Iona Portal (6 page)

“Turns out she’d been rescued by a passing herring fisherman.  Nothing was said at the banquet, but it’s reported that Margaret’s cousins met Lachlan outside the hall after dinner and administered some rather severe Scottish justice.” 

With a twinkle in his eye, Michael added, “My understanding is that it was all handled very quickly…
without lawyers!”

Patrick took a long last sip of his pint, and looked at Michael.  “Michael, what do you know about Iona?”

“Sounds like you already know a good bit about Iona,” Michael answered.  “It’s a tiny island of course, just three miles long and a mile wide, and about as remote a place as you can imagine.”  Michael took a quick gulp of his ale, then continued, “The usual history goes something like this… An Irishman named Columba and twelve followers came to Iona in 563.  By the way, Columba was a member of the
Ui Neill
clan—what’s called the O’Neill’s today—so he really was your relative.

“Columba and his followers built a community on Iona.  The history books call it a monastery, but it wasn’t the kind of monastery most people think of.  It wasn’t even Catholic, at that time.  It was more like a town...  a cluster of thatched huts, surrounded by a stone and earthen embankment.  Their ‘monks’ were allowed to marry and have children.  They tended fields, raised livestock, practiced crafts, and worshipped God.

“As remote as it is, it’s amazing the influence Iona had.  At one time, the place was known all over Europe.  Kings of many lands sent their sons to study on Iona.

“It’s always been an unusual place.  Many strange things happened there.  Visitors sometimes comment that the barrier between the material and spiritual realms is very ‘thin’ on Iona.” 

“What kind of things happened there?”  Patrick asked.

“A man named Ademnan—one of Columba’s successors as the head of Iona—wrote a description of Columba’s experiences on the island.  Interestingly, he described pretty much the same things your grandmother told you about… strange glowing lights, angels, demons, and supernatural manifestations.

“According to Ademnan, Columba and his followers went out from Iona with supernatural powers.  They performed miracles, healed the sick, drove out demons, and converted all of Scotland from paganism to Christianity in a single generation.

“So Iona developed a reputation as a holy place.” Michael continued, “During the medieval period, kings from Scotland, Ireland, Norway, and even France chose to be buried on Iona because they believed it was close to heaven.” 

Patrick stared at Michael.  “How do you know all this?” 

“It goes with the territory, you might say.”  Michael paused and returned Patrick’s stare.  Then he leaned closer to Patrick and confided, “You see, I’ve a unique field of study.  I’m what they call an
angelologist
.  I study
angels.”

Patrick barely suppressed a laugh.  “
Angelologist?
  I didn’t know there was such a thing.”

“Most people don’t,” Michael said.  “But I’ve spent most of my life studying the creatures you call angels… and of course, their dark counterparts, the demons.  I’ve written three books on the subject!  Angels don’t fit easily into our modern worldview.  But when you begin studying them, it’s quite addictive.”

“So… you really
believe
in angels?” asked Patrick.

“Oh, absolutely.  We’ve been visited by these creatures throughout our history.”

Seeing the skepticism on Patrick’s face, Michael added, “Did you know that every society in human history has recorded contacts with angels?”

“They’re part of every religion.  You were raised Catholic...  Your Catholic Bible is filled with angels from cover to cover… and demons.  In the first book of the Bible, angels visit Abraham.  Do you know what he does?  He fixes dinner for them!  Abraham and the angels sit down and eat together as though it was the most natural thing in the world.”

“But angels aren’t just Christian,” Michael continued.  “The pagan Greeks and Romans painted pictures of angels that look exactly like your Christian ones.  In every generation there are those who’ve claimed contact with these beings."

Patrick looked at Michael with suspicion, “Are you a priest, or something?”

“Heavens, no!” Michael laughed heartily.  “I’m not even religious.  When I talk about angels, I’m not talking about weird ethereal spirits.  I’m talking about beings that are as real and physical as you and I.  But they have some unique abilities.  They appear to be
trans-dimensional
.”

“Trans-dimensional?”  Patrick questioned.

 “Yes.” Michael explained, “You see, you and I are limited to a universe of three dimensions… length, width, and height.”  Michael gestured broadly to illustrate the dimensions, taking care not to spill his ale.  “We can’t imagine moving in a direction that doesn’t fit one of those categories.

“However, science now recognizes there are dimensions beyond the ones we
know.   The latest theories point to the existence of at least eleven dimensions.” 

Patrick arched his eyebrows.  “
Eleven
dimensions?”

“That’s not some crackpot idea, Patrick,” Michael laughed again. “It’s mainstream quantum physics!  And by the way, eleven is the
conservative
estimate.  Some hold there are as many as twenty-six dimensions.   Some believe there’s an infinite number.  That’s why many cutting-edge physicists don’t even talk about a “
uni
verse” anymore.  They call it a
multi
verse.”

“You’ve lost me again.” Patrick laughed. “Now explain
multiverse.
” 

“Well…”  Michael said, pausing to take another sip of his ale.  “Back in 1954, a Princeton University doctoral candidate named Hugh Everett III came up with a radical new idea:  the existence of parallel universes.  It seemed the only explanation for the data his experiments had produced. 

“Many physicists accepted his theory, and many have since tried to develop it further, but it was always considered unprovable.  Then in 2007 it was announced that a team led by Dr. David Deutsch of Oxford University had actually succeeded in proving the existence of these parallel worlds.

“So we now know that our universe is not alone,” Michael said with rising enthusiasm. “The universe we’ve known is part of a whole series of
universes
occupying the same physical space.  Each universe exists in a different dimension, totally self-contained.  You might picture them stacked up, 'superpositioned' upon each other, like
layers on a cake.
  That’s the
multiverse.”

“So, you’re saying if we could shift into a different dimension,” Patrick asked, “we would find ourselves in a totally different
universe?”
 

“That’s what the physicists tell us.  In
our
universe we’re sitting on the deck of this ferry headed toward the coast of Mull.  But if we could shift into a different dimension, we could find ourselves in a totally different
version
of this world.  It might be quite similar to the world we know, but there could also be some surprises.  A parallel universe might operate with a whole different set of physical laws.  It could even have its own inhabitants. 

“And that brings us back to
angels,”
Michael continued.  “I’m convinced the beings we’ve called angels are the inhabitants of one of those parallel worlds.  They live in their own world—their own
universe
—but they have an ability we lack.  They can move from one dimension to another.  They shift in and out of our world as easily as we move from shadow into sunlight.”  

“That makes my head hurt.”  Patrick laughed again.

“Think of it like this…” Michael said, pointing out across the water, “Suppose you’re in a small boat out there on the Sound of Mull.  Beneath you, just a few feet away, are many kinds of fish.  You and the fish are in virtually the same location, yet you are totally unaware of each other’s existence.  You live in different worlds, different dimensions.  You occupy the “air” dimension.  The fish live in the “water” dimension.

“But you have an ability the fish don’t have,” Michael added.  “You can travel between worlds.   If you put on a scuba tank you can leave your own dimension and enter the realm of the fish.  For a brief time you can swim among the fish as though you’re one of them. 

“That’s how angels and demons interact with humans.  They’re as real and solid as we are, but they have the ability to move in and out of our world.  They can enter our realm and walk among us.  Then, just as suddenly, they slip out of our dimension and disappear.  To primitive man that made angels seem like supernatural beings.”

Patrick shook his head and smiled in disbelief, but Michael drained the last of his pint and continued, “Here’s what’s really interesting, Patrick.  The fact that twenty-first-century thinking has little room for angels hasn’t hindered the angels in the least.  In fact, reports of angels and demons have skyrocketed in recent years.

“Something unusual is happening in the angelic realm right now… some kind of battle is brewing, and I’ve a sense that Iona will be right in the middle of it.”

Chapter Six:  Across Mull

THE ISLAND OF MULL, ARGYLL, SCOTLAND

Dark clouds were moving in from the west as Patrick and Michael exited the MacBrayne ferry at Craignure on Mull’s eastern shore. 

Craignure was a tiny village whose main industry appeared to be servicing the ferry passengers waiting for connections to other parts of the island.  Michael and Patrick grabbed a quick lunch at the inn across from the ferry terminal, then found the waiting area for the tourist coach that would carry them westward to the town of Fionnphort.

By the time the bus for Fionnphort arrived, big drops of rain were spattering the ground around them.  They were soon inundated by a cold, steady downpour.  Boarding the bus, Patrick and Michael took a seat together with Patrick by the window.  The bus was packed, with nearly every seat occupied.

Almost immediately, the driver began a cheerful monologue that seemed somehow out of place on a day that had suddenly turned so gloomy.  “Good afternoon,” he said in his delightful Scottish brogue.  “Welcome to Bowman’s coach service.  We’ll be motoring today through Glenmore, along the shores of Loch Scridain, to finally arrive at Fionnphort on the western tip of the island.” 

The driver continued with a rapid patter describing the scenic details of Mull, apparently using a memorized script.  “On the right, weather permitting, you might catch a glimpse of
Ben More
, which in
Gaelic
means ‘Tall Hill.’  At 3169 feet high it’s the tallest mountain on the island, but it was once much taller.  Ben More was the last active volcano in northern Europe.  Geologists tell us Ben was 10,000 feet tall before it blew.”

As the driver droned on, Patrick leaned back in his seat and tried to relax.  The driver’s voice was soon lost in the sounds of wind-driven rain.  The bus traveled a winding, one-lane road across the island, stopping at times to let sheep cross, and pulling over frequently to allow cars traveling the opposite direction to pass.   When most of his passengers appeared to be dozing, the driver abandoned his efforts as tour guide, leaving them to travel the rest of the route in relative peace. 

Patrick gazed out at a lonely landscape of
desolate
moorland and steep, heather-clad hills.  Ancient brooding castles flashed past the coach window.  Deep lochs, impassible bogs, and deserted
glens
appeared and were quickly lost in the driving rain.  Patrick had never imagined a place so desolate, yet so beautiful. 

It was raining harder now.  Dozens of waterfalls cascaded down every hill, turning small streams into rushing torrents.  

Watching the fog-shrouded hillsides gliding past the window, Patrick felt he was being transported to a different world.  Time itself seemed to have ceased.  The whole island was brooding with a gloomy, other-worldly charm.

He leaned his seat further back and listened to the rain thundering on the roof of the bus.  Perhaps it was the surreal setting, but Patrick suddenly had a great fascination to learn more about Michael.

Noticing that Michael was still awake, Patrick began, “Michael, how did you decide to become an angelologist?”

“Well…” Michael responded, smiling slightly, “you might say I was
chosen.

“It began with an experience I had as a child.  I still remember every detail.  I was nine years old and was in bed on a rainy night about to go to sleep.  As I lay there, listening to the rain outside my room, I heard a strange noise and opened my eyes.  Standing at the foot of my bed was a figure, glowing in bright light.  His hair was as white as snow, but he didn’t look like an old man.  He was dressed in a white robe, too bright to make out any details. 

“At first I was terrified.  I tried to lie still, but my whole body was shaking.  Then a sense of incredible peace settled over me.  I felt completely secure.  My mind couldn’t process what was happening, but I knew I wasn’t in danger.  

“Finally, the man saw I was watching him.  In a smooth motion he unfurled huge white wings that hadn’t been visible a moment before.  He extended his wings horizontally, rose quickly from the floor, and disappeared up through the ceiling of my room.

“I closed my eyes, rolled over and tried not to breathe.  Finally I fell asleep. 

“For years I searched for an explanation of what I saw.  I knew I wasn't dreaming, and I wasn't hallucinating either.

“I attempted to put the experience behind me, but then, in college, I made the mistake of majoring in history.  The more I studied the ancient world, the more I found that many, many others have had experiences like mine.

“Did you know that students of pre-historic cultures have found pictures of winged humanoids scrawled on the walls of caves in every part of the earth?  Creatures like these are described in the writings of Plutarch and carved in the monuments of Egypt, Babylon and Persia.  All of these ancient peoples, in all parts of the world, had seen the same thing.