Fatum Per Annorum Milia (1)

Fatum Per Annorum Milia

 

 

It was bright and sunny and cool enough not to be hot, yet warm enough not to be cold when Leonard went to the farm on that fateful day. The sun was out, out hard and heavy and beautiful. The place was in the Southern California desert, but it was late March, and it was a truly beautiful Spring. The inconstant weirdness of freezing-cold one day and entirely-too-warm the next day winter was ending. It was a time of rebirth, as has been stated throughout history and religion for that particular season.

 

Leonard loved God; he loved Jesus, and he considered it his personal mission to save souls awaken everyone to the beauty of Christianity. Well, it was his church mission too. He was often encouraged to do this by the church, as it was lacking funds and he was of the opinion that there was no better man for the job. What heathenistic and horrible world this would be without the church. Leonard was absolutely convinced this beautiful day was a gift from God.

 

He had noticed the farmhouse before, quite a bit away from the main road, on a dirt...trail...almost. There were tire tracks on the damp earth, telling him that vehicles were capable of committing to the journey. The dirt path was about half a mile off of the main road. He had seen, briefly considered visiting, then ignored it before. The weather was absolutely beautiful and he felt the spirit of Jesus in him on that particular day. Everyone deserved to hear of The Lord, even if they lived a bit out of the way.

 

The front porch had an old coat of paint that was so far off-white, that really it was almost a greyish sickly yellow. Paint was beginning to peel off here and there, like some primordial animal shedding its skin in small sections at a time. An old frayed and threadbare mat sat in front of the reddish door. Welcome, it read, the black dye used almost completely eradicated by time and the individual strands that were colored were reverting back to the original beige of the rest of the mat.

 

There was no doorbell, so Leonard rapped on the door. It reminded him of a line from the Edgar Allen Poe poem, rapping at my chamber door. Leonard was relatively well-read, if not specifically focused on one particular subject, but he had a little information from many, and he considered himself to have above average intelligence, not realizing that most people consider themselves to be smarter than others while often clearly showing off the fact that they are not. He remembered wondering what would have happened to Poe if he had found Jesus before his sad demise. He considered it his personal mission to show everyone the light and the path of The Lord.

 

The old man who answered the door had long white hair and a beard that was long, mostly white, but speckled with grey in parts. He almost thought to himself that they guy would make an older stereotypical biker if dressed differently, but quickly decided that wasn’t quite right. His hair was long, sure, but his face seemed unusual to Leonard. There were wrinkles, as the guy was old, but no noticeable pores. If he were younger, his face might have had a bizarre porcelain-doll quality to it. It exuded something, initially Leonard thought kindness, but that wasn’t it. Not benevolence, nor malevolence, not exactly neutrality, he couldn’t place it.

 

“Hello, young man, may I help you?” The old man’s voice was deep, but not exactly heavy, perhaps almost melodic in a way, Leonard decided.

 

“Good afternoon sir, I was wondering if I could have a few minutes of your time to talk about something important.” This was when most people realized why he was here, and the excuses came, or the statements of already belonging to a particular church, or on occasion...the insults.

 

The old man didn’t man didn’t say anything for almost twenty seconds. He didn’t look like he was thinking, just kept looking at Leonard, not unkindly, but certainly not happily or full of love either. “I’ll make you a deal, okay?”

 

Leonard knew in his heart that he was there to help people, and wasn’t much interested in a deal. However, life was about sacrifice. He sacrificed his time to save people’s immortal souls, so he might be able to sacrifice a bit more, within reason, to save this person. Jesus Christ also knew the meaning of sacrifice as he gave himself to save mankind. “What kind of deal did you have in mind?”

 

“I will listen to you until you are out of breath and blue in the face, if you can answer me a question. Is that a fair deal?”

 

“My life is an open book, I will answer anything about myself you would like.” This was going to be easy.

 

“No, it’s not a personal question. It’s a bit more academic.”

 

“What if I don’t know the answer? Then...you won’t listen?” He was beginning to think that the old man had nothing better to do than weirdly ask questions. Maybe he was lonely and just wanted some company.

 

“If you don’t know the answer, then you can guess. If you get it right, then I will listen to what you have to say. Do we have a deal?”

 

“Why not? Okay, deal.” He stuck out his hand to shake and the old man grasped it, and shook with a firmer grip than Leonard had anticipated.

 

“What two people contributed most greatly to today’s overabundance of Christianity, the religion you wish to discuss with me today?”

 

“What makes you think that I am here to talk with you about Christianity?”

 

“Let’s say that I didn’t already know based on the fact that you knocked on my door and want to talk to me for seemingly no reason. You are Caucasian, wearing a suit, have a Watchtower pamphlet in your hand. Even without the rhetoric of Watchtower, you are the wrong color to be promoting Islam, not that they knock on strangers’ door in their recruiting process. Hindus don’t knock on non-Indian doors and they don’t knock on any doors around here. Jews and Buddhists don’t actively recruit.

 

“Also, I stated that you need to answer my question, not I yours. However, if you want to ask some questions in relation to mine, that will be acceptable, but only to my initial question. Let’s not get carried away with questions.”

 

Leonard didn’t know what to think of this. Was the old man leading him on in some form of manipulation? It seemed likely. He did that himself when promoting Christianity, or more importantly, the form of Christianity that his particular church espoused. “So, I have to answer your question correctly, but I can ask you questions in order to get my answer?”

 

“I thought we already established that.”

 

“If I guess incorrectly—or incorrectly in your opinion,” Leonard quickly corrected himself, “Then you won’t listen to me?”

 

“Please allow me to elaborate: If you are incorrect, then you can guess again. You can ask me multiple questions. So, technically, you can do this, even if it takes you a significant amount of time. Even if you have to come back at a later date. It’s really all a matter of whether or not you feel you have the time for this. Do you have time?”

 

“Yes, I do.”

 

“My apologies. I’ve been a bit remiss in my duties as host. Would you care for something to drink?”

 

Thoughts were flowing through his head as he was beginning to think through history, or what he remembered having learned of history back when he was a student, sort of surprised that only bits and pieces of history books came back to him. Without thinking much, he stated, “I don’t drink.”

 

“I think what you mean is that you don’t drink alcoholic beverages, but everybody drinks at a minimum, at least water, yes? How about a nice glass of lemonade?”

 

“Yes, okay, thank you.”

 

The man turned around and briefly entered the house. He came back in short order with two chairs, wooden, bulky and seemingly awkward to move. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any permanent outdoor furniture. Please, take a seat, think on what you might say or any questions you might have, while I go get us some lemonade.” The man paused at the door, then said, “It is such a beautiful day, I hope you don’t mind sitting outside.”

 

“Not at all,” replied Leonard. He then sat, and thought. He didn’t have to go through history books, he decided. As was constantly reinforced within his church, history paled in significance to the truth of Jesus. Christianity was just supposed to be.

 

The man returned with a tall glass of lemonade, and handed it to Leonard. “Any ideas that you would like to kick around?” He sat himself down in the other chair with a deep sigh. A sense of exhilaration seemed to fill him, and he blatantly smiled for the first time.

 

“I would say there is really only one person who is single-handedly responsible for making Christianity what it is today: Jesus.” Maybe there was a distant second, but Jesus had to be first. Saying otherwise was idiotic, there could be no Christianity without Christ.

 

“Wrong.” The old man’s smile seemed to widen even further.

 

“How can you say that? It doesn’t make any sense.”

 

“Your question is related to the original, so I will answer it.” The old man sat back in his chair as best he could, and seemed to reflect for a few moments. “I know you have faith in Jesus being more than a mere man, and you believe that he is actually the son of Yahweh, but the truth is—“

 

“Who is Yahweh? Jesus is the son of God.” Leonard was getting a bit upset, like on occasions when he watched a person on TV attempt to convince others of atheism. He told himself to calm down, listen, and then he would later be able to convince this man to allow Jesus into his heart.

 

“Yahweh is your god, the Abrahamic deity from Judaism, that both your kind and Muslims believe to be the only god. Or I should say, Yahweh is what that god is commonly called amongst scholars and believers today.”

 

Leonard thought back, and it made sense, he had heard the name before, or something similar, he just couldn’t remember, being mostly focused on pushing his beliefs on others. Also, Christianity was predominantly concerned with the New Testament and that was all about Jesus. “Okay,” he said, feeling slightly foolish.

 

“Being overly defensive, won’t get you far. Let’s have a pleasant dialogue, not an argument. Agreed?”

 

“Yes, I agree, I’m sorry.”

 

“Now, you will listen without interrupting, yes? Look, what I am about to say may be a bit offensive to you. I am going to approach Jesus from a historical perspective, not a religious one, okay? We both agree that Jesus existed, correct?”

 

Of course he existed. “Yes.”

 

“I’m going to tell you something. Jesus did exist, but never in his life did he claim to be the son of Yahweh. He was of Judaic stock, a fine house with good ancestry, which was important to people of the time, but little involved in politics or even religion, in his life.”

 

Leonard had heard others, nonbelievers, state that Jesus didn’t exist, or was a powerful Jewish king, or had even heard the theory that Jesus was gay. Compared to horrific and offensive theories by other heathens, this old man’s statement wasn’t so bad. “Look, I believe him to be the son of God, and a reflection of God, and in a way...God.”

 

“Well, you have to accept the possibility of what I am saying as true, for the conversation to continue. Believe whatever you want when we are done, but you must at least consider it possible that what I am saying is true...for now.”

“Fine,” he said, then did, to an extent. The man hadn’t said anything overly egregious yet.

 

“Jesus didn’t self-promote. Everything he became, happened after his death, by others. He did try to promote values that modern day Christians believe, but he didn’t travel around speaking. He didn’t come back to life after his death. And he wasn’t betrayed by Judas nor crucified by the Romans. All those assumptions are inaccurate.”

 

“Okay, I will suspend my belief, for now. I suppose he wasn’t a carpenter too?”

 

“Oh, he was a carpenter, that much is true. He was a carpenter.”

 

“Fine, he was a carpenter.”

 

The old man continued, “So Jesus didn’t self-promote, so he wasn’t necessarily responsible for the religion that has carried his name down through the centuries as the messiah. He did have disciples, but we aren’t going to consider them as important to the spread of the religion as others.

 

“Look, around the time that you believe your savior was using alchemy to change water to wine there were hundreds of people claiming to be prophets or attempting to engage others in new religions, or slightly deviated versions of religions that already existed at the time, and several of them prevailed, albeit briefly. This all took place in the Roman Empire, although a great deal of it happened when Rome was still the Roman Republic.

 

“Mithraism was the religion that almost came to be what was passed down to us today, but for circumstance. It had all the markings of becoming the next big thing, more popular that the cult of Isis, and outshining those who solely devoted themselves to the Olympians. Mithraism basically has roots in both the Greek and Zoroastrian worship of the god, Mithras. It was easily compatible with the gods the Romans worshipped at the time. They didn’t have to abandon Jupiter, whom the Greeks referred to as Zeus. They merely had to incorporate Mithras into their already large pantheon of gods. That was a much easier sell to the Romans, who already based their gods primarily on the Greek versions anyway, than to start some whole new set of beliefs based on some before unheard-of deity.”

 

“That’s all well and good, but Jesus wasn’t using alchemy.”

 

“Well, okay, as I hinted at, he didn’t change anything to anything else at all through alchemy or magic or miracles or faith or whatever else one may think as he was busy with carpentry and philosophy and...living his life. It was suspected, for a time, by non-Christians that trickery was being used somehow, as it has always been used in religion, and that miracles weren’t happening, but some form of alchemy.”

 

“Yes, okay...sorry. I am still suspending my beliefs.”

 

“You see, Christianity refused to be a part of any other system of beliefs, like Judaism before it refused to be incorporated amongst, ‘false idols,’ as Yahweh is a jealous god.”

 

“Well, it’s much more than that. You can’t—”

 

“You can explain that all to me later, as agreed, but not at the moment.”

 

“Fine.”

 

“Now, since I have told you why Jesus wasn’t necessarily highly responsible for Christianity, back to my original question: What two people are responsible for the spread of Christianity? If it makes you feel better, you can consider this to be merely my opinion and not an absolute truth.”

 

“They weren’t disciples of Jesus?”

 

“No, they were not, but I will give you a clue: All roads lead to Rome.”

 

“They were Roman?”

 

“Well, let’s say that one of them was Roman.”

 

Leonard thought for a moment, trying to recall what he knew about Roman history. A few names leapt to mind, the most dominant of all, “Caesar?”