The Book of Love (42 page)

She moved through the mists, the heavy silver-gray curtain that was specific to the Irish countryside so near to the western coast. It was midnight and the streets of Knock were deserted. The souvenir shops with their Connemara marble rosaries and lenticular postcards had long since closed their doors to pilgrims. Maureen walked alone, in the direction of the church dedicated to Saint John the Baptist with its extreme charcoal spire that pointed upward to heaven. The church glowed in the moonlight through the mists, and as she drew closer to the now famous south gable, an iridescent shimmer emerged from the left side of the wall.

The figures appeared one at a time, beginning on the left. The elder man emerged from the tangible, swirling silver-white light first. He was as the villagers described him 150 years ago: with graying hair and a beard. His presence was potent, however. There was a strength to him that was paternal rather than patriarchal. He gestured to the other side of the wall with both hands, as if creating a new image out of the radiance. This figure appeared on Maureen’s right, as the light increased and the second character appeared. Here was the younger male, he whom the villagers had identified as John the Evangelist. In full animation, he was clearly a youth, depicted with the same long hair that medieval and Renaissance artists used to indicate a young man. He too was strong in his presence but with a very different aura than the elder man. The youth was dressed in vestments and was preaching. Maureen could not hear the words, but they were strong and heartfelt—and full of love. There was a grace to this young man that melted Maureen’s heart as she watched him. The book he held came into clearer focus through the shimmering light: it was enormous, and yet the young man balanced it with one hand with no apparent effort as he read from it. The book was covered in what appeared to be deep red leather with gold bindings. Five golden baubles decorated the cover, crossing it in an
X
shape. As Maureen attempted to study the book’s appearance, she was distracted by an intense burst of light at the center of the wall.

Both men, the elder and the younger, turned toward the center and gestured to the apparition that was emerging with infinite grace from the light. She was the most beautiful woman Maureen had ever seen, sublime,
elegant, graceful. Her gown was liquid silver and she was crowned with a halo of glittering stars; white lilies and red roses were woven through her garments. She floated above the other figures, ethereal and angelic. Like the young man, the lady also appeared to be preaching. She stood in a position of absolute authority, the central figure of this tableau, conveying a silent message with great intensity. Maureen watched, transfixed, until the lady very suddenly looked down to lock eyes with her. She delivered one audible sentence, directly to Maureen.

“I am not who you think I am.”

She smiled then, an expression full of the light of the moon and the stars, looking first at Maureen, then at the young man, and finally at the elder. The lady reached out, extending her hands to each of them. As the men came near her, the light grew brighter and the three figures merged perfectly into one bright and eternal burst of light.

It was still the middle of the night in Rome, and the floodlights on the Pantheon had long been put to sleep. Maureen wakened to a dark room in stark contrast to the visions of light that had been prevalent in her dream.

Her dream about Knock. Her dream about the apparitions. Her dream about an astonishingly beautiful female form who said only one thing to her.

Maureen switched on the bedside lamp and sat up, rubbing her hands over her eyes to help herself wake up. Instinctively, she reached for her notebook before remembering that it had been stolen. She climbed over the bed to the minibar and grabbed a bottle of San Pellegrino water on her way to the desk and the hotel notepad. She scribbled,

I am not who you think I am.

So…who was she?

Maureen crossed the room to throw open the window that faced the Piazza della Rotonda. The moon was waxing and near to full, shed
ding the only light into the square. The lovely fountain gurgled at all hours of the day and night, and it was this soothing sound of running water that Maureen was listening to as her gaze fell on the obelisk, a monument brought from Egypt to Rome at great expense and effort originally to grace a temple to Isis. Isis, who to Egyptians was the great lady of the mysteries; Isis, who was the mother of the gods. Isis, whom both the Romans and the Egyptians referred to as the Queen of Heaven.

The Queen of Heaven.
This term had been used to define a number of great female spiritual entities: Isis, the Virgin Mary, numerous goddess forms from virtually all Near Eastern cultures, like the Sumerian Inanna and the Mesopotamian Ishtar, the Hebrew Asherah, and even Mary Magdalene by her heretical French followers.

If there was a queen of heaven, wouldn’t this imply that there was a king? And would they be married? And equals?

Maureen thought carefully about the dream from which she had just awakened, reviewing each detail of the apparitions. The order in which the figures appeared had to be important. The first who showed himself in the dream was the elder man.

The Father.

The next apparition was of the younger man.

The Son.

And the final apparition, the ethereal feminine being of such light and radiance that even in the dream state her feet could not touch the ground.

The Holy Spirit.

Maureen knew then that the villagers in Ireland had, indeed, seen a most blessed and holy vision. But what they saw was not a vision of the Virgin Mary, her husband, and John the Evangelist. What the apparition at Knock represented was the Holy Trinity.

And within that trinity, the Holy Spirit was paramount. And female.

She rang Peter as early as she thought was civilized. Thankfully, he was up. And fascinated by her dream.

“Is the Holy Spirit ever considered feminine, Pete? For us it was always the ‘Holy Ghost,’ which is decidedly unfeminine, but was that a later evolution?”

Peter explained that there were traditions that believed that the Holy Spirit was indeed feminine, but they were considered “fringe elements” and therefore heretical. Or nuts.

“In Greek, the word used most often for spirit is
pneuma
, which is gender neutral. It is assumed to be male, of course. But there are those who argue the gender is different in other languages, specifically Hebrew and Aramaic, and I think Syriac.”

“What about the dove?” Maureen asked. “The Holy Spirit is often depicted that way in art, right? And isn’t the dove feminine?”

“Well, the dove depicts the Holy Spirit because it appears at the baptism of Jesus in the Jordan. But you’re right, it does take on feminine symbolism at other times. The Gnostics believed that the Holy Spirit was female, in the guise of Sophia. Sophia is the entity that represents divine feminine wisdom, a goddess of sorts, but more exalted. She is sometimes depicted as a dove.”

Maureen was thinking back on the Matilda material. “Like in the Song of Songs? My dove? My perfect one? Could there be a connection? Is the Song truly about the union of God and his counterpart—let’s call her his wife for lack of a better term—as much as it is Solomon and Sheba?”

Peter’s head was swimming, and it was only 7:30 in the morning. “Give me a few hours to pull up some translations and I’ll be over by lunchtime.”

True to his word, Peter was in Maureen’s hotel room with several file folders in his hand by noon. They used the desk in her suite, as well as the bed, to spread out the paperwork that Peter had compiled for her
examination. Before digging into the paperwork, Maureen asked Peter about the prayer known widely as the Hail Mary.

“I don’t have to remind you of where that prayer originates, as you’re the one who taught me.”

“Luke. Chapter one.”

“Uh-huh. So it is canonical, as is the Lord’s Prayer. But only partially. Because what else did you teach me about Luke, chapter one? And what else do we know about our Luke?”

“Luke founded the Order of the Holy Sepulcher, so we’re looking for what his original motivation may have been, right? Okay, I see where this is going. In the New Testament, Mary’s name isn’t used. That was added later. The prayer, as recited by the angel Gabriel, was ‘Hail, full of Grace. The Lord is with thee, blessed art thou amongst women.’”

Maureen nodded again. “Certainly, this prayer is about the mother of Jesus in this context. But what I am saying is this: what if it isn’t just all about her? What if she is just one of many women chosen to embody this aspect of God? This creative, fertile, maternal aspect that gives birth to new life. And what if her name wasn’t used in the original greeting because Luke was showing us that this salutation is to all women of great faith and love who conceive, as Matilda tells us, with trust and consciousness? Which is to say, according to the Book of Love and the Gospel of Philip, the definition of an immaculate conception.”

Needing to process the idea, Peter decided that the best approach was to go through the notes he had made earlier in the day and see what corroborated Maureen’s burgeoning theory. “Let’s start with the traditional canon, because I think that has the most immediate and powerful impact. I brought some examples of critical translation issues. Translation is everything,” he told her, taking out two sheets of paper. “First, I want to show you a verse from the gospel of John which really illustrates this. Here is the most universally accepted translation into English from the Greek, the King James Version. This is John fourteen chapter twenty-six. It reads,
‘But the Comforter, which is the Holy Ghost, whom the Father will send in my name, he shall teach you all
things, and bring all things to your remembrance, whatsoever I have said unto you.’”

Peter held out a sheet of paper where he had printed just that verse. Then he handed her another, with the same verse in a different translation. “Now take a look at this one. This is a translation from Aramaic, and it matches another in Syriac that was taken from scrolls found at the monastery of Saint Catherine of Alexandria in Mount Sinai—scrolls that predate the Greek texts. See what you think of this.”

Maureen read the older translation out loud.
“‘But She—the Spirit, the Paraclete—whom He will send to you, my Father in my name, She will teach you everything; She will remind you of that which I have told you.’”

Maureen sat down hard on the bed. “Wow. That’s pretty emphatically feminine.” She let it sit for a moment, contemplating it. “And the word
paraclete
? How does that translate?”

“Traditionally it is translated as ‘comforter’ or even ‘counselor.’ But I think it is more accurately translated as ‘one who intercedes.’ So you could make the case here that the Paraclete intercedes between humans and their father in heaven.”

“Which is a very female and maternal role, isn’t it?”

“It also relates to an interesting Old Testament concept, that of ‘the comforter.’ Look at this passage, Isaiah, chapter sixty-six, which compares Yahweh with a mother comforting her children. Isaiah is loaded with references to God behaving as a mother—God as a woman in labor, God as a mother who gives birth to and protects Israel. In Hebrew, the word equivalent of Holy Spirit is
ruach
, which can be either masculine or feminine, dependant on usage. It is similar in Aramaic, where the word is
ruacha
. But there it is definitively feminine.”

Peter picked up another sheet with two translations on it. “Now I know that you’re not a big fan of Paul, but here is an important quote from Romans, chapter eight, which gives us reason to pause. King James reads,
‘The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children.’
But compare that to the Aramaic.”

He handed it to Maureen, who read it aloud.
“‘She, the Ruacha, gives testimony with our spirit that we are God’s children.’”

Peter produced the final documents from his morning research session. “Now take a look at this from the Gospel of Philip, which we are very concerned with in our quest for the Book of Love. I think this passage is the smoking gun.”

Maureen looked at the copy from the Gnostic Gospel of Philip. At the top of the page, Peter had Xeroxed the original scroll in Coptic, indicating that these critical lines came from page 57, plate 103. Peter’s English translation was next to it. It read:

Maureen and Peter looked at each other for a moment, allowing the passage to speak for itself in its simple, pure power. Maureen ultimately broke the silence. “Is this really all about something completely different than we ever suspected, Pete?”

“Meaning?”

“Well, I used to think that this was entirely about vindicating Mary Magdalene, making people realize and understand who she was and why she mattered. She was the wife of Jesus and she was his best friend and his partner and his chosen successor. She brought Christianity to Europe and she and her children risked everything to see that it flourished and endured. That in itself is a fairly tall order.”

“But…”

“But…what if that isn’t the point at all? Oh, I mean it matters, of course it does, it is
a
point, and a significant one. But maybe it’s not the ultimate point.”

“Go on.”

“Maybe Magdalene is emblematic of a larger issue. Maybe what she represents, even more than the wife of Jesus in his human aspect, is the wife of Jesus in his divine aspect. He is God and she is the beloved of God. His other half. On earth as it is in heaven.”

“The feminine aspect of the divine?”

“Yes. But not in the traditionally considered pagan form of a god
dess or some minor deity. But as an aspect of God. The equal, female face of God, if you will. The feminine half that completes the male half of God. In this case, seen in the guise of the Holy Spirit.”