Jesus Triumphant (Chronicles of the Nephilim Book 8) (29 page)

They had been traveling for some time through the barren desert wasteland. Jesus explained to Demas that time did not pass the same way down here as it did in the world above. What had seemed like a day down here in the underworld, was mere minutes in the overworld. In the previous age, it had been the reverse. A day down in Hades could be a hundred up on earth. But Demas was with the Son of God, and he was transforming the very fabric of reality with his mission. He told Demas he would ultimately defeat the power of death, but until then, he had merely slowed it down.

Despite this advantage, Jesus told him, they only had three days above to accomplish his mission down here. For just what, he didn’t tell Demas. But he knew they had a long way to travel to get to his destination, the Mountain of the Dead.

Demas also noticed that though he was a spiritual body, he could still oddly feel the sense of thirst. Jesus told him he would soon have that thirst quenched. It was the longing in the soul for Yahweh, for redemption, for resurrection.

Yahweh had created humanity to be ensouled beings, creatures of undivided flesh and spirit. He had breathed into their bodies, his
nephesh
, his very breath of life. In death, the separation of that life from the human body was not the release of the spirit from the prison-house of crude flesh, as the Greeks believed, but rather, the unnatural tearing of a veil or tapestry of interwoven being. The same body that returned to dust in its mortality would one day be regenerated, and given back its breath of life, because Yahweh valued his creation. Whatever this world of the dead was, it was only a temporary holding place, while the earthly bodies slept in their graves, until they were resurrected in glory.

Something had caught Demas’ eyes on the horizon. Movement. He had stopped to stare out into the distance. He could barely see through the darkness with his spiritual vision, but he could see enough to know that what he saw was human forms. Hundreds of them. Staggering and stumbling into each other like blinded creatures. No, wait. Thousands of them. And they were coming his way. Dark shadowy denizens. He noticed that Jesus had kept moving and was far ahead. He could see the unnatural glow that Jesus’s transfigured body gave off in the darkness. He remembered the phrase “Light of the World,” and chuckled. He figured that must be what these shades were being drawn toward.

He was so curious, he didn’t even think to call out to Jesus. He saw the ground moving beneath his feet. He bent down to look at it. Was the ground alive in some way?

A hand burst from the dirt and grabbed his ankle. He stood up in shock. But the hand had grasped him tightly. He fell to his rump in the dirt.

More hands and arms and legs burst out of the ground. Then heads and bodies began to pull themselves out like the living dead.

He noticed that they looked like hideous corpses as well. Their bodies were desecrated rotting skin. Their faces were human, but lacking eyes. The only thing on their faces were huge mouths full of chomping teeth. They were grinding and gnashing as if desperately hungry.

Demas suddenly noticed that his own body had lost most of its light. He was beginning to look like these walking, grasping corpses.

He blurted out, “Jesus!”

He turned, only to find his path blocked by more of the chomping zombies, wandering in their confused state.

“JESUS!”

He couldn’t see Jesus, but he heard his distant voice. “You have a sword! Use it!”

He remembered the whip sword he had been given. Rahab. He pulled it out and snapped it at the closest shades. It cut arms and legs off, but it didn’t stop them. One of them was cut in half at the torso, and Demas could see what was animating them. The entire body cavity was full of worms instead of organs and flesh. It was as if the worms worked together collectively to make the shade act as a unified singular creature.

The worm does not die.

He noticed that cutting off heads seemed to stop them the best. So he swung Rahab around and snapped off heads all around him. He began to clear a pathway back to Jesus. He noticed that the infernal creatures could find their dismembered body parts and place them back together to become a moving entity again.

What horror is this?
he thought, as he found his way forward, swinging and snapping and cutting dozens of shades into body parts.

By the time he made it to Jesus, he noticed that the shades had backed off. They could find their way to the light of Jesus, but they could not get closer to him than a hundred feet. It was like a hidden veil that kept them back, an invisible fortress wall. They surrounded the pair in a vast circle, and more of them crushed around.

Demas stumbled, but found his footing as he came near Jesus.

“I told you not to get too far from me,” said Jesus.

Demas looked all around. The wailing and gnashing of teeth began to drive him mad. He tried to hold his ears. It didn’t help.

Jesus pulled him along and explained to him, “When the dead first arrive, they become reduced to what you see now, ravenously hungry and thirsty for atonement. They are allowed to wander in this state for some time until they are taken to the Mountain of the Dead.”

Demas looked at him with fear. “Isn’t that where we are going?”

Jesus smiled. “Don’t worry. As I said, just stay close to me, and you won’t become one of them.”

Demas became really worried. He thought,
I could become one of them?

He resolved to never wander away from Jesus again. These shades were as drawn to the Son of God and his redemptive light as Demas was. And he was dying of thirst like one of them.

The shades created an animated circle around Jesus, that followed them as they moved.

Demas saw some strange phantom-like creatures arrive and begin to pull away the shades one by one. The creatures looked human in shape, but with leopard faces, and boar-like tusks in their mouths. Their eyes were blood and their hair was long and flowing like a woman’s. They carried scourges in their hands that wrapped around the shades to pull them away. Soul catchers.

“Demas,” said Jesus.

Demas turned to see they had arrived at a river’s edge. A river of fire.

With a myriad of shades at their back, they had nowhere to go.

The mass of shades surrounding them was thinned out by the divine soul catchers. But there were still so many of them that Demas had to speak up. “I heard you walked on water. But it looks to me that if you can’t turn that into walking on fire, we won’t make your deadline of three days down here.”

“I can do better than that,” said Jesus.

He walked over to the river of fire and held up his hands.

Demas looked at the circle of shades around them, chomping mouths, famished souls. Some were snatched away by the frightening looking leopard beings.

When he looked back, he saw an amazing sight. The river of fire was separating where Jesus stood. A wall of cooled magma built up on both sides, holding back the fiery slag as a pathway formed across the divide.

“Holy Moses,” exclaimed Demas.

Jesus smiled. It was, after all, like Moses and the parting of the Red Sea.

“Let’s go,” said Jesus. He led Demas across on cool, dry rock.

When they reached the other side, the cooled rock broke down and the magma returned to its flowing river course.

They left the yawning, groping, blinded shades on the other side.

Demas’ thirst did not abate.

After a short while, they came to another river. This one was the opposite of the river of fire. It was a river of living waters that emanated bright light.

By now, Demas was so thirsty, he couldn’t help himself. He looked at Jesus, who said, “Go ahead” with a smile.

Demas ran and dove into the river, head first. He took huge gulps of it into his mouth. It was a surge of life that reinvigorated him with hope and peace. He looked to the north and could see Mount Hermon, the source of all the rivers in this area flowing south and west. Both fire and life came from the same source. Somehow it all made sense to him now, as he could think more clearly. He had become so consumed with thirst, he was beginning to feel like one of the shades in desperate search of satiation. This was the river of living water, cut off from the dead so they could not quench their thirst.

Jesus had joined him in the river. But he wasn’t drinking. He had moved into the middle of the waters. He gestured for Demas to join him, and the current took them both south.

It wasn’t long on their floating trek before Demas saw the destination of the river. Before them was the towering, dark Mountain of the Dead. It looked so dreary and silent to Demas. But it enchanted him. He stared at it until Jesus told him, “Get ready to go underground.”

Demas could see that they were fast approaching a huge waterfall, not far from the mountain. He became fearful.

Jesus laughed and said, “Fear not, Demas! You are already dead.”

Demas realized what he meant as they plummeted down the vast waterfall into an underground tunnel. The walls tightened and the current pulled them along even faster now. It was actually quite fun. The light of the water illuminated their pathway of smooth, rock-hard walls. In darkness, you feared what you could not see. Light had a way of penetrating the darkness with a sense of safety. Everything was laid bare before it. This river was the sole source of life-giving refreshment in the otherwise dark and dreary underworld. It was cut off from the shades, but it was taking them somewhere right now, and Demas was no longer afraid or concerned.

An overwhelming sense of peace had come over him. He knew it was the water. This living water.

After going downward for a while, he finally felt the current sucking them upward.

Within moments, Demas and Jesus burst out of an underground fountain in a vast cavern. The water continued onward, but the two of them swam over to the shoreline and pulled themselves out. They walked over to the edge of the cavern.

They stood on the precipice of a vast chasm and looked down. Far below them flowed the river of fire they had previously crossed up-stream. It was wide enough to fill the bottom of the chasm with its flaming magma.

Demas looked across the distance. He could barely see the other side lined with a myriad of souls, moaning and crying out. But there was no sound. They were engulfed in silence. He knew what it was they wanted. The water.

“We are beneath the Mountain of the Dead,” said Jesus. “Over there are the hollow places for the unrighteous. They thirst for a mere drop of this water on their tongues.”

The living water
, thought Demas. Then he said, “Where are
we
?”

Jesus turned. Demas followed his gaze to see a line of souls behind them. These were not thirsty, famished shades, but peaceful, patient souls.

“Abraham’s Bosom,” said Jesus.

Demas saw the men who approached them now. There were many of them. He realized that these were the saints of primeval days and of the age before Messiah. Jesus said their names as the leaders approached him with looks of wonder and joy. They had been drinking from the living waters in this place as a means of satiating them in their wait for Messiah.

Father Abraham and the incomparable Sarah; the earthy and old Methuselah and his beautiful Edna; Lamech and Betenos; their son, Noah, and Emzara; Moses, Joshua and Caleb; Othniel, Rahab, Abigail; King David and his mighty men, Benaiah, the brothers Joab and Abishai, Sibbecai, Elhanon, Ittai, Jonathan the Hawk, and so many more. All the righteous dead who died in faith before the coming of Messiah and his triumphal entry.

Wait a second
, thought Demas. Messiah was to conquer death and the grave. He was to achieve victory over the principalities and powers of the nations. But he hadn’t done that yet.

Demas blurted out, “Jesus, are we here for the resurrection and the final judgment?”

Jesus stopped hugging those around him. “Not quite, Demas. But your intuition is right. I have unfinished business. That is why we came here. I need some of your help.”

Mary Magdalene, a woman named Salomé, and Mary, the mother of James, approached the tomb of their beloved Jesus. It was early morning on the first day after the Sabbath, and they had brought spices to anoint the body of their crucified rabbi. Because he had been crucified just before the Sabbath, they did not have the time to anoint him before their day of holy rest.

Mary was lost in her thoughts and had fallen behind the other two by some yards. She dreaded seeing the body of Jesus. He had become everything to her; savior, redeemer, Son of God. But such an undignified death had more than crushed her hopes. It humiliated them and mocked her to her face.

All the disciples had fled like sheep without a shepherd when he was struck down.
The cowards
. Now they were in hiding for fear of being counted revolutionaries against Rome.

Revolutionaries?
Ridiculous
.
Jesus preached peace and never lifted a finger in defiance of any authority. He was zealous for Yahweh’s name, but he was no Zealot. Yet he died a Zealot’s death for insurrection
. The injustice of it all burned in her breast.

Suddenly, she remembered there was a big stone rolled over the entrance of the tomb. Three women would not have the strength to move that huge rock.

She blurted out to the others ahead of her. “Who are we going to get to move the stone? That is a huge stone they rolled over the tomb.”

No answer came.

“Mary? Salomé?”

She saw the other women standing up on the ridge.

“Did you not hear me? I said who are we going to get to move the–”

She froze in her tracks. The two women stared at the tomb just ahead.

The stone had been rolled away.

The tomb’s entrance was wide open.

Mary said, “It is too early. Who could have beat us here?”

They walked over to the tomb entrance and peeked inside. Salomé shrieked and stepped backward in shock. Mary was in the way. She fell to the ground.

“What? What did you see?”

Mary got up and pushed Salomé aside to enter the tomb.

Inside, the body of Jesus was gone. But across from where they had lain his body, were two men dressed in dazzling white robes.

Mary pulled back in fear. After all she had seen in her life as an Ob; demons and ghosts, the siyyim and iyyim of Azazel, they were not as frightening as these two men in white. She could see things in the spiritual realm, and they had an aura of power about them. Frightening power.

One of them said, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified. He is not here, for he has risen, just as he said.”

The other two women now stood beside Mary, gawking at the scary intruders. They looked over at the empty ledge. Jesus was gone.

Mary couldn’t understand it. She couldn’t understand why these men would move the body of their beloved Jesus. It didn’t make sense to her.

The other man said, “Go quickly and tell his disciples that he has risen from the dead. He is going to Galilee. You will find him there.”

• • • • •

Demas awoke in darkness with a hard cough. He felt different, heavier. He could feel the flesh of his body again, along with its little aches and pains. He felt a stinging sensation all over his body. He was laying down with a blanket of weight upon him.

A blanket of dirt.

He couldn’t breathe.

He panicked.
I’ve been buried
.

He struggled to get his hands free in order to claw his way out.

Somehow, he managed to get one hand out of the ground. Thank Yahweh, it was a shallow grave.

He felt another hand grab his. It pulled him up and out of the dirt.

He gasped for air. The cool air inflated his lungs.

I am alive
.

The bright light of day burned his eyes. He had been in the dark so long. He covered his squinting eyes with his arm.

Then the stinging on his flesh became intolerable. He noticed his body covered with white chalky powder. Lime. He desperately wiped the burning substance off his face and arms and legs.

Lime was used by the Romans in mass graves of corpses to speed up the decomposition of the flesh and cover the smell of decay.

Demas had after all been crucified as an insurrectionist. He didn’t deserve a proper dignified burial.

He took another deep breath.

“Makes you appreciate life more, doesn’t it?”

Demas looked up at Jesus, standing before him. They were no longer in Hades. They were on earth. Jesus had crucifixion wounds on his hands and feet. But he seemed unfazed by them. Demas looked at his hands. They had been healed. His entire body had been healed. The decayed flesh restored.

He looked back into the dirt. He saw the rotting body of his brother, Gestas, that had been beneath him. The flesh was dead gray and purple. His face peered out from the dirt, half-eaten by maggots and worms. The stench of the dead now overcame Demas. But worse, the reality of his unrepentant brother somewhere now wandering in Hades as a miserable shade in darkness and silence.

He knelt down and wretched. He had nothing to vomit because he had no food in his stomach.

Jesus placed his hand lovingly on Demas’ shoulder.

Demas’s eyes had adjusted to the light. He looked up at Jesus. “You resurrected me. Why?”

“You are not the only one.”

“What do you mean?”

“Those saints you met in Hades. I’ve raised some of them as well. They are all finding their way to Jerusalem from their graves. I want you to go there and meet them.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Tell them I want to meet in Bashan, north of Galilee in a fortnight.”

“Why?”

Jesus handed him the familiar leather case with whip sword, Rahab, returned from Hades.

“I’m claiming my inheritance.”

• • • • •

Peter and John ran up to the sepulcher of Jesus. Behind them, Mary and the other women followed. They had gone back into Jerusalem and told the disciples about the empty tomb. Most of the eleven did not believe the women. Mary was known for her fantastic stories of angels and demons and spiritual visions.

Peter and John thought that this time was different.

They entered the tomb to find the body of Jesus gone. On the ledge where he had lain were the linen body wrappings. The head covering had been neatly folded and placed on the ledge.

Peter’s mind was swirling with conspiracy.
Did the Romans take the body? No. That would make him a martyr, and surely enflame the very revolt they were trying to suppress.

Who could have done this?

Peter picked up the shroud that had been laid upon the body. He held it up
.

“John, look at this.”

In the light from the entrance, they could see a transfigured image burned into the shroud. It was the image of Jesus.

Peter said, “How could such a thing happen?”

John said, “What
has
happened?”

They left the sepulcher and faced down the women.

Peter said, “Mary, you say the stone was already rolled away when you arrived?”

“Yes.”

“And you saw no one carrying the body away?”

“No. There was only two angels sitting inside the tomb.”

“Angels.” He said it with doubt.

“Angels.” She was sure of it. The other women were not.

“How do you know they were angels?”

“They had the aura of angels.”

“The aura of angels.” Still not believing.

“They said Jesus had risen and we were to meet him in Galilee.”

“Why Galilee? Why not Jerusalem?”

“You will have to ask him that question. I don’t know.”

Peter said. “Well, let us go back to the city and confer with the other disciples.”

“Why don’t you believe me?” she said.

Peter said, “It’s not that I don’t believe you, Mary. It just seems strange to me that if Jesus had truly risen from the dead, why would he not have shown himself to the men?”

“Maybe he couldn’t find the men because they had all run away in fear.”

“Mary, that is not fair.”

“It is true.”

“Let us go back to the city and confer with the others.”

Peter and John left. The other women followed them. Salomé tried to pull Mary along, but Mary refused to leave. She began to weep. Salomé tried to comfort her.

“Just leave.”

Salomé left her alone at the grave.

Mary began to doubt herself. Maybe it was a delusion. Maybe Peter was right. Maybe someone stole the body for some nefarious reasons. Maybe she had become so emotionally distraught, she was seeing hallucinations. But the other women had seen the men too. They were not an hallucination. Maybe they were just tricksters who were playing with their minds.

“Woman, why are you weeping?”

The words broke her out of her whirlpool of confusion and tears.

He appeared to be the gardener. A kind looking man. Somehow familiar.

She said, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will move him back to his tomb.”

The man smiled at her.

How odd. Why would he make such light of her pain and loss?

He said, “Mary.”

Then she recognized him. “Rabbi!” She grabbed him and hugged him desperately.

He pulled away from her and said, “Do not cling to me. I have not yet ascended to the Father. Go to the disciples and tell them I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.”

Her eyes dried with wonder. She touched him. He was real. She touched his face. His beard. She pulled it. He moved back, “Ow. Are you going to pull my hair out to be sure?”

She broke down into laughter.

“It is you! It is you!”

She dropped to his feet and worshipped.

She remembered the words he had spoken to the disciples.
Destroy this temple and in three days I will rebuild it.
She had always considered that a figurative statement. Like great leaders who still have an effect on their followers after they were dead and gone.

How foolish of her. Of course he had meant it. Of course he would rise from the dead to conquer the principalities and powers that had remained. Now it all made sense to her.

He pulled her back up to face him. “Go, tell them what you have seen. Though I suspect their thick-headedness is going to require a bit more on my part, before they get up off their rear ends and do what I told them.”

It suddenly dawned on Mary why Jesus was going to Galilee up north to meet them. Beyond Galilee was the cosmic mountain of assembly for the gods of the nations. His resurrection gave him the power and authority to take back their inheritance as his own.

“You are going to Mount Hermon, aren’t you?”

He didn’t respond. But she could see it in his eyes.

• • • • •

Demas walked through the southern gates of the lower city of Jerusalem. He kept his hood up around his face in order to avoid being noticed. It was only days ago he was crucified before the world next to Jesus. Someone might recognize him. Someone who had been there to observe the spectacle of pain.

He soon discovered his efforts at discretion were wasted. He saw a large gathering around a market square at the Temple.

Four men stood on the steps near the Huldah Gate at the southeast entrance to the Temple. Hundreds had gathered around. One of them was speaking. He was an old man, but delivered his address with amazing strength of voice.

Demas recognized him from the underworld introduction. It was Moses.

“People of Israel, do you not know? I wrote these very words in the Second Book of the Law. For the Lord said to me, ‘I will raise up a prophet like you from among their brothers. And I will put my words in his mouth, and he shall speak to them all that I command him. And whoever will not listen to my words that he shall speak in my name, I myself will require it of him.’ That prophet was Jesus of Nazareth, whom you released to Pilate and had him crucified!”

The crowd’s booing drowned Moses out. He waited until they died down. Demas recognized the three others with him. Joshua, Caleb and Othniel, Caleb’s brother. They looked younger and stronger than their visages in Hades. They no longer looked as old as they were when they had died. Demas figured that their resurrection involved a return to their former selves at the height of their service to Yahweh. He felt it too within his bones. They had resurrection glory.

One heckler yelled out, “If you are Moses, why don’t you part this crowd of people like you parted the Red Sea!” People laughed.

A man next to Demas grumbled to him, “These mad men claim to be our forefathers risen from the dead. Ridiculous fools.” Then he turned back to the front of the crowd and yelled out, “Where is Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob to validate your witness!”