The Six Messiahs - Mark Frost [57]
"You're saying these books are somehow alive," said Eileen.
"In a way, yes. This is complicated. Are you familiar with how a telephone works, my dear?"
"Not exactly."
"Neither am I. But as I understand it, there is a mysterious substance in the little part that you hold and speak into...."
"The mouthpiece."
"Thank you; a substance that when we speak into this mouthpiece vibrates and turns our words into an electrical signal which runs along the wires to the other person—don't ask me how—where there is more of this magical substance in the part they listen to—the earpiece, yes?—that also vibrates and turns these signals back into the words we spoke over here so they can understand them. Isn't that fantastic?"
Three feet away, Bendigo Rymer began to snore, a foghorn cutting through the clacking of the train.
"So holy books are like this substance."
"Yes. The word of God has been received by them on their pages, translated into words and numbers and sounds so that someone who approaches with the proper education can eventually decipher and understand. God speaks in one end; we listen on the other."
"If that's the case," asked Eileen, taking another bite of apple, "why isn't everybody in on the mystery?"
"Not everyone is ready. A person must achieve a high degree of purity before studying this material or the power of the information would rip them apart like a hurricane. There is a saying: The vessel must be made strong for the passing down of wisdom."
With a thud, the silver flask he'd been sipping from slipped from the sleeping Rymer's seat to the floor at Stern's feet. Eileen tucked the flask back under Bendigo's arm, grateful that she hadn't been drinking tonight; she'd indulged altogether too much recently, comfort in place of company, and it was time she tapered off. She rested her head against the seat, more relaxed than she could remember, tranquilized by the gentle rocking of the train and the steady sound of Jacob's voice.
"This has traditionally been the role of the priesthood, in every religion: to help men and women prepare for the receiving of spiritual information from the higher realms."
"All my priest ever did for me was try and stick his hand up my skirt," said Eileen, instantly regretting it.
"Well, that is the great challenge of living, isn't it?" said Jacob, not at all embarrassed. "Humans are divided beings attempting to reconcile our two natures: the spiritual and the animal. That's why I wear this ribbon around my waist, by the way; it is called a gartel, symbolically it separates the higher and lower parts of our nature and serves as a constant reminder to me of our ongoing struggle. We are all, in our own way, trying to make this tikkun, this healing or repair inside, to reconcile our divided selves. Every individual is responsible for making the tikkun in his own life; it is the primary responsibility of living. They say if enough people are able to do this work, one day such a healing may come for the entire world."
"Think the world's fallen from grace, do you? We're all hopeless sinners and the like."
"You are English, are you not?"
"Dear me, is it still so obvious?"
"Only in a most delightful way. But let me ask you: Is there any doubt in your Church of England that man is a completely wicked, sinful wretch?"
"Of the worst sort. And my experience with men bears that out."
Jacob laughed. "This is the feeling most people have about their life, you know. That they have failed their God, or themselves, in some fundamental way."
"Is that what you feel, Mr. Stern?"
Stern looked at her, his blue eyes as bright as shiny buttons, joy radiating from him as steadily as heat from a coal fire. What an attractive younger man he must have been, thought Eileen, instantly deciding how wonderful her life would be now if she had met him then.
"There is no question," said Stern, "that