CHAPTER 6
Across the world television sets were tuned to this miraculous media event. To the religious leaders in the east, a new ascended master was born. To the spiritual awakening in the west, they acclaimed that there would finally be a Jesus with flesh and blood to guide them.
I didn’t know the following facts as I watched the birth of my messiah clone in Bethlehem, but in Vatican City the Pope was troubled. He hadn’t favored the project from day one. Many of the other Bishops urged him to let Russo continue. They said, “If it’s part of God’s plan it will happen no matter what. If the new Messiah isn’t genuine, the world will reject him.” The statement sounded wise. It echoed the words spoken by the Pharisees long ago when the church began. The Holy Father hadn’t agreed with them. He knew that the world waited for a new Messiah. The citizens of earth were desperate for someone to believe in, someone to follow. It didn’t make much difference if he was real or not. There was a faith vacuum. The world wanted a messiah. Russo and Thompson were giving it to them.
The Pope’s most disturbing feelings came during his own prayer times. As he touched God, he had no peace about the new Messiah. This unnerved the man who wore the ring of the leader of the Holy Roman Catholic Church. He often prayed, “Give me peace if this is your will.” Peace had never come instead he saw shadows. From the corner of his eye he saw murky shadows that moved inside of other thick shadows. He saw shadows that cast themselves along walls and floors. There were shadows that came from nothing seen and when nothing was there. One day he would write that he saw shadows that were painted on walls by an unseen artist with a penchant for hellish forms.
To the west, across the rolling ocean seas, Brian Guthrie sat with his father, a hospital chaplain, watching the events. Brian had gotten involved with a campus group. Something was ignited inside him. He felt like his faith was real for the first time. It wasn’t his father’s faith. It wasn’t anybody else’s faith. This was his own.
The whole Messiah clone topic was hot in their campus group. Most of the others extended wide open arms to a Messiah being born into this earth because of their leader. Brian was a gifted young man that understood spiritual things far beyond his years. Brian was always the first to question any statement that involved God.
Brian sat with his father as the images moved across the screen. Something about the commercials and the big production bothered him. He was interested. Guthrie wanted to see Jesus being born. He wanted to believe this was the real thing. Brian’s dad thought it might be a possibility that this was actually Christ. Brian wanted to believe—but he never did. Instead he watched and wondered what would come next.
As the last commercial ended, Maria’s contractions came very close together, she couldn’t hold off much longer, she had to push. The camera tightened on her sweet but pained face. Thompson’s voice over softly spoke, “During our many centuries of existence only one event separates history into two periods. It draws a line down its center. On one side we denote it B.C. On the other it is referred to as A.D. That world shaking event was the birth of Christ. Will this great miracle, happening at this moment, separate time once again? Yes, you are watching the most important moment of time in our history. The young, virgin mother is ready to give birth. Let’s watch this as my Orlando Prophecy Center’s Choir sings our most beloved Christmas Carol, “Silent Night.”
The director whispered to the doctors, “Let her push now. But there isn’t any hurry.” That was easy for him to say. I could tell from watching Maria that all she wanted was her pain done and over with. The pain stretched her face. Her lips drew tight on her teeth and her jaw clenched hard enough to crack each tooth. She pushed with excruciating pain and the choir sang with the ease of angels. I wondered if Maria could hear the music? Could she really be giving birth to the Christ-child? It didn’t seem possible that a young nun from northern Italy could be lying in a barn in Bethlehem on December 25th and giving birth to the Messiah. Yet, even the Virgin Mary stored words up in her heart because of her own confusion. I remember somewhere in the Bible that she came to Jesus after he had started his ministry and tried to persuade him to stop. Even she was unsure as to his real identity. At least, Maria knew it was Jesus.
The doctor called out that the head was visible. Her face showed that it hurt. It hurt terribly. I wanted this finished for her. Maria bore down again and the child had passed into life and into the bright lights of the world of television. She heard his first cries. Her baby was born.
I had done what I said I would do. I created an egg with the DNA of Jesus. Maria made the rest of it possible. We had done it. But we failed to ask the most prudent of questions: should we have done it?
I stared around at the others who were so honored to be here to witness the birth of the new messiah. In a small crowd tucked behind the director, a face stood out. The face struck me as a mixture of youthfulness and hardened experience. The two looks were odd together. Out of every person on the set he seemed to be the oddest one here.
I must have stared a little too long. His eyes caught mine and suddenly he dropped back and out of sight. I pressed through the crowd to get a better look but my movements were too slow. By the time I reached the otherside of the crowd, he was gone. Who was he? Thirty years later I would see his face once again but at that time he was only an odd face at an odd time.