lengthy red carpet past a full-dress color guard, a gauntlet of ramrod-straight Marines with drawn swords, a brass band and saluting Boy Scouts. The band, Feldman noticed, was playing a familiar tune. He had to smile. It was the same Sousa march Anne Leveque had hummed to him in recounting her story of the dancing lamb.
Unfortunately, Hunter and Cissy wouldn't be able to stop and take in much of this pomp and ceremony. Their responsibilities would be to help orchestrate the WNN camera crews deployed in and around the White House. And, with access to Feldman and the prophetess, Hunter and Cissy hoped to provide a personal, more intimate coverage of this historic event.
At the end of the military tunnel stood the president and first lady, the vice president and his wife, and countless senators, congressmen, assorted VIPs, socialites, foreign dignitaries and high-ranking bureaucratic officials. Everyone was smiling profusely. Feldman looked over at his small companion and was impressed with the confidence and poise she exhibited. None of this pageantry affected her in the slightest. She seemed neither impressed nor intimidated. Merely curious.
Feldman took the outstretched hands of President and Mrs. Moore, and then those of the vice president and his wife. Exchanging quick greetings, Feldman immediately introduced them to the woman of the hour. Jeza stopped, standing somewhat aback, and looked quizzically at each of them.
Astounded at his stupidity, Feldman realized what was about to happen and went into a sudden panic. He was too late. There was nothing he could do now. Swooning, the presidential and vice presidential couples fell victim to Jeza's scrutiny.
Feldman rushed to the first lady, who was close to falling. Secret Service agents materialized spontaneously from nowhere, reacting in alarmed, unfocused confusion, without direction or clue. The odd event was captured live from every camera angle.
Fortunately, the presidential party recovered quickly. After a few moments’ composure and good-natured laughter, the president greeted his special guest and the introductions moved forward. As they proceeded next toward the presidential mansion, Feldman leaned down and whispered in the Messiah's ear. “Jeza, you may not realize what you're doing, but when you stare hard at people, you make them feel very uncomfortable. Can you control that at all?”
Jeza looked up at him questioningly, said nothing, and continued along with the party. Moore was still shaking his head and mentioned something to his wife about helicopter fumes.
Moving into the main entranceway, the group took up position near the center of the long corridor, with Feldman and Jeza situated between the first and second families. A receiving line developed and for the next several hours, Feldman and Jeza were occupied shaking hands and exchanging comments with an endless parade of the gawking privileged. Feldman noted with some relief that, while people meeting Jeza were still affected by her eyes, the consequences now seemed less severe, and shorter in duration.
Feldman was not sure how the Messiah would take this extended imposition. He had never really explained to her the specifics of his arrangements with the White House. Just that she'd be meeting people, having dinner and spending the night there.
During the lengthy reception, Feldman noticed that Jeza seldom smiled, although she didn't appear seriously put off, either. With the steady procession of people, Feldman had no opportunity to inquire as to her physical or mental state. But he could catch snippets of her conversations.
At one point, the president asked Jeza her opinion of politics, and she responded, “God and government are much alike: there is no peace for either because society continually fails to follow the laws set for it.”
Feldman was impressed to hear her speaking with foreign dignitaries in their native tongues. After hearing only a word or two of accented English, Jeza instantly grasped the correct language and, to the endless delight of the beneficiaries, responded in precisely the correct dialect. All was carefully captured on videotape by the ever- vigilant Hunter and WNN camera crews.
One exchange proved particularly amusing. A rather prominent Washington defense attorney, whom Feldman recognized from the national news, stepped up to Jeza with an attractive young thing on the arm of his expensive suit “Miss Jeza,” he greeted the Messiah, “I believe you and I have something rather significant in common with one another.”
Jeza stared at him without comment and he was momentarily staggered, grappling to hold his train of thought. “You see,” he recovered, “we, uh, we're both in the same business, you and I-the business of saving people.”
Jeza regarded him critically for a moment and then bluntly replied, “Yes, but my means of salvation do not render people penniless!”
Significant laughter erupted from all within earshot, and the miffed barrister quickly slunk away.
There was yet one more of these strange interludes that Feldman took note of, the possible explanation for which he would not have until weeks later. One of the last people in line to greet Jeza was a very elderly, frail- looking, tiny little nun, even smaller than Jeza herself. Feldman recognized the lined and saintly face of Mother Bernadette, the world-famous “Sister of the Silent Sufferers,” renowned for her life of selfless, charitable work on behalf of the sick and destitute of Africa.
Looking hesitant, but compelled, the trembling little nun took the Messiah's outstretched hand and kissed it, staring shyly up at Jeza with imploring eyes. “Sweet Lady,” she addressed the prophetess in a voice as small and ancient as she, “I come to ask your prayers, not for myself, but for my poor, forgotten little babies who are ill and starving in a faraway land.”
Feldman watched Jeza's face turn troubled and her eyes tear as she gazed into the little woman. Then, grasping Mother Bernadette by her thin shoulders, Jeza leaned forward and whispered something into her ear. The nun's eyes grew large and a smile began to spread through the lines of her face like a wind rippling across the waters of a sea.
Jeza drew back and the nun asked excitedly, “Today?”
The Messiah smiled and nodded.
Mother Bernadette could hardly contain herself. “Right now?”
Jeza's smile grew larger and she nodded once more.
The nun made an awkward, half genuflection and the sign of the cross. Repeatedly bowing and thanking the prophetess, alternating between smiles and wide-eyed expressions of excitement and disbelief, the little nun backed away and quickly shuffled off toward the White House front door.
Feldman gave Jeza a scrunched, questioning look, which Jeza dismissed with a slight smile and a roll of her eyes, turning to greet her next visitor.
After the reception, Jeza and Feldman were escorted into the White House dining room as guests of honor in a two-hundred-seat dinner. Asked to render grace, Jeza raised her eyes, extended her hands to shoulder height in supplication and simply said, “O Heavenly Father, Which created the sun, the rain and the earth to bring forth great bounty, bless this nourishment for our bodies, that we may also nourish our minds and our spirit.” There was a round of applause and appreciation which, in Feldman's scrutiny, appeared to leave the Messiah uncomfortable.
After the final course and before the serving of desserts, the president rose from his seat, officially welcomed the Messiah to the United States, and then offered a toast to the “most famous woman on the face of the earth.” Jeza did not join in the toast, but merely stared down at her virtually untouched plate, in what would appear to be abject embarrassment.
President Moore remained standing, and graciously asked, “Jeza, I'm sure everyone here would love to hear some more of your intriguing thoughts. Would you care to say a few words?”
In a soft voice most could not hear, she replied, ‘My message is of God, not of government.”
To which Moore responded, “It's always been a cherished personal belief of mine that there's an important place for the spiritual in politics. And I can tell you with great assurance that your inspirational message here would be most appreciated. Certainly, government could only benefit from your insights.” Turning to include the body of seated guests, Moore added, “Isn't that so, everyone?”
Feldman wasn't quite sure what Moore was hoping to accomplish here. But he suspected this was a ploy to solicit sound bites from the Messiah for future campaign advertising and commercials.
The response of the dinner guests was overwhelming. The entire assembly was on its feet, encouraging Jeza with unceasing applause and cheers. Understandably, an aura of expectation had engrossed the gathering all evening.
