Valley Wines And Spirits
The coming of the king part 46 by Jerry Como
Mary’s story ended with a laugh in which her listener joined. “This is one of the greatest of thy miracles–so they say.”
There was a moment of silence. Then the young man said, “There are no miracles. There is only Knowledge, and lack of it. When a soul is born of the Spirit, he cometh into the Light. Of Light cometh Knowledge and of Knowledge, Power. And as all life is one life, so is all power one power. Power and the Father’s will to work bringeth the consciousness that ‘I and my Father are one.’ There are no miracles.”
“By thy wisdom thou doeth away with miracles. Yet do men call thy mighty works miracles and dispute much as to who he is that doeth them.”
“Who do men say that I am?”
“Some say thou art Elias. Some say Jeremiah. Some say John. Some say that with a camel train didst thou go to the Far East while thou wert yet a lad and in the schools of the Magi, far beyond the Punjab valley and the Indus, did learn to work wonders.”
“And some say I am Beelzebub,” he added.
Mary made no reply to this.
“And to turn back into its fleshy form a few waves of the universal sea of life–is this a miracle, think you? Thy life aboundeth in greater miracles.”
“Methinks ofttimes that love is a miracle.”
“Thou thinkest well.”
“And oft my heart hath longed to open my lips to thee.”
“Speak on.”
“Thou art a man–not a youth, neither womanish. Yet when my eyes did first behold thee, in thy face shone the love of a mother for a child. Herein lieth a great mystery to my heart.”
“As all life is one life, so all love is one love. Hath thine own love never exceeded the bounds of thy understanding?”
“Yea. Yea,” she answered quickly. Then she paused.
“Say on, Mary,” he said, listening with interest.
“Once an infant, brown and foreign, did mistake me for its mother. And on that selfsame day did a brood of motherless nestlings do likewise. Strange sensations came to me, and the strange thought that mayhap there be one motherhood for all creatures as there be a Father to all mankind, and the strangeness of my feeling was the heart-throb of it.”
“Wilt thou turn thy face to me, Mary?” he asked. And when she had done so he said, “Thy feet are on the threshold of the mystery thy heart wouldst know.”
“And wilt thou lead me across?”
“Dost thou love me, Mary–more than all these?”
“Yea, my master, thou knowest that I love thee.”
“Wilt thou drink the cup given me to drink?”
“The cup, though I know not what thou meanest, with thee will I drink.”
“Ho! Ho! Ho! The new wine cometh,” called Lazarus on the steps, and laughing voices told the two on the housetop that the hour for words of wisdom was at an end. Lazarus and Joel brought the wine and the cups. Anna and Martha followed, carrying trays with sweetmeats and fruit. In the moonlight they set a table for a feast and after they ate and drank, Mary made music on the harp and they sang psalms.
“Lift up your heads, O ye gates, and be ye lifted up, ye everlasting doors, that the King of Glory may come in,” their voices sang in unison. Then the women sang “Who is the King of Glory?” and the rich bass of the men’s voices answered “The Lord strong and mighty!” Ever and again they sang, until Jerusalem lay dark and the red fires in the valleys had burned out.
“The night is far spent for one who hath come the way from Ajalon,”
Lazarus said at last.
“Bearing orange boughs,” Joel added.
“Yet a sweet burden,” laughed Anna as the three men turned to the stairs.
“My heart is eager for the festivities of to-morrow night,” Martha said as she gathered the cups and bottles. “Lights will shine and the silver trumpets blow, and great will be the throng in gay apparel carrying bright lulabs.”
“Yet far will the eye travel before it falleth on such fragrant boughs as these,” Mary added.
Anna and Martha laughed. Before they turned from the housetop, Mary picked a blossom from the branch on the arbor roof. “This goeth to my pillow,” she said. “It is a sign.”
[1] Festival branches carried at the annual Feast of Ingathering.
About the Author
Jerry Como is an avid industrial cleaner nut. Click to check out his collector dust blog.
Bruce Samaritan Bio Wine Tastings
