The Harbinger (31 page)

“Why?” asked Ana. “Why would you stop just then?”

“Because I wasn’t sure I was ready to see it or to know what the answer was.”

“But you were searching for it all along,” she said.

“Yes,” he replied, “but it was never within my grasp before that moment. Did you ever get so close to something you were searching for, and when you know you’re just about to find it…when it’s in your reach, you’re not sure you’re ready to find it?”

“I think I understand,” she said.

“That’s what it was…I knew it was something very big, very central, and very important…but I wasn’t sure I was ready to find it.”

“So what happened?” she asked.

“The prophet didn’t give me a choice.”

“Come, Nouriel,” he said. “It’s time to see the place where it all happened…America’s ground of consecration. Let’s follow in their steps as the president led them through the streets of the city on foot to the appointed place. Let’s go.”

So we walked down Wall Street and then onto another. I could picture it all as it happened two centuries earlier: Washington, the first senators, the first representatives, the first cabinet, America’s first government, all heading to the sacred gathering. But it was now just me and the prophet, retracing the journey. Not that there weren’t others on those same streets. There were, of course, but not with same purpose. I was silent the entire time, as was he. And then he stopped and turned to me. “There it is, Nouriel,” he said, pointing to a building across the street. “There it is. The place where America was dedicated to God.”

The place was surrounded by a dark wrought-iron fence.

“Is that the same little stone church?”

“Yes,” he answered.

The building was distinctive looking and yet, at the same time, in view of what it represented, inconspicuous. In the front was a columned, classical-looking façade. In the back was a steeple, tall, narrow, and more what you’d expect to find in an old church building.

“You might not even notice it,” I said.

“What you’re looking at, Nouriel, is St. Paul’s Chapel. It stands now much as it did on April 30, 1789, when America’s first government entered through its doors. It was here that the nation’s first president, Senate, and House of Representatives bowed together in prayer to consecrate the new nation’s future into the hands of God. This is the place where the new nation was committed to the Almighty; this is America’s ground of consecration.”

Then he was silent, letting me take it in. But I knew that wasn’t the end of it. I knew there was something to be revealed, something he was holding back from telling me. “Originally, it faced the other way,” he said. “Its front was in the back. Its main entrance was on the other side. Let’s continue our walk.”

So we crossed the street and walked along the sidewalk that lined the church’s iron fence to our right. Within the iron fence was an old courtyard. As we walked, I found myself unable to stop peering through the bars at the trees, the grass, and the ancient-looking gravestones inside, looking for something significant to the mystery. I was still gazing into the courtyard as we neared the rear corner of the property.

“In the early days,” the prophet said, “this is what you’d walk through to enter the sanctuary.”

He allowed me just a few moments before speaking again.

“Turn around, Nouriel,” he said.

“Let me just…” I was so focused on what was inside the fence that I didn’t notice what was surrounding it.

“You’re missing it,” he said in a more somber tone. “It’s right here, and you’re missing it. Turn around.”

So I turned around.

“Look,” he said.

When I saw it, I was stunned to the point of almost losing my balance.

“Do you know what you’re looking at?”

“It’s not…”

“It’s not
what
?”

“It’s not…”

“What is it that it’s not?”

“Ground Zero.”

“But it
is
Ground Zero.”

“Ground Zero…the last piece of the mystery.”

“America’s consecration ground,” he said.

“Ground Zero,” I repeated, unable, at that moment, to say anything else.

“America,” he said, “was committed to God at the corner of what would become Ground Zero. It was here, at Ground Zero, that they all gathered—George Washington, John Adams, America’s Founding Fathers. They all came here to the corner of Ground Zero to pray on the day that America’s foundation was laid…as the consecrating act of that foundation. It was here that they came to commit the nation’s future to God’s
holy protection
. And it was here where that holy protection would be withdrawn.”

I removed the seal from my coat pocket to once more examine its image. It was then that its meaning hit me with a new and stark clarity. “The sacred ground…the nation’s hedge of protection broken…and the ancient principle…
the ground of dedication becomes the ground of calamity…the judgment returns to the ground of consecration
.”

“And literally so,” said the prophet, “as the massive white cloud born of the destruction literally engulfed the little chapel and the debris and ashes of the falling towers covered its soil.”

“So on this ground is hidden a national mystery. This is the mystery you spoke of, and in my dream…hidden in America’s foundation.”

The prophet pointed into the distance. “Had we been there on that day of inauguration, everything over there, everything beyond that point, would have been water. But between here and the water was a field…now known as
Ground Zero…
a field owned by a church. Ground Zero was originally church land.”

“Owned by
what
church?” I asked.

“The same that operated out of St. Paul’s Chapel.”

“So then it was, in essence, one property…as one ground?”

“As one ground,” he replied. “As one ground on the day America was consecrated there. Thus, it’s not only that America’s ground of consecration is
at
Ground Zero; America’s ground of consecration
is
Ground Zero.”

“The mystery ground,” said Ana, softly and with a distant look in her eyes as she pondered the implications of what she was hearing. “The mystery ground is Ground Zero.”

“Ana, you haven’t said anything up to now.”

“Because I’ve been speechless,” she replied. “It’s so…I can’t even say what it is…. I can’t put it into words. I’m beyond speechless.”

“That’s how I felt when he told me all this.”

“You never went there before,” she asked, “to Ground Zero?”

“No. Not after my encounters with the prophet began.”

“Why not?”

“I believe I was avoiding it.”

“Why?”

“I think because it was too intense…too raw…too much the center of everything. I avoided it.”

“So what happened after the prophet revealed the mystery of Ground Zero?”

“He led me around the corner and along the side of the dark metal fence that had once faced the North Tower. There was a gate leading to the courtyard behind the chapel. He ushered me in through the gate and led me through the courtyard, covered with grass and gravestones, over to an object that was on display.”

“Do you know what this is, Nouriel?” he asked.

“A tree trunk?” I answered.

“It’s the Sycamore.”

“
The Sycamore of Ground Zero
?”

“What’s left of it. This is where they placed it, putting it on display for the public to see, having no idea of its ancient significance.”

“
The sycamores have been cut down
.”

“The Sixth Harbinger.”

“And on 9/11 where was it? Where was it struck down?”

He led me back toward the gate that bordered Ground Zero, then over to the right toward one of the courtyard’s corners, until we stood under the branches of an evergreen.

“Here,” he said. “This is where it stood and where it was struck down.”

“It was struck down inside the courtyard of St. Paul’s Chapel?”

“Yes.”

“On the same ground where America was committed to God?”

“Yes, on the same ground.”

“So the Harbinger was manifested on the nation’s ground of consecration.”

“Yes.”

“And would that mean that this tree…”

“…yes, what you’re looking at is the tree that was planted in its place.”

“This is the Erez Tree?”

“Yes.”

“But we will plant cedars in their place
.”

“It was right here,” said the prophet, “over this fence that they lowered it into the ground where the Sycamore had stood up until being struck down on 9/11. And it was here where they gathered to hallow it.”

“And to name it
the Tree of Hope
.”

“Yes.”

“Not much of a Tree of Hope.”

“No.”

“And so the striking down of the Sycamore and the planting of the Erez Tree, the Sixth and Seventh Harbingers, were each manifested on America’s ground of consecration?”

“The ancient principle—
the ground of consecration becomes the ground of judgment
.”

At that, he paused, allowing me again some time to take in everything I was seeing.

“There was something else in my dream,” I said, “something that hasn’t been explained.”

“Which is what?” he asked.

“A sheet of paper that came down from the sky and into Washington’s hand. On receiving it, he walked over to one of the corners, one of the corners of the Temple, and placed it in a crack in the wall where it disappeared. And then, after the destruction, the paper reappeared. And it was
you
.”

“It was
me
?”

It was
you
holding the paper. And then you handed it to me.”

“And what did it say?”

“I don’t know,” I replied. “I woke up.”

“Bad timing,” said the prophet.

“The prophet used those words?” she asked. “He actually said, ‘
Bad timing
‘?”

“Yes.”

“Those were the same words that
I
used, when you told me the same thing.”

“Yes, but he said them
before
you did.”

“So did he tell you the meaning of the paper?”

“He told me it was a message, and the fact that it descended from the sky signified that it was a message from God, a prophetic message.”

“And what did it mean,” she asked, “that it was placed inside the wall?”