Soul Matters: Book 4, Monocracy Managerie
Chapter 8

The next day was hectic. His replacement at work showed up. He was a glad-hand smiler, whom Phil pegged as also a back-stabber. He didn’t take directions well either, but Phil figured it was because Phil no longer possessed any authority. He attempted to fully brief the new guy, while at the same time striving to lessen the impact of his obnoxiousness on the sales team.

By early afternoon, Phil was becoming irritable. Then Betty’s lawyer called. The preliminary workup on the division of assets was complete, and did Phil want to stop by and have a look?

He postponed it until the following week and directed his secretary to replace out how much sick leave and annual leave he was owed. The sooner he could get out of here, he determined, the better.

After dinner alone in a diner, he returned to his room. Later in the evening Betty called.

“I’ve had a long chat with Pastor Mike,” she said and sighed in seriousness. She did so as a signal for him to attend to her comments for they would have the force of law. “He told me you are a bit of a spiritual maverick, but you are not in league with Satan. I didn’t understand most of what he said. He’s not nearly as good a pastor as Pastor Jones was. But I do know I need a stable partner to help me achieve the goals I thought we shared.”

Phil made the appropriate acknowledgement noises, but didn’t offer a reply. He knew she was still warming up.

“Your focus is elsewhere, Phil. I’ve realized I’m the only one truly pursuing the family goals. You abandoned them some time ago.”

“Perhaps I’m pursuing them in a complementary way,” Phil interjected. Sensing this idea was new to Betty, he elaborated, “They need more than material support. Donna has taken comparative religion classes and even attended a Zen retreat. She’s looking for answers the material world cannot give her.”

Betty sighed again, “Those things don’t matter, Phil. The End Times are approaching. Salvation is what matters.”

Phil snorted a laugh in spite of himself.

She seized on it, “See what I mean? You do not believe. Our children’s place in the Kingdom is at stake here. I will not allow you to jeopardize it.”

“You ought to research how many times the end of the world was supposed to happen,” Phil was still chuckling. “Beginning with the Apostles. Remember the ‘this generation shall not pass away’ prophesy? If you take it literally, Christ is about 2,000 years overdue.”

“I won’t listen to this --”

“Unless, of course, it was true,” Phil interrupted. “At Pentecost, the Holy Spirit came down. The God-within each of us was awakened. Now it’s our job to manufacture peace on earth.”

She hung up. Phil stared at the phone for a moment then started laughing. At least, he mused, he found a way to interrupt Betty’s condescending lectures.

The next day, he struggled through the continuing frustration of dealing with his replacement. At the end of the day, he packed up his things and left the building without fanfare. He would be on paid leave for the remainder of his final two weeks of employment.

The following day, he awoke to Donna knocking on his door. He let her in.

“Pastor Mike and I are ready to go with you,” she announced as she plopped down at the foot of his bed.

“Go where?” Phil asked truly puzzled. He was donning a robe and brewing coffee in the petite coffee machine. He didn’t like the thing. It was too small. He also didn’t like the keypad on cell phones. Too small, also. Realizing he was falling into distraction, he brought his attention to his daughter.

Dressed in blue shorts and a girl T-shirt, her blonde hair was in a ponytail. She was saying, “You’ve got some project involving the Grail, idolatry, and the patriarchy. Since your project now involves me and Pastor Mike, we’re going with you.”

“You’ll need to go,” Phil confirmed, “but Pastor Mike doesn’t.”

“Well, he does. He saved my life yesterday, and it freaked him out.”

“What happened?”

“I was distracted when I left his office,” she replied and grimaced at her lack of awareness. “I almost got run over in the parking lot. He tapped into the Force-energy and stopped the car cold.”

“How?”

“The way he tells it, he was standing at the door and saw the whole thing developing,” she said as she took a cup of coffee from him. “He yelled at me, but I didn’t hear. So he filled himself with Force-energy and shot it at the car. You could even see his handprint on the car’s grill, and he was fifty feet away.”

Phil sat next to her and reflected, “The greater the need, the greater the power.”

“Anyway, he’s freaked. I’m scared. And you’re the pivot point in all this. We’re going with you.”

“Well, let me get showered and dressed,” he said and stood. “Call Pastor Mike and set up an appointment. It shouldn’t take longer than a couple of hours -- in this reality, anyway.”

Donna took care of the particulars as Phil attended to his morning ablutions. By late morning, they arrived at the church. Without much delay, they were escorted into Pastor Mike’s office.

Along the way, Phil was contemplating what to tell his new companions. His adventures before were unpredictable, counter-intuitive, and downright weird. He held no faith whatsoever in the angelic host. Good angels operated reactively. The masks of God were limited by their archetypal mandates. The fallen angels were at war with one another in a constant power struggle. In sum, the spiritual world was as fundamentally screwed up as this world, but in a different way.

After they seated themselves, Phil began, “My task is to report to Jehovah on the Holy Grail. The problem is the Holy Grail represents what Jehovah is opposed to -- the Divine Feminine. Jehovah is now the embodiment of fundamentalist belief. Or, more accurately, he is the product of their beliefs. And not just Christians, but Muslim, and Jewish fundamentalists as well. Since none of them have any use for the Divine Feminine, the God-within, I’ve been researching idolatry. The case I hope to make to Jehovah is the patriarchy has devolved into an ideology, which is a form of idolatry. The cure for this is to bring back the Divine Feminine in the form of the Holy Grail. But I don’t think he’ll buy it.”

The two of them regarded Phil with mixed expressions. Donna seemed more understanding of Phil’s dilemma. Pastor Mike seemed uncomprehending. Still freaked out was Phil’s guess.

“What I plan to do today,” Phil went on, “is take you with me to Manuel’s abode. From there, we can decide our best course of action.”

Pastor Mike signaled acceptance with a nod of his sweaty head, and Donna asserted, “Let’s do it.”

“You’ll need to bring yourselves to the archway,” Phil told them. “I’ll pick you up, and we’ll jump to Manuel’s abode. It’s like a garden-patio with lots of blooming plants. When you get there, focus on one plant and make it real. It will help you stabilize in his world.”

They both nodded and closed their eyes to begin the process. Phil did likewise. Rather than following his trail to the stairs, however, he reached out and connected to Donna and Pastor Mike. Soon, he was able to track their progress to the archway. When he felt them there, he deepened his meditation so the singular door appeared. Dragging them with him, he pushed through to Manuel’s patio.

“What’s this -- an invasion? Why have you brought them here? Yo, don’t mess with the flowers. You, go sit on the bench. Use the walkway. No, not through the bushes. Be careful. Damnit, Phil, what are you up to? Over there. On the bench. Sit. All of you, sit.”

Phil laughed at Manuel’s obvious distress. Manuel was not one for the limelight, Phil remembered, and shunned mention in any sacred text. He was a private angel, and this ‘invasion’ must be harrowing.

“Don’t just stand there and laugh at me,” Manuel snapped. “Why did you bring them?”

“Donna needed to come,” Phil answered, “and Pastor Mike saved her life yesterday. He’s afraid he’s made it to Azazel’s hit-list.”

The two humans were sitting on the marble bench and cowering before Manuel’s angelic presence. Phil recalled what it was like and told them, “Just don’t look directly at an angel. Do notice their auras. It indicates their mood.”

They nodded, lowered their eyes and waited for what might come next.

“We’re ready to meet with Jehovah,” Phil told the angel.

“All three of you,” Manuel stated the obvious. “Right. Let me announce your request.”

Manuel became very still, and Phil knew he was in telepathic communication with Jehovah’s heaven.

At length, Manuel said, “We’ll need to meet with Metatron first. And I’ll need help with transportation. I’m going to manifest your guardian angels to make traveling easier.”

“Cool,” Phil smiled. “I’ve never seen mine. What should I wear?”

Manuel grimaced, and Phil clothed himself in jeans, T-shirt and sandals.

The guardian angels shimmered into view. They were not as distinct as Manuel -- transparent was Phil’s thought. They were also not distinct personalities. Each was a golden radiance clothed in a white robe. Their facial features were twin-like -- subtle differences lost in uniformity.

Phil approached his Guardian Angel, “What’s your name?”

“I cannot tell you. If I tell you, you will have dominion over me, which defeats the whole purpose of my existence.”

“And what is your purpose?”

“To present you with your chances to evolve.”

“How are we doing?”

“Better than last lifetime.”

Phil laughed; although, the angel didn’t. Perhaps they lacked a sense of humor.

“Okay,” Manuel’s loud voice intruded. “We’re off to Sarim headquarters. Every angel grab a human and let’s go.”

They flew across the Physically Manifesting Spirit level to the domed building housing the headquarters of the heavenly host. Flying through the roof, they alighted on the raised platform where Metatron stood alone, apparently awaiting their arrival.

“You can look at him,” Phil told Donna and Pastor Mike.

“Yes, you can,” Metatron said in his sober monotone. “I am the ascended Enoch. A human, such as you, but now I’m the prime minister of this world. My chief duty is to oversee mankind’s evolution.”

“Tough job,” Donna commented.

Metatron nodded gravely, “It becomes tougher with each passing age. But beside the point. You are here to aid Phil in his sworn duty to Jehovah. The key, I think, to turning Jehovah to your side is in the story of Dinah. Do you know this story?”

Phil knew it, but only as a biblical tale. Dinah was Jacob’s only daughter. She was raped, but her rapist fell in love with her and begged Jacob for her hand in marriage. Jacob consented, but only if all the men from the rapist’s tribe agreed to circumcision. But while the men were recovering from the operation, Dinah’s brothers attacked. The ensuing battle was not successful, and Jacob was forced to retreat northward. What the metaphorical significance of this tale was, Phil didn’t know.

Pastor Mike, though, did know, “It was about tribal warfare. Dinah’s tribe lost to the Hurrians. Other Israelite tribes came to help, but the battle was inconclusive. All the Israelites moved north of Sechem for safety.”

Metatron stroked his long beard and said, “You have the history right, but why is this story included in the Bible?”

Phil turned to Pastor Mike whose brow was furrowed in concentration. The man sweated even here. Presently, he said, “Dinah went out to meet the daughters of the land.”

“Precisely,” Metatron drawled. “The rape and the defeats of the Dinah, Simeon and Levi tribes were really a defeat for women in general. Female power declined rapidly thereafter. Consequently, the patriarchy developed considerable trouble staying in balance as it rose to prominence.”

Phil was becoming impatient with this dry history and metaphorical interpretations. He asked, “How will this knowledge help us with Jehovah?”

Metatron turned his lanky, stooped body to face Phil’s demands, “You already identified Jehovah’s blind spot -- female power. Connect the dots for yourself.”

Then Metatron stepped away from them. Apparently, they were dismissed for the angel bodyguards placed hands on their shoulders, and they flew out of Sarim headquarters. Across the PMS expanse to the Compound of Jehovah, they flew.

Phil wished he could prepare them for what was to come, but Donna’s mind was closed in seriousness; Pastor Mike’s mind was merely less freaked out.

They passed through the pearly gates, flew above ancient streets filled with markets and shops, and landed in the circular coliseum Phil knew from before.

“Why here?” Phil asked Manuel. “Why not his private throne-room or something?”

“It’s what he wanted,” Manuel shrugged. “If it’s any consolation, the agreement is still in effect. He can’t order angels to do anything to you.”

Phil turned to Donna and Pastor Mike, “This is a set-up. Jehovah will make a grand entrance, play to the crowd, then I don’t know what. But it won’t be good. You have to remember he’s the embodiment of all fundamentalist worship. He’s not a nice guy. Even so, he is a mask of God; he is driven by the power of the Great Mystery. We have to finesse him with the Divine Feminine. Somehow.”

“And if we fail?” Pastor Mike wanted to know.

“We’ll get zapped out of existence,” Phil shrugged. Then to Donna, “Pull Ishtar into you. Both of you pull in the energies of Flesh, Force and Spirit. Make a bubble around you with it.”

Donna asked, “What are you going to do?”

Phil smiled at her, “The Lord of the Elements and the Sovereign of Ireland are my true parents. I will call them into me.”

“Then what?” Pastor Mike asked.

Manuel, who was still standing with them, answered, “Then we hope for the best.”

“Some plan,” Donna remarked.

Phil laughed, “Get used to it. Angels don’t have a clue.”

“That’s right,” Manuel confirmed. “As agents of the Great Mystery, how could we?”

Trumpets began blaring. People began filling the coliseum. A force field domed the arena, and puffy clouds formed overhead.

“This part is fun to watch,” Phil said to them. “But don’t get distracted by it.”

The entrance of Jehovah was grand indeed. He floated down on clouds surrounded by winged angels. Harps, trumpets, kettle drums reverberated in the incense-filled air. Choruses singing Alleluia appeared overhead to settle slowly into seats. And Jehovah descended in majesty to the sandy floor.

He was robed in white with a blue surcoat over it. Twenty-feet tall, his beard was curly black shot with white streaks. His silver-black hair fell to his shoulders, and on his feet were golden sandals.

“Phil,” Jehovah’s voice boomed. “You have returned from your quest with two more humans. Tell me your quest was successful.”

Phil stepped forward and said, “Just barely, Lord Jehovah. Azazel threatened my helpers and still seeks to destroy them. I ask you to stay his hand.”

Apparently in a magnanimous mood, Jehovah issued a command, “Azazel,” he called out, “attend to the Lord God Jehovah.”

Then Jehovah looked back to Phil, “It will take time for him to get here. While we’re waiting, show me the Holy Grail.”

“It’s a metaphor,” Phil said. “It is the empty cup inside all humans awaiting the moment when you fill it with Grace -- the gift only God can give.”

“There’s no artifact?”

“None, my lord.”

The crowd groaned. Then they began booing and throwing things. Luckily, the force field around the arena prevented anything from reaching them.

“The deal was to bring it to me,” Jehovah pointed out.

“I cannot bring you something if it doesn’t exist,” Phil responded. Then he made the connection to Morrigan and the Green Man.

They awoke in his mind and filled him with their unique power. Once fully alive within him, Morrigan queried, “Who are these humans with you, Virgnous?”

“My daughter and Pastor Mike,” said Phil (who in a past-life was Virgnous, a devotee of Morrigan on the Isle of Iona).

Jehovah, in the meantime, was expressing his clear disappointment, “I’d banish you to Hell, Phil, but I heard you received a get-out-of-hell-free card. So I’ll just snuff you out of existence.”

And he tried. Fireballs of energy shot out of his hands. Phil caught them and flung them back.

“Does he not remember last time?” Morrigan asked to no one in particular.

Green Man answered, “He’s as dense as they come, my dear. But it’s good to be back with you. Son, we do wish you would call us in more often.”

Phil, however, was trying to ignore the reunion going on inside of him. He tried reason on Jehovah, “The symbol of the Grail is more profound than a lousy wine-glass, Jehovah. Calm down, and let us show you its power.”

“Show me!”

Phil turned to Donna, “Have Ishtar bring in God’s Grace.”

“I don’t know,” Donna was doubtful. “I’ll try.”

“Tell her it’s a function of surrender,” Morrigan prompted.

“Relax,” Phil instructed Donna, “and totally surrender to the energy.”

She closed her eyes and her spirit-body went limp. Manuel caught her; then he held her aloft like a sacrificial offering.

The puffy white clouds overhead evaporated, and it began raining radiance -- a golden shower of grace. It filled the coliseum as a fine mist and seemed to melt the hearts of all who were there.

“Sons and daughters of Dinah,” Pastor Mike’s suitably strong voice broke the silence. “Receive Abraham’s blessing.”

“Good job,” Phil whispered to the pastor.

“There will be a mass exodus from heaven when this is over,” Manuel predicted. Phil knew he was referring to the advent of boredom now imminent within Jehovah’s followers. Once they became bored, and being touched by Divine Grace would make Jehovah’s world pretty boring, they would be ready to reincarnate.

Jehovah must have recognized this as well. “Stop,” he yelled at them. “Stop, so we can discuss this gift you bring.”

“Donna,” Phil requested. “Have Ishtar stop what she’s doing.”

“But it feels so good,” Donna’s voice was barely audible. Then she said, “Okay. She’s stopped.”

The golden mist in the coliseum cleared, but the buzz in the stands was immediate. Jehovah looked around at his followers and became visibly perturbed.

“You have upset the balance here,” he charged them with the ultimate crime.

“No,” Phil answered. “We’ve restored the balance.”

“They are to accept my Will,” Jehovah countered. “It is their salvation.”

“No,” Phil responded. “They are to accept God’s Grace into their being so it may awaken the Holy Spirit within them.”

Morrigan spoke, “He knows nothing of the Divine-within, Virgnous. Don’t waste your time.”

Jehovah approached as Donna regained her feet. They stood as a group to face the mask of God, which represented the patriarchy-as-ideology, the fundamentalist archetype of exoteric religion, the idolatrous symbol of raw power.

“You’ve tricked me again, boy,” Jehovah said sotto voce. “Once more, you’ve tricked me. What is your price?”

“Command Azazel to stay his hand against these two humans,” Phil answered.

Jehovah turned to Manuel, “Get Azazel here. Now.”

“Yes, Lord Jehovah,” the angel complied. Manuel closed his eyes and moments later the dark-robed desert demon popped into the coliseum.

The crowd reacted with sudden fear and anger. Jehovah smiled. There was opportunity here for Jehovah to reclaim some followers.

“This devil is responsible for the withdrawal of God’s Grace,” his voice boomed through the stadium. “And I will not permit it.”

“I did no such thing,” Azazel snapped back.

“Silence! You will cease and desist in your nefarious plans against my emissaries.”

Morrigan giggled inside Phil. Green Man commented, “He does have a flair for the dramatic.”

Azazel cowed before the wrathful mask of God, “Yes, my lord.”

“Now, begone. All of you,” Jehovah commanded. Then he quickly ascended onto the reforming clouds. The chorus and band accompanied his exit.

Azazel turned to Manuel, “Don’t think this is over, Manny.” Then, he flew out of the coliseum.

“What does he mean?” Donna asked.

“He’s a sore loser,” Manuel answered.

As they flew back to Manuel’s patio, Donna was deep in thought, and Phil was worried.

Morrigan broke in on Phil’s worry to say, “The Holy Grail became confused with the Cauldron of the Dagda.”

The Green Man added, “We had many cauldrons in our religion. Both Cerridwen and Manannán mac Lir possessed cauldrons, and they served similar functions. Then we must not forget the cauldron from the Mabinogion. Cauldrons were a focal point for ritual feasts celebrating abundance.”

Morrigan snapped back, “It’s the link to the Grail I’m referring to. Dagda’s cauldron of plenty was connected to the Otherworld, which is a place of plenty. The Dagda was the connection between this world and the Otherworld. Dagda built the brughs -- the dwellings of the Otherworld -- and he distributed them among the Tuatha Dé Danann, after the Sons of Mil defeated them. It was then decided by the poet Amairgen to split Ireland so that the underground half was given to the Tuatha Dé Danann, and the remainder of Ireland to the Milesians.”

“And the connection to the Grail?” Phil asked.

“The cauldron, as with a cup, is a feminine symbol,” Morrigan replied. “It’s guarded by the Dagda. He doesn’t own it. However, the cauldron and the grail represent the same thing.”

The Green Man elaborated, “King Arthur’s legend includes the Holy Grail as a disguised Cauldron of Dagda. They have the same properties: sustenance, rejuvenation and inspiration. In fact, the whole idea of knighthood and chivalry is of Celtic origin.”

“The Grail is not a Christian symbol?” Phil wondered.

Morrigan replied, “It is our gift to Christianity, for the Divine Feminine must be remembered.” She paused as Phil took in this surprising information; then she added, “We once ruled from Hungary to France -- the whole of middle Europe. We sacked Rome and controlled Greece. Our fighting is fierce, and our friendship, tender. Freedom, song, feasting, metal work, farming, art, and love of learning have been our passions for thousands of years. You are my son, and that is your destiny.”

Phil didn’t know how to respond to such a flamboyant declaration.

Manuel seemed to be tracking all that was going on inside Phil. The angel said, “I think Morrigan is seeing in you what Metatron sees in you, Phil. I don’t see it, but why else would En Sof linked us together?”

Phil pondered this latest revelation but didn’t answer the question. He was more concerned with Azazel’s threat.