Shaolin Temple, 2033
“Enter, Christopher,” Master Lu said, responding to the gentle knock on his door.
“Thank you, Master,” Christopher answered. He followed the same routine every morning at 4 AM since he first arrived at the monastery. Each morning, Master Lu instructed him on a subtler meditation technique, and then, the two sat in silent reflection for three hours. Today was different. Master Lu was stood by an ancient floor to ceiling tapestry of the Buddha instead of sitting in his chair. It had a single image of Buddha wearing a green robe covered by a red outer cape and sitting cross-legged in front of a golden archway with his right hand held up in the Vitarka mudra of teaching — fingers upright with the thumb touching the index finger.
The Master gestured to Christopher, “Come here. This is your gateway to greater learning.” In a single graceful motion, Master Lu moved aside the tapestry to reveal a massive, sturdy wooden door. It was a door that safeguarded the room behind it since the temple was first built centuries ago.
Master Lu spoke, “For weeks you progressed faster in meditation than I expected and reached states of awareness beyond any of my other students. Today we will do something very, very different. You are ready for your final training.”
Christopher was thrilled. What could my last lesson possibly be?
The Master took an antique bronze key from inside his robe, inserted it into the lock and turned it clockwise. The latch groaned from lack of use with a metallic scrape desperate for oil. The door creaked open on its iron hinges, and Christopher saw it was at least four inches thick. He guessed it must weigh several hundred pounds, but Master Lu pushed it open with a single effortless movement of his right hand. Christopher gazed into a small room illuminated by the flames of several dozen candles. It was evident that the chamber was prepared in advance.
Christopher stood motionless with his eyes transfixed on three golden statues and a Tibetan thangka with the Star of David. His Boston vision was in front of him. Now, the figures of four heavenly beings in each of the corners were clear. They looked more like angels than Bodhisattvas typical in Tibetan art, but that didn’t surprise him. He already knew the thangka was a curious blend of Eastern and Western symbolism.
To his right, Christopher saw a row of eight beautiful, round Tibetan meditation bowls. Each was a different size and made of gold with unique, ornate, ancient Tibetan symbols embossed on it. Eight monks stood behind them. To his surprise, the monks wore red and yellow Tibetan ceremonial robes. They were not Shaolin.
The distinct odor of frankincense overwhelmed Christopher. He hesitated a moment when the monks bowed in deference to him, not the Grand Master. Then, to his astonishment, Michael stepped out of the shadows. He was not wearing his usual three-piece suit but was clothed in a solid white robe with a red Cross of Lorraine above his heart.
“Hello, Christopher,” Michael said, whispering.
Christopher felt an unexpected surge of joy. “Michael, what are you doing here?”
“I’m here to witness a caterpillar transform into a glorious butterfly.”
“Naturally. Like a caterpillar, your whole life led to this moment of transformation.”
Grand Master Lu walked toward the altar and took a second bronze key from beneath his robe, inserted it into a hidden lock, and opened a secret drawer. He took out two objects, a scroll and a small Merkabah. The upward pointing tetrahedron was made of gold, and the lower pointing one was made of silver. It struck Christopher that each tetrahedron had six edges. The two combined made him think of Jesus’ traditional twelve disciples. A single, empty meditation cushion was in front of the altar. Master Lu handed the scroll to Michael and motioned for Christopher to take the Merkabah in his right hand.
Michael spoke, “Christopher, I’m holding the original manuscript of The Great Awakening written by Jesus in his native Aramaic language. The disciple Thomas took it to the Bodh Gaya monastery after Jesus’ crucifixion, and Buddhist monks have kept it safe for two thousand years.” Michael carefully opened the scroll and set it on a small reading stand. “Let me read a portion at the end of the manuscript to you.”
He looked down at the text, “The hour is upon me when I must give up this fleshy form to return to the Heavenly Realm, and I do so knowing that on Earth, the Gift of God shall survive the coming age of darkness. The universal female principle lives through the daughter that is the fruit of my union with Mary Magdalene, and the universal male principle survives through my son living in the Eastern lands. It will come to pass that these two principles shall multiply throughout the earth, spread in the bloodlines of the generations of my children and their children. Humanity will fall into a state ruled by darkness and cruelty, but in two millennia, the male and female principles shall unite again in a single male child, and the age of darkness will pass. That child will bring forth The Great Awakening.”
Christopher was touched to the core of his being and let out a deep sigh. Now, he understood the full import of what Michael told him throughout his life. He raised his head, and Christopher noticed a sublime radiance coming from Michael’s face.
“Christopher, history is converging on you at this exact moment in time. We finally know The Great Awakening comes through you. My Brotherhood guided and protected you and your ancestors through the ages knowing this day would arrive. At this moment, you are the focal point of destiny. You received the full Gift of God through your heredity. Now, you shall experience the Breath of God like Jesus did in the Jordan River and your ancestor Yang Qi did in the Guatemalan temple.”
Michael pointed to the meditation cushion, “Please sit. It’s time.” Michael walked across the room, stood behind Christopher and placed his hands on the top of his head. Master Lu walked to the most massive meditation bowl. He lifted an elegantly carved and painted wooden dowel and began moving it in a clockwise circular motion around the bowl’s edge. Simultaneously, the monks started chanting.
A pure, single frequency tone emanated from the bowl. The Master continued to move the dowel around the bowl, and the sound became louder and louder, reverberating off the walls. Christopher felt his entire body resonating as the vibrations became more intense.
The monks chanted. Om na-mah Shee-va-yah over and over. The single pure tone of the bowl intermixed with their voices forming subtle patterns of vibrations within vibrations, cycles within cycles.
Christopher instinctively closed his eyes. There’s a funny tingling sensation at the base of my spine like someone just lit a fire there.
Master Lu moved to the second bowl and began circling the dowel around its rim. The echoes of the first bowl faded, replaced with the higher tone from the second bowl. Once again, the sound vibrated in Christopher’s body and combined with a new, higher pitched chant.