A BRIDE PREPARED    Friar Ted  (C) 1996        Alone once more, Maria?  Of course.  And why not?  How dare you think it could be any different?  Except for Joshua.  You had abandoned all hope for love. You were content to avoid loneliness. Even if your bed partners didn't care for you, they did enjoy you. You did that well.  Yet for nearly three years, you've kept yourself pure- just for him  He made you trust in love, ended your loneliness, restrained your lust.  You'd have been whatever he wanted- his wife, his mistress.  But he only wanted your trust, your love.  He had all that- with all your devotion, all your worship.  And he promised it would last forever.  Liar.  Because now he's dead.  And it's his own fault.  He courted it., dared them to do it.  And they were thorough.  Starting with the lash, on to the spikes, concluding with the spear.  You stood at his feet, watching it all.  You washed and dressed him for burial, hoping for a twitch, a gasp, a sign of life that never came.  God, if only you had never met him.  He had broken their power over you, banished them to the waste places- even as they swore to kill him.  But he is dead- unable to shield you should they return.  Did he defeat them, or must you still fear the fury of the Nephilim?.  Nephilim- the fallen ones.  Yes, you had been thrown to them, but you invited them inside.  Over twenty years ago.  Fourteen years old.  Unmarried.  Carrying the child of a Samaritan merchant.  Cast out of both your home and the people of Israel by your father, Rabbi of Magdala.  Waking up in Damascus of Syria to find your lover long gone- leaving you a bag of money, like you were a mere whore.  The money soon gone, you resort to theft and, yes, whoring.  And you find a woman with the potions to rid you of the unborn child.  She takes you in- an apprentice to her trade in potions, fleshly delights, spiritual forces. Not the spirits your father served, but their rivals.  Rebekah tells you of gleaming Heylel, first of the Nephilim, the Daystar who served at the Throne of the Most High till he could take it no more and led his fellows to freedom.  Of wise Nakhash, the Serpent who gave knowledge to the poor blind Earth slaves of the Most High.  Cain and Lilith, Baal and Ishtar, Behemoth- the Wild Beast of the Land, and Leviathan- the Worm of the Raging Deep, a few of the Nephilim hosts who withstand the Tyrant of Heaven.  That Tyrant slew them in a Deluge of water, but their shades call for allies in the struggle, till the last war against that Prince whom the Most High anoints.  That Prince walks the Earth now, in your homeland of Galilee.  He plans to destroy the Nephilim, Rebekah, and yourself- unless you all get him first.  "The Tyrant"- an apt description of your father's God.  And you betroth yourself to the Nephilim- your fellow outcasts.  Did they make you happy?  Relieve your pain?  Give you rest?  Dry your tears?  Not at all.  But they did make you laugh at the folly of those who expect any of the above.  Even Rebekah grew wary of your ruthlessness, your hopelessness.  Eventually, she died, used up, screaming about the masks falling from the Nephilim and the Dark Fire of the Abyss.  So sad- she was too weak to join them, a weakness you will not share.  You inherit her property, and decide to return home to Magdala with the wealth, to shame your father and his God.  There you buy an inn, a legitimate business to mask your real trade.  Barely hiding it as you cannot resist letting it be known that the Rabbi's daughter is an apostate harlot.  As expected, he soon visits- but not with the response you anticipate.  "Forgive me, Maria, for trying to show you God's Law without first knowing His Love."  "Empty words- to a dead girl, who perished with her unborn child.  And is reborn as a handmaiden to all your vicious God despises."  "I deserve your hatred.  My ‘righteousness' soon turned to the most hellish madness.  But the Passover two years after I cast you out, I went to the Temple and was broken- by a boy who debated with the elders.  Everyone was enjoying the exchange, but he stopped suddenly, and spoke to me.  " ‘A shepherd had a great flock.  In that flock was an ewe-lamb, the weakest and yet most precious of them all.  But that lamb had wandered away without his knowledge.  When she came back, he saw her, injured and hungry.  What did the shepherd do?'  "I couldn't speak.  He continued, ‘Would he heal and comfort, hold and feed her, or would he cast her to a pack of starving jackals while he sang psalms so that he might not hear her bleating terror?'  "I fell to my face, but he forced me to look at him.  ‘Even if a shepherd could do so, another- the Shepherd of David shall leap in the jackals's midst for that lamb, though he too shall be torn by them.  Pray that he is not too late.'  Then he smiled, ‘Zion's maiden child has been cast into bondage, but she shall be healed and washed, comforted and fed, prepared as a bride in the House of David...  You repent also, old man, that you might share in her salvation, lest the jackals also turn on you.'  "He went back to the group, and returned to the debate, like nothing had happened."  Somewhere between confusion and amusement, you ask, "And who was that boy, Father?"  "A Galilean, like ourselves, and I think, by ‘the Shepherd of David', he meant himself."  Nostrils flare, a gasp escapes you, you seize back your composure, "Are you so ashamed of what you sired that you went completely mad?  Is this a pathetic lie to make me crawl back? Shalom, Rabbi.  I will bother you no longer, and I expect the same of you.  Now, go!"  "Of course, Maria, but I will see you again- in Paradise, as Bride to Messiah."  Everything you have held back for years- memories and regrets, desires to repent, longings for love and trust- all cave in on you.  The chaotic rage of Nephilim flood in to stop it. You scream-  to awaken the next day, torn by your own nails, restrained to your bed for your own protection.  A servant explains- a fury overcame you.  The rabbi held you back from harming, perhaps even killing, yourself, only letting go once you were safely bound.  His heart couldn't survive.  They're burying him today.  You're rid of him, forever.  And you are shocked to find that you mourn your loss.  A few years later, nothing has changed.  You didn't let a small family crisis turn you back.  But finally, the storm breaks.  The cult arrives, mostly men, a couple of women- their leader approaches.  "I am Rabbi Joshua, a builder from Nazareth.  My people need a place for the night."  "You have no business here, Nazarene," you snarl, shocking yourself.  "Yes," he smiles, "my Father's business- to keep my word to your father."  The Galilean prince- the boy your father encountered.  You want to send them away, but you can't.  Neither he, nor the Nephilim, will permit you.  You hurry to get them rooms, to get them out of your sight.  Whispers awaken you, telling you why the Nazarene pack are here.  Strike the shepherd and scatter the sheep.  Slip a rope about his neck and finish him- quickly, quietly, bloodlessly.  In his room, looking at his sleeping face, you falter.  He is ordinary- and radiant.  Marked by pain, not of fear or guilt, but of compassion.  No!  You will not do it!  He doesn't deserve to be slain by a whore of darkness.  You flee to the roof.  Wings beat against the night, talons pluck at your soul.  They gather round to feast, if not upon him, then you.  You will steal their prey.  You look down from the roof's edge, press your dagger to your belly.  Ready to leap and pierce and sleep in the Void.  "Maria."  You look down to see a clenched fist keeping the blade from its goal, snapping it as it bites deep into his flesh.  You turn to face Joshua.  "But all my crimes against...," you falter, "against God."  There.  For the first time in years, you have spoken, as a believer, of God.  "And for all the crimes against you.  The worst of which was done in Our Name.  For that, We will pay, not you."  And another aspect of you falters, as other voices speak through you, "Leave the whore, Son of God.  What has she to do with you?  She freely betrothed herself to us, here and forever."  "We are taking her back.  You know me, but what have I to do with you?"    "We ripped out her spawn and trained her as Death's midwife.  We spread her out to lay with any who wanted.  We taught her the recipes of Eden's forbidden fruits- the food and drink of wisdom and madness.  When she starved for a father's compassion, a lover's commitment, we glutted her with bitterness, spiced with rebellious fury.  And the sow loved it- begged us for more."  "As she never knew what We wanted for her... You piped and she danced.  You used her as your toy until this moment.  I say, enough!  "I now call the tune.  "Now, it is my game.  "And truly, truly, I tell you, it always was.  "You lords and ladies of the Abyss, I am against you and I will have her!  Wicked little angels, once warring in Heaven, now struggling to keep hold of a poor desperate girl.  You wanted her to kill me, but she defied you.  She risked her sanity, her life to defy you and rescue me.  So, either you take me or I will now take her."  His unwounded hand extends to you.  You tremble with a vague hope, daring to take his hand in yours as he draws you into his arms, kissing your bowed head.  Caressing your cheek with his other hand... his wounded hand... his bleeding-  "NO!" scream the Nephilim as they fight to break you out of his unyielding embrace.  A chorus of the damned rage from your voice as they beg and threaten- to tear and cut and hang him in the blazing sun.  And he laughs.  Pure delighted laughter.  The laughter of a father in absolute love with his little girl.  "Keep defying them, Maria, and trust me.  Fight them out- take it all out on me.  "And howl, you Nephilim.  You had once walked in power upon the Earth, till you were swept away in Abba's Deluge.  "You survive, mere shades of ancient days, but can you endure the torrent of blood I cut loose upon the Earth, or the Fire that I kindle?  "Hear and lament- she and myriads like her shall be at my right hand.  And my bride shall dance with me upon your ashes.  "Still, you know not whom you fight.  Behold a mystery-  "I Am that I Am.  "Abba's Name- and mine."  He lets you go.  Takes every blow you give.  Absorbs all your fury into his sacred heart.  "You let me wander, hurt and lost, all these years, and now you show up!  All right, take me back!  Forgive me!  God loves me, Nephilim!  He's come for me and I'm going with him. Leave me and take your place in Gehenna!"  You collapse in his arms- weeping and laughing and enjoying the delight of devoted genuine love.  He strokes your hair as you rest against him.  "Truly, truly, I tell you, this day, your father and son rejoice in Paradise."    "A son?  He forgives me?"  "Of course."  "You are... Messiah?"  He nods.  "The Son of God."  He smiles, shrugs.  "You are... Yah-?"  He touches your lips, "That's all- for now."  It all begins there- the time of love and wonder and joy.  Now all dead, with him.  The Nephilim keep their word.  Why couldn't he?  He went to the tree, calm and forgiving.  But even he saw the truth- the horror of being forsaken by God.  He did die trusting God, but how can you?  Still, even if God did leave him, you will not.  He alone gave you any peace and happi- ness you had ever known.  Accept it and go on, faithful to him.  That alone will keep the Nephilim at bay.  Joshua had warned you all.  Yet no one would admit he could die.  You will see him again- at the End of all things, or perhaps when you die.  He does await you.  But you must see him now.  The other women will join you to give him the burial he deserves.  You had to do it too quickly three days ago.  Now his handmaidens must give him final honors.  His handmaidens, and his manservants, all the children of the Israel that is his bride.  So you go to his garden tomb, with oils and spices for him, money for the guards.  But no guard stands.  They lie about senseless.  No rock covers the tomb.  It sits to the side.  No body rests within.  Just a hollow shell of wrappings.  God, haven't they done enough?  Priests, Romans, Nephilim- who's to blame?  But you don't really care.  You just want him back.  You run to the house where the men cower.  Only Peter and John dare to come out to the grave.  But they also find nothing.  You refuse to return with them.  You will not lose Joshua.  He will be found.  You look again.  Two men now sit on his slab, daring to ask why you weep.  You do tell them.  Even if they are part of this sick game, perhaps they will have pity.  You turn to see a third one.  Again, "Woman, why do you weep?  Who are you looking for?"  Exhausted, you beg, "Sir, did you take him?  Where is he?  I'll take care of him.  Please, just stop it."  You turn from him, breaking down.  He caresses your shoulder.  How dare he?  You're ready to lash out and run, but-  "Maria."  Flinging yourself into his arms and capturing him in yours.  Not a corpse, nor a ghost, but solid living flesh.  Back where he belongs.  "Rabboni!"  That says it all: Lord. Teacher. You're alive.  Don't leave me again.  I love you.  "Dear Maria, but don't hold on.  I haven't even risen before Abba yet.  Tell my friends- I arise to my Abba and your Abba, to my God and your God."  He kisses you.  "I'll see you all back in Galilee."  And he's gone.  They won't believe you.  They haven't really believed him.  But he will show them.  Will he leave again?  Stay till Pentecost?  Bring in the Kingdom?  It doesn't matter. You'll always be with him, and he with Abba.  "Joshua- Rabboni, Lord and Teacher-  "My Messiah and Savior-  "My Bridegroom and my God."   The End