settled into the rear seat next to Bonavente, as the Cardinal, also teasing Reese, said, “Catholics and Jews are allowed to ride in the same car, you know,” laughing.

  “Okay! All right! Enough!” Reese responded, with a tone of mock exasperation. “The last I heard, both of you were in New York. Why are you here?”

  With an impish grin, Schmidt answered, “God told us to come.”

  Reese just looked at him blankly, saying nothing. Bonavente explained, “We don’t know. Both of us had a feeling we should come here to see Elohim today. So we came. We were even on the same train down from New York and didn’t know it until we ran into each other at the station.”

  “As I said, God told me to do it.”

  Reese, absorbing their words, stared at the carpeted floorboard for a minute before saying, “There are some things neither of you know. I don’t know if this has anything to do with your sudden urge to come here, but…something bad may happen today.”

  The smiles immediately left the faces of both men as they sensed the seriousness in Reese’s voice. Leo was the first to speak. “Something bad? Not Elohim?”

  “No. I mean not directly, I guess. I really don’t know the details. You know the way He is about sharing His knowledge. He sees it as tampering…intervening. Anyway, it’s supposedly something big, something really big, and something really evil.”

  “I thought they had that Stavros character in custody?” said Mario.

  “It’s not Stavros. He was just being used. The FBI thinks it’s Suri Kaval. He was behind the other attacks, and they think he’s behind whatever is planned for today.”

  “Where is he?” asked Schmidt.

  “Out of the country. No one knows where. At least no one is telling me.”

  Mario leaned closer to Reese and asked, “You said ‘the FBI thinks.’ Who do you think it is?”

  Reese glanced from the Cardinal to the Rabbi, taking a slow breath before answering. “Elohim told me His eternal enemy is involved.”

  Leo snorted, abruptly turning his head to look out the side window. Mario dropped heavily back into his seat.

  Reese, addressing Schmidt, said, “I know your faith doesn’t embrace the notion of Satan, at least in the same manner as Christianity.”

  Leo Schmidt turned back to face Reese and Bonavente. “We do not deny that Satan exists. We disagree as to the nature of this angel and his purpose.”

  “I’m afraid I am not as well versed in your faith as is Dr. Johnson, Leo. Could you explain?”

  “Of course. The Christians believe that Satan is an angel created by God. On that, we agree. You also believe that he openly disobeyed and defied our Creator, falling from favor and choosing a life of evil. Am I correct thus far?”

  “You are,” the Cardinal confirmed.

  “To believe such a thing, you must be willing to believe that God can create something which is imperfect. That is a leap taken by Christians which Jews choose not to follow, if you will forgive my chronological sloppiness, since Judaism preceded Christianity by thousands of years. We believe that all which is created by God is as God intended for it to be, including Satan.”

  “God created Satan to be evil?”

  “Yes. He created the dark angel for the sole purpose of tempting man, to test him, to determine his worthiness for Heaven. We call this the ‘evil inclination.’ It is a force we are all to overcome to reach Heaven.”

  “I didn’t know that,” said Mario thoughtfully.

  “In my conversations with Elohim,” Reese interjected, “this subject has come up many times. Elohim is steadfast in His refusal to intervene on behalf of man when confronted with evil. I’ve even asked Him, point-blank, why He does not just destroy Lucifer. His answer is that Lucifer is necessary for the testing and evolution of mankind, to create a group fit for Heaven.”

  “Exactly,” said the Rabbi. “The efforts of Satan to lead us off the path to Heaven are not only intended by God, they are designed by Him. This was obvious in the Book of Job, accurately relayed to us in your own King James Version, hardly a version friendly to Jews. In the first chapter, Satan along with several other angels appeared before God and questioned Job's faithfulness, claiming that he would not withstand horrible pain and utter destitution. Satan asked God’s permission to test Job. The request was granted, but He meticulously outlined for Satan what he might and might not do when putting Job to the test. The instructions were carefully followed by Satan. As we all know, Job struggled at first, even contemplated suicide, but by the end, his virtue prevailed over Satan’s carefully orchestrated torment. That has been t
he purpose God intended for Satan since the beginning of time. And Satan, His loyal and obedient servant, has complied. In fact, the word satan, in Hebrew, means ‘hinderer.’”