Jewish Indy - THE CELL (Part 1 of 2)

“Wait. Please. Don’t just leave, good man,” cautiously bagged the man, which was brought in last. “What is this place? What are we doing here? Is this a jail? What kind of a jail is it? What judgment? What have we done? What have I done? I am not even with them, these men. I don’t know them. Well, not really, not personally. I knew of them but never really met them before this.” He was squeezing the dirty rusty iron bars of the locked cell door and his voice openly showed agitation and a deep concern. He was confused or wanted to look like that. Jail was a good place to play a role if you knew one.
“Wait for your turn and you’ll know whatever you have to know. Eat good food, drink some water and wait for the news. My father used to say that answers come soon enough to the one who is patient,” muttered the guard checking the lock on the ancient iron rusty door, which looked like a thousand years old entrance to hell. The key, employed to luck this door, could be applied as a heavy weapon or even a ram to break the fortress doors down. That’s how big and heavy it was, being even more impressive than the door itself. When was it made and by whom? That was another question no one had and an answer for.
“Be patient and you’ll get rewarded. Did not you say that? Well, one of you did. Maybe one of you said that. Someone did, and it was not me. That’s for sure. I am not that bright. I am just a prison guard for eternity.” He laughed and left through yet another door that was to the left and a few worn out steps up. The whole place looked like it was there since the beginning of time and maybe it was. Whenever time begun.

“Do you know anything about this, old man?” asked the man, which was brought in last, from the man, which was brought in first.
“Do you?” He asked the younger man standing in the corner. “Anything? What is this all about? I am asking you. Did you commit a crime? This is a jail. I can see that clearly by the look of it. Jails are for people who've committed crimes. I did not commit a crime. I am a holy man. Every believer knows me. Holy men do not commit crimes. Everyone knows that too. Whatever we do is from God and only God can judge us. What did you do and who is judging you?” His gestures reinforced questions and showed a strong contempt at the same time. There was pleading and anger, power and uncertainty, demand and submission in his sturdy, hard booming voice. He wanted, no, he needed answers and he demanded them. “Who is there to judge us? Who is going to judge me? I am the holy man.” He was standing there at the full height looking around as the man just finished preaching to his pupil.

“Don’t you know us and our deeds?” angrily said the old man not even turning his head. “Who is going to judge you? Well, I think the same one who is going to judge us. You followed in our steps to the letter but confusing and twisting every issue, and we had to wait for you to catch with us up so our deeds would be finally judged by the highest authority. Everyone has the right to know who was right and who was wrong in his or hers deeds. This is the time of judgment and this is the place for the highest court to decide whether what we’ve done was good for the people or they had to pay and to suffer too much for our ideas and actions. And they paid and suffered, time and time again over thousands of years. People could have, no, they had endured the sufferings anyway but did we make it easier or harder for them? Results versus means. Are you familiar with this concept? Did the result justify the means? I don’t know the answer but this is important to me. There is no question that we wished well but did it come out as we wished to? Did we do it right? Did we have any right to do what we did at all? Did we do it for them or for ourselves? We should not judge but the highest court would tell. Eat and wait as the rest of us. It would not take long that now you are here now. You heard the jailer.” The old man set in the corner thanking for food and blessing all in the room including the rats. He ate slowly carefully chewing every morsel of his victuals as he was cherishing the moment in appreciation for every instant of life.

The fragile strings of light broke through the window bars reflecting from billions of particles of history making them appear lighter and happier. After all, life kept going on and, even if some of these particles became just old annoying dust and settled down on the dirty floor with the rest of forgotten memories, the new ones would rise and get lighten up by the brilliance of sun. That was the way of life,

“Oh, God the merciful! Old man, please talk to me. Tell me what I want to know. Don’t be like that. Don’t torture my mind. I am old and tired and my health is fragile. We are all here in the same cell for a reason.” The man in Imamah kept pressing the issue and maybe a little too hard. “Let’s find that reason and use it to our advantage. It could be not that bad. What do you know? I am sure the young man wants to hear it too.”

“Please don’t apply your words of insolence and your greedy thoughts to me. Don’t even put my name next to yours,” said the younger man choosing a small piece of bread and a few olives. “I know what I have to know already and I’ve done what I’ve done. I have accomplished much, not less than you have and I’ve done it with a pure heart. I actually paved the way for you. I should have seen you coming. And I have never done anything but good. I don’t need you to speak for me. I have my own tongue and my deeds speak of my heart. My heart was always untainted, empty of greed and desire for personal gain. I gained nothing but pain and an ultimate death. This man was truly holy and I truthfully followed in his steps.” He bowed to the old man with the high degree of respect. “The old man and I may have a chance in this court but you… I don’t know. Our thoughts and deeds were wholesome and clean but you were confused, hungry for power, greedy and maybe even insane, and millions of people paid for all of that with rivers of innocent blood. Do you remember the pillaged villages and towns, the slain men, raped women and the enslaved children? In the name of your God… Can you name a good thing you’ve done? Done for people and not for yourself and your disgusting cronies?” The younger man put his bread and olives down, as suddenly changing his mind about eating. He just drank some water from the cup given to him, as in need to cool down, not eating any of the food. His passion and the words of self confidence did not really match the uneven voice and the worried gestures. He did not look all that sure of himself but he was not hungry for food. He was hungry for truth and understanding.

“But, friends…” started the new comer.

“We are not your friends, false prophet. We maybe related but I am not your friend. You know that. You started that. You rejected us and you rejected truth. You disregarded honor as an old shoe. You locked honor in the deepest dungeon of your twisted mind chaining it to the wall of nonexistence feeding it the filth of your words. This honor had no choice, no way out but glorifying you and then get rewarded with gold on the top of the questionable freedom. A few pieces of gold for the rivers of blood. How about that for a reward? What really happens to the honor chained to the wall or hanging from the ceiling over the abyss of useless death? What happens to it when as an alternative you offer it a material reward in this life and the mystical virgins in a more mystical paradise? I’ll tell you what happens to it, my lost disciple. Honor breaks down and follows you, the false prophet. That’s how you built your religion and assembled your loyal followers. Your loyal followers had a very little choice. Death or a mystical paradise. Honor, loyalty, knowledge, truth had nothing to do with it any longer. The choice was clear. The choice was life.
You betrayed your own people by telling lies of your own invention. You lied about us and you lied about God proclaiming yourself a Prophet of God. It was a well conceived scam but the price was too great and you knew of that. You knew everything but you kept doing it. We never did that. We never stooped that low. We never mislead people deliberately for our personal gains but you took it for granted. You lied and you profited from your own lies.” Voice of the old man was like a thunder and his eyes could shoot bolts of lightening if that was an option. He was like an angel of rage. He was an angel of revenge.
“Know your place, Bedouin, and don’t confuse us for your friends or relatives. We are not them and we are not responsible for your deeds. We do not want to share in your profits. You broke that relation and made us enemies for generations to come. You did it all on your own and only you can correct it now.” The old man turned away and with a majestic generosity began feeding rats as they deserved his attention more then the bearded man in a dirty Turban. Rats became very agitated streaming to the feet of the old man in the anticipation of food, warmth and even humanity. How little rats needed to switch the alliances.

“I just wanted to talk. I wanted to know from your own words what you have done. I wanted to hear what the young man has to say and I wanted to know what you thought of me. I wanted to tell you about myself. My words. I wanted you to know me. I wanted you to understand my deeds. Can we do that? Please, this is important. We may never meet again or we may spend the rest of the eternity together, just the three of us. Can we do at least that? Can we at least try? Please. I do not want to argue. I just wanted to talk.”

The man brought in last did not even look at the food on the shabby table. He was hungry but it was not the time to eat. Not yet, not now. Food and rest could wait a little longer. It was time to learn, understand, and negotiate making peace if it was still possible at this juncture. He was scared. Who were the judges? What did they really know? What should he answer if asked? Should he lie if it was possible? Maybe judgment could be affected by that? Should he tell them the truth? What was the truth? He could not remember it any longer. Did he know truth? Did he know it at any time? Did they? One should never stop trying. Lying to infidels was allowed and even promoted. Maybe deals could still be made? Maybe that’s what the high judges wanted from him? Who could tell? But he had to try. Anything was possible in this place. Where was this place? If he knew that, he could do something about this situation. He found his way out of very difficult situations before. He even invented, no borrowed, a new god. How could he be together with these two? They lived thousands of years apart and now they were together in the same cell. Maybe he could bribe the guards? Why not? The man brought in last was ready for anything. He was always flexible when it came to his own issues but strict and rigid when it came to the others. He was a survivor. He believed that leaders should be forgiven for mistakes and the shortcomings due to temptations of the Devil but the followers had to tag on with no questions asked. The Devil was not really interested in them. Devil wanted the leader, the shepherd, and followers, the sheep, the lower pupil, would always follow the leader. Privileged should not be questioned and that was one of the main privileges. That was his rule and the foundation for his teachings. He often said: “Obey me for I am from God.” And, obeyed he was and still is.

Rats quickly gathered around the older man taking positions quietly as in anticipation of a revelation. Feed the rats, give them a little attention and they would become the loyal followers but, if you slip once, they’ll eat you alive. Rats were known for that. Were people any different from that? Maybe his story was just the oldest tale around but maybe it was a revelation coming. In many ways rats had senses much keener than people. Maybe they knew something people did not. Maybe they did not know anything and that preserved their insanity or, shall we say, sanity. Do we really need knowledge? Do we want knowledge to open our eyes? Or knowledge closes them shot so we can survive the ordeal of living. Maybe our eyes better remain shut? Maybe God never meant for us to know? Maybe, maybe, maybe… After all, rats were only rats and people were only people. What do they know? What do we know? Only rats could answer questions meant for only rats but these were questions rats could not answer, even if they tried. Rats… People… Living beings…

“Well, you wanted to talk, the false Prophet of the false God. You insisted. You think you can take it. Can you? Well, then, let’s talk. Let’s put everything out in the open. Let’s hold nothing back. I have nothing to hide and I am proud of what I am and what I’ve done. After all, you maybe right and we may accomplish something.” The older man shifted to a more comfortable position and started his tale. “There are stories of my birth and life but they are mostly stories. These are more often confused tales and legends upon legends than stories one can trust. But people wrote them down that way and that’s what we have. Is it not what the ancient history is frequently all about? Confused tales of the over glorified small events. Give it enough time and the distance and a small fly would grow in to an elephant. What do they call it… a snowball effect? Yes, a snowball effect.
But, true, I was born as a leader of a tribe. It was not a big tribe but, nevertheless, a tribe of proud, bright and very aggressive people that originally came from far away escaping from the pressure of a much stronger and even more aggressive tribe. Escaping from the certain enslavement and a possible annihilation we learned how to survive and we learned it well, and maybe better than the others. We became superior at surviving and, in turn, we conquered new lands and enslaved the less fortunate tribes that did not learn a fast as we did. That was the natural thing to do if one wanted to survive and keep on surviving. We continued fighting with everyone around protecting our new lands but it was only a matter of time before someone stronger and better organized came alone and conquered us. That was again the way of life and the law of nature. We desperately needed time of peace to grow bigger and stronger and to learn more. We needed time to become, if not bigger and stronger, but definitely smarter than the other tribes competing for our fruitful land. We needed something extra, something the others did not have. We can call it “an edge”. So, we hired ourselves out as mercenaries and construction workers to the biggest tribe in the region. Now we could earn, learn and, in the meantime, that gigantic tribe somewhat protected us and our lands. We had time now so we could grow, accumulating power of knowledge and experience.
Over time we learned how to fight, build, design, craft and trade equally with the giants. We were sucking in knowledge as a dry sponge sucks water in and we were smart enough to perfect it. We had a good teacher and we were the best students at all of that and now it was time to move on. We were smart enough to keep by ourselves staying together and not getting assimilated. And, now it was time to try again standing on our own. That was the time when I became the tribe leader. Why was I elected and not some other member of my family? There were many reasons for that. I was young, strong, could read and write, and was trained to lead in war and work. I was a field commander and I had led some construction work as well. Also, I was related to the leading family and had good connections with some other tribes but it was mostly because I had a vision. What was my vision? I wanted to unite a number of friendly and closely related tribes in to a one much bigger tribe and I wanted to do it on the voluntary bases through friendship, relations and marriages instead of forcing them through the conquering. Twelve tribes in the region were closely related through birth and intermarriages. We all were friendly to each other as brothers would be. I believed that this kind of a union offered a better future than the smaller family based tribes. One could easily break a single arrow but many (twelve) arrows together even a giant would have difficulty breaking. That was a strong history lesson in a form of a well known folk tale. If I could do that, unite these closely related tribes, considering the vast knowledge we possessed at the time, we could become invincible and, therefore, we could rule and keep on ruling. So, I employed the oldest trick in the book inventing a new god. I thought that, if I had God on my side and that sounded convincing enough, people would stream to God or to my side. God would be that extra leverage, “an edge” I needed so much. That worked before and for many times, so, why not now? I came up with a story and the story worked. Well, it was a well put together story, I must say.  In short, it was a stroke of genius.  I was good and the story was great. I was able to foresee the questions and answers were ready for all of them. It was becoming a very solid and formidably convincing tale. And, thanks to my family and friends, many believed to what I told them and followed me back to what I called the “Promised Land”.
We lived there, on the Promised Land, before and it was a good land. It was well situated by the sea, easily defended and very fruitful if one cared to work it. It was squeezed between deserts, sea and the mountains so caravans from Africa to Asia Minor and beyond had to travel through it, as the only route available, giving us the exclusive access to trade. We could profit from it in so many ways that trade could become bigger than anything else for us in this region. If caravans had to go through this area (and they had to), they needed everything: people, slaves, soldiers, weapons, supplies, lodging, food and rest, services, packing and riding animals, markets, protection and everything else. Where would they buy or repair a tent for example? Also, there was the sea and the other route for trade, travel and war. Yes, ever war. It was perfect and we had to be there in order to harvest all of that.  That was the ideal place for us. If God was with us, we were the chosen people and this land was given to us by him or promised to us. All we had to do is to take it.
It was logical and that’s exactly what I told to my people and my logic was strong and quite powerful considering the time we lived in, strong superstition, hard living conditions, multiple enemies, the constant struggle for survival and the greatest desire to believe. In history, most of the tribes and the whole nations did not survive. They did not see the opportunities to move up, to be stronger and to control the destiny. Countless opportunities were there but one had to recognize them first and then take advantage of the presented opportunity. One had to do it right if to succeed. One had to do it and not too many did. One had to take responsibility for his people. And not too many did that either. One had to make decisions and act upon them. This we can count on the fingers of one hand. One had to do it for his people. But mostly they did it for themselves. We did it right and regardless to some minor and major setbacks, it all worked out fine.”

He sat quietly for a few moments chewing some bread and a few juicy olives. Then he unhurriedly drank some cool water from the clay cup meant for him. It was not a good food or anything to get excited about but still it was food and one could survive on it. Many people survived on it for generations and were happy to have even that. Rich land and rich leaders produced too many poor people and this was food of poor people; their people. That great piece of land gave food for them all and riches only for a few. Food and freedom. That meant much more than riches for most of these people. And freedom often meant more than food. The descendants of these people had carried the pride of freedom in their hearts for millennia and still do.

His hard penetrating eyes were steadily fixed on the rats as in search for something important missing among them. Then, not finding anything of significance, he shifted the stare from rats to the man who was brought in last. These eyes were full of pain but anger was not there. Air in the cell was very temperate and humid adding considerably to the discomfort of the situation. It seamed that this man did not really care about air or the smell in the cell or this plain food but ate it only out of necessity. He ate to live, to survive, chewing his food so carefully so precisely as the person who knew the value of it. He knew the hard hitting times when food was scarce more often then he cared to remember. Food was the prize for survival. He was old, learned, experienced and very wise, ready to share this vast knowledge in order to protect the others, all of them, from the mistakes he'd already made. Past should not be left in the past. Past should always accompany us so we could include what we learned from it in the construction of the future. Mistakes should not be made again if it could be helped. He wanted the others to profit from what he learned the hard way even before they were born. That was the way of the true teacher and the true leader and he was the one.

“What did I do and how? I did many things and all that took time. Almost forty years from the time we violently left our employer and protector, who started to take advantage of us, and to the time we were ready to face the world on our own. I did not live that long and I did not see the nation when it was a nation. We lived in a desert well sheltered from attacks waiting for me to finish molding the nation and I did that. I lived that long. But at the beginning I told to everyone that God visited me and on a few occasions already. How else God would choose us and not someone else? God chose them through me. God chose me. That is how I secured my position and protected my family from any competition in the leadership. That was not a democracy. Democracy could not survive back then. It was a dictatorship where God dictated through me. I was the dictator but God was my constant excuse. I had to be obeyed. And, people, people now had a drive, a very strong desire to please God. I gave them the meaning in life that was besides the full belly, slaves and many wives. Serving our God was above all that. I told them that God, who was the only God, spoke with me with a thunderous voice and that he also presented himself to me as a burning bush. I heard that story before in an ancient folk tale and that story always fascinated me. It added the needed credibility through the holy mystery to my story. I also told them that he was a new God (I even gave him a name), much stronger than the old ones. I kept telling them that this new God was the only true god and he killed in a battle all other gods we knew and prayed to. Now we had to pray to him and only him. No God was a match to him any longer. Our new God had incorporated attributes of all other gods and became the one. There was no God, but God. I showed them the stone, covered with clay, tablets filled with rules I wrote declaring that God dictated it to me for them to use. Most of my people could neither write nor read so these written words were the miracle by themselves. I could do things they could not. I knew things they did not. I was impressive and, therefore, all powerful. I could dictate the rules they had to follow. These simple rules of survival quickly became the god-given laws. Now we had the God of unification and the laws of coexistence.
We had it all and were destined to control the future. We had the future while many others had not. We were the chosen ones. We made ourselves the chosen ones. The word was spreading out that I was the all powerful messenger of God and many individual people together with small tribes and just little families were coming over to our settlements to become a part of the blessed people. They wanted to be blessed, as well, and I blessed them all in the name of our God. We were growing strong and our new God was growing even stronger. I could see the makings of the new nation taking place and flourishing in the middle of the godforsaken desert. Anyone, who believed in my god and accepted my laws, was welcomed and many came accepting the new beginning. Soon we became a nation of chosen people believing in one and only one God and I became a prophet and a legend. God spoke to me and I spoke to my people. In a sense, I was that God.”

Silence full of an unsettled uncomfortable sadness and the mixed feelings dominated the cell. Everyone was deep in his thoughts overflowing with memories. Even rats remained quiet waiting, contemplating. Did they, all three of them, had the similar thoughts? Did they share in memories? It was very possible, no, probable. Rats turned their little fur heads from one to another. History, age, distance – what difference did it make at the end? At the end, history was even more history. They did the same thing for slightly different reasons and the outcome of these actions was not exactly what they tried to achieve but that made history and that formed the future. Did they know, when they did all they did, how that would affect the future? Could they prophesize that? That was the real reason for the trial? Was there the reason just by itself? These three and the whole history, as we know it, were on that trial here, today. Was it good for us? Do we want to judge them? Do we want to know the judgment? Creating idols was like producing the false hopes and falling heavy idols could burry us with the hopes. Dangerous thoughts but, nevertheless, still thoughts.

“I was the one of these many men of the blessed nation,” said the youngest of them all, “and I believed in our God with the full heart. I was one of your strongest followers and the unquestionable believers, old man. I was your true disciple. But one thing annoyed me constantly and I kept questioning our approach to life and to the religion. I could not help thinking that God’s message was different; not exactly what you told us. I know it was the sacrilege but maybe we misunderstood the God’s message and it should have meant more. I was confused and could not fully understand it. I tried meditating for days on the question of why our great God was only for us. What about the rest of the people? The world? He was the only God but then we were the chosen people. Were we chosen to be separate from the world or were we chosen to deliver the message of one and only God? What was it? There was something missing and I tried to uncover it getting in to a trouble with everyone. My people thought that my questions were a blasphemy and the other people told me to keep my God for myself and my chosen people. Many told me that their gods were just fine and they did not need another one. They could not see that there was only one God for all. And, I kept asking if we should spread the message from our God to the rest of the world? I wanted to share my one unified God with people still believing in many. They did not know that our mighty god won the battle of gods and was the only one true God.
I met a few Greeks and Romans living here in the chosen land and we were friends. They kept asking me about our one God and I talked. I told them about my beloved God and his undying love for us. Often we sat there in the open air well in to the night talking about God and how wonderful it would be if he spread his goodness to all people on earth. World would be a much better place if we all believed in one God who was our father. Brotherly love and peace would rule earth. Our father God would give it to us. After all, he was our father.
But how could one outside the chosen race embrace the true God? What if we brought people over to him, would he accept them? We believed he would. After all, he was our father and we were his children. What father would not forgive sins of his sons if sons truly repented? Greeks and the Romans streamed to my side listening to my stories of our God, love and forgiveness. Legends and fairytales popped up here and there as wild mushrooms. In no time I could walk on water, feed thousands of people with the only one bread, heal the sick, forgive the sins and do no wrong. I became the son of God, and in a way I was, carrying his message and supported by his power. I never planned for that and I never claimed that much. But, it all sounded much better than the multiple gods of all shapes, denominations and sexes full of jealousy and greed and always acting as the average humans at their lowest. So, I kept my mouth shot not arguing with “the true believes” of my followers. These gods were perfect for the powers in charge but I had no power on earth. I was a no one among my contemporaries. So, I claimed the power in the skies. “Divide and conquer”. But, people… One god was a better alternative. Our group was becoming known throughout the lands and I was getting more and more reputation of a prophet and a son of God. Some called me God. I never claimed that. People wanted to convert but authorities were against it and punished people ruthlessly for conversion. They protected their own gods; gods that formed the foundation of their own power. They protected their society. My people did not want to take a part in my ideas because they believed that one had to be born in to a one god nation with this wonderful religion. They thought that we were the chosen people and, therefore, it was not just a question of religion but more a question of people. It was our race and one could not convert in to a race and in to a nation. One had to be in it from the birth. One had to be chosen to be chosen. That was the most popular believe of our people, my people. And I believed in it at one time. But, if our god was so good and fatherly, what about the others?
Our movement, yes, it became a movement and my followers became rapidly squeezed between the lack of interest on the part of my people and the aggressive punishments from the Greeks and the Romans. They were like angry bees attacking and stinging us everywhere we went and often to our death. Many of people believing in one god for all were imprisoned and often killed but we kept promoting our ideas talking to anyone willing to listen. The movement was barely alive for centuries and then an Emperor embraced it for his personal reasons. He wanted a unified god to unify his empire. Now our ancient “one god” beautified in gold and precious gems and custom tailored for the new populace was forced down the throats of citizens inhabiting the conquered countries. People had to pray to icons and the other idols of the newly invented religion. There was still not one god. There were three gods in one and the holy mother. Also scores of saints with magical powers soon had joint the group. They made my mother a “Holy Virgin” as she spent a night with the God. If I am not mistaken, Helen of Troy, Hercules and Achilles were born that way. Was I one of them? Was I one of the freaks? It was so Greek and so mythological but people were buying it, liking the story. Maybe because a well known and widely accepted myth was used, people liked it so much. I do not know and that had anything to do with me but they used my name. My message was lost in translation of time and people and I was not there to argue that. I was dead for almost four hundred years already. New religion was spreading out with the speed of the conquering legions and plentifully nourished by blood of its victims taking hold even on the farthest outposts of the empire. From that time on our gentle and loving God of unification became the bloody, greedy, forceful and all powerful God of separation. The world became divided in to already believers and people yet to be forced to believe. Bloodshed and torture in the name of God became the ruling law of the land. You, old man, stayed away from conversion resisting it as much as was possible. You wanted to limit it by people born in to it. My followers, on the other hand, wanted to convert everyone regardless to consequences. That started religious wars and that nourished the hate of the chosen people. Crucifixion in all the terror it represented became the new and the most powerful icon and millions prayed to it. How could that be? It was not love bringing people to God any longer. It was the scare of the God’s vengeance and the crucifixion. How could one pray to the cross with a tortured dying body still nailed to it?”

His breathing was getting harder and more labored showing the deepest emotions running through his entire existence. He drank some water hungrily as trying to extinguish this mighty fire burning inside but that fire would not subside. That was the eternal fire of purity of the human heart. This man was on fire and it was the fire of the strongest believes, trust and the deepest disappointments. It was a blazing fire of the eternity but what was feeding it for so long? Was it the force and the height of his ideas or was it the hurt and depth of his failure? He was a man of strong and very powerful thoughts and emotions but, at the end, he, as the rest of them, was only a man; one of the men.

“So, you both lied and cheated in order to accomplish what you wanted to accomplish. And, I, we, believed in you. We truly believed in you and what you said or what others claimed you said. But you just lied manipulating the others. You have committed the crime of lying, and misleading people. You, so called prophets. I am disgusted with you.”

The man, who was brought in last, looked as he was on top of the world or at least the biggest mountain and that was rightfully his place. His voice was thunderous and ready to reduce these other two to dust if more dust could make any difference in this place where the ancient history was kept under the rusty lock of legends. He was the lightening of truth or, at least, he wanted to be one.

“But, I, I did hear God. God spoke to me. All these voices in my head… That was God. God told me to proceed. He told me that you two did not finish the job and I was charged with finishing it now. God wanted me to use your good ideas and build on them. So, I did what I was ordered to do and I did it well. God lead me all the way and that is why my version of your religion is the most successful one. I am the true prophet and my God is the true God. Allah Akbar! There is no God but God Allah!” He looked victorious.

“You could not hear this God of ours. There is no God but legends, customs and superstitions. There is no Allah or any other God but us, inventors of Gods, and the all powerful fallacy. God does not exist. I invented him as other gods were invented for centuries before and after me. If people around you are stuck on superstition, any god is welcomed but a well defined one is destined to thrive over the others.” The older man spoke quietly showing patience and respect and not only to rats. “I combined all these different gods into one and gave this new God character of a real father. I gave him my character. I was that father and I was that god. I made him what I wanted him to be. People centuries after me, due to different reasons, enveloped this god in to mystery creating more superstitions in a form of specific prayers, services, temples, religious holydays, and ritual artifacts and clothes. Sects with people wearing the same type of clothes and constantly repeating the same rituals were established and forced into existence like they had a purpose. Monks and monasteries. These sects could be easily managed and they could manage the others in the name of God. Religious leaders began collecting money for God and in the name of God but this were used mostly for the “servants” of God. A gossip spread out that one could pay for the sins to be forgiven and the god servants started to live well and often in luxury without working for it. Religion became a well managed business and a few regulated sufferings paid off. None of it was my intention. None of it was done by me. What could I do? How could I control that? What did I leave unfinished?” The old man looked very upset by these thoughts and the turns his ideas took after he was there any longer.

“You were the original visionary - the revolutionary. We can’t even begin to imagine what could happen to people if not for what you gave them. You did not do anything wrong and you did not leave anything unfinished. You outlined the basic laws of coexistence for different people living together.” The youngest man came over and put a friendly hand on the old man’s shoulder. There were love and respect in his dark deep eyes. “We claimed that we followed you but in reality we followed regulations, obligations and restrictions created by other people and often for their personal profits. We didn’t follow the Holy God but only his image painted by ourselves. The holiness ends with God himself. Services, temples, prayers, costumes, artifacts, customs and anything else are not important at all. Why should one go to a temple? God is everywhere if he is anywhere. Why should one pray this way or that? Why should you chant any specific words that should be committed to memory? What difference does it make how you serve your god? God is not in a Temple, Church or a Mosque and it does not matter how you pray and where and what you wear doing that. God is only in your heart. That’s where the holiness lies. In your heart. God’s holiness is really the holiness of your heart. That’s what makes you better. It’s in your heart right next to love and honor and only there. Each of us would have a different version of that feeling of goodness. God is filling your heart with goodness. But the Devil is always the one that fills your heart with hate. What is stronger and what shall prevail? That’s the eternal question for all of us and that’s where the eternal struggle of good and bad lies.”

“That is where you are all wrong. This is where you misunderstood God. God spoke to you too but you dismissed it believing that you were greater than God, taking things in to your own hands, thinking that God was not leading you but he did. You only followed his lead and I only followed his lead. I am not guilty of anything. I just followed orders.” The man, who came last, was pacing the cell furiously. He was in an extremely agitated state and could barely control it.
“God is not only in your heart. The image of God is in your heart and in your mind. God is everywhere and God demands that you obey and follow. God speaks to you through the Holy Books and the Holy Men. They lead you in prayer and they lead you in life. You do what they say. God entrusted you into their hands. You are just sheep and you have to trail the Shepherd. The ones that follow are the true believers and the ones that don’t are infidels. This is all in black and white. It was written. We, true believers, are charged with converting all infidels in to our true faith. The ones that don’t follow shall die. They have no place among us and we are responsible for the clearing task. Believers killing the infidels will be rewarded in Paradise. All infidels will go to Hell. That’s what God told me. God will not forgive the infidels but he is all merciful for the believers. Believe and you will be forgiven. Believe and God would be always on your side guiding you, helping you and protecting you. Whatever you had done, if you are a true believer, God would embrace you at the end. But, you have to embrace God first. Embrace him, obey him and follow him without questioning the true faith. And, if you are an infidel, nothing can help you. There is no such thing as a good infidel. Infidels are infidels and God would not forgive them. You will be condemned unless you listen to God, embrace him and convert as early as possible. Then, after your conversion, you become one of us, one of believers and we embrace you.”

“You two – the oldest one and the youngest one! Come over. You can go,” said the burly guard slowly opening the squealing ancient rusty iron cell door. The terrifying loud screech clearly indicated its protest to this uncustomary action. This door was not meant to let prisoners out but only to let them in. This door knew it well. Whom this door separated from whom? Was it separating the holy men from the powers abused by them or was it separating the followers of the holy men from the betrayed trust? This was something to think about.

“The hearing was at last concluded and the final judgment was passed. You two can go. You can go anywhere and live as you wish but you always have to do it together. That’s your punishment for lying. For eternity, you two will have to live together day and night, century after century. You have to figure out how to live together without committing crime upon each other or violating each other's rights. You had done enough of that already. You have to learn to coexist in the full meaning of this word. You have to follow now the laws you created and promoted so selflessly. Now you have to set an example for all of us to follow in to your own steps. If you fail, your punishment will be severe. It would be as severe as you described in your books called the Bible. Remember that, humans. Go now and prove what you are and that you are worthy. You promoted love and now love each other. Never ever spill blood in the name of God and never prevail over the other on the religious grounds. Religion is only an attribute, a dressing, a philosophy, a way of thinking and not the core, not the way of life. Never use religion to differentiate people and to put someone down. Religion does not matter but laws of coexistence do. Learn that and apply that to life and you would not fail. Merits in life are much more important than how you pray and what your house of prayer looks like. Remember, God did not choose anyone over the others. You chose yourselves to be the righteous ones, so be that. God is in your deeds and not in the houses of prayer and in the sky. God would always be with you if you are true to yourselves and to the others. Go. Peace be with you.”

They put whatever food they held down and went to the cell door slowly passing the man, who was brought in last. None of them entered a word and they did not even look at each other. The younger man let the oldest one to go through the gate first. That was the show of respect and the acknowledgement of the elder and the leader. This man was the first and the most important leader in history, as we know it, as it was presented to us. He was not a born king with armies and the riches to rule. He was the self made man who became the leader for hundreds of generations to come. He deserved that respect. They both had too much on their minds already and answers to all these unasked questions did not come fast enough. Answers could take time and time they had. Eternity was in front of them and the clock had only started.

“What about me, soldier? Am I staying here? With the rats? Why is that? For how long? What about me? What was my judgment? Hey, you, guard. Are you listening? Talk to me. Are you a believer? You should be. This is the true, God given, religion.” yelled the man, who was brought in last, at the top of his lungs. “Answer me, soldier. You know who I am. Answer me. I demand your answer. These two are not important any longer. In fact, they are obsolete. I am the most important one because everything, all events, led to me and to my interpretation of religion. My religion is the final one and my book is the last book God gave us. God spoke to me when he dictated the book. There is no God but God. Talk to me, infidel!”

“You created the most violent religion and you claim that this religion was given to you by God and, in accordance to you, this is the only true religion.” The Guard looked quite angry when he spoke these words. Guards were known for killing prisoners in anger.

Continued in part 2