The Six Messiahs

'Ten percent is the usual figure,' said Jacob.

'I've made the tiniest innovation,' said the Reverend, leaning forward into a scallop of light. 'I take one hundred percent.'

Day's eyes crept into view for the first time in the hot slice of sunlight. Jacob felt them reaching out at him like oiled tentacles and looked away. He swallowed hard. His heart skipped a beat.

'I had the great fortune to baptize a steady stream of millionaires into our church early on in my ecclesiastical career. I can't tell you the tithing was entirely their idea, but once the suggestion entered their minds it met a remarkable degree of receptivity. And I discovered there is an extraordinary surplus of wealth in these western states; shipping, cash crops, silver, oil. Millionaires are hardly the rare bird you find in the East— to be blunt, out here they are practically a dime a dozen. And despite all this talk about camels and the eyes of needles, I have found that a rich man is just as desperately in need of salvation as any destitute sinner.'

'They're still with you, these former millionaires.'

'Oh, yes. Right here, in The New City,' said Day, neglecting to mention how the sight of these former captains of industry and their pampered wives mucking out the latrines still filled him with happiness. 'And if you were to ask them, well, I'd be shocked if to a man they didn't say that their lives were one hundred percent richer today.'

'One hundred percent.'

'So much senseless heartache, the strictly material life. So much disquiet and worry about holding on to what you've accumulated. Straining to make its value grow beyond any reasonable fulfillment of one's needs. And what a powerful joy to be released from that suffering and rededicate oneself to a life of spiritual simplicity.'

'Must be a terrible burden, all that money,' said Jacob, looking around at the riches in the room. 'Tell me, how do you manage it so well?'

'I consider myself blessed, I really do.' Reverend Day stood and limped slowly around his desk toward Jacob ' 'Enormous wealth seems to place no untoward weight upon my soul whatsoever. It rests on my broken shoulders like a hummingbird.' He waved his hand through a ray of light and the dust ducked and swirled.

'What's your secret?'

'I claim nothing for myself. I am a servant, not a master. I live to fulfill my obligation to God, and what earthly goods pass through my hands leave no stain. Ask what all this money means to me and I would tell you truly, Jacob Stern, that I cannot tell a silver dollar from a buzz saw. Money is merely a tool given to me to complete the Holy Work.'

'The Holy Work...'

'Why, The New City. Our cathedral. Everything you see around you.'

'And its purpose?'

'To bring man closer to God. Or should I say to bring Him closer to man....' The Reverend stopped himself and smiled curiously. 'You're filled with questions, aren't you? Why don't we speak more ... directly?'

'What about?'

'I know you, Jacob Stern,' said Day, taking a seat across from him. 'I admit I could not place you at first; you've shaved your beard, old man. The Parliament of Religion, last year in Chicago, yes?'

Jacob felt the throbbing in his chest approach like the footsteps of a giant. He nodded.

'You are no pleasure-touring retiree. You are a scholar in Kabbalah, as I recall, and one of the foremost. Kabbalah is one of the holy books I've been attempting to decipher since I began my serious collecting. So naturally I am very curious to know. Rabbi Stern, just exactly ... what... you are doing here?'

Jacob felt a wave of energy slide around his head and chest like a slick spineless insect, probing for a weakness. He summoned his strength, erecting a barrier of thought to hold off the gnawing insinuations. His life felt as fragile and indefensible as the dust drifting in the mottled air.

'I believe I asked you first,' said Jacob.

'Fair enough,' said Reverend Day. 'We have time; you don't have anywhere you have to be.' He laughed, a first hint of cruelty.

'I'm listening,' said Jacob.

Reverend Day leaned forward and spoke in a theatrical whisper, like an adult telling a child a bedtime story. 'One day, a man awakens and discovers burning inside himself a light. A tremendous well of Power. Call it a spark of the divine, whatever you prefer; he has been touched by grace.'

'It's been known to happen,' said Jacob.

'In time he learns to use the Power—no, that's not right: He learns how to enable the Power to perform its sacred work through him; a more modest way of putting it. From that moment, the Light guides his every thought and action, directing the man to gather about him a congregation and lead his people away from the corrupted world of man. Into the desert. To build a new Jerusalem. The Power provides him with a Vision to show how and where they should remove themselves; a dream about a black tower, his church, rising from the sand.'

'You've had a dream like this?' asked Jacob, looking up in surprise, then willing his eyes back down to stay focused on the dust.

'Nine years,' said the Reverend. 'Since the day I woke and found myself lying in a filthy ditch by the side of a river. In Switzerland, of all places. No memory of who I was or any single detail of what my life might have been before. All I possessed was this dream. This Vision. And I paid a terrible price for my enlightenment. My body crippled, many times worse than you see the poor self now: a year to heal, two before I could walk. Was it worth it? Without hesitation I would have to tell you: yes.

'Go to America, my Vision commanded, and plant your seed in the sand. Who was I to argue with such an authoritative voice? Nothing, a speck of dust. And so, without benefit of clergy, I took up the cloth,' said Day, gripping his frock coat by the lapels. 'Actually I took it off a Baptist preacher I killed in Charleston, South Carolina. A perfect fit, not a single alteration, and I'm not such an easy man to dress what with my various ... irregularities. Clothes do make the man, in the end. What do you think, Rabbi? Am I not the very model of a modern evangelical?' He hummed a snatch of Gilbert and Sullivan and laughed.

'So your vision led you to this place,' said Jacob, struggling to concentrate and keep the man on track.

'With the aid of the millionaires I won to my side between Charleston and here—New Orleans proved particularly fertile ground, by the way; combine dissolute living with new money and they practically beg you for absolution. With their generous contributions, before long The New City brought life to (his barren plain. You can well imagine the attention to detail required to birth such a child of the imagination; architecture, social organization, supply lines, local government. Years Hashed by with hardly a spare moment for the theological.

'Until one day I looked up to see our little town coming along so splendidly; nearly a thousand of us, more flocking to our side as I toured the western coast, preaching from the back of a wagon ... and I realized how thoroughly I had neglected to develop the scriptural foundation of our community. Our spirit was willing but the flesh was ... ignorant.

'So I made a pilgrimage. Chicago, last year, to mingle with my fellow clergy. What an assembly of knowledge, what an inspiration! I can tell you truthfully, Rabbi, the Parliament of Religions changed my life. My path was revealed to me and it was a daunting one: I needed to study and root out the prima materia of all the religions of the world, then unite their separate truths in the name of the one true Vision which I already possessed but lacked the ability to articulate.

'So I began my collection of the world's great holy books and the study of their secrets. One of the first ideas you acquire is that there is no such thing as coincidence. And I must tell you, Jacob Stern, that your appearing in The New City at this moment is remarkably fortuitous.'

'Why is that?'

The relentless pounding in Jacob's head nearly drowned out the sound of Reverend Day as the man drew his chair closer. A nauseatingly ripe smell of lush rotting flowers blossomed in the air.

'Because I believe you have been sent to me so that we can complete this great Holy Work together. That is why you are here. That is why you have shared my dream about our church.'

'What makes you so sure I've had the same dream?' asked Jacob.

'Please, let's not be disingenuous; I know many things about you and I have no doubt you are a wise enough man to figure out the 'why' of it.'