The Prescience Read online

  “Forgiveness will go a long ways towards making that happen.”

  I stared at Daniel. “Forgiveness? You’re thinking about forgiveness when we could have died.”

  “God protected you, right?”

  I watched Nidal as he ate some fruit in the kitchen. “I want to go, but I’m worried. Suppose that interloper comes back? Nidal should have told you about the chip. He had to have known.”

  Daniel grabbed my hand. “I still think we can find out more, but if he thinks we’re judging him, he won’t tell us anything.”

  I pulled my hand back and clasped my arms in front of me.

  Daniel peered deeply into my eyes. “If we continue to show him how much we accept him, I think we can win him over. He doesn’t understand. Our key to reaching him is Jesus.”

  “All right,” I said reluctantly.

  Daniel hugged me and turned his attention to our bags and fruit baskets. “Can you grab something?”

  I nodded.

  He walked over and briefly checked on his mother. I kissed Shira, and Nidal joined Daniel at the front door.

  Martha and Shira waved. “See you later this evening.”

  I smiled back.

  We walked outside as a gush of wind blew overhead, and a couple of doves scattered to a nearby fig tree. Suddenly the nagging thought of leprosy wouldn’t leave me. When we passed through some bright sunlight, I appraised Daniel’s face, perhaps too conspicuously.

  He frowned. “Do you still think I have leprosy?”

  I hated being rebuffed. “Are my thoughts that transparent to you?”

  Daniel chuckled. “The evil one will make you doubt, Shale. Don’t give him a foothold this day.”

  Then I heard Worldly Crow cackling from a nearby post. “Ca-ca, ca-ca. What a sucker you are.”

  I started to pick up a pebble, but changed my mind. Why should I give him the pleasure of a response? “The Lord rebuke you,” I muttered.

  CHAPTER 26

  THE CROWDED, BUSY streets of the Upper City soon diverted our attention. Animals and pilgrims, celebrating the Jewish festival of Shavuot, covered every blade of green grass and stone walkway.

  As we neared the temple, a long procession of worshippers gathered in front of us. Hundreds of oxen dressed in garlands of flowers transported a wide of assortment of fruits and grains. Children carried small baskets of figs and dates.

  “Is this like a parade?” I asked.

  Daniel waved his hand. “This is the festival of Shavuot, more commonly known to Christians as Pentecost.”

  So a festival was another name for a parade? I didn’t understand Jewish traditions.

  As we neared the temple entrance, the breathtaking view overwhelmed me. A couple of hundred thousand visitors could fit inside the temple walls, not counting the animals loaded up with grain offerings. The swarms of people extended past the city gates and up the hills overlooking the city.

  Daniel headed towards the entrance to the temple mount. “Let’s find Solomon’s Porch.”

  “Is it always like this during festivals?” I asked.

  Daniel squeezed my hand. “Jewish travelers come from everywhere. It’s one of the three Jewish pilgrimages.”

  Doubt crept into my thoughts. How could Daniel share anything as significant as Jesus amidst these people? Had we done the right thing showing up for a Jewish celebration that would mean nothing to Nidal? Daniel needed to find a commonality between Islam and Jesus. I didn’t see how attending this festival could make that happen.

  Daniel said something to Nidal, and I started to ask him to repeat what he said when the shofar blasted. Spontaneous singing erupted, and the praises of the people lifted above the chatter. I caught some of the words sung in Hebrew.

  “He brought us to this place and has given us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey; and now, behold, I have brought the first fruits of the land which you, O Lord, have given me.”

  “Let’s give our offering to the temple attendants first, and then we’ll go to Solomon’s Porch,” Daniel suggested.

  We waited our turn amongst hundreds of other sojourners. The air was cool despite the bright morning sun, and there was plenty of activity to fill the boredom of standing in line.

  After waiting close to an hour, we made our offering. I’d never seen anything like this in America except at sporting events. Seeing humanity pressed in on all sides to worship was unprecedented—at least that I was aware of. Getting students to attend our prayer meetings and Bible study at school paled in comparison to this.

  Imperceptibly at first, the wind began to stir. Soon it became stronger, but I was distracted by a woman’s voice. “Daniel!” she shouted over the mob.

  The voice was familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

  Seconds later, I recognized the young girl. Lilly waved her hand as she pressed towards us. Daniel had prayed with her in the synagogue over her father. Was she from this time period?

  Daniel greeted her warmly. “Lilly, this is my betrothed, Shale.”

  My mind wandered. What would my mother be like if I were to meet her in this dimension?

  Suddenly the wind increased, but it wasn’t a wild wind. The wind blew where it wanted, drawing attention to itself.

  Lilly took my arm and nudged me as she shouted to Daniel. “Follow me. Peter and the disciples are at Solomon’s Porch. They have been here all morning praying.”

  We picked our way through the masses as the wind increased. My anticipation mounted.

  “Daniel!” The events unfolding drowned out my voice. The wind circled over the temple, descending as a whirlwind. I saw heaven open as a fiery wind pelted us. A voice that sounded like thunderous waters proclaimed, “And it shall come to pass that whoever calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.”

  Hundreds had gathered around Solomon’s Porch, but we managed to get close enough to hear. The disciples of Jesus stood in a semicircle facing the crowd. The zephyr descended zigzagging through the temple columns. Tongues of fire alighted upon the disciples.

  Almost immediately, the fire transformed them. Words of praise left their lips as hope alighted on their faces. A supernatural peace settled over the temple as the disciples began to speak in tongues.

  I heard English. How could that be? I lifted my eyes to heaven and raised my hands in exultation. Quite unexpectedly, I saw the risen Christ bathed in pure white light sitting on a magnificent throne.

  Peter shouted for all to hear. “This Jesus has been exalted to the right hand of God and we receive the Holy Spirit, that which you now see and hear.”

  Several exclaimed, “I’m hearing you in my native language. How can that be?”

  The people waved their hands and stared at one another. Unexplainable signs and wonders filled the temple. Nidal spoke to Daniel excitedly. “I’m hearing the words of Muhammad in my native language. I’ve never heard Muhammad speak.”

  I clasped Daniel’s arm, concerned that Nidal thought he was hearing Muhammad and not Jesus, but Daniel reassured me. “Let God speak.”

  People were talking at once. I caught bits and pieces of several conversations.

  “I’m hearing Peter in Arabic,” a foreigner exclaimed.

  “I’m hearing him in Greek,” another shouted.

  “Peter can’t speak Greek,” a woman interrupted. “He’s a fisherman from Galilee.”

  “He’s speaking Aramaic,” another man said.

  “Then why am I hearing him in Parthian?” a visitor asked. “I thought worship in the temple was only in Hebrew.”

  The throng swelled around Solomon’s Porch as the winds of fire soared over the heads of eyewitnesses. The tongues alighted on some of the listeners, and they also began to speak in tongues. The multitude stared, questioning each other. “Are these not Galileans? How is it that we’re hearing them in our own language?”

  No one had a good answer. A few standing nearby mocked the disciples. “They are full of new wine.”

  Fear crossed the face
s of the Roman guards as they stared into the heavens. Nothing in their plethora of Roman gods could explain this event. Did they consider this was related to the death of Jesus whom they had crucified seven weeks earlier?

  Goosebumps tinged my skin as I felt electricity in the air—a supernatural kind that had settled over the temple. We had witnessed the fulfillment of the fourth of God’s seven festivals. The next festival to be fulfilled would be the Feast of Trumpets—and my thoughts ran amok imagining the final completion of it in our generation.

  Could that feast celebrate the day of the rapture, when all those who believed in Christ would be taken up to heaven? I knew we were in the last days because the last days began at this very moment, at Pentecost. I hadn’t read the Book of Acts in a long time. Now I would read it with a renewed zest for the early Christians.

  The murmurs increased, and I feared a riot might erupt. Then Peter stood on a table and addressed the onlookers. “Men of Judea and those who dwell in Jerusalem, let this be known to you, and heed my words.

  “For these men and women are not drunk, as you suppose, since it is only the third hour of the day. But this is what was spoken by the prophet Joel: ‘It shall come to pass in the last days that I will pour out my spirit on all flesh; your sons and your daughters shall prophesy. Your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams.’”

  Peter raised his hands and quoted from God’s book. “‘And on my menservants and on my maidservants, I will pour out my spirit in those days, and they shall prophesy. I will show wonders in heaven above, and signs in the earth beneath; blood and fire and vapor of smoke. The sun shall be turned into darkness, and the moon into blood, before the coming of the great and awesome day of the Lord. And it shall come to pass that whoever calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.’”

  I remembered my dream. The sun turning dark could be a solar eclipse, but what could the moon turning to red mean except something in the atmosphere turning it red—like fire?

  Peter explained what had happened. “Jesus of Nazareth, the son of God, seven weeks ago, was put to death by crucifixion. On the third day he rose from the dead. Even now in heaven, Christ sits on the throne.”

  Peter said Jesus had told them to wait in Jerusalem until he sent the gift of the Holy Spirit. Those present had witnessed that outpouring. He quoted again from the scriptures. “For David did not ascend into the heavens, but he said, ‘The Lord said to my Lord, sit at my right hand, till I make your enemies your footstool.’”

  Thousands on the temple mount heard Peter’s sermon, and many threw up their hands in contrite prayers of repentance. When the people realized the truth of Peter’s words, many hearts trembled with fear. Some quickly asked, “What must we do?”

  Peter replied, “Repent, and let every one of you be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ for the remission of sins; and you shall receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.”

  Thousands came forward.

  The mikvahs, huge baths for ceremonial washing, had already been set up along the southern walls of the temple mount at the base of the double-gate stairs. Lines began to form. I had never seen such a turning to God by so many at once. I leaned into Daniel. “This is the beginning of the church age.”

  Daniel smiled. “I know.”

  I glanced over at Nidal. He appeared stunned. Daniel draped his arm around his shoulder and spoke to him in private. I turned my attention to the temple entrance. Some people were dispersing, unmoved by what had happened.

  I shook my head in disbelief that anyone could walk away from the greatest gift given by God. What else could God have done to show his perfect love to a perverse generation that killed him? I remembered Jesus’ words, “For many are called, but few are chosen.”

  After several minutes of intense discussion, Daniel relayed to me what Nidal had said.

  “Nidal wants to talk to me and I can’t hear him here. Let’s go to another part of the temple away from the noise.”

  “Do you think he’ll tell you about your father?”

  Daniel rubbed the nape of his neck. “If I don’t press too hard. He is quite shaken by what we’ve witnessed.”

  Daniel led the way. I prayed as we walked that God would work a miracle.

  Since women weren’t allowed into the deeper recesses of the temple, we had to stay in the outer court. Daniel found a small portico, and we sat on some benches inside the columns that buttressed the wall.

  CHAPTER 27

  “I DON’T KNOW where to begin,” Nidal said.

  Daniel focused on Nidal with an intensity that surprised me. “The beginning is always a good place.”

  Nidal clasped his face in his hands. “It’s too late. I’ve made too many mistakes.”

  He groaned as a man deeply hurting, but was it genuine? I was skeptical.

  “I never want to see the scientists again,” Nidal stated. He lifted his face tarnished with regret, but was it true contriteness or only regret that he had been caught?

  Words gushed forth. “What would they do to me? We didn’t complete the mission.”

  Daniel waved his hands impatiently. “I don’t care about that. I want to know about my father, Aviv Sperling.”

  Nidal rubbed his eyes.

  “Is he still alive?”

  “The last I heard he was.”

  “When was that?”

  Nidal clasped his forearms and focused on the ground. “I don’t know the men who came the first time, but they were connected with scientists. They had heard about the yeti from news reports and climbers. Suddenly, the creatures were everywhere.”

  “The yeti? You already told me about the yeti.”

  “I know,” Nidal said. “But remember, they aren’t animals and they aren’t human. They are something from another world, maybe something the scientists created themselves, in an experiment gone awry.”

  I touched Daniel’s arm, reminding him of what had happened when we were in Nepal.

  Daniel stood, imploring Nidal again with his hands. “What does that have to do with my father?”

  “I’m getting there.”

  Annoyed, Daniel traipsed a few feet away.

  I edged over to him, concerned that at the most critical moment, Daniel had gotten impatient. “Daniel,” I whispered, “let him talk. Don’t rush him. You might find out more that way.”

  Daniel drew in a long breath. “I so want to know what happened to my father.” He clasped my arm. “Thanks.”

  He returned to Nidal as I lingered, distracted by the crowd following us. The earthy smell of animals, carried along by the hot, desert wind, turned my stomach. The Bible told the sanitized version, but if only believers could touch the walls of the temple and see the tongues of fire. I dismissed my wanderings and returned to hear Nidal’s story.

  “I’ve been on a quest for the truth,” he said. “I grew up as a Hindu. When I heard about Allah, I wanted to become a Muslim. I no longer believed in the Hindu gods. Thousands made it impossible to know them intimately, and I exhausted myself trying to please so many.

  “I became interested in Islam when some Muslims hired me to lead their expedition to Mount Everest. They prayed five times day and fasted. Their holy one seemed more real than our thousands. I asked them how I could become a Muslim. They gave me a copy of the Quran.”

  Nidal fidgeted with his trembling hands. He then tucked them under his arms and spoke barely above a whisper. “I went to the local mosque to learn more. I studied hard. When more scientists came around asking about the yeti, I told them I had become a Muslim. They offered me a deal. They said they would pay for me to make the Haj if I went to Syria to find a businessman. They wanted some scrolls. They said if the scrolls got into the wrong hands, bigger problems than the yeti could come upon the mountain.”

  Nidal’s words became more deliberate. “I didn’t know what I was getting into. Nepal is one of the poorest countries in the world. I was a Sherpa. Every year people die trying to make it to the summit. Now I
had my ticket to a new life.”

  “What happened next?”

  “After I finished the Haj, Tariq met me in Mecca. Tariq knew the location of Aviv in Syria. The scientists tracked him down in Damascus. Then the war started.

  “Plans changed. I wanted to back out. After spending a couple of days with Tariq, I didn’t like him. He said the scientists had paid for my trip to Mecca and promised more money when the mission was completed. He threatened to kidnap Mr. Sperling if he didn’t give us his scrolls.”

  “So that information from the police was correct,” Daniel mumbled. “He was kidnapped.”

  “Alms, alms,” a beggar cried as he approached. He tapped his cane to the front and side. I took pity on him, a blind man begging for scraps when he could have received God’s Comforter. I reached into my bag and handed him a fig.

  The man thanked me and continued on his way.

  Nidal waited until the man was a good distance away before continuing. “Aviv, your father, spoke Nepali, which surprised me, although many Jewish families come to Nepal for vacation. He said he didn’t have the scrolls. He had given them to someone.”

  “What happened after that?” Daniel asked.

  “The war with ISIS in Syria intensified and travel became dangerous. Despite that, we took Aviv to Nepal just to get out of Syria. I promised him we would let him go if he cooperated. I suggested to Tariq we take him to a shaman. I convinced him a shaman could find out where the scrolls were. I wanted to set Aviv free.”

  “The shaman claimed Aviv sent the scrolls to Israel. We tried to get permission from the Israeli authorities to get a search warrant. They said any antiquities found in Israel belonged to Israel.”

  “Wait,” Daniel cut in. “You took my father to the shaman. Then what happened?”

  “The shaman suggested we take him to Shambhala, to the Perlsea Castle, high up in the Himalayan Mountains, where the shaman said he would be unable to escape. Tariq insisted we tie him up, even though I didn’t want to.”

  “And then what happened?” Daniel asked.

  “Your father refused to tell us anything more. In reality, his usefulness was done. Tariq lost interest in him at that point and wanted to, in his words, ‘eliminate him.’ Fortunately, the scientists weren’t interested in killing people and had another idea. They wanted us to travel through a star gate and retrieve the scrolls back in history.