“The best way to destroy the Free Open Market Capitalist System was to debauch the currency. By a continuing process of inflation, governments can confiscate, secretly and unobserved, an important part of the wealth of their citizens.”
Rothschilds are the originators of MAFIA. They are unelected controlling thugs, who have cheated, murdered, bribed, fear mongered their way into public control.
The people of the World have now begun to unravel this web of deceit and are taking action.
In 1917 Vladimir Lenin With Rothschild over throws The Russian Monarchy starting Rothschild’s Devised Doctrine of socialism/marxism/communism/ in Russia to become USSR.
President Putin paid off Russia’s debt to rothschild in 2006 and has been removing his goons from Russia ever since.
– Volubrjotr
Related articles
Jésus le Messager de Lumière - Adriana Evangelizt - Poésie Cosmique - Adriana Evangelizt
J'ai souvenance d'un pays
Eclaté de lumière à irradier mes yeux...
D'un pays où la brume matinale
Nimbait le paysage
Tel un voile céleste...
Où chantaient les voix d'un Ailleurs
Que j'avais du quitter
Pour m'incarner en homme...
Je venais de si loin
De si loin...
Il m'avait tant coûté d'en partir...
Je connaissais à l'avance mon destin terrestre
Tracé d'un doigt funeste
Par des hommes immoraux...
Aimé des plus petits
Détesté des plus grands
Et tant de sourds, tant d'aveugles
Tant de gens ignorants
Qui resteraient fermés à mon Enseignement
Et ne perceraient pas
Le lumineux mystère enfoui
Dans le coeur de mes Paraboles...

J'ai souvenance d'un pays
A la chaleur torride
Où mes pas me portaient
Sur les chemins poudreux...
D'un pays
A l'atmosphère suffocante
Quand la foule m'attendait sur les bords du Jourdain...
Tant de désespérés
Tant de coeurs en souffrance
Tant de maux à soigner
Et moi seul... si seul... si seul
A prêcher dans le vent
A n'être devenu qu'un faiseur de miracles
Un guérisseur de corps
Alors que j'étais panseur d'âmes...
Mais comment leur dire
Qu'ils possédaient la clef de la délivrance
Tout au fond d'eux-mêmes ?
Comment leur expliquer
Que la chair périssable n'est que superficielle ?

J'ai souvenance d'un pays
Où les flammes dansaient dans le regard des femmes
Où leurs yeux s'accrochaient quelquefois
Si lumineux, aux miens
Où se dessinait un possible bonheur...
J'aurais pu choisir un autre fardeau...
J'aurai pu, moi aussi, avoir une compagne
Et déposer ma vie
Dans le creux de ses mains...
Rien ne fut facile à l'humain que j'étais
Non rien...
Il m'a fallu du temps
Pour emprunter la Voie
Du sage nazaréen...
Alors j'ai pris la route glacée de l'exil
Il me fallait connaître solitude, froid et faim
Pour sonder mon courage
Et affermir ma foi.
Partir dans le désert
Quarante jours quarante nuits
Seul avec moi-même...
Et puis dans une grotte
Quelques figues séchées
Le filet d'une source...
Et l'extase bleutée
Pour mon âme exaltée
Fusant dans les étoiles
Guettant la divine réponse...M'accordes-Tu le droit
De vivre comme un homme
Où n'ai-je que le choix
De mourir sur la Croix ?
Dis moi Père... oh dis moi...

J'ai souvenance d'un pays
Où le cri des agneaux s'échappaient hors du temple
A m'arracher des larmes...
Où le sang versé des béliers sacrifiés
N'enlevait pas le mal
Des infirmes se traînant
Et des lépreux rampant
Dans les ruelles borgnes
Des quartiers mal famés de Jérusalem...
Oh Jérusalem... Jérusalem...
Toi qui tues les innocents
Et lapides les prophètes...
J'ai compris en te voyant
Le mal qui te minait
Mais tu le préférais
Au bien que j'apportais...
J'ai souvenance d'un pays
Où les puissants priaient en se vautrant dans l'or
Tuaient des animaux pour tuer leur conscience
Appliquaient une loi cruelle
Qui n'était pas la Loi Originelle...
Mais ignorait la misère du Peuple.
Qui était ce dieu en qui ils croyaient ?
Qui était ce Yahvé barbare et sanguinaire
Se repaissant de crimes ?
Etait-ce vraiment ce que vous nommez Dieu ?
Tableau de Mark Harrison
Le dieu de Moïse était-il donc si différent du mien ?
Ou bien... avait-ON trahi sa parole ?
Ou bien... les Imposteurs l'avaient-ils confondu
Avec une de leurs idoles
Rapportée du pays égyptien ?

J'ai souvenance d'un pays
Où mes mains se tendaient pour alléger la peine
D'un pays égaré dans de fausses croyances
Que j'ai voulu éclairer de mon Enseignement...
Remplacer la veangeance par l'Amour
Agir au lieu de faire des discours
Mais les princes du Sacerdoce
Ne voulaient pas donner la Vérité aux hommes...

Ils préféraient asservir le Peuple
Sous le joug de l'ignorance
Le laisser porter seul
Le fardeau des souffrances...
Ils préféraient la Loi du tallion
A celle du Pardon
Et juger l'Innocent pour masquer l'Imposture
Et tuer la Lumière pour que vive le Mensonge.

J'ai souvenance d'un pays
Où grondait le tonnerre... certain soir...
D'un dernier repas entre amis
Etrange scène que cette Cène
Et eux, tous là autour de moi
Ne comprenant pas le sens de mon message
De Pierre le naïf à Jean le bien-aimé...
Tenez... prenez mes frères
Ce pain que je vous donne...
Et souvenez-vous de moi
Lorsque je ne serai plus là
Car il faut que je parte...
Tenez... buvez mes frères
Le bon vin de la treille...
Vous avez la meilleure part
Je garde pour moi le calice amer
Qu'il me faudra vider jusqu'à la lie...
J'ai souvenance d'un pays
Où j'ai prêché dans le désert
Même avec mes disciples...
Ont-ils saisi mon message
Ce soir-là ?
Ont-ils perçu ma souffrance
Et le sens symbolique
Du baiser de Judas à l'Ami trahi...

J'ai souvenance d'un immense chagrin
Dans le jardin de Gethsémani
Seul... si seul...
Les apôtres endormis...

Oh mon Père... mon Père...
Quelle fut longue la nuit à scruter les étoiles
Pour trouver ta présence dans ce désert glacé...
Seul... si seul... et pas un pour m'aider
A alléger le poids de ma souffrance...
Pas un pour partager le lourd sacrifice
Dont tu m'avais chargé...
Et plus le temps passait plus mon coeur se brisait
De tant d'indifférence...
Seul... si seul... avec ma douleur
Et les larmes de mon âme
Roulant sur mon visage...

J'ai souvenance d'un pays
Où les gardiens d'une foi dévoyée
Falsifièrent mes paroles
Et me rendirent coupables d'un seul crime:"Aime ton prochain comme toi-même...
Pardonne à la femme infidèle...
Et ne fais pas à l'autre ce que tu ne voudrais pas que l'on te fasse..."
Coupable d'Amour Universel.
Coupable d'avoir dit aussi :
"Mon Royaume n'est pas de ce monde."
Mais comment leur expliquer
Que nous possédons une Âme
Qui vient d'Ailleurs ? Comment ?
Et de quoi avaient-ils donc si peur
Pour me livrer à l'Envahisseur
Afin qu'il m'assassine à leur place ?
J'ai souvenance d'un pays
Où pour avoir préféré le Peuple aux privilèges
Les princes du sacerdoce me crachèrent au visage...
Me giflèrent, m'insultèrent...
Puis me livrèrent à l'ennemi
Qui, lui se serait contenté de me faire fouetter...

Et sans doute Ponce Pilate comprit-il mon désarroi
Lorsqu'il me vit seul... si seul...
Comme un agneau au milieu des loups...
Comme l'Innocence au milieu du Mensonge
Humble... si humble au milieu de tant d'arrogance...
"Quelle accusation portez-vous contre cet homme ?" (Jean 18/29)
Je ne trouve aucun crime en lui." (Jean 18/38)
Qu'ils lui donnèrent comme prétexte :
"Nous avons une loi; et, selon notre loi, il doit mourir,
parce qu'il s'est fait Fils de Dieu." (Jean 19/7)
Ont-ils si mal compris mon Enseignement
Ou bien ont-ils fait semblant ?
"Et Caïphe était celui qui avait donné ce conseil aux Juifs :
Il est avantageux qu'un seul homme meure pour le peuple." (Jean 18/14)
Etais-je donc si dangereux ?
Que craignaient-ils pour en arriver là ?
Qu'avaient ils à cacher ?
Pourquoi ont-ils voulu m'empêcher de parler ?"Je publierai des choses cachées depuis la création du monde." Mat.13/34 "...car il n'y a rien de caché qui ne doive être découvert,
ni de secret qui ne doive être connu."Mat. 10/26
Un autre après moi viendra et... dira la Vérité...

J'ai souvenance d'un pays
Où une foule hostile me conspua
Et préféra un certain Barabbas...
Ô Souviens-toi mon Âme, cet étrange vertige...
Revenir au Royaume céleste passait par une étape
Où le Martyre faisait partie du Plan...
Mais la souffrance humaine
Quelle terrible Epreuve...
J'aurais bu le calice jusqu'à la lie.
Impossible d'y échapper.
Seul... si seul jusqu'au bout...
Mais malgré les cris de haine
Tant de silence au fond de moi
Promesse d'une paix à venir...
Sérénité avant Agonie
Et la voix de mon Père résonnant
"Vas jusqu'au bout de ton calvaire... mon Fils...
Montre leur le chemin...
Ouvre leur la voie... qu'ils comprennent
Que la rédemption ne s'obtient pas
En immolant des animaux
Mais en se sacrifiant Soi...
C'est le symbole de la Croix..."
J'ai souvenance d'un pays
Où planait la tourmente sur la fin du parcours...
D'un pays où la douleur et le sang
Furent ma récompense...
Seul... si seul.. lorsqu'ils me suppliciaient
Et déjà si proche de la Fin
Quand ils m'ont crucifié...

Oh mon Père... mon Père...
Dans l'atroce souffrance
J'ai presque failli douter de ton Amour pour moi...
J'ai souvenance d'un pays
Où plane encore
L'ombre d'une croix...
Toutes les photos ou presque sont tirées du film de Franco Zefirelli Jésus de Nazareth avec le sublime Robert Powell dans le rôle de Ieschoua...
Poème le Messager de Lumière Ieschoua Jesus
par Adriana Evangelizt
Poète Mystique
Adriana Evangelizt Jésus le Messager de Lumière - Poésie Cosmique - Adriana Evangelizt
JESUS, THE MESSENGER OF LIGHT.
JESUS, THE MESSENGER OF LIGHT.
Cosmic Poetry by Adriana Evangelizt
I remember a country
Bursting of light that dazzled my eyes
A country where the morning mist
Wrapped around the countryside
Like a celestial hijaab...
Where one could hear chanting voices of that Elsewhere
That I had to leave
In order to incarnate into a man...
I came from so far away
From so far away...
It cost me so much lo leave my Palestine.
I knew beforehand my earthly destiny
Drawn by a fatal finger
By perverted men…
Loved by the smallest,
Hated by the greatest.
And so many deaf, so many blind,
So many ignorant people
Who would remain impervious to my Teaching,
And would not fathom
The sparkling mystery buried
In the very heart of my Parables…
I remember a country
With scorching sun
Where my feet carried me
On the dusty paths…
Of a country
With an overpowering atmosphere,
Where the crowd was waiting for me by the River Jordan…
So many desperate people!
So may suffering hearts!
So many ailments to heal,
And I, all alone… so alone… so alone,
Preaching in the wind!
Having become only a maker of miracles,
A healer of the body
When I was only a healer of the soul…
But, how to tell them
That they shelter the key to their deliverance
Deep inside themselves?
How to explain to them
That the perishable flesh is only superficial?
I remember a country
Where burning flames danced in women’s glances;
Where their eyes sometimes clung
So brightly to mine;
Where a glimpse of possible happiness emerged…
I could have chosen another burden…
I could have, me too, a companion,
And put my life
In the hollow of her hands…
Nothing was easier for the human that I was,
Really nothing…
It took me time
To follow the Path
Of the wise Nazarean…
So, I took the very cold road leading to exile.
I had to experience loneliness, cold and hunger
In order to evaluate my courage
And strenghthen my faith.
Heading for the desert
Forty days and forty nights
Alone with myself…
And then in a grotto.
Some dried figs,
A trickle of a stream…
And my exalted soul
Merging with the stars
In blueish ecstacy
Watching for the heavenly reply…
Do Thee grant me the right to live as a man
Or do I have but the choice
Only to die on the Cross?
Tell me Father… Oh, please, tell me…
I remember a country
Where the screams of lambs escaped out of the temples
Driving me to tears…
Where the blood of the sacrificed rams
Did not remove the ills
Of the dragging along invalids,
And the creeping lepers
In the half blind roadlets
Of the ill reputed quarters of Jerusalem…
Oh Jerusalem… Jerusalem…
You who kills the innocent
And stones the prophets…
Looking at you I have understood
The evil that gnaws at you,
But, you preferred it
To the good I was bringing to you…
I remember a country
Where the rich prayed while wallowing in gold,
Killed animals in order to kill their conscience,
Applied a cruel law
That was not the Original Law…
But, ignored the misery of the People.
Who was it that god they believe in?
Who was this barbaric and bloodthirsty Yahweh
Who feasted on crime?
Was it really this that you call God?
The god of Moses was he so different from mine?
Or else… have THEY betrayed his Message?
Or else…the Impostors have they confused him
With one of their idols
They brought home from Egypt?
I remember a country
Where I used to stretch my hands in order to heal.
A country lost in false beliefs
That I wanted to enlighten by my Teaching…
Replace vengeance by Love.
Acting instead of making speeches.
But, the Sacerdotal Princes
Did not want to give the Truth to men…
They preferred enslaving the People
Under the yoke of ignorance.
Letting them alone carry
The burden of sufferings…
They preferred the Law an eye for an eye
To that of forgiveness,
And judge the Innocent in order to hide their Deceit,
And kill Light in order for Falsehood to live.
I remember a country
Where there was thunder… on a certain evening…
During a last supper between friends,
A strange scene that Last Supper!
And they, all seated around me,
Not understanding the meaning of my message.
From the naïve Peter to the beloved John…
Here…take, my brothers,
This bread I am giving you…
And remember me
When I will be gone
Because I need to go…
Here…drink my brothers…
The good wine of the vine…
You have the best part,
I keep for myself the bitter chalice
That I have to empty up to the sediment
I remember a country
Where I preached in the desert
Even with my disciples…
Have they grasped my message
On that evening ?
Have they sensed my ordeal
And the symbolical meaning
Of Judas’ kiss to the betrayed friend…?
I recall the sense of a great sadness
In the garden of Gethsemane
Alone… so alone…
The apostles all asleep…
Oh my Father… my Father…
How long it was that night scrutinising the stars
To find your presence in this extremely cold desert…!
Alone… so alone… and not a single one to help me
Lighten the burden of my ordeal…!
Not a single one to share the heavy sacrifice
You have lain upon me…!
And, the more time went by,
The more my heart was shattered
By so much indifference…
Alone.. so alone… with my pain
And the tears from my soul running down my face…!
I remember a country
Where the guardians of a corrupt faith
Falsified my words
And found me guilty of one single crime:
“Love thy neighbour as thyself…
Forgive the unfaithful wife…
And do not do unto others what you do not wish to be done unto thyself…”
Found guilty of Universal Love.
Guilty also for having said:
“My Kingdom is not of this world.”
But, how to explain to them
That we have a soul
That comes from Elsewhere? How?
And, what were they really so afraid of
To make them deliver me into the hands of the invaders
In order to murder me in their place?
I remember a country
Where because I chose the People instead of privileges,
The Sacerdotal Princes spat in my face…
Slapped me, insulted me…
Then delivered me to the enemy
Who would have been satisfied to see me only whipped…
And, undoubtedly Pontius Pilate understood my helplessness
When he saw me alone… so lonely…
Like a lamb in the midst of wolves…
Like innocence in the midst of Falsehood.
Humble… so humble in the midst of so much arrogance…
“John 18:29 “Pilate then went out unto them, and said:
“What accusation bring ye against this man?”
John 18:38 Pilate saith unto him, What is truth? And when he had said this, he went out again unto the Jews, and saith unto them:
“I find in him no fault [at all].”
Humble… so humble in the midst of so much arrogance…
That they gave him as pretext:
John 19:7 The Jews answered him: “We have a law, and by our law he ought to die, because he made himself the Son of God.”
Have they so misunderstood my Teaching
Or have they just pretended?
John 18:14 Now Caiaphas was he, which gave counsel to the Jews, that it was expedient that one man should die for the people.
Was I then so dangerous?
What were they afraid of to come to that point?
What were they hiding?
Why have they tried to prevent me from speaking?
Matthew 13:34 All these things spake Jesus unto the multitude in parables; and without a parable spake he not unto them:
1Corinthian 4:5 Therefore judge nothing before the time, until the Lord come, who both will bring to light the hidden things of darkness, and will make manifest the counsels of the hearts: and then shall every man have praise of God.
Matthew 10:26 Fear them not therefore: for there is nothing covered, that shall not be revealed; and hid, that shall not be known.
Another after me shall come and… shall tell the Truth…
I remember a country
Where a hostile crowd booed at me
And preferred a certain Barabbas…
Ô my Soul, remember that weird dizziness…
To return to the Heavenly Kingdom,
One had to go through a phase
Where martyrdom formed part of the Plan…
But, human suffering,
What a horrible Test…
I would have drunk the chalice to the dregs
Impossible, there is no way out.
Alone… so alone up to the end…
But, despite the screams of hate,
So much silence deep inside me.
Promise of a coming peace…
Serenity before Agony
And the voice of my Father resounding
“Go to the end of your Calvary… my Son…
Show them the way…
Open the path to them… they should understand
That Redemption cannot be obtained
By sacrificing animals,
But, only by sacrificing Self…
It is the symbol of the Cross…”
I remember a country
Where turmoil hung over the end of the trip…
Of a country where pain and blood
Were my reward…
Alone… so alone… when they tortured me
And yet so close to the End
When they crucified me…
Father… forgive them
Because they know not what they do…
Oh my Father… my Father…
In the atrocious pain
I nearly doubted your Love for me…
Eli… Eli… Lama Sabachthani
Eli… Eli… Lama Sabachthani
It is your Son they are tormenting!
Father… Father… why hath thou forsaken me?
Where are you? I am in so much pain…
So much pain… So much pain…
Eli…Eli…Lama Sabachthani
Father… Father… why hath Thou forsaken me?
What crime did I then commit?
Eli…Eli…Lama Sabachthani
How long will this Calvary last?
Did I deserve such a punishment?
Is it this then human justice?
Forgive them, for they know not what they do…
And my pain shall be theirs as long as they will not have understood why I have come HERE…
I am coming Father…
EVERYTHING IS ACCOMPLISHED…
I remember a country
Where still floats
The shadow of a cross…
All the photographs or nearly most are from Franco Zefirelli’s Jesus of Nazareth with the sublime Robert Powell in the role of Yeschua…
Adriana Evangelizt
Translated by Ghyslaine ROC
Posted by B.A.FRÉMAUX-SOORMALLY
Jésus le Messager de Lumière
JESUS, THE MESSENGER OF LIGHT.
Des Juifs et d’autres gangsters usuriers des banques (échangeurs de monnaie) ont assassiné de nombreux leaders qui essayèrent de les stopper :
2 empereurs romains, 2000 ans avant l’ère commune (avant Jésus Christ),
Jésus (selon les Chrétiens),
Jules César en 48 EC
Abraham Lincoln – assassiné le 15 avril 1865
James Abram Garfield – assassiné le 2 juillet 1881
Tzar Nikolay Alexandrovich Romanov (Saint Nicholas le Martyre) – assassiné le 17 juillet 1918
John Fitzgerald Kennedy – assassiné le 22 novembre 1963
Saddam Hussein Abd al-Majid al-Tikriti – assassiné par exécution (pendaison) le 9 avril 2003
Muammar al-Ghaddafi – assassiné et sodomisé en mars 2012 par des mercenaires recrutés par l’occident et le Juif sioniste Bernard Henri-Lévi à leur tête.
Hugo Chavez – assassiné le 5 mars 2013 suite à un cancer provoqué
Et de nombreux autres
Les gangsters usuriers ont raté Andrew Jackson (USA), et Mahmoud Ahmedinejad (IRAN) est sur la liste des prochaines cibles ou victimes. (Consulter: Money Masters, Monopolymen, Freedom to Fascism, etc.)
JESUS, THE MESSENGER OF LIGHT.
Cosmic Poetry by Adriana Evangelizt
I remember a country
Bursting of light that dazzled my eyes
A country where the morning mist
Wrapped around the countryside
Like a celestial hijaab...
Where one could hear chanting voices of that Elsewhere
That I had to leave
In order to incarnate into a man...
I came from so far away
From so far away...
It cost me so much lo leave my Palestine.
I knew beforehand my earthly destiny
Drawn by a fatal finger
By perverted men…
Loved by the smallest,
Hated by the greatest.
And so many deaf, so many blind,
So many ignorant people
Who would remain impervious to my Teaching,
And would not fathom
The sparkling mystery buried
In the very heart of my Parables…
I remember a country
With scorching sun
Where my feet carried me
On the dusty paths…
Of a country
With an overpowering atmosphere,
Where the crowd was waiting for me by the River Jordan…
So many desperate people!
So may suffering hearts!
So many ailments to heal,
And I, all alone… so alone… so alone,
Preaching in the wind!
Having become only a maker of miracles,
A healer of the body
When I was only a healer of the soul…
But, how to tell them
That they shelter the key to their deliverance
Deep inside themselves?
How to explain to them
That the perishable flesh is only superficial?
I remember a country
Where burning flames danced in women’s glances;
Where their eyes sometimes clung
So brightly to mine;
Where a glimpse of possible happiness emerged…
I could have chosen another burden…
I could have, me too, a companion,
And put my life
In the hollow of her hands…
Nothing was easier for the human that I was,
Really nothing…
It took me time
To follow the Path
Of the wise Nazarean…
So, I took the very cold road leading to exile.
I had to experience loneliness, cold and hunger
In order to evaluate my courage
And strenghthen my faith.
Heading for the desert
Forty days and forty nights
Alone with myself…
And then in a grotto.
Some dried figs,
A trickle of a stream…
And my exalted soul
Merging with the stars
In blueish ecstacy
Watching for the heavenly reply…
Do Thee grant me the right to live as a man
Or do I have but the choice
Only to die on the Cross?
Tell me Father… Oh, please, tell me…
I remember a country
Where the screams of lambs escaped out of the temples
Driving me to tears…
Where the blood of the sacrificed rams
Did not remove the ills
Of the dragging along invalids,
And the creeping lepers
In the half blind roadlets
Of the ill reputed quarters of Jerusalem…
Oh Jerusalem… Jerusalem…
You who kills the innocent
And stones the prophets…
Looking at you I have understood
The evil that gnaws at you,
But, you preferred it
To the good I was bringing to you…
I remember a country
Where the rich prayed while wallowing in gold,
Killed animals in order to kill their conscience,
Applied a cruel law
That was not the Original Law…
But, ignored the misery of the People.
Who was it that god they believe in?
Who was this barbaric and bloodthirsty Yahweh
Who feasted on crime?
Was it really this that you call God?
The god of Moses was he so different from mine?
Or else… have THEY betrayed his Message?
Or else…the Impostors have they confused him
With one of their idols
They brought home from Egypt?
I remember a country
Where I used to stretch my hands in order to heal.
A country lost in false beliefs
That I wanted to enlighten by my Teaching…
Replace vengeance by Love.
Acting instead of making speeches.
But, the Sacerdotal Princes
Did not want to give the Truth to men…
They preferred enslaving the People
Under the yoke of ignorance.
Letting them alone carry
The burden of sufferings…
They preferred the Law an eye for an eye
To that of forgiveness,
And judge the Innocent in order to hide their Deceit,
And kill Light in order for Falsehood to live.
I remember a country
Where there was thunder… on a certain evening…
During a last supper between friends,
A strange scene that Last Supper!
And they, all seated around me,
Not understanding the meaning of my message.
From the naïve Peter to the beloved John…
Here…take, my brothers,
This bread I am giving you…
And remember me
When I will be gone
Because I need to go…
Here…drink my brothers…
The good wine of the vine…
You have the best part,
I keep for myself the bitter chalice
That I have to empty up to the sediment
I remember a country
Where I preached in the desert
Even with my disciples…
Have they grasped my message
On that evening ?
Have they sensed my ordeal
And the symbolical meaning
Of Judas’ kiss to the betrayed friend…?
I recall the sense of a great sadness
In the garden of Gethsemane
Alone… so alone…
The apostles all asleep…
Oh my Father… my Father…
How long it was that night scrutinising the stars
To find your presence in this extremely cold desert…!
Alone… so alone… and not a single one to help me
Lighten the burden of my ordeal…!
Not a single one to share the heavy sacrifice
You have lain upon me…!
And, the more time went by,
The more my heart was shattered
By so much indifference…
Alone.. so alone… with my pain
And the tears from my soul running down my face…!
I remember a country
Where the guardians of a corrupt faith
Falsified my words
And found me guilty of one single crime:
“Love thy neighbour as thyself…
Forgive the unfaithful wife…
And do not do unto others what you do not wish to be done unto thyself…”
Found guilty of Universal Love.
Guilty also for having said:
“My Kingdom is not of this world.”
But, how to explain to them
That we have a soul
That comes from Elsewhere? How?
And, what were they really so afraid of
To make them deliver me into the hands of the invaders
In order to murder me in their place?
I remember a country
Where because I chose the People instead of privileges,
The Sacerdotal Princes spat in my face…
Slapped me, insulted me…
Then delivered me to the enemy
Who would have been satisfied to see me only whipped…
And, undoubtedly Pontius Pilate understood my helplessness
When he saw me alone… so lonely…
Like a lamb in the midst of wolves…
Like innocence in the midst of Falsehood.
Humble… so humble in the midst of so much arrogance…
“John 18:29 “Pilate then went out unto them, and said:
“What accusation bring ye against this man?”
John 18:38 Pilate saith unto him, What is truth? And when he had said this, he went out again unto the Jews, and saith unto them:
“I find in him no fault [at all].”
Humble… so humble in the midst of so much arrogance…
That they gave him as pretext:
John 19:7 The Jews answered him: “We have a law, and by our law he ought to die, because he made himself the Son of God.”
Have they so misunderstood my Teaching
Or have they just pretended?
John 18:14 Now Caiaphas was he, which gave counsel to the Jews, that it was expedient that one man should die for the people.
Was I then so dangerous?
What were they afraid of to come to that point?
What were they hiding?
Why have they tried to prevent me from speaking?
Matthew 13:34 All these things spake Jesus unto the multitude in parables; and without a parable spake he not unto them:
1Corinthian 4:5 Therefore judge nothing before the time, until the Lord come, who both will bring to light the hidden things of darkness, and will make manifest the counsels of the hearts: and then shall every man have praise of God.
Matthew 10:26 Fear them not therefore: for there is nothing covered, that shall not be revealed; and hid, that shall not be known.
Another after me shall come and… shall tell the Truth…
I remember a country
Where a hostile crowd booed at me
And preferred a certain Barabbas…
Ô my Soul, remember that weird dizziness…
To return to the Heavenly Kingdom,
One had to go through a phase
Where martyrdom formed part of the Plan…
But, human suffering,
What a horrible Test…
I would have drunk the chalice to the dregs
Impossible, there is no way out.
Alone… so alone up to the end…
But, despite the screams of hate,
So much silence deep inside me.
Promise of a coming peace…
Serenity before Agony
And the voice of my Father resounding
“Go to the end of your Calvary… my Son…
Show them the way…
Open the path to them… they should understand
That Redemption cannot be obtained
By sacrificing animals,
But, only by sacrificing Self…
It is the symbol of the Cross…”
I remember a country
Where turmoil hung over the end of the trip…
Of a country where pain and blood
Were my reward…
Alone… so alone… when they tortured me
And yet so close to the End
When they crucified me…
Father… forgive them
Because they know not what they do…
Oh my Father… my Father…
In the atrocious pain
I nearly doubted your Love for me…
Eli… Eli… Lama Sabachthani
Eli… Eli… Lama Sabachthani
It is your Son they are tormenting!
Father… Father… why hath thou forsaken me?
Where are you? I am in so much pain…
So much pain… So much pain…
Eli…Eli…Lama Sabachthani
Father… Father… why hath Thou forsaken me?
What crime did I then commit?
Eli…Eli…Lama Sabachthani
How long will this Calvary last?
Did I deserve such a punishment?
Is it this then human justice?
Forgive them, for they know not what they do…
And my pain shall be theirs as long as they will not have understood why I have come HERE…
I am coming Father…
EVERYTHING IS ACCOMPLISHED…
I remember a country
Where still floats
The shadow of a cross…
All the photographs or nearly most are from Franco Zefirelli’s Jesus of Nazareth with the sublime Robert Powell in the role of Yeschua…
Adriana Evangelizt
Translated by Ghyslaine ROC
Posted by B.A.FRÉMAUX-SOORMALLY
THE UGLY TRUTH
By SISTER NAHIDA THE EXILED PALESTINIAN
I Met Jesus Today
By Nahida the exiled Palestinian
I met Jesus today
His name was Palestinian
Issa… Jesus he was called
On the altar of “chosen-ness” he was crucified
Time and time and time again
His face was Palestinian
Olive, with a hint of agony
Yet
Years of torture fail to conceal the glow
The purity of his soul peeks through
The sparkle in his eyes invites you to dive in
His pain was Palestinian
The colour of his words
Grips your guts
And squeeze… squeeze … squeeze
Until you lose consciousness
You fall on your knees
Begging for forgiveness
His faith was Palestinian
“Their sadism too much to bear
In the street I waited for a car
No way out but to kill myself
Twilight hour the fall of night
The call to prayer woken my heart
Healing balsam caressed my soul
Maybe…. In this life… still…there is something I can do”
His heart was Palestinian
Carved with sorrow
Filled with love
Flames of rage and roars of thunder
Hound his torturer to his grave
His tears were Palestinian
His first crucifixion… he was only fourteen
On the second, he was nineteen
From then on
He was crucified every minute
…of every hour
…of every day
…of every week
…of every month
…of every year……
His dignity was Palestinian
Anguished by his rapists
With his broken back he stood tall
His wounds run deep… his head held high
He saw the rainbow in the horizon
When all gave up he gave them hope
His smile was Palestinian
It has been said:
“To smile when confronted with most severe oppression
Is an act of Resistance
Rooted
In unparalleled beauty” *
The smile of Issa
Was Palestinian
His resilience was Palestinian
“As he punched me in the face
I felt stronger
As he kicked me in the stomach
I felt stronger
As he slashed my arm
I felt stronger”, he said
His hope was Palestinian
Insha’Allah, ya rab, Alhamdulillah
Bouncy words sprinkled around
Buds of trust bloom and grow
His broad grin whiffs you to life
His nightmares close their eyes
His tales of horror lie to slumber
When all lost hope he saw a future
I saw Jesus today
The Memoirs of Saint John:
No Greater Love
Who was Mary Magdalene and what was her relationship with Jesus?
As the United States and its allies threaten to invade Syria, an archaeological expedition in the country's east yields an ancient cache of scrolls whose authorship is uncertain though whose text consists of classical Greek with occasional passages in Aramaic. Beginning a translation, New Testament scholar David LaSalle quickly realizes what he has in his hands is a 2000-year-old love story, as told from the point of view of John the disciple. But LaSalle is in a race against time. What if the U.S. invades Syria? No one can say what will happen, but the loss of such a priceless archaelogical treasure is unthinkable.

The novel tells two stories in two timelines, both of which unfold simultaneously. The sections of the book set in the first century chronicle the saga of John, the disciple, from his early childhood up through the crucifixion, including his journeys with Jesus and the other disciples throughout Galilee and Judea. John becomes a very eloquent and human bearer of the classic gospel story...the miracles of healing, the turning over of the tables of the moneychangers...as well as that part of the narrative to which the gospels only briefly, and temptingly, hint at: the relationship between Jesus on the one hand, and Mary Magdalene on the other--with whom John is in love himself.
In its modern-day-set sections, the novel's main character is Dominic David LaSalle, a tenured university professor of religious studies who also is a Catholic priest. The head of the Syrian archaeological expedition happens to be LaSalle's old college friend, Arthur MacBride, and at the outset of the story, the latter appeals to LaSalle for help in translating the text on the scrolls. A key concern of scholars becomes determining whether the "John" of the Syrian scrolls is the same "John" who authored the Book of Revelation, the final book of the New Testament, also known as St. John's Apocalypse.
But LaSalle’s efforts become sidetracked by Cateline, a 13-year-old ward of a Catholic-run orphanage, who, though blind, has psychic visions. The young girl’s vision of a tsunami in the Indian Ocean presages one of the deadliest natural disasters in human history, a catastrophe that claimed the lives of more than 200,000 people. While doctors attempt to identify the cause of Cateline’s symptoms, including manic depression and the shedding of blood-filled tears, LaSalle and Sister Denise Michallat, director of the orphanage, must come to terms with the young blind girl’s apparent ability to see into the future.
Reviews:
“The nearest to this great book is Joseph and his Brothers of Thomas Mann. Enjoyable, adventurous, light, even boisterous, thrilling, never sermonizing, this story of St. John the Divine rolls from his childhood on the idyllic Sea of Galilee shores through many encounters with fishermen, robbers, Gnostics, priests, to his mission as the Favourite Disciple in the exciting and fateful time when the pious Jew had met with the intellectual Hellene and the state-minded Roman to create our civilisation. This full-size, many coloured saga of the first century Palestine world brings the Bible characters to life: meek and sweet John, lecherous and thieving Judas, spiritual beauty of Magdalene, and above all, the majestic figure of Christ depicted with love and admiration.
“Richard Edmondson’s profound learning and his wealth of details form a reliable factual basis for the book, at the same time it entertains the reader. You’ll never be bored!”
--Israel Shamir, author of Galilee Flowers
and Cabbala of Power
“William Blake wrote that ‘imagination is evidence of the divine.’ In Memoirs of Saint John, Richard Edmondson wrote, ‘when the purpose of life has been forgotten, when wisdom recedes and men become scarcely truthful in speech, God manifests himself on earth.’ Memoirs of St. John is a manifestation of the divine imagination expressed through well-developed characters from antiquity and today. Edmondson writes from a heart enlightened by the wisdom of women and the oneness of humanity.”
—Eileen Fleming, of We Are Wide Awake and author of
Keep Hope Alive
“Ancient papyrus scrolls found in the Syrian desert give the first person account of Saint John’s life as dictated to his friend, Quintus Cintugnatus….I was totally caught up in the story and had forgotten that it’s a novel. The Memoirs of Saint John will have that effect on you.
—Paul Griffin (DJ Captain Fred) Berkeley Liberation Radio
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I am a journalist, poet, novelist, and peace activist. Email: info@memoirsofsaintjohn.com
The Memoirs of Saint John:
No Greater Love
ISBN 978-0-9678909-0-6
retail price: $24.95
492 pages
Publisher: OTWAY Books
6 comments:
Strange world I live in. No wonder I feel like an alien completely lost on this planet.