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class="text-center sticky top-2 left-2 hidden xl:block flex-shrink-0 " style="width: 160px; height: 600px;" > <ins class="adsbygoogle adsense h-ad4 " data-ad-client="ca-pub-9984994497373304" style="display:block" data-ad-format="auto" data-ad-slot="3720471391" data-full-width-responsive="true" data-adtest="off" > </ins> <script> (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); </script> </div> <div class="main-container container"> <main class="left-container doc-detail"> <section class="hentry flex items-center md:items-start mt-3 md:mt-3 ml-0 flex-col md:flex-row"> <div class="w-full"> <h1 class="entry-title mb-5 text-center font-semibold text-2xl xl:text-4xl !leading-common"> The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (2024) </h1> <div class="bg-primary-100 text-common !leading-common rounded-lg pl-5 pr-2 py-4 mb-2 space-y-2 text-primary-500"> <div class="font-semibold">Table of Contents</div> <a class="list-item toc-h3" href="#toc-0">Libere conteúdossem pagar</a> <a class="list-item toc-h2" href="#toc-1">Acesse conteúdos dessa e de diversas outras disciplinas.</a> <a class="list-item toc-h3" href="#toc-2">Libere conteúdossem pagar</a> <a class="list-item toc-h3" href="#toc-3">Libere conteúdossem pagar</a> <a class="list-item toc-h2" href="#toc-4">Acesse conteúdos dessa e de diversas outras disciplinas.</a> <a class="list-item toc-h3" href="#toc-5">Libere conteúdossem pagar</a> <a class="list-item toc-h3" href="#toc-6">Libere conteúdossem pagar</a> <a class="list-item toc-h2" href="#toc-7">Acesse conteúdos dessa e de diversas outras disciplinas.</a> <a class="list-item toc-h3" href="#toc-8">Libere conteúdossem pagar</a> <a class="list-item toc-h3" href="#toc-9">Libere conteúdossem pagar</a> <a class="list-item toc-h2" href="#toc-10">Acesse conteúdos dessa e de diversas outras disciplinas.</a> <a class="list-item toc-h3" href="#toc-11">Libere conteúdossem pagar</a> <a class="list-item toc-h3" href="#toc-12">Libere conteúdossem pagar</a> <a class="list-item toc-h2" href="#toc-13">Acesse conteúdos dessa e de diversas outras disciplinas.</a> <a class="list-item toc-h3" href="#toc-14">Libere conteúdossem pagar</a> <a class="list-item toc-h2" href="#toc-15">Perguntas dessa disciplina</a> </div> <div class="text-center my-2 sm:my-4 " > <ins class="adsbygoogle adsense h-ad3 " data-ad-client="ca-pub-9984994497373304" style="display:block" data-ad-format="auto" data-ad-slot="1343953012" data-full-width-responsive="true" data-adtest="off" > </ins> <script> (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); </script> </div> <article class="article-detail"> <section class="entry-content paragraph"><div><section><div><div><section><div><div><div><nav><ol><li><a target="_blank"><h4>Linguagens</h4></a></li><img alt="The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (1)" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAAAAACH5BAEKAAEALAAAAAABAAEAAAICTAEAOw==" class="lazyload" referrerpolicy="no-referrer" title="The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (1)" data-src="https://i0.wp.com/www.passeidireto.com/nextjs/1.289.331/_next/static/images/breadcrumb-separator-opt.svg" data-src2="https://www.passeidireto.com/nextjs/1.289.331/_next/static/images/breadcrumb-separator-opt.svg" onerror="if(this.src==this.getAttribute('data-src2')){onImageError(this,true)}else{this.src=this.getAttribute('data-src2')}"><li><span>Inglês</span></li></ol></nav><p><span><img alt="The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (2)" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAAAAACH5BAEKAAEALAAAAAABAAEAAAICTAEAOw==" class="lazyload" referrerpolicy="no-referrer" title="The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (2)" data-src="https://i0.wp.com/www.passeidireto.com/nextjs/1.289.331/_next/static/images/breadcrumb-separator-opt.svg" data-src2="https://www.passeidireto.com/nextjs/1.289.331/_next/static/images/breadcrumb-separator-opt.svg" onerror="if(this.src==this.getAttribute('data-src2')){onImageError(this,true)}else{this.src=this.getAttribute('data-src2')}"></span><div class="sm:flex sm:items-center sm:justify-center sm:flex-row sm:space-x-1 insert" style="margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><ins class="adsbygoogle sm:w-1/2" style="display:block; text-align:center;" data-ad-layout="in-article" data-ad-format="fluid" data-full-width-responsive="true" data-ad-slot="1343953012" data-ad-client="ca-pub-4153049311064371" data-adtest="off"></ins><script>(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});</script><ins class="adsbygoogle sm:w-1/2" style="display:block; text-align:center;" data-ad-layout="in-article" data-ad-format="fluid" data-full-width-responsive="true" data-ad-slot="1343953012" data-ad-client="ca-pub-4153049311064371" data-adtest="off"></ins><script>(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});</script></div></p><h4>UESC</h4></div><div><div></div><div><span>Kathleen Oliveira 23/11/2024</span></div></div></div></div></section><section><div><div><div><div><div><div></div></div></div></div></div><div><div class="sm:flex sm:items-center sm:justify-center sm:flex-row sm:space-x-1 insert" style="margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><ins class="adsbygoogle sm:w-1/2" style="display:block; text-align:center;" data-ad-layout="in-article" data-ad-format="fluid" data-full-width-responsive="true" data-ad-slot="3720471391" data-ad-client="ca-pub-4153049311064371" data-adtest="off"></ins><script>(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});</script><ins class="adsbygoogle sm:w-1/2" style="display:block; text-align:center;" data-ad-layout="in-article" data-ad-format="fluid" data-full-width-responsive="true" data-ad-slot="3720471391" data-ad-client="ca-pub-4153049311064371" data-adtest="off"></ins><script>(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});</script></div></div></div></section></div></div><div><div><section><div><div><div><p><img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAAAAACH5BAEKAAEALAAAAAABAAEAAAICTAEAOw==" class="lazyload" referrerpolicy="no-referrer" alt="The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (4)" title="The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (4)" data-src="" data-src2="data:image/svg+xml;base64,PHN2ZyB4bWxucz0iaHR0cDovL3d3dy53My5vcmcvMjAwMC9zdmciIHZpZXdCb3g9IjAgMCAzIDIiPjwvc3ZnPg==" onerror="if(this.src==this.getAttribute('data-src2')){onImageError(this,true)}else{this.src=this.getAttribute('data-src2')}"></p></div><div><div><div><p><img alt="The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (5)" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAAAAACH5BAEKAAEALAAAAAABAAEAAAICTAEAOw==" class="lazyload" referrerpolicy="no-referrer" title="The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (5)" data-src="https://i0.wp.com/www.passeidireto.com/nextjs/1.289.331/_next/static/images/bubbles-left-opt.svg" data-src2="https://www.passeidireto.com/nextjs/1.289.331/_next/static/images/bubbles-left-opt.svg" onerror="if(this.src==this.getAttribute('data-src2')){onImageError(this,true)}else{this.src=this.getAttribute('data-src2')}"><img alt="The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (6)" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAAAAACH5BAEKAAEALAAAAAABAAEAAAICTAEAOw==" class="lazyload" referrerpolicy="no-referrer" title="The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (6)" data-src="https://i0.wp.com/www.passeidireto.com/nextjs/1.289.331/_next/static/images/desktop-bubbles-right-opt.svg" data-src2="https://www.passeidireto.com/nextjs/1.289.331/_next/static/images/desktop-bubbles-right-opt.svg" onerror="if(this.src==this.getAttribute('data-src2')){onImageError(this,true)}else{this.src=this.getAttribute('data-src2')}"><div class="sm:flex sm:items-center sm:justify-center sm:flex-row sm:space-x-1 insert" style="margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><ins class="adsbygoogle sm:w-1/2" style="display:block; text-align:center;" data-ad-layout="in-article" data-ad-format="fluid" data-full-width-responsive="true" data-ad-slot="3720471391" data-ad-client="ca-pub-9984994497373304" data-adtest="off"></ins><script>(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});</script><ins class="adsbygoogle sm:w-1/2" style="display:block; text-align:center;" data-ad-layout="in-article" data-ad-format="fluid" data-full-width-responsive="true" data-ad-slot="3720471391" data-ad-client="ca-pub-9984994497373304" data-adtest="off"></ins><script>(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});</script></div></p><div><div><h3 id="toc-0">Libere conteúdos<br><strong>sem pagar</strong></h3><p><span>Ajude estudantes</span><spam> e ganhe conteúdos liberados!</spam></p></div></div></div> </div></div></div><div><div><p><img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAAAAACH5BAEKAAEALAAAAAABAAEAAAICTAEAOw==" class="lazyload" referrerpolicy="no-referrer" alt="The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (7)" title="The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (7)" data-src="" data-src2="data:image/svg+xml;base64,PHN2ZyB4bWxucz0iaHR0cDovL3d3dy53My5vcmcvMjAwMC9zdmciIHZpZXdCb3g9IjAgMCAzIDIiPjwvc3ZnPg==" onerror="if(this.src==this.getAttribute('data-src2')){onImageError(this,true)}else{this.src=this.getAttribute('data-src2')}"></p></div><div><div><div><p><img alt="The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (8)" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAAAAACH5BAEKAAEALAAAAAABAAEAAAICTAEAOw==" class="lazyload" referrerpolicy="no-referrer" title="The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (8)" data-src="https://i0.wp.com/www.passeidireto.com/nextjs/1.289.331/_next/static/images/bubbles-left-opt.svg" data-src2="https://www.passeidireto.com/nextjs/1.289.331/_next/static/images/bubbles-left-opt.svg" onerror="if(this.src==this.getAttribute('data-src2')){onImageError(this,true)}else{this.src=this.getAttribute('data-src2')}"><img alt="The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (9)" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAAAAACH5BAEKAAEALAAAAAABAAEAAAICTAEAOw==" class="lazyload" referrerpolicy="no-referrer" title="The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (9)" data-src="https://i0.wp.com/www.passeidireto.com/nextjs/1.289.331/_next/static/images/desktop-bubbles-right-opt.svg" data-src2="https://www.passeidireto.com/nextjs/1.289.331/_next/static/images/desktop-bubbles-right-opt.svg" onerror="if(this.src==this.getAttribute('data-src2')){onImageError(this,true)}else{this.src=this.getAttribute('data-src2')}"><div class="sm:flex sm:items-center sm:justify-center sm:flex-row sm:space-x-1 insert" style="margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><ins class="adsbygoogle sm:w-1/2" style="display:block; text-align:center;" data-ad-layout="in-article" data-ad-format="fluid" data-full-width-responsive="true" data-ad-slot="3720471391" data-ad-client="ca-pub-4153049311064371" data-adtest="off"></ins><script>(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});</script><ins class="adsbygoogle sm:w-1/2" style="display:block; text-align:center;" data-ad-layout="in-article" data-ad-format="fluid" data-full-width-responsive="true" data-ad-slot="3720471391" data-ad-client="ca-pub-4153049311064371" data-adtest="off"></ins><script>(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});</script></div></p><div><h2 id="toc-1">Acesse conteúdos dessa e de diversas outras disciplinas.</h2><div class="bg-primary-100 rounded-lg my-6 px-2 py-3 font-semibold insert" style="color: rgb(37, 99, 235)"><div class="text-common !leading-common ml-1 insert" style="margin-top: 0.2rem; margin-bottom: 0.2rem">See Also</div><a class="list-item toc-h2 py-1" style="border-bottom: none" href="https://zoomgame.net/article/reminiscences-of-an-army-nurse/8876" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Reminiscences of an Army Nurse</a></div></div><div><div><h3 id="toc-2">Libere conteúdos<br><strong>sem pagar</strong></h3><p><span>Ajude estudantes</span><spam> e ganhe conteúdos liberados!</spam></p></div></div></div> </div></div></div><div><div><p><img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAAAAACH5BAEKAAEALAAAAAABAAEAAAICTAEAOw==" class="lazyload" referrerpolicy="no-referrer" alt="The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (10)" title="The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (10)" data-src="" data-src2="data:image/svg+xml;base64,PHN2ZyB4bWxucz0iaHR0cDovL3d3dy53My5vcmcvMjAwMC9zdmciIHZpZXdCb3g9IjAgMCAzIDIiPjwvc3ZnPg==" onerror="if(this.src==this.getAttribute('data-src2')){onImageError(this,true)}else{this.src=this.getAttribute('data-src2')}"></p></div><div><div><div><p><img alt="The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (11)" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAAAAACH5BAEKAAEALAAAAAABAAEAAAICTAEAOw==" class="lazyload" referrerpolicy="no-referrer" title="The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (11)" data-src="https://i0.wp.com/www.passeidireto.com/nextjs/1.289.331/_next/static/images/bubbles-left-opt.svg" data-src2="https://www.passeidireto.com/nextjs/1.289.331/_next/static/images/bubbles-left-opt.svg" onerror="if(this.src==this.getAttribute('data-src2')){onImageError(this,true)}else{this.src=this.getAttribute('data-src2')}"><img alt="The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (12)" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAAAAACH5BAEKAAEALAAAAAABAAEAAAICTAEAOw==" class="lazyload" referrerpolicy="no-referrer" title="The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (12)" data-src="https://i0.wp.com/www.passeidireto.com/nextjs/1.289.331/_next/static/images/desktop-bubbles-right-opt.svg" data-src2="https://www.passeidireto.com/nextjs/1.289.331/_next/static/images/desktop-bubbles-right-opt.svg" onerror="if(this.src==this.getAttribute('data-src2')){onImageError(this,true)}else{this.src=this.getAttribute('data-src2')}"></p><div><div><h3 id="toc-3">Libere conteúdos<br><strong>sem pagar</strong></h3><p><span>Ajude estudantes</span><spam> e ganhe conteúdos liberados!</spam></p></div></div><div class="sm:flex sm:items-center sm:justify-center sm:flex-row sm:space-x-1 insert" style="margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><ins class="adsbygoogle sm:w-1/2" style="display:block; text-align:center;" data-ad-layout="in-article" data-ad-format="fluid" data-full-width-responsive="true" data-ad-slot="3720471391" data-ad-client="ca-pub-4153049311064371" data-adtest="off"></ins><script>(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});</script><ins class="adsbygoogle sm:w-1/2" style="display:block; text-align:center;" data-ad-layout="in-article" data-ad-format="fluid" data-full-width-responsive="true" data-ad-slot="3720471391" data-ad-client="ca-pub-4153049311064371" data-adtest="off"></ins><script>(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});</script></div></div> </div></div></div><div><div><p><img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAAAAACH5BAEKAAEALAAAAAABAAEAAAICTAEAOw==" class="lazyload" referrerpolicy="no-referrer" alt="The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (13)" title="The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (13)" data-src="" data-src2="data:image/svg+xml;base64,PHN2ZyB4bWxucz0iaHR0cDovL3d3dy53My5vcmcvMjAwMC9zdmciIHZpZXdCb3g9IjAgMCAzIDIiPjwvc3ZnPg==" onerror="if(this.src==this.getAttribute('data-src2')){onImageError(this,true)}else{this.src=this.getAttribute('data-src2')}"></p></div><div><div><div><p><img alt="The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (14)" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAAAAACH5BAEKAAEALAAAAAABAAEAAAICTAEAOw==" class="lazyload" referrerpolicy="no-referrer" title="The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (14)" data-src="https://i0.wp.com/www.passeidireto.com/nextjs/1.289.331/_next/static/images/bubbles-left-opt.svg" data-src2="https://www.passeidireto.com/nextjs/1.289.331/_next/static/images/bubbles-left-opt.svg" onerror="if(this.src==this.getAttribute('data-src2')){onImageError(this,true)}else{this.src=this.getAttribute('data-src2')}"><img alt="The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (15)" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAAAAACH5BAEKAAEALAAAAAABAAEAAAICTAEAOw==" class="lazyload" referrerpolicy="no-referrer" title="The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (15)" data-src="https://i0.wp.com/www.passeidireto.com/nextjs/1.289.331/_next/static/images/desktop-bubbles-right-opt.svg" data-src2="https://www.passeidireto.com/nextjs/1.289.331/_next/static/images/desktop-bubbles-right-opt.svg" onerror="if(this.src==this.getAttribute('data-src2')){onImageError(this,true)}else{this.src=this.getAttribute('data-src2')}"></p><div><h2 id="toc-4">Acesse conteúdos dessa e de diversas outras disciplinas.</h2></div><div><div><h3 id="toc-5">Libere conteúdos<br><strong>sem pagar</strong></h3><p><span>Ajude estudantes</span><spam> e ganhe conteúdos liberados!</spam></p></div></div><div class="sm:flex sm:items-center sm:justify-center sm:flex-row sm:space-x-1 insert" style="margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><ins class="adsbygoogle sm:w-1/2" style="display:block; text-align:center;" data-ad-layout="in-article" data-ad-format="fluid" data-full-width-responsive="true" 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data-src="https://i0.wp.com/www.passeidireto.com/nextjs/1.289.331/_next/static/images/desktop-bubbles-right-opt.svg" data-src2="https://www.passeidireto.com/nextjs/1.289.331/_next/static/images/desktop-bubbles-right-opt.svg" onerror="if(this.src==this.getAttribute('data-src2')){onImageError(this,true)}else{this.src=this.getAttribute('data-src2')}"></p><div><div><h3 id="toc-6">Libere conteúdos<br><strong>sem pagar</strong></h3><p><span>Ajude estudantes</span><spam> e ganhe conteúdos liberados!</spam></p></div></div></div> <div class="sm:flex sm:items-center sm:justify-center sm:flex-row sm:space-x-1 insert" style="margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><ins class="adsbygoogle sm:w-1/2" style="display:block; text-align:center;" data-ad-layout="in-article" data-ad-format="fluid" data-full-width-responsive="true" data-ad-slot="1343953012" data-ad-client="ca-pub-9984994497373304" data-adtest="off"></ins><script>(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});</script><ins class="adsbygoogle 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src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAAAAACH5BAEKAAEALAAAAAABAAEAAAICTAEAOw==" class="lazyload" referrerpolicy="no-referrer" title="The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (20)" data-src="https://i0.wp.com/www.passeidireto.com/nextjs/1.289.331/_next/static/images/bubbles-left-opt.svg" data-src2="https://www.passeidireto.com/nextjs/1.289.331/_next/static/images/bubbles-left-opt.svg" onerror="if(this.src==this.getAttribute('data-src2')){onImageError(this,true)}else{this.src=this.getAttribute('data-src2')}"><img alt="The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (21)" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAAAAACH5BAEKAAEALAAAAAABAAEAAAICTAEAOw==" class="lazyload" referrerpolicy="no-referrer" title="The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (21)" data-src="https://i0.wp.com/www.passeidireto.com/nextjs/1.289.331/_next/static/images/desktop-bubbles-right-opt.svg" data-src2="https://www.passeidireto.com/nextjs/1.289.331/_next/static/images/desktop-bubbles-right-opt.svg" onerror="if(this.src==this.getAttribute('data-src2')){onImageError(this,true)}else{this.src=this.getAttribute('data-src2')}"></p><div><h2 id="toc-7">Acesse conteúdos dessa e de diversas outras disciplinas.</h2></div><div><div><h3 id="toc-8">Libere conteúdos<br><strong>sem pagar</strong></h3><p><span>Ajude estudantes</span><spam> e ganhe conteúdos liberados!</spam></p></div></div></div> <div class="sm:flex sm:items-center sm:justify-center sm:flex-row sm:space-x-1 insert" style="margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><ins class="adsbygoogle sm:w-1/2" style="display:block; text-align:center;" data-ad-layout="in-article" data-ad-format="fluid" data-full-width-responsive="true" data-ad-slot="1343953012" data-ad-client="ca-pub-4153049311064371" data-adtest="off"></ins><script>(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});</script><ins class="adsbygoogle sm:w-1/2" style="display:block; text-align:center;" data-ad-layout="in-article" data-ad-format="fluid" data-full-width-responsive="true" 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onerror="if(this.src==this.getAttribute('data-src2')){onImageError(this,true)}else{this.src=this.getAttribute('data-src2')}"><img alt="The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (27)" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAAAAACH5BAEKAAEALAAAAAABAAEAAAICTAEAOw==" class="lazyload" referrerpolicy="no-referrer" title="The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (27)" data-src="https://i0.wp.com/www.passeidireto.com/nextjs/1.289.331/_next/static/images/desktop-bubbles-right-opt.svg" data-src2="https://www.passeidireto.com/nextjs/1.289.331/_next/static/images/desktop-bubbles-right-opt.svg" onerror="if(this.src==this.getAttribute('data-src2')){onImageError(this,true)}else{this.src=this.getAttribute('data-src2')}"></p><div><h2 id="toc-10">Acesse conteúdos dessa e de diversas outras disciplinas.</h2></div><div><div><h3 id="toc-11">Libere conteúdos<br><strong>sem pagar</strong></h3><p><span>Ajude estudantes</span><spam> e ganhe conteúdos liberados!</spam></p></div></div></div> </div><div 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data-src="https://i0.wp.com/www.passeidireto.com/nextjs/1.289.331/_next/static/images/desktop-bubbles-right-opt.svg" data-src2="https://www.passeidireto.com/nextjs/1.289.331/_next/static/images/desktop-bubbles-right-opt.svg" onerror="if(this.src==this.getAttribute('data-src2')){onImageError(this,true)}else{this.src=this.getAttribute('data-src2')}"></p><div><div><h3 id="toc-12">Libere conteúdos<br><strong>sem pagar</strong></h3><p><span>Ajude estudantes</span><spam> e ganhe conteúdos liberados!</spam></p></div></div></div> </div></div></div><div><div><p><img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAAAAACH5BAEKAAEALAAAAAABAAEAAAICTAEAOw==" class="lazyload" referrerpolicy="no-referrer" alt="The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (31)" title="The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (31)" data-src="" data-src2="data:image/svg+xml;base64,PHN2ZyB4bWxucz0iaHR0cDovL3d3dy53My5vcmcvMjAwMC9zdmciIHZpZXdCb3g9IjAgMCAzIDIiPjwvc3ZnPg==" onerror="if(this.src==this.getAttribute('data-src2')){onImageError(this,true)}else{this.src=this.getAttribute('data-src2')}"><div class="sm:flex sm:items-center sm:justify-center sm:flex-row sm:space-x-1 insert" style="margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><ins class="adsbygoogle sm:w-1/2" style="display:block; text-align:center;" data-ad-layout="in-article" data-ad-format="fluid" data-full-width-responsive="true" data-ad-slot="1343953012" data-ad-client="ca-pub-4153049311064371" data-adtest="off"></ins><script>(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});</script><ins class="adsbygoogle sm:w-1/2" style="display:block; text-align:center;" data-ad-layout="in-article" data-ad-format="fluid" data-full-width-responsive="true" data-ad-slot="1343953012" data-ad-client="ca-pub-4153049311064371" data-adtest="off"></ins><script>(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});</script></div></p></div><div><div><div><p><img alt="The KABBALAH CODE - Relações Internacionais (32)" 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onerror="if(this.src==this.getAttribute('data-src2')){onImageError(this,true)}else{this.src=this.getAttribute('data-src2')}"></p><div><h2 id="toc-13">Acesse conteúdos dessa e de diversas outras disciplinas.</h2></div><div><div><h3 id="toc-14">Libere conteúdos<br><strong>sem pagar</strong></h3><p><span>Ajude estudantes</span><spam> e ganhe conteúdos liberados!</spam></p></div></div></div> </div></div></div></div></section><div><p>Prévia do material em texto<div class="sm:flex sm:items-center sm:justify-center sm:flex-row sm:space-x-1 insert" style="margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;"><ins class="adsbygoogle sm:w-1/2" style="display:block; text-align:center;" data-ad-layout="in-article" data-ad-format="fluid" data-full-width-responsive="true" data-ad-slot="1343953012" data-ad-client="ca-pub-4153049311064371" data-adtest="off"></ins><script>(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});</script><ins class="adsbygoogle sm:w-1/2" style="display:block; text-align:center;" 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TwymanBooks The Art of Spiritual Peacemaking:Secret Teachings from Jeshua ben JosephEmissary of LightEmissary of Love: The Psychic Children Speak to the WorldMessages from Thomas: Raising Psychic ChildrenThe Moses Code: The Most Powerful Manifestation Tool in the History ofthe World*The Prayer of St. FrancisPraying Peace: In Conversation with Gregg Braden and Doreen VirtueThe Proposing Tree: A Love StoryThe Secret of the Beloved DiscipleTen Spiritual Lessons I Learned at the Mall Films Indigo: A Film of Faith, Family, and an Extraordinary ChildThe Indigo EvolutionInto Me SeeThe Moses Code: The Movie* Music Ecclesia: Volume OneEmissary of Light: Songs from the Peace ConcertsFor the Beloved: An Intimate Evening with James TwymanGod Has No ReligionMay Peace Prevail on EarthThe Moses Code Frequency Meditation*The Order of the Beloved Disciple*Available from Hay HousePlease visit Hay House USA: www.hayhouse.com®Hay House Australia: www.hayhouse.com.auHay House UK: www.hayhouse.co.ukHay House South Africa: www.hayhouse.co.zaHay House India: www.hayhouse.co.inhttp://www.hayhouse.com/http://www.hayhouse.com.au/http://www.hayhouse.co.uk/http://www.hayhouse.co.za/http://www.hayhouse.co.in/ TheKABBALAHCODEA True Adventure James F. Twymanwith Philip Gruber HAY HOUSE, INC.Carlsbad, California • New York CityLondon • Sydney • JohannesburgVancouver • Hong Kong • New DelhiCopyright © 2009 by James F. Twyman Published and distributed in the United States by: Hay House, Inc.: www.hayhouse.com •Published and distributed in Australia by: Hay House Australia Pty. Ltd.: www.hayhouse.com.au •Published and distributed in the United Kingdom by: Hay House UK, Ltd.: www.hayhouse.co.uk •Published and distributed in the Republic of South Africa by: Hay House SA (Pty), Ltd.:www.hayhouse.co.za • Distributed in Canada by: Raincoast: www.raincoast.com Published in Indiaby: Hay House Publishers India: www.hayhouse.co.in Editorial supervision: Jill Kramer • Design: Amy Gingery All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced by any mechanical, photographic, orelectronic process, or in the form of a phonographic recording; nor may it be stored in a retrievalsystem, transmitted, or otherwise be copied for public or private use—other than for “fair use” asbrief quotations embodied in articles and reviews—without prior written permission of the publisher.The authors of this book do not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as aform of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician,either directly or indirectly. The intent of the authors is only to offer information of a general natureto help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of theinformation in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the authors and the publisherassume no responsibility for your actions. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Twyman, James F.The Kabbalah code : a true adventure / James F. Twyman ; with Philip Gruber. -- 1st ed.p. cm.ISBN 978-1-4019-2404-1 (hardcover : alk. paper) 1. Cabala--Miscellanea. I. Gruber, Philip. II. Title.BF1623.C2T89 2009299’.93--dc222008047371 ISBN: 978-1-4019-2404-1 12 11 10 09 4 3 2 11st edition, May 2009http://www.hayhouse.com/http://www.hayhouse.com.au/http://www.hayhouse.co.uk/http://www.hayhouse.co.za/http://www.raincoast.com/http://www.hayhouse.co.in/ To Debbie Ford and Andrew Harvey.Your love and support have taught me more than words can express, and you have also pushed me in ways that have helped me grow. I am eternally grateful for every part of the journey we’ve shared.ContentsIntroduction by James F. Twyman Chapter 1: The Moses CodeChapter 2: The Flawed GeniusChapter 3: A Kabbalist in ParisChapter 4: The Other WorldChapter 5: Kabbalah and CrepesChapter 6: Sacred Heart Basilica: The TetragrammatonChapter 7: The Marriage of Mary Magdalene: ElohimChapter 8: The Nun and the Icon: YahChapter 9: Saint-Roch and the Cross Pattée: Shaddai el ChaiChapter 10: The Obelisk of Luxor: AdonaiChapter 11: The Final Grand Master: Elohim GiborChapter 12: Notre-Dame Cathedral: Elohim TzabaothChapter 13: Heretic Central: ElChapter 14: The Incorruptible Saint: Yahweh TzabaothChapter 15: Chartres Cathedral: Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh Afterword by Phil GruberBibliographyAcknowledgmentsAbout the AuthorsIntroductionThe greatest lessons we learn usually come through the adventures thatshape and change our lives. This adventure, the one I describe in this book,came upon me as a great surprise. I didn’t set out to do any of the thingsyou’re about to read, nor did I initially think that they would result in abook that others might find valuable. But the more I sat with it and reflectedon the details of those two amazing days in April 2008, the more I realizedthat this adventure wasn’t meant for Phil and me alone. It was nice having apartner in the journey—someone to not only share the remarkable detailswith, but to also verify them later. A witness is a good thing to have whenrecounting something so extraordinary.As stated on the front cover, this is a true story, but for some that may behard to believe. I’m lucky to have traveled around the world as a PeaceTroubadour and to have had many such adventures, but there still may bethose who read these words and think, Come on, did that really happen?The answer is yes, but as much as I want it to be that simple, it isn’t. Manyof the events that took place and which I describe are subjective in nature,meaning that they were my own personal experiences. If you were therewith us, you may have had a different experience altogether, but that’s theway things usually are.Many of us have heard this famous example: five people witness thesame car accident but report the details in completely different manners. It’shuman nature. But there’s also a deeper truth, and that is what I’m moreinterested in portraying here. A number of the experiences you’re about toread will seem amazing and perhaps even unbelievable, but the truth behindthem all is the same: we currently have the opportunity to use this universalwisdom to change the world and inspire lasting peace. The only questionthat remains is, Will we accept the challenge?I met Phil Gruber 12 years ago and have called upon him many times forsupport and wisdom. Since then he has developed his own audience—people who, like me, have realized the scope and importance of his vastknowledge and profound intellect. It’s hard to say what his special focusmay be since he seems to know a great deal about any spiritual topic onemight mention. If you were to ask for a spiritual dissertation on thehistorical importance of the Knights Templar, he would be able to lecturefor days, or if you wanted to know more about the varied incarnations of theDivine Feminine throughout the last 300 years, it would be the same. To saythat he is an interesting character would be an understatement. His sense ofhumor is infectious, and his grasp of spiritual matters is profound, but it’shis friendship that has meant the most to me.I was concerned when I heard that he’d endured another serious bout ofdepression and almost hesitated calling him for his thoughts on somepuzzling questions I was presented with (which I describe in the firstchapter). However, as soon as I mentioned my dilemma, he shot into action,and you’re about to read the results. From the moment Phil showed up inGeneva to the final conclusion of this story in Paris, he was instrumental inorchestrating one of the most incredible experiences of my life. I also hopethat you’ll enjoy getting to know him in these pages as much as I’veenjoyed having him in my life. Without Phil,Moses did. You can’t sense theUniversal oneness of God without also realizing it within yourself.”“Which seems to be where most religions go off the mark,” I added.“Teaching people that they have a direct line to God makes it pretty difficultto control them or make them do what they want.”“And why do you think they want that?”“For people to follow the rules?”“Yes. Why?”“Because every religion, in the end, wants to survive and grow, and theonly way it can do that is by establishing a set of rules or dogmas thateveryone must follow. People love that. They love to be told what to do orbelieve because it removes personal revelation from the equation—”“Not to mention personal responsibility.”“You bet,” I said. “And yet it can never really be removed because everyspiritual tradition has its mystics, and they all pretty much seek the samething: union with God.”“So would you say that the experience of oneness is the goal of everymystic?” Phil asked.“I think so, yes. A Christian mystic seeks union with the consciousness ofChrist, a Buddhist with the Buddha nature, and a Hindu with Brahman.”“Are you saying that the organized religions themselves don’t encouragethis? Do you think they want people to remain separate from each other,from God, and to exclude everyone who doesn’t agree with their view ofthings?”“Take a baptized Christian, for example,” I said, leaning in closer. “Eitheryou form a part of the body of Christ or else. . . .”“Or else it’s the highway, right?”“I don’t want to make any absolute statements about all religions,” Iquickly added, as I was starting to feel a bit uncomfortable with mydirectness. “But in general that’s probably true.”“So does that mean that we should avoid religions and simply seek ourown mystical experiences?” Phil asked, obviously noticing my discomfort.It felt as if he was leading me in a particular direction, but I was unclearwhere it was. I was trying to be careful not to step into a trap, but then Idecided to relax and simply say whatever came to me.“I’ll tell you what I believe,” I said. “The answer is no. I don’t thinkpeople should avoid honoring or practicing a particular religion if that’swhat they’re drawn to. There’s definitely value, especially in followingwell-laid spiritual paths that have been working for thousands of years. Ithink this is one of the biggest problems in many New Age circles—thatanything goes no matter how far-out or weird. People will buy anythingthese days. Do you believe that I was at an event last year where a womanactually claimed to be channeling her cat whom she believes to be anascended master? And people were lining up to hear what the cat had to say.That’s the kind of thing that drives me crazy: people throwing away theircommon sense. I think that there needs to be a balance. We need to look tothe traditions of our various religions and learn from them but also be opento the particular ways that Spirit is revealing itself in our lives.”“Think about it,” Phil remarked. “Kabbalah is an initiated understandingof the Torah. Remember me telling you that according to the teachings, theTorah is considered the Word of God and was formulated before thecreation of the world? An old teacher of mine said that Kabbalah doesn’tjust tread water on the surface, so to speak. It dives deep into the mysteriesthat fill every sentence of every page, and, in so doing, helps people accesstheir own connection with the Divine, furthering a closer, personalrelationship with God. The Torah is literally a template or blueprint ofcreation, and the Kabbalah aims to define its inner meaning and structure.It’s nothing less than God’s revelation to its creation.”“Would you say that the name of God that was given to Moses at theburning bush was at the very heart of what became the three monotheisticreligions, beginning, of course, with Abraham?” I inquired.“I would venture to say that the name given to Moses at the burning bush. . . or more precisely, the meaning of the name given to Moses that fatefulday is what lies at the heart of all systems of religious and spiritual thought.Before Moses, even before Abraham, the seeds of what would become theJudeo-Christian tradition were already present. But when Moses had hisexperience at Mount Sinai, everything changed—not only for those of theHebrew persuasion, but by extension, the ebb and flow of history.”“So you would agree that the name has important implications in ourmodern world?”“I would.” Phil continued, “Today we have an altogether different mind-set and a somewhat different take on history, not just biblical antecedents.But looking at it historically, Moses came and asked God one of the mostimportant questions in history: ‘What is your name?’ Until then, thechildren of Israel didn’t identify the power of the Almighty with their own,keeping the Divine at arm’s length, you might say.“Suddenly, God got up close and personal, and the revelation of his MostHoly Name on Mount Sinai that fateful day was born of a desire to enterinto a special covenant with his chosen people. God and his chosen peoplewere on a first-name basis. Moses could now identify the power of Godwith his own, one of the most powerful lessons in The Moses Code. Godwas something he could apprehend, although still not completely. Butthrough the power of the name, he could use it to manifest miracles in hislife and in the lives of the people he was entrusted to lead to freedom.”“Like the plagues?”“They were terrible miracles, to be sure. But they proved something. Itproved that there was great power in being conscious of an eternal, intrinsicconnection to the source of Divinity within; the indwelling presence ofGod; and a reappraisal of the concept of shi’ur komma, the ‘measure ofman’ in relation to God—in other words, how we measure up.”“The word komma sure sounds a lot like comma,” I offered, suddenlygetting the connection between his words and what I’ve written andlectured about on the Moses Code.“That ain’t the half of it. It proved that the power of God, revealed in thename, was within them all the time—later to be understood as ‘the kingdomof Heaven,’ a source of power and personal revelation and a portal intowhat’s called the Vault of the Adepts, the source of all true magic andmiracles.”“That was the name I AM THAT I AM.”“Well, this is where it gets interesting,” Phil said. “Ehyeh Asher Ehyehwas only one name given to Moses, by way of an introduction. Immediatelyafter God said Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh, which in standard Masoretic texts istranslated as I AM THAT I AM, God said, ‘Say this to the people of Israel:I AM has sent me to you.’ Now this is the true name of God, at least fromthis perspective of the Angel of the Lord, whom God chose to speakthrough.”“The Angel of the Lord?”“Yes, the same angel who told Jacob that the secret of the name wouldnot be revealed until the time of the Second Coming, or the Second Adam,according to an interpretation by Rudolf Steiner, the founder of the Waldorfeducation system. You see, Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh has a multiplicity ofmeanings. A favorite of mine is: ‘I am in the process of becoming what Iwill myself to be’ or ‘I will be what I will be.’ You see, Jimmy, it’s aboutchoice—that is, the exercise of free will.”“Is it the same as saying Yahweh?” I asked.“Now that’s a horse of a different color. Yahweh is a common spelling forwhat is known as the Tetragrammaton, the second name given to Moses,which in English is ‘I AM.’ The word comes from the Greek: tetra meaning‘four’ and gramma meaning ‘letter.’ It signifies the four letters that have thepower to harness the most powerful forces in creation simply by correctlypronouncing this Divine Name. Those four letters are ‘Yud Heh Vav Heh,’and we refer to it as Shem ha-Meforesh, meaning ‘the name of distinction orexcellence.’ This name is the source of all the sacred names, and within itsvery structure the blueprintof all creation is found. Even the contemplationof this name can unleash forces virtually beyond comprehension, at least inrelation to our limited human minds.“And as you know,” he continued, “it’s never supposed to be pronounced,not even written, for once God’s name is written, it can be erased, altered,or discarded. That’s why the words Adonai or Elohim are substituted for theTetragrammaton. This is out of respect for the Ineffable Name. Taking thename of God in vain is forbidden, as stated in the third of the TenCommandments. There was also the ever-present threat of being branded asa blasphemer, yet it has been argued that at the time of the Torah and theprophets, no such prohibition was in effect.”“So how did that rule come about?”“Listen, Jimmy, I’m all for respecting the force that such a powerfulname can unleash,” he declared with words that seemed to bite hard.“Yes, but sometimes respect can lead one to throw away the very giftsthat could transform the world,” I countered.“Right. That’s like throwing away the baby with the bathwater. There aremany references in the Old Testament, Genesis, Joel, and in many of thePsalms, for example, where the name of Yahweh was celebrated andexalted. Look at Isaiah 12:4: ‘Give thanks to YHWH. Call his name aloud.’There are references found in the Talmud and the Mishna prohibiting thepronunciation of the name, although this is a matter of heated debate inTalmudic circles. As things turned out, with the exception of certainprayerful states or acts of benediction, only the High Priest, the KohenGadol, after a series of purifications, would recite the name ten times andonly during Yom Kippur.”“What is it in a name that gives it so much power?”“You sound like Alice when you ask that. When Alice asked HumptyDumpty why a name is so important, he replied: ‘My name means the shapeI am.’ Are you starting to get it?”Phil started to get that faraway look in his eyes. I’d seen it before,especially when he’d begin lacing his explanations with colorful metaphorsdrawn from books like Alice in Wonderland or The Lord of the Rings. Inoticed his eyes begin to focus again, and thankfully, he continued. “InKabbalah, it is written that ‘I AM my Name,’ which suggests that the powerof God is in his very name. And by very, I mean true—God’s true name: IAM, the Tetragrammaton. In the Hindu Advaita Vedanta, the I AM iswhat’s known as an abstraction in the mind of the stateless state, theabsolute, supreme reality.”“Parabrahman.”“Exactly . . . pure awareness. In the Mahavakyas, the four great sayingsin Advaita, the I AM THAT is echoed in the Tat Tvam Asi, ‘Thou art that’or ‘You are that.’ It’s one of the grand pronouncements of VedanticHinduism, and the parallels don’t end there. The word that comes from theSanskrit tat, meaning ‘boundless.’ We are boundless, only bounded by ourlimited beliefs.”“Yes, I know. And Jesus said, ‘Whatsoever you ask in my Name, that Iwill do.’ He even went so far as to identify himself as the I AM in theGospel of John. He understood the power in a name and was able to harnessit to create miracles. He was almost stoned to death many times because hesaid I AM. In doing so, Jesus was claiming the power in God’s name andthat he was one with God, which is, of course, the source of all knowledgeand wisdom, not to mention the ability to produce miracles.”“Now, I want you to look at the letters in the Tetragrammaton.” Philcontinued, “In Hebrew, the letters read as ‘Yud Heh Vav Heh.’ Is thereanything there that jumps out at you?”I looked at the letters but nothing sparked my attention. “What am Imissing?”“Of those four letters, there’s one that is said to hold the greatest potentialfor creation, something we’ve been talking about from the beginning.”I looked again and saw it immediately. “Yes, of course—it’s a Yud. Thefirst letter is the Yud, the comma.”“Yes, your comma of the Moses Code. It’s the first letter of theTetragrammaton, the unspeakable personal name of God, considered bymany to be the highest name of God, and, as I’ve mentioned, the onlyproper name according to the great Kabbalist and philosopher MosesMaimonides. Look at Isaiah again, 42:8: ‘I am YHWH, this is my name,’ orExodus 6:3, where God says that he appeared to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacobas El Shaddai, which means ‘God Almighty,’ but he was not known to themby his name Yahweh. This might be because it’s the name God used to sealhis covenant with Israel, made after the time of the Patriarchs.“At any rate, the Tetragrammaton is said to contain the original vibrationbehind all manifest existence, and the Yud is the primal vibration ofcreation. The Yud is the gateway to the Creative Fire—out of which allthings are born and to which all things inevitably return, a skeleton key thatunlocks many of the mysteries of creation and perhaps even the secrets ofGod. But there are other, many other names that possess enormous powerand great importance, and that’s where this journey is going to take usnow.”“I always thought that the Most Holy Name of God in Hebrew was EhyehAsher Ehyeh, or simply Ehyeh, the name that was given to Moses at thebush,” I said, a bit confused.“Yes, that’s correct.”“But God has other names as well . . . like the Tetragrammaton?”“That’s also correct,” Phil affirmed. He smiled and had the look of onebeginning to unwind a long riddle. “Many other names. Remember that thetrue essence of God is transcendent, unknowable—it cannot be described.Think of it this way: you have more than one name, or more than one wayof calling yourself, depending on the level of intimacy that’s called for orwhat quality you want to bring forth. For example, if I call you Jimmy it hasa very different vibration than if I call you James. When you do somethingpublicly, like signing a book, for example, you always sign it as James, butmost of your friends call you Jimmy. Do you see how these two names canchange the way you act or respond, as well as how people react and respondto you?”“When you put it that way—”“That’s one of the wonderful things about the many names of God,” headded without pausing. “Each name represents a different aspect of not onlyGod, but of each one of us. In a way, the names are a revealed aspect ofGod, and through them, the unfolding knowledge of God’s presence isrevealed through us as we come to know more of God and express ThePresence through their use. God makes itself known to us through thesetranslations of Divine emanations from the limitless light of the En Sof,which means ‘boundlessness.’”“I’m not sure I know what you mean, Phil. I know that in this world welike to find ways of identifying ourselves in relationship to others. I’vealways thought that it’s really the ego that does that.”“Think of it this way,” he said. “If we’re one with God or an embodimentof God—or however you want to express that thought—then there’snothing we can say about the Divine that isn’t also true about us. Themyriad names of God tell us who we are. They reveal aspects of our truththat have been hidden or disguised by the limited confines of our egotisticmind.”“Can you be a bit more specific on what you mean by ego? It’s a wordwe throw around so much, but I’m not sure many people really understandit.”“In Kabbalistic thought, the ego is defined as the will to receive pleasure,but it’s for oneself and not to be shared. That’s the key. It’s a costume oursoul wears—a garment that veils or conceals our Divinely inspired natures.Those veils are likened to curtains that block out the Light of God.”“I’ve always loved the acronym for ego: Edging God Out,” I offered.“It’s pretty accurate. The ego is the part of us that wants to be alone andisolated, somehow thinking that it makes us stronger. Obviously, that can’tbe true, but the ego doesn’t bother with truth. Its logic is always topsy-turvy. It believes that accepting the truth requires a sacrifice in order to beeverything. However, nothing needs to be given up to be everything; it’sjust the idea of giving everything up. Does that make sense?”“It does.”“And the first name that God gave Moses seems to indicate that,” Iasserted. “God was saying to Moses that everything is one, and we are allcontained in that oneness. Why were the other names needed then?”“Here’s one example from the Kabbalistic Zohar (the Book of Splendor).It relates the story of the 2nd-century Talmudic sage Rabbi Eleazar. Helived with his father, another well-known rabbi named Rabbi Simeon,whom I’ve mentioned earlier. One day, he asked his father to explain thewords Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh. Rabbi Simeon answered by saying, ‘Eleazar, myson, behold. Everything is bound together in one thing, and the mystery ofthe thing is Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh. It includes everything . . . the sum of all,hidden and not revealed.’ You see, Ehyeh is identified in Kabbalah as theforemost of the Sacred Names of God.“Then in the 12th century, Maimonides, author of The Guide for thePerplexed, came along. He talked about something called ‘the perfect Unityof God’ and tried to reconcile the many Divine Names in the Old Testamentwith what he considered to be that perfect unity. He believed that YHWH(also known as the Tetragrammaton), was the only proper name of God. Heconsidered Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh, along with Yah (another Divine appellationmeaning ‘eternal existence’), to be the explanation of the name YHWH. Soeven within the corpus of Kabbalistic thought and works, there are differentinterpretations and ways to comprehend this, but eventually, it all leadsback to the understanding of ourselves as Divine Holy Sparks in search ofDivine Union, or Hieros Gammos—the ultimate marriage of our human andDivine natures . . . our perfect relationship with God.”“Phil, you’ve mentioned that there are many names of God from aKabbalistic perspective, but you also said that the Tetragrammaton—the IAM—is the highest. Do all of the other names derive from the first?”“While it may be true that all names are contained within the Most HolyName, certain names are keys that open gates within us, allowing grace inthe form of Divine qualities or attributes to flow into us and through us intothe world of form. The irony is that we already possess these Divinequalities; they just need to be brought back into our awareness.”“You also told me that the next part of the journey is to learn how to usethe different names to achieve power,” I added.“That’s not what I said at all,” Phil maintained, shifting his mood almostinstantly. “The names of God aren’t meant to be used to achieve power, atleast not power for its own sake. That’s an improper use of it, to say theleast . . . not to mention potentially dangerous. There have been misguidedindividuals and groups throughout time that have tried. Using the HolyNames as a means of gaining power for yourself and not for the benefit ofothers always leads you in the wrong direction. It’s the ego’s way, not thesoul’s. As I said, the Kabbalistic understanding of the ego is the will toreceive pleasure, but with the intention to only please oneself. This, in largepart, is what constituted the original Fall from Grace. What we’re seekinghere is to use the different names to receive grace that can be of benefit toall beings. I told you that we have a mission together, but it isn’t aboutachieving power.”Phil’s words were sharper than he likely intended. I didn’t mean to implythat we were about to use the power he spoke of simply for ourselves. Heseemed to realize this and relaxed in his seat. “I’m sorry I came on sostrong,” he said, turning his face away from me. “This is pretty seriousstuff, and if we’re going to succeed, I need to make sure you have the rightintention—what’s called kavanah.”“I don’t even know what my intention is because I’m not exactly surewhat we’re talking about,” I confessed.“You’ll understand soon enough. It’s all going to become very clear in thenext few days.”“What do you mean?”“You don’t think I came all the way here simply to give you a crashcourse in Kabbalah, do you?” Phil turned back toward me, smiling. “Youalready know where we’re going. We’re going to Paris. That’s where thework needs to be done.”“What kind of work are you talking about?”“It is said that the Divine Names are vehicles of revelation, personalrevelation, for it’s through the proper use of the names that gates will openwithin you that will allow the presence of God to manifest through you.And when you master the name, you master the spiritual force that ismanifested through that particular name. Jimmy, you can become what theancients called the Ba’alei Shem, a ‘Master of the Name,’ but first you mustmaster your own name.”“What do you mean, ‘master my own name’?”“The work you’ve been doing with the Moses Code has helped openpeople up to a new level of revelation for the benefit of all humanity. Parisis one of the most magical cities in the world. I’m told there areopportunities available at this particular time that don’t exist anywhere elseon Earth. What I can tell you is that we’ll be guided on our journey by aspecial group of spiritual warriors.”“Spiritual warriors?” I blurted out in a high-pitched tone of voice.“You’ve got to tell me more. This is really getting interesting.”“Yes, it is. I’m talking about the Knights Templar. Among the treasuresthey found during their excavations below the Temple Mount back in the12th century in Jerusalem were architectural plans.”“Architectural plans?”“Blueprints, more specifically, by which the masons of the time builtsophisticated structures, including the Gothic cathedrals, for example.These temples of Divine science were built to resonate with certain formsof consciousness. One of the functions of these energetic structures was toattract and contain certain forms of sentient intelligence, which I believewere never meant to wander the earth freely. This was a holy enterprise, Iassure you. The intention was certainly honorable, but sometimes the best-laid plans of mice and men . . . well, let’s just say that some consequenceswere unforeseen.”“The angels and demons you spoke of.”“Yeah, but not quite the way you think. We’re not going to Paris to battledemons or dance with angels, or vice versa, for that matter. The reason isfor something very different and much more important.”There was a long pause. “What is it?” I asked.“That’s still undecided. There’s one more sign I’m waiting for. When itcomes, we’ll both know.”“Another sign?”“Yes, something that should confirm what will happen next. I’m notexactly sure what it will be or how it will play out. It may come in a formdifferent from what either one of us might imagine. You think we’re goingto Paris to release the demons and angels, but that isn’t it at all. Using theSacred Names, which we will do, in reality frees the will and releases you,not them. The names open seals within you that allow grace to flow intoand through you into the world, creating a field of love that has the potentialto release everyone and everything that comes in contact with it. I’vealways believed that the chanting of Sacred Names creates literal tunnels—wormholes—in the fabric of space-time. And it’s through these pathwaysthat the breath of the Holy Spirit, which exists in the world of fantasy andimagination, can be bridged into this world.”“A bridge from Heaven to Earth.”“Yes, one could say that.” Phil continued, “It’s more accurate to say fromEarth to Heaven. That’s what Kabbalah, our work, and, in fact, all works ofhigher calling are all about: bridge building. Each name we call upon willbe like another rung in the ladder . . . a stairway to Heaven, if you will. Andif we build this bridge correctly and with enough integrity, then a door willbe opened between dimensions, allowing all of us to pass into a brave newworld, a world of expanded possibilities,of love that knows no earthlybounds. It all begins in Paris, but there’s no way for us to know where itwill ultimately lead.”The train seemed to pick up speed for a moment, just as the momentumof our journey was building. There was no way to stop or reverse what hadbeen started. Whatever awaited us in Paris, whether angelic or demonic orboth, there was nowhere else to go but forward.CHAPTER 4The Other WorldThe street gutter was filled with raw sewage and odors I hoped I’d neversmell again. A group of small Indian children, ranging in age from aroundfive to ten, ran past me laughing, kicking a dirty ball. Their happiness feltstrange in this environment, as if it would have been more appropriate forthem to be walking with their heads bowed in shame given the terribleconditions. An old woman who must have been at least 80 stepped out frombehind a battered door and shook a worn rug in the air, sending dust and dirtflying in every direction. I had to cover my face to keep from inhaling thefilth as I stepped to the other side of the street. I didn’t see the middle-agedman who was walking behind me, and he swerved to the right as Iinterrupted his path. He turned and smiled as if nothing had happened.“I’m sorry . . . excuse me,” I said to him.“Namaste,” he answered, as he brought his hands together into a prayingposition, and then continued walking and smiling.I saw a small temple ahead and instinctively knew it was my destination.That was also the moment I realized I was dreaming. I was in India, yet itdidn’t seem at all unusual or strange to be there. I was going to a meeting ofsome sort, but with whom and why? I also had the sensation that this wasmore than a dream, as if there were some hidden purpose or reason for mybeing there. My pace quickened as I approached the temple, and I somehowknew that the answers to all my questions lay within.Three rats ran through a hole in the wall as I came to the door. It sent aterrible chill up my spine and made me even more cautious and alert. Thedoor was much more ornate than I’d expected, with wood carvings ofHindu gods I didn’t recognize. Three of the figures seemed locked in somekind of tantric embrace, as monkeys watched from behind pillars and trees.The other gods sat on the ground in meditation, oblivious to the amorousbehavior of their fellows. I reached out and touched the door, feeling therough wood and centuries-old bas-relief. Although my touch was light, thedoor began to slowly open as if hung on perfectly oiled hinges.The smell of sweet incense immediately enveloped me, drawing meforward into the dark entryway. I felt as if there were a magnet that hadtaken hold of my body, pulling me farther inside, and I had no choice but toplace one foot in front of the other. After a slight turn to the left, I realizedthat I was in the main temple hall, and the sight filled me with awe. Thealtar was completely covered in the most colorful flowers I had ever seen,and bronze statues from every religion lined the walls. There seemed to bemany altars instead of one—one for each statue. My attention wasimmediately drawn to the bronze Blessed Mother, and I saw the tiny figureof a nun kneeling in prayer, her head bowed so I couldn’t see her face. Itried to walk as quietly as I could to avoid disturbing her, but thefloorboards betrayed me with a loud creak that echoed through the room.“I’ve been waiting for you,” a voice said. I wasn’t sure at first, but thevoice seemed to come from the nun. She had a distinct accent but hadn’tsaid enough for me to be able to place it. Yet there was something familiarabout her, as if I knew this holy woman, although I didn’t know how.“You’ve been waiting for me?” I asked in a low voice.The nun spoke as she gathered her strength to stand. “Of course. Whyelse would I be here?” At that moment I saw her face, and my breath leftmy lungs.“Mother Teresa?!” I exclaimed in disbelief. “Why are you here . . . whyhave you been waiting for me?”She took three steps in my direction, and then almost miraculously, shewas suddenly standing right in front of me. “We need to talk.” She reachedout for my hand, guiding me to the corner where a long bench sat againstthe wall. She motioned for me to sit on one side and she sat on the other.“There is some information you need, and I wanted to be the one who toldyou.”“Information?” I asked, trying to process what was happening.“Yes . . . essential information. You’re about to go on a journey that hasthe potential to either more clearly define your soul’s purpose or destroyyou from within. There are powerful allies on your side, but there are alsoadversaries. You have to learn how to recognize which is which, to knowthose who are sent to guide you and those who are meant to distract.”“Mother, I’m so glad you’re here and that you want to help me in thisway, but I don’t know what you mean. Are you saying that this journey I’mon with Phil is dangerous? Is someone trying to stop us?”“Not someone,” she answered in a serious voice. “Something. You’regoing to encounter forces that you’ve never seen or known about before.These forces do not mean you any harm. They simply want to continue toprotect what they have always guarded. You are the one who might steal itaway, and the force knows that. That’s why I’m here—to tell you how toprotect yourself.”Her words filled me with dread, and although I knew I was dreaming, Ialso felt something very real, as if what she was telling me might save mylife. “What do you mean by the forces and that they want to protect whatthey’ve always guarded?”“There are energies—that’s the best way I have of describing them—thatare afraid of the light because they believe they are outside of the lovingcare of eternity. They’ll do anything to continue hiding because they’reconvinced that they’ll be punished if they’re finally exposed. What you’reconsidering doing will reveal where they’re hiding, and they may lash outbecause of it.”“I’m not even sure what you’re talking about, so it’s hard for me to knowwhat to do.”Mother smiled and took my hand again. “Your love will be your shield.Your light and your intention will ultimately guide you, and that’s what I’mhere to tell you. Trust your light, and let your love guide every step andevery action. If you do, then you’ll be invulnerable. But if you becomeafraid, your light will dim and you’ll be helpless. Then they may attack, andyou will be lost.”“This is about Paris,” I said, suddenly remembering where I would findmyself when I woke up.“It is about you, and it is about why you’re in Paris.” She stood up.“Please remember what I told you. Don’t be afraid no matter what mighthappen. Let your love guide your path, and everything will unfold as itshould.”She started to walk back toward the statue where I found her praying.“Mother . . .” I called, but she seemed to disappear through a small door Ihadn’t seen just behind the statue. I stood up and wondered what I wassupposed to do next.I was standing in the same spot when seconds later, a young boy, one ofthe children I’d seen earlier kicking the ball down the street, ran into thetemple. “Mister, come with me now. Please hurry!” He grabbed my handand pulled me out the door into the bright sunlight. He was pulling almostfaster than I could run, as we turned off the street and darted down a smallalley. Others shot past, running away from whatever we were runningtoward. There was panic everywhere; I wondered where we were going andwhy.“Come, before it’s too late!” the boy exclaimed, as we ran inside abuilding, and then up a single flight of stairs. My senses were confrontedwith a wide range of strange smells, from curry to burning wood. Iwondered if the house was on fire, which would explain why the otherswere running away from the scene. We finally arrived at a door, and the boypushed it open. At first I saw several women crying and rocking back andforth;then one of them noticed us and turned around. When she did, I sawwhat they were all focused on. A woman, perhaps in her mid-20s, was lyingon a small cot in the midst of labor, sweat rolling down her thin face.Something was wrong, which explained why the others were weeping. Thewoman who first saw us quickly came toward me and took my hand fromthe boy. “Come . . . please, do something to help her!”Before I knew it, I was next to the cot, and the pregnant woman lookedup at me with desperate eyes. She was naked, and her belly seemed to riseand fall as she breathed, and it struck me as terribly abnormal. The otherskept pointing toward the young woman and pleading with me. “Whatshould I do?” I asked. “I don’t know what’s happening.”The boy stepped into the group. “Help her to bring the baby. You’re theone who was sent to us. You must help her give birth to the child.”“But why? What am I supposed to do? I don’t have any idea how to dothis!”“Trust what you know,” the pregnant woman said softly through herheavy breathing. Her voice was frail; it seemed to take tremendous effortfor her to speak. “The light will guide you . . . you will know.”Sweat began pouring down my face, and I could feel my knees beginningto buckle. I didn’t understand what she meant and had no idea what theyexpected me to do. The young woman took my hand and placed it on herround belly. I instantly felt the child in her womb pushing against my hand,straining to be released. “Trust what you already know,” she whispered.I took a deep breath and let my hand move over the surface of her skin,hoping that something would come to me. Nothing. I looked over at the boyand he smiled, and for just a moment, my confusion lifted. I leaned forwardand put my mouth near her midsection. At first, I wasn’t sure what I wasabout to do, but then it all became perfectly clear. I opened my mouth andlet the words flow: “Ehyeh Asher, Ehyeh,” I softly spoke. “Ehyeh Asher,Ehyeh. I AM THAT, I AM. I AM THAT, I AM . . .”I chanted the phrase over and over until the movement in her belly finallybegan to relax. Then there was a sudden rush of movement, like air beingreleased from a balloon. “It’s working . . . it’s working!” the boy shouted,and a look of profound relief washed over the young woman’s face. Then Iheard the sound of a baby crying, and I looked down to see one of the olderwomen wiping the afterbirth off the infant. The other women began cryingeven louder, but now their tears were filled with joy.The boy took me by the hand again and led me away from the cot. “I toldthem you would do it! I knew you would be able to help her.”“What just happened?” I asked him.“What do you mean? The child is now alive. It is because you were there. . . there was no other way it could happen.”“Yes, I know I was there, but I still don’t know what I did. The name ofGod came to me so I started chanting it. Then I felt the energy, and it sweptthrough her. But why did I have to do it? Why couldn’t you or any of theother women?”“I don’t know what you mean,” he said, “but the holy man might.”“What man are you talking about?”“Come, I will show you.”He took my arm and we left the room. I looked over at the young womanwho was now holding her baby close to her chest as the others werelovingly stroking them both. We walked through the hallway and down thestairs. Seconds later we were outside again, but it was no longer India. Wewere in a desert. The sun was blinding, and I had to cover my eyes. I couldhear voices in the distance—male voices speaking in a language I didn’tunderstand, although it sounded Semitic, perhaps Hebrew or Arabic. Whenmy vision adjusted, I saw that I was just outside what looked to be anoutdoor bazaar of some sort. I could see merchants displaying their waresunder tents billowing under a soft breeze. The scent of perfumes andsomething else entered my nostrils. I spun around and found myself face-to-face with a camel. The boy was gone.I walked toward the marketplace. Realizing that I was thirsty, I lookedaround for something to drink. A voice from behind startled me. “You areearly.” I turned to find an elderly Jewish man, his bright eyes beaming atme. His smile was visible under a long black beard speckled with gray. Hehad what looked like a white prayer shawl wrapped around his shoulders.“Where am I?” I asked, feeling a little disoriented.“You are in the holy city of Jerusalem. How could you not know whereyou are? I was told you were a man of intelligence.”I was trying to figure out what was happening. “And who are you?”“My name is Eleazar. Eleazar ben Durdia. You may call me rabbi,although I wasn’t fortunate enough to have that distinction while I was alive—no matter. I’ve come to explain things to you, to help you understand.”“What do I need to understand?”“First, you must share with me what you have learned thus far. Butplease, my manners. Come sit down here, and we will have some tea.”I looked behind us and spied a circular wooden table set very close to theground and surrounded by brightly colored pillows propped up on wornrugs. We each sat on a pillow, after which a man approached the table.Eleazar whispered something in his ear, and the man disappeared into acrowd of people.“You want me to tell you what I’ve learned so far?” I asked. “That’s avery big question, and I’m not sure where to begin.”“Begin at the beginning,” he replied. “That’s a logical place to start—wouldn’t you agree? Tell me what you know about the name.”“The name?”“Yes, Ha Shem—or more pointedly, Shem ha-Meforesh, ‘the Name ofNames.’”“Do you mean the Holy Name?” I asked.“All names are holy. The one you believe is the holiest, yes. Tell me whatyou believe.”I waited for a moment, hoping that some direction, some Divineinspiration, would enlighten me. After a while, he looked at me as if hewere beginning to grow impatient. “Okay, I know there are many names,but the first name God gave Moses, Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh, must be the mostimportant, right?”“Yuh,” Eleazar grunted. “Your pronunciation is terrible; nonetheless,what do you think God meant when he revealed his name?”“He was telling Moses that Divinity is contained within all things, andtherefore, all things are Divine.”“Oy vez mir!” Eleazar shook his head and looked up at the sky. “Forsaying that, you would surely be branded a heretic. You cannot have unitywith the Divine while here on Earth . . . or so they say.” For a moment, thetwinkle in his eye reminded me of Phil. “Here, it is believed that God isGod and man is man. The two are separate and not equal.” But then heleaned toward me and smiled. “At least that is what is taught. Then again,who can truly penetrate the mind of God? Neither you nor I. The will ofGod is unknowable. God veiled his eternal light in order for the world tocome into existence, but man has the capacity within to discover his Sourceand the meaning and purpose of his creation.”“Which is—”“To return from a state of exile in the lower worlds,” he said in a dramaticvoice. “But I get ahead of myself. We are all God’s Holy Sparks who areseeking redemption. At the time of Tikkun, God’s Holy Sparks will returnto the unity from which they fell before the creation of the world. This iswhat is taught in Kabbalah, and it is the hope of man. Look at me. I was oneof the greatest sinners ever known. It has been said that there was not asingle prostitute I did not sleep with. How little is understood. I asked forDivine Mercy and cried myself to death; and through my death, grace wasconferred upon me.“This does not have to be your way. Let the scholars and academicsdebate the usefulness of my death and the lesson of my life. Your friend willtell you more. I turned back toward grace, and so will you. It will lead youto the union you so desire. I do not know for sure, but I can hope.”“We can all hope, rabbi,” I affirmed. “I hope that I’m finally going tounderstand whatthis dream is all about. I keep moving from one scene toanother, and they don’t seem to make any sense.”“Oh, but they do make sense, my son. Think about it . . . each partbrought out a different quality in you and taught you a lesson. The nun fromCalcutta told you that—”“That love would be my shield.”“Yes, very good. And the mother in labor. You helped her . . .”“By chanting the Holy Name.”“And now that you are here with me. What do you think this is for?”“I really have no idea.”“Think, my son. There is a cord that binds them all together—it’s theessence of all three parts.”I thought about it for a moment and asked myself, What does MotherTeresa represent? Unconditional compassion, service, love. And the youngwoman in labor? She was dying. I chanted the name over her unborn child,and the child was born without pain. “I would say grace. That’s theexperience at the center of each one. Even now, sitting here with you.”“And what does this grace tell you?”I didn’t know where my next thoughts came from. They didn’t even seemto come from my mind, but from somewhere far away from me . . . yet theyfelt true, even though I still didn’t completely comprehend what they meant.“Grace tells me that all is in Divine Order. It tells me that even thoughthings seem to be out of balance, and even dangerously close to disaster,God’s will is being done perfectly at this and every moment.”“It is all contained in the Ehyeh, in the I AM,” Rabbi Eleazar confirmed.“God claims every moment and situation, every person and every being,whether angelic or demonic. All is contained in God, just as you saidearlier. You must remember this. No matter what may transpire, you mustalways remind yourself that, as you would say, God is the center. We cannotyet fully understand the infinity of God because God restricted its light sothat creation could take place. But know that God is the center and thecenter is everywhere. Remember that, and nothing can harm you.”“Am I in some kind of danger? Is that what you’re suggesting?”“What is danger? I can tell you that nothing can happen to you that canseparate you from who you are. I can tell you that you must be courageous,like a warrior going off to battle in a foreign land. Things are going tohappen, yes, but I cannot explain further, for you cannot yet understand.You may not even comprehend them while they are transpiring, but you willknow, even in the moment, that God is at the center. Hold on to this, andyou will be fine.”“I’m becoming afraid,” I confessed.“I know you are, my son, but there are powerful allies who will assistyou, just as the Calcutta saint said. The one who was sent to you will knowwhat to do. I have come to him as well, although he does not remember. Iwill come to you again. We will meet here. And remember, there is a Torahthat is still invisible to the eyes of man. Follow the trail of your Yud, and itwill show you how the beginning and ending are joined. In the meantime,listen to him and do whatever he asks, no matter how it may seem.”“Do you mean Phil?”But the dream was beginning to fade. I could feel the table where wewere sitting dissolve into the recesses of my imagination. Seconds later, Isat straight up in my bed.CHAPTER 5Kabbalah and CrepesThe morning sun streamed in through the bedroom windows, and thesounds from the street outside made it difficult to drift off again. I gazedaround the room and my eyes landed on a strange painting of a middle-agedman being impaled by a long spear that was held by a woman with bloodpouring from her eyes. It took me several seconds to realize where I was—the apartment Phil had rented for us in the heart of the Parisian districtknown as Montmartre, which is home to the famous Moulin Rouge cabaret.The apartment was filled with some of the most unusual and grotesquepaintings and photographs I’d ever seen, as well as bizarre, sexuallycharged sculptures by the brother of the woman who owned the place.I was in a tiny bedroom and could hear Phil in the other room. It soundedlike he was on the phone speaking to his girlfriend, Sharmiila, in Australia.I was also surprised when I realized that the details of my dream were sostrongly etched in my mind. They seemed immune to the gentle memorydrift that accompanies most of my dreams, which quickly fade into therealm of mysterious images and symbols the moment I wake up. But myrecollection of the conversations I had with Mother Teresa, the young boy,and Rabbi Eleazar was as solid as granite; and I knew I should tell Philabout them right away.“Good morning,” I said as I walked into the room. He had just hung upthe phone and was pouring some green concoction I didn’t want to knowmuch about into a cup.“How did you sleep?” There was something about the way he asked thatmade me wonder if he already knew the answer. I’d stopped trying to figurePhil out years ago. His unusual and often unpredictable style made thatparticularly challenging.“I’m not really sure. I think I slept well, but my dream . . .”“Good! That’s what I was hoping. Tell me about it.”I explained everything in as much detail as I could. Phil listened as Ispoke of the temple and my meeting with Mother Teresa. Then I told himabout the woman giving birth and all the strange details of the house andthe people there. Before I got to the story of the rabbi, he stopped me.“Would you like me to tell you the rest?” he asked.I was shocked. “Can you? Did you have the same dream?”“Yes and no,” he replied. “You were in a marketplace or something in anancient-looking city in the desert, I think. Then you were in some kind ofcafé. Inside, I could see these little tables that were very low to the groundsurrounded by beautiful pillows. You were sitting with an old man, a rabbi,I believe.”“Yes, that’s all correct. And what about what he told me?”“I have no idea what the two of you said to each other,” he explained. “Isaw the whole scene from across the street. It felt as if I were fixed thereand couldn’t move. I’m not sure why, but I remember thinking that I hadsomehow entered into your dream.”“That’s amazing! But you couldn’t come up to us?”“No. I saw you both sitting there talking, but no matter what I did, Icouldn’t move any closer . . . I was frozen there. What did the old man sayto you?”I told him about Rabbi Eleazar and everything I learned. “He’s a prettyinteresting guy. Is it true that he was a notorious patron of localprostitutes?”“He was beyond interesting,” Phil said as he took a sip of his drink,leaving a thin green line on his upper lip. “Eleazar ben Durdia wasconsidered a great sinner. His repentance at the end of his life earned him aplace in the world to come. He cried himself to death, and it was whathelped him achieve the grace he longed for. He was awarded the title ofrabbi only after his death because of the great lesson he taught us.”“Do you know what that is?”“The lesson is that each and every one of us is worthy of redemption—inHebrew, it’s called teshuva, meaning ‘returning to God.’”“He said that everything we’ll do is contained in the first name God gaveMoses, Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh. We spoke about Paris and that there wassomething you and I have to do here. He also seemed to believe that weneed to be mindful because there are potential dangers involved—just likeyou said—but the name would protect us.”“The names,” Phil stated matter-of-factly.“What do you mean?”“Not just one name but ten that correspond to the Sephiroth, or DivineEmanations of the Kabbalistic Tree of Life. Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh is certainlyone, perhaps the most important, but the others will be essential as well. Ithink this is the sign I was waiting for, signifying that we’re on the righttrack.”“So, you already knew what we’re going to do?” I inquired.“I had an idea,” he said, “but I also knew that something had to comealong to confirm what I had long suspected, or thought I knew. That’s whatyour dream has done. Everything Mother Teresa said to you was dead-on.She talked about the allies and the adversaries that we might encounter onour little journey here in Paris. There will be those who will want to see thiswork done and others who will try to stop it. They oppose it because they’reafraid of what it might mean or where it might leave them. Those who livein the world of shadows are always afraid of the light even though it can setthem free. She also said that our greatest defense would be love, and thatwe should never lose faith in that.”“What about the woman giving birth?” I asked him.“The woman giving birth is also highly significant. There is a great birth—rather, a rebirth that’s taking place in the world right now, but the laborpains of this new birth may seem overwhelming. Sometimes it feels likewe’re all going to perish—that humanity won’t make it through thistransitional phase. We try to hold back because we don’t want to change.We’re in the most critical period in our tenure here as embodied souls.We’ve got to change if we want to continue evolving, but it’s a very scaryproposal for many people to consider because they don’t know what awaitsthem on the other side. However, there’s one thing that has the potential togently facilitate our passage into this next Golden Age.”“The names of God?” I offered.“More like the presence of God, which is certainly invoked when onecorrectly uses the names of God. Once again, the work we’re here to dowon’t be accomplished through the use of one name, but ten. There arenumerous Sacred Names that all represent the different aspects of Divinity.As Rabbi Simeon explained, everything is bound together in one thing, andthat thing is Ehyeh. It is one of the names we’ll be using, but there areothers that reflect additional Divine qualities or aspects of the Creative Fire.Maybe it’s time for me to tell you exactly what we’re going to do over thenext couple of days.”“Yes!” I exclaimed, with a deep sigh of relief. “I think that’s a greatidea.”“I’m not sure how to best describe all this, but everything tells me thatthis is the perfect place for us to be right now. There’s no other city in theworld that has as much as Paris can offer, at least in terms of what we’reabout to attempt. I’ve heard that the Goddess Isis is the protectress of Parisand that the word Paris comes from Para Isidos, which means ‘near theTemple of Isis.’”“Is there a temple of Isis near Paris?” I asked.“Well, since you mention it, a statue of Isis is said to have once stood onthe site that is now the Church of Saint-Germain-des-Prés.”“Why doesn’t it surprise me that you knew that?”“Surprise is a wonderful experience, though. Wouldn’t you agree?”“How long have you been studying this?” I asked, ignoring his question.“Longer than I should probably say.”“Okay. Then tell me what we’re doing here.”Phil sat down in a chair across from me and took a deep breath. I couldtell he was about to reveal the whole purpose or reason for our journey, as ifeverything led to this moment. It seemed like the adventure was finallyabout to begin. “All right. I know this is the moment you’ve been waitingfor, so let’s get down to it. There are specific locations throughout Paris—churches, cathedrals, even a park—where certain energies are trapped . . .you might even say held hostage. In some cases, they’re trapped becausehorrible events took place there; in others, it’s because that was the intent ofthe builders, as I started to tell you on the train on the way here,remember?”“Yeah. Keep going.”“Okay. Remember when I told you that the geometric architecture ofmany of these structures either purposely or inadvertently imprisonedcertain forces and have kept them contained until they could be safely sentback to where they rightfully belong?”“You’re losing me.”“Do you remember what I said about the Knights Templar and the secretsthey were rumored to have had?”“I don’t know what the secrets are, but yes, I’ve heard that and alsoremember you’d mentioned them. Go on.”“Some of those secrets have been encoded into the geometry of thechurches and cathedrals that were built using the plans that the Templarsprovided, many of which are right here in Paris.”“What were these secrets meant to do, and why are they there?”“Well, powerful wave patterns, or standing wave fields, that are generatedby certain symbol codes embedded in the architecture of these sites act liketractor beams that attract or grab onto specific discarnate entities and holdthem. To use a crude but simple example—”“Like a moth to a flame?”“I was thinking more like an insect trap that puts out a particular scent oreven sound. You fly all the time, Jimmy. You must have seen these types ofthings advertised in SkyMall magazine, right?”“I’m not usually looking for a better mousetrap,” I said, smiling.“Or a mousetrap, now that you mention it! The scent of the cheese‘grabs’ the mouse, and it has no choice but to move toward it. It workspretty much the same way with these entities. When a particular entity, orintelligence, resonates with a particular geometric symbol or code, it can’thelp but be pulled in. And once it’s in, it can be trapped for centuries,sometimes millennia, and even eons. That’s when things get really hairy.”“You mean it gets even stranger?” I asked, trying to lighten the air a bit.“Much stranger.” Phil continued, “In some cases, the trapped entities willliterally take up residence, exerting tremendous influence, which distortsthe original purpose of the place. And sometimes, they even take completecontrol.”“I think I’m beginning to understand what you’re saying. Say there’s acathedral that was built in honor of the Blessed Mother, and let’s assumethat the geometric architecture of the place traps some kind of spirit orentity or, as you might say, dimensionalized consciousness. Then they setup shop there and think it’s their home. People come to the church to prayor sightsee and may encounter the spirit without even realizing it. I thinkI’ve actually heard of this before or maybe read it somewhere.”“Sometimes it’s just a vibe that someone picks up. I’m sure you’veexperienced this yourself on occasion.”“Are they all negative spirits?” I asked.“Not at all!” Phil laughed. “Some of them are very positive, extremelybenevolent angelic presences. But if they’re unable to leave, they can’tfulfill their soul’s purpose. At the same time, being trapped there interfereswith the purpose of the place, the church, or wherever it might be, not tomention those charged with their stewardship, if you get my drift. Being insuch close proximity to certain energies can and does have a corruptinginfluence. That’s why intervention is sometimes required to help them allmove on and be released.”“It sounds like some kind of geometric exorcism—”“No, Jimmy,” Phil snapped back. “At least not in the way you mightimagine. You’ve seen the movie The Exorcist, haven’t you?”“Yeah . . . the scariest movie ever made.”“Well, do you remember what the priests say over and over when they’reconducting the ritual?”“I think it’s something like ‘The spirit of Christ compels you . . . thepower of Christ . . .’”“Yeah, yeah!” Phil burst out, becoming even more excited. “And what isthe power of Christ, or God, and where do you think that power isconcentrated?”I thought for a moment, not exactly sure where he was leading me. “Iwould say it can be found in the name of God, like Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh.”“Correct. So the power of God—which in the final analysis is what anexorcist might use to release a demonic spirit, for example—can be foundin one or more of the many names of God. In fact, many of the rituals ofexorcism use various holy names to release so-called demons. Usually, it’s‘In the name of the Holy Spirit’ or ‘In the name of so and so.’ You see,using the names, or rather, the power of the names, is very tricky business.That’s why actual names were seldom used.”“I don’t know much about exorcism, but it seems to make sense. If thename of God has the power to create worlds or produce miracles, then it cando anything.”“And that’s what we’re going to do.”“What do you mean?”“The ten spots in Paris that we’ll be visiting on this journey have beenpart of an ongoing investigation of mine for several years—many areTemplar in origin or design, or they have some kind of Templar connection.The Templars are important because they held so much power in their timeand controlled so many secrets. That gave them worldly as well as occultpower, and for the most part, they wielded their power with cunning andintelligence. But, as sometimes happens, things went in a differentdirection, or at least there were unanticipated results. The Templarsprobably could have rectified it all, but they’re no longer here. The churchwiped them out, or so we’ve been told. But we’re here now, and we’regoing to finish the job.”“What job are we going to finish?” I asked. “Are we going to play‘ghostbuster’ to the spirits of Paris?”“Something like that.” Phil smiled. “It may seem like I’m being a littleoverdramatic, but I’m serious. We’re going to use some very powerfulnames to help release energies that have been trapped at these locations—some for a very long time—so they can finally fulfill their destinies. Theresult could be greater than either of us can imagine, both for the locationsthemselves and for the world at large.”“So, we’re going to run around Paris doing some kind of bizarre rituals inall these different places?” I inquired, almost as if it were all a joke.“Bizarre? No. But yes, that’s pretty much it,” Phil affirmed.“But won’t it look strange? We can’t just walk in and start wavingincense in the air and speaking in tongues. This is starting to sound crazy,even for you.”“‘Crazy is as crazy does,’ as Forrest Gump might say. It may sound crazy,I’ll admit, but it’s why we’re both here. We’re not in Paris to go to the topof the Eiffel Tower; we’re here to do something that could have a dramaticimpact on the whole world. We’re going to attempt to undo some horriblewrongs by using the most powerful force in history: the presence of God.I’m sorry if there was something else you had in mind, like sightseeing orsomething, but this is why we’re here.”“You have to admit that it all sounds bizarre,” I said to him.“It’s no more bizarre than anything else we’ve seen in our travels. Justthink about it: if we’re successful, we could help facilitate some amazingtransformations, within ourselves and the world. I’m talking about somepretty miraculous stuff.”“And if we’re not?”“To be honest, I really haven’t considered that possibility.” Phil satfarther back in his seat.“Maybe we should think about it. What do you think would happen?”“Well, it’s hard to say. I guess it’s possible that it could all blow up in ourfaces.”“What does that mean?” I was getting nervous. “What would that looklike?”“There’s no telling. . . . I said earlier that some of these entities have beentrapped for centuries, possibly eons. We’re going to be focusing atremendous amount of light in their direction.”“You’re scaring me again.”“Don’t be scared. Like Mother Teresa said, love will be our shield—andtheirs. We can surely trust that we’ll be protected.”“I can only hope you’re right.”“Yes, you and me both.” Phil stood up from the chair. “You know, onlyone thing didn’t escape from Pandora’s box. Do you want to know what itwas?”“I know this one,” I said. “It was hope.”“Correct. ‘Hope springs eternal.’ So, are you ready?”“Ready for what?”“Are you ready to begin? There’s no reason to wait. I say we start movingtoward the first location.”“You’re not one to waste time,” I replied. “What about preparation ortools?”“And what tools would you recommend?”“I don’t have any idea! This is my first time.”“Mine, too.”Phil said those words just as I was standing up from my chair, and I feltas if I were about to lose my balance. “Are you kidding me?!” I nearlyscreamed. “You’ve never done this before?”“To my knowledge, what we’re going to attempt has never been triedbefore, at least not since the creation of the world. That’s what makes it soexciting.”He was up and running out the door before I knew what was happening.“Where are we going?” I asked.He stopped and turned around. “Lots of places—but not until we’ve hadcrepes. We can’t make another move without first tweaking our taste buds.”“Why? There can’t be any deep, mystical reason for eating crepes beforeexorcising the churches and cathedrals of Paris. Or is there?”“Nothing overtly mystical.” Phil grinned. “I just love them, and there’s nobetter place for crepes than Paris. For one thing, we can’t do this work onempty stomachs, and there’s a great place for crepes on the way to wherewe’re going.”“And where is that?”“After we eat, we’re going to one of my favorite spots in Paris—Sacré-Coeur, the Basilica of the Sacred Heart. That’s where our adventure willbegin.”We walked down the stairs past a gauntlet of fertility and fetishsculptures, portraits of tortured souls and demons, and an even strangerpainting of Rhett Butler and Scarlett O’Hara. I tried not to look at any ofthem, assuming they’d give me the creeps before even starting the work athand. Within seconds, we were out the door. Phil’s pace was brisk, and Inearly jogged to keep up with him. The morning was cold and wet, and Philpulled his red beret low over his forehead to block the rain. He’d stuffedseveral notepads and a book in his backpack, and I wondered if they werefilled with ancient formulas for battling demonic forces.“Just around the corner here,” he called out over his shoulder. He dartedinto a small café, and I saw the hot crepe iron through the window. We satdown at a table in the back, and I assumed that this was the spot where he’dprepare me for our first location. Once seated, he took out one of thenotepads and opened it to the first page.“You told me there were ten places we needed to visit,” I said once I wasin my chair. “Why?”“You tell me. How did this part of the journey start for you?”“I’m not sure which part you’re referring to.”“When The Moses Code was first released, what was the trigger point forall this new inquiry?”“It was the Yud,” I stated. “I realized that the mystery was far deeper thanI first thought and had to know more. That’s why I contacted you.”“Exactly. And what is the number of the Yud?”“The number?”“Yes,” he replied dispassionately. “Its position in the Hebrew alphabet—its simple gematrian value. Do you remember what its number is?”“Yes, I think so. It’s ten, isn’t it?”“Yes, of course. That’s one reason why we have to visit ten locations.There are other important reasons that will make themselves known as weprogress on our journey. Remember that the Yud represents the ‘finger thatpoints the way’—the opened and closed hand of God. It’s literally the seedof the Tree of Life. It’s how Divine Inspiration enters the world. It’s thepause between the breath of God and the breath of man. Do you see? TheYud has everything to do with our mission.”“And how are we going to use of the names of God to accomplishwhatever it is we’re trying to accomplish?” I said these words just as thewaitress arrived at our table, and just as suddenly realized how little I knewabout our so-called mission. I did know that everything I was feeling inside—perhaps everything I’d experienced in my life up to this point—had ledme there. For a minute, though, I wondered if I was crazy for following Philto Paris, and then agreeing to run around in the rain doing God knows what.He was supposed to be back home getting well. And what about my dream?Was I playing right into some kind of strange delusion?“We’re not going to use the names of God,” Phil said once we orderedour crepes. “They’re going to use us.”“And how is that?” I asked.“We’re going to become the conduits through which the consciousness ofthe Divine Names can manifest. We’re going to use them to transform fromwithin, like I’ve said to you earlier, and then the rest will happen on itsown.”“Okay.” I was still confused. “So we’re not going to really do anythingbut chant the names in the churches?”“No—much more than that. The names will open a series of tunnels, orwormholes, in the fabric of space-time through which any number of thingscan happen.”“I’ll rephrase my question. How will the names use us?”“We are to be instruments of peace,” he replied, taking a sip of thecappuccino the waitress put in front of him. “How God will manifestthrough us by the use of the names we cannot fully know. Much is beyondour understanding, but let’s talk a little more about the Sacred Names andhow we can use them. For the sake of this discussion, there are seven waysto use these Divine Expressions, as suggested by Dr. J. J. Hurtak, a scholarand Orientalist. These are the ways he suggested using the Sacred Names inhis book The Seventy-two Sacred Names of the Myriad Expressions of theLiving God. He also wrote The Book of Knowledge: The Keys of Enoch.You have to understand this before we can begin.”Seconds later our crepes arrived, but Phil didn’t wait to continue. “Firstof all, using the Sacred Names initiates a strong link with God, or DivineFather, so that our spiritual identity is connected with the highest of alllevels.”“My understanding is that the link has never been severed,” I added.“Wouldn’t it be more accurate to say that we have to become conscious ofthe link that is already present?”“Yes, using the names correctly helps one to be conscious of that eternalconnection.”“It’s like being on the phone with someone, but if you don’t acknowledgethe voice or the presence on the other end, there really is no conversationtaking place. You have to engage, and once engaged, information can beshared, and that’s what we want: a flow of information, of grace. Isn’t thatwhat you’ve been saying?”“Precisely. The second way Sacred Names can be used is for theadvancement of the soul, using them in personal prayer and meditation toopen the veils and gates. This is something I’ll talk to you about at length aswe continue our journey.”“I feel like I should be writing this down,” I remarked.“Don’t worry, it will be there when you need it. The third way is to createan active network through which Divine Light can operate. There havealways been individuals and communities of Lightworkers in the worldthroughout time who have done this. You’ve called them ‘Emissaries ofLight.’”“The Emissaries described it in a very similar way,” I said to him. “Theysaid that the work they did and the meditations they used created a kind ofspiritual fountain that allowed the energy of Divine Light to spread acrossthe earth and touch every living being. It sounds very similar to what you’redescribing.”“Yes, it is. The fourth and fifth ways the Sacred Names can be used areclosely related. They can be used in prayers for healing and for worldpeace, as well as in times of planetary crisis or need in order to call forthadditional light and love. Calling upon the names in that way creates achannel for the healing to occur, but it has to be initiated through us. Itaffirms our faith in the wisdom of God and that the prayers we send out willbe answered according to God’s will. Does that make sense?”“Yes,” I affirmed, “totally.”“You can also use the names for the protection of the spiritual andphysical garment, which is another way of describing the body of light thatwe happen to be clothed in at any particular moment. The Divine Namescan quite literally build a wall of light, and believe me, that’s going to comein handy. On this journey of ours, we’re going to encounter various formsof sentient consciousness—both physical and nonphysical—that will bedrawn to this light for redemption and reconciliation. However, where thereis the greatest light, it can and will attract the greatest darkness, as you wellknow. That’s why it’s important that we have the means to protectourselves, and the proper use of the names is our greatest protection.”“Got it!” I exclaimed, trying to stay involved.“The final way the Sacred Names can be used is for working directlywith the Messengers of the Hierarchy and for the discernment ofhierarchies, when they make themselves known to us.”“This one sounds a lot more complicated.”“Not really. Using the names correctly can facilitate direct work with theAngelics, for example. From your perspective, Jimmy, it’s the ability towork with these beings and to understand them not with your mind but withyour soul. There are forms of sentient consciousness all around us, but thatdoesn’t mean that their will is aligned with God’s will, if you get my drift.It’s like walking up to someone on the street and asking him for directionsto a particular place. Just because he gives you an answer, it doesn’t meanyou’re going to make it to your destination. Some know the way and othersdon’t. Some may know their way, but it isn’t your way. The proper use ofthe Divine Names will enable you to use more discernment in terms ofwhom you’re dealing with, especially when they make their appearanceknown, as they undoubtedly will.”“That actually makes sense,” I said.“I’m glad to hear that.” Phil continued. “Forgive me for repeating this sooften, but it is of the utmost importance that we, and whoever else, use thenames with the highest level of integrity and impeccability. They are to beused with reverence and respect for the great teachers and sages who havecome before . . . with purity of Spirit and with the appropriate degree ofpreparation, spiritual maturity, and self-examination. We must be consciousthat they are part of a greater whole, the object of which is the continuingreeducation and ultimate redemption of the soul.“Remember, Jimmy, the geometry and architecture of these templesattract a wide range of spiritual energies, both positive and negative.Chanting the names can sometimes attract, shall we say, less evolved formsof consciousness or spiritual energies. They can be released into the light,though, through the interdimensional channels connecting the worlds thatare opening at this most crucial moment in our tenure here as embodiedsouls.”He was starting to lose me again. “Wait . . . that was a lot all at once. Canyou say that one more time in a way I can actually get it?”“Listen, Jimmy. There are codes and formulas built into the geometricalarchitecture of many of the places we’ll be visiting that were put thereintentionally by designers who had a fairly comprehensive but, in someimportant aspects, limited knowledge of advanced spiritual law andpractice. I’ll be showing you many of these codes and formulas as weprogress. In reality, they’re in plain sight at many of the locations we’ll bevisiting. People look at them every day but have no idea that they’reactually interdimensional gateways.“For example, quite often you’ll see a Templar cross or other symbolsplaced in unusual spots in a church. Sometimes these geomantic codes—orgeomancies as they’re called—are used as energy sources, like batteries,that keep other symbols or symbol codes energized. If we can identify someof these, then we can use the names to release their programs or interrupt anongoing program. Of course, we do that by first releasing the seals withinourselves. That’s the real secret: not to try to do it outside, but to do it onthe inside.”“What do these entities do?” I asked. “Are they dangerous or malevolentin nature? If they’ve been here for centuries, or even thousands of years, asyou suggest—”“Most are not mean-spirited at all,” Phil interrupted. “They’re simplytrapped. Please remember that some of these entities were never meant towander the earth freely. They were broughtto this world by misguidedsouls who, in their quest for power and riches, invoked these spiritualenergies—literally yanked them from their home worlds—to do theirbidding. Space and time are overlapping, dimensions are blending, and forthe first time in a very long time, doors are opening that will allow theselost souls to return home. It’s very similar to people who have passed overbut haven’t realized that they have died, or souls who are simply not readyto pass over and remain earthbound in their confused state, causing a lot ofproblems here.”“You mean like poltergeists?”“Yes, precisely,” Phil agreed, straightening himself up and staring mesquarely in the eyes. “Then there are the entities, or spiritual forces, thathave been placed at many of these locations to guard even more ancientsecrets. Let’s hope we don’t run into any of those.”“What will happen if we do?” I inquired, swallowing hard.“Let’s just hope it doesn’t happen. That’s another thing about using thenames: you have to be open to whatever happens because there’s always ahigher purpose, although at the time we may not be aware of what it is.We’re going to be used as instruments—instruments of peace, a role inwhich you’re not entirely unfamiliar—and we have to know that we’reprotected on the highest levels.”“We can only hope,” I remarked. “I don’t want to end up a casualty of thecathedrals of Paris.”Phil smiled, but he looked uneasy. I could tell he was as nervous as I was,as if we were on the first ship attempting to sail to the New World. Intheory, we knew what we were about to do. But in practice, anything couldhappen, including all of the scary possibilities that were racing through mymind that very moment.CHAPTER 6Sacred Heart BasilicaThe TetragrammatonThe steps that led to Sacred Heart Basilica, Basilique du Sacré- Coeur,were directly across the street from the café. A carousel stood to one side,unused because of the light rain that was falling. We opened our umbrellasand crossed the street, passing several tour groups speaking in differentlanguages as their guides explained the history of the area. Then wemounted the first flight of steps, working our way toward the basilica.Couples and groups gathered near the entrance as we walked through thecrowd and past the huge doors into the church. My eyes adjusted to the dimlighting, and the scent of incense and candles greeted me as we made ourway to one of the side altars dominated by a statue of Archangel Michael.Phil motioned for me to sit near the corner where we could talk softlywithout being heard.“I want to say a bit more about the architecture of these churches,” hesaid. “As I mentioned earlier, the geometry of these cathedrals, like theKabbalah, encodes a vast body of knowledge whose ultimate purpose is toengender a closer, more personal relationship with God. Kabbalah’semphasis on sound, vibration, form, and numbers is meant to reveal theprocesses of creation—the geometrical forms and patterns that mirror andinform the very act of creation and the growth and evolution of all manifestforms in nature. These patterns are re-created in the building and structureof sacred places such as this—the objective being nothing less than thetransformation of the human into the God-Man, the ultimate unificationwith our Divine Source.“This is something that the Templars were very familiar with. Many ofthem had a working knowledge of the planetary grid system, as well as thegeomagnetic corridors of the planet and the vortices upon which thesechurches and other sacred sites had been built. It’s evident that a good dealof that knowledge went into the actual building of churches like this one.”I was holding a pamphlet in English that I took from a display at the frontof the church. “Yes, I understand all that, but it says here in the brochurethat the first stone for the basilica wasn’t laid until 1875—long after theTemplars were gone.”“That’s true, but it doesn’t mean that their concepts and philosophyweren’t integrated into its construction. You see, the Templar masonsunderstood that geometric forms revealed the secrets of how Divinitydescends into form, and they passed on that knowledge. They alsounderstood that the misuse of ancient magic created many of the problemswe’re here to try to remedy. But ultimately, these things are beyond thecomprehension of the mind alone. They need to be seen through anintegration of the heart and soul.”“Is there an example you can give me?” I asked, lowering my voice.“One of the things I want you to look for here are Templar crosses. Thisis one of the signs left behind to show their influence. It’s called the crosspattée, or croix pattée. It’s not like your typical Christian cross. It has armsof equal length that are curved, fluted, or spread out at the ends, but they’reclosed, not indented like the Maltese cross.”“Wouldn’t the equal axis of the cross symbolize the movement of energybetween the physical planes of existence (the horizontal) and the movementof energy between the spiritual planes of existence (the vertical)?”“Exactly,” Phil confirmed. “It enables a deeper understanding that is bothconscious and unconscious, signifying that you get the meaning on multiplelevels. It’s been said that the Templar cross represents the union ofopposites, the union of male and female, and possibly even the spread of thetrue Gospel to the four corners of the earth. You can look at the cross andsee only the general form, but your soul understands its deeper meaning.“That’s actually just a simple example; there are others that are muchmore advanced. One is the connection between the Templar cross and thefixed signs of the zodiac (which are Leo, Taurus, Scorpio, and Aquarius)and their relation to the four beasts of the Apocalypse. This has to do withthe End of Days, or End Times. But I don’t want you to be looking for themwith your physical eyes alone. Sense them with your soul, and that’s wherethe deeper lessons will be learned.”“Okay. So tell me what we’re going to do now,” I said.“I’ve chosen particular names of God corresponding to the spheres, orSephiroth, on the Kabbalistic Tree of Life that I feel resonate with theenergy of each location we’ll be visiting. I think this all came from a dream,but that’s neither here nor there. What we’re going to do is to activate theenergy of each name and then integrate it through prayer, creating acoherent field—a field of influence, as it were—that I’m hoping willilluminate certain portals through which these energies (that have been heldhostage) can find their way home. Then I’m going to send you off on yourown to follow your own guidance.“Remember, Jimmy, it will be through opening your own heart that thisfield will be created—through the grace that will flow into and through youby the use of the names. Something may happen to you, or nothing at all. Ithink we just have to trust whatever comes up and know that we’re doingour very best.”“You said we’re going to do a ritual, right? Will it be discreet so we don’tstand out?”“Don’t worry, we’re not going to do anything that will draw attention. Noone will have any idea what we’re doing, at least not consciously. But theywill feel it, whether they know it or not.”“What about the . . . others?” I asked.“What others? Oh, the angels and demons? You’re pretty preoccupiedwith them, aren’t you?”“Should I be? You’re the one who said this could all blow up in our faces.So yes, that makes me a bit preoccupied with it. It’s not exactly somethingI’ve done before.”“That’s probably not true.”“What do you mean?”“I get the feeling we may have done this before, in one form or other. It’salso possible that we may have been responsible for creating this in the firstplace, and we’re here now to make amends, to redeem ourselves. I wonderhow many people, especially these days, fully understand the awesome,creative power of their thoughts.none of it would have beenpossible.Kabbalism is the mystical path of Judaism most recently made popular bysome of its famous adherents, including Madonna and other celebrities. I’veknown about it for many years, but to be honest, I never felt an attraction toexplore Kabbalah for myself because it seemed to be so centered on theintellect and other mental constructs. I couldn’t have been more wrong.Although a comprehensive study would be enough to set anyone’s brainspinning, there is an experiential depth that I didn’t expect.In my last book, The Moses Code, I wrote about the first name of Godthat was given to Moses at the burning bush 3,500 years ago—“EhyehAsher Ehyeh.” At the time, I didn’t know that I was treading on severalmajor Kabbalistic themes (and not always gently). It wasn’t until I waspublicly called out on my ignorance that a new exploration began, one thatled to the writing of this book. I may still be a complete novice when itcomes to the subject, but I believe I’m a bit wiser and a great deal moreexperienced.So relax, and get ready for a story that may change your life. At the veryleast, it will unlock doors and reveal hidden treasures you may not haveeven known you’ve had. I do know that the ancient teachings of Kabbalahare as important today as they’ve ever been, and this story may be a firststep toward understanding its vast implications. I don’t claim to be anauthority in this rich science, as you’ll soon discover, but at least I’ve hadthe chance to peek inside the temple. That’s all it took to hook me for life.— James F. TwymanCHAPTER 1The Moses CodeThe world premiere of The Moses Code, the film based on my book of thesame name, was to be a momentous occasion. Liz Dawn, one of the ownersof Mishka Productions, didn’t think that I’d given her enough time to gathera large crowd. I called her two and a half weeks earlier with the idea oflaunching the documentary in Scottsdale, Arizona, a couple of weeks beforeit would open in theaters and venues around the world. To her, it was animpossibly small amount of time to organize anything close to what Iwanted, but I had a good feeling and knew it would be a triumph. I’d beenworking on the film for over a year and was anxious to see the final versionin front of a real audience. I assured Liz that if she promoted the event, theaudience would come, and I was right. More than 600 people crammed intothe conference hall that night, and I could hear the buzz of excitement as Iwalked through the crowd moments before the lights dimmed and themovie began.“James, can I talk to you?”I recognized the man’s face, but his name floated just beyond my reach.After 12 years of traveling around the world promoting books and moviesand performing peace concerts in some of the most war-torn countries onEarth, specific names were sometimes hard to summon. Faces were adifferent story, though, and I knew that if I could get him talking, beforelong his name would come back to me.“Hi,” I said to him, holding my hand out. “How are you?”“Fantastic, man. I was so excited to hear you were opening the newmovie here.”He was young, perhaps 30, and I was sure we’d met before, perhapsseveral times. The harder I tried to recall him, the further the memoryreceded into the back of my brain. My eyes must have betrayed theconfusion I felt.“Mike,” he said, unsurprised. “Mike Larson. I attended a workshop youdid at a Celebrate Your Life conference about two years ago. We spokeafterward . . . I don’t remember exactly what we discussed.”“Neither do I,” I remarked, trying to regain control. I was attempting tomake my way to the front of the room so we could begin the screening. “Ido remember your face, though, even after two years. That’s not too bad.”“Not at all,” he said without letting go of my hand. “I can’t wait to seethis movie. I saw the trailer online, and it looked incredible . . . just what theworld needs.”“What the world needs?”“You know, after The Secret and everything. I think this film is going tobe the next step. I’ll let you know after I see it.”I used my left hand to pry free the one locked in his grip without himrealizing it. It was a skill I’d learned over the years—how to politely end aconversation without the other person noticing the shift. It came in handy insituations like this one. “I hope I see you afterward,” I said to him as Ibegan walking away. “I’d love to hear what you think.”“I’ll tell you the truth—that’s for sure,” he said over the shoulder of adark-haired woman who just happened to be between us. “I’m suresomeone like you needs to hear the truth.”The statement confused me, and I stopped. “I’m not sure I know whatyou mean,” I said, walking back to him.“You know . . . people usually say what they think you want to hear. Idon’t mean just you, but it wouldn’t surprise me. You’re the kind of personpeople want to impress, and that could be hard if they told you they didn’tlike a movie or a book or something else you did.”I could see him becoming uncomfortable in his own skin, as if hecouldn’t stop talking even though he knew nothing was coming out as hehad intended.“I know what you mean,” I said, saving him further embarrassment.“Luckily, I have lots of people around me who are willing to be brutallyhonest. In fact, we probably wouldn’t be here tonight if that weren’t true.”“Really?”“I spent a year working on the movie, and when I thought it was done, Ishowed it to a few friends. They told me the truth, even though it was kindof hard to hear. They said it was okay, but not great. Obviously, I didn’tspend a year of my life just to make an average movie, so we went back towork despite the fact that we were already past our deadline. We spent twoweeks tearing it apart, re-editing, and reshooting almost 75 percent of it.”“You did all that in two weeks?” he asked, amazed.“You know,” I said, beginning to walk toward the stage again, “I thinkthat if we went into the reshoot knowing how much work was going to beinvolved, we wouldn’t have done it. Sometimes you’re better off notknowing what you’re getting yourself into. It just sort of happened. All Ican say is that it all started with a few friends telling me the truth, andluckily, I listened.”Liz had just climbed the stairs to the podium and was getting ready tostart the evening. I made my way to the front and sat down, waiting for themicrophone to go live and the audience to find their seats. It was finallytime to see if all the work translated into a film that would not only besuccessfully received, but would also inspire people to change the world.The Moses Code was conceived as a book long before the idea came tomake it into a film. I’d stumbled across the concept when I was working onanother book three years earlier—one that I consider to be my greatestaccomplishment: The Art of Spiritual Peacemaking. As I was writing, astory I’d first heard as a child kept coming into focus; it was the story ofMoses and how he secured the release of the Israelite slaves 3,500 yearsago.God appeared to Moses in the form of a burning bush and asked him todo the impossible: go to the Pharaoh, Ramses the Great, and tell him to letthe Israelites leave and find the Promised Land. Moses, knowing theremarkable improbability of success, decided to ask God a question that noIsraelite had ever asked before—he wanted to know God’s name. Up to thatpoint in religious history, the Israelites had no name for God. God wasknown simply as the “God of Abraham” or the “God of our forefathers.”Moses knew that if he was going to accomplish the task, he’d need moreinformation, something that would profoundly inspire his people. A namewould do that, and God gave it to him.The first name usually associated with this conversation is Ehyeh AsherEhyeh, usually translated as “I AM THAT I AM.” As a young child, andeven as an adult, I heard the phrase spoken but never understood what itmeant.“We’re here to use the names of God to open seals within ourselves, to bechannels for grace to come into the world. The shift will begin in our ownconsciousness and vibration. When that happens, it allows the same shift tooccur in others. This goes on all the time—for example, do you ever noticethat when you’re happy and walk into a room filled with grumpy people,your energy may help lift them just because you’re there?”“Or their energy could bring me down. Doesn’t it depend on whose isstronger?”“Well, yes and no,” Phil contended. “Much depends on you maintainingyour focus when you walk into the room. We’re entering into this withmuch more than simply good intentions. We’re entering into this with theinherent grace, power, and energy in these Sacred Names. They are allexpressions of elevated and exalted thoughts. Using them like we are willprovide a powerful focus for us to unleash tremendous power—the powerwithin ourselves.”“Tell me more about the ritual.”“It’s actually very simple. As I’ve mentioned, I’ve chosen a differentname for each of the spots. For example, the name we’ll be using here isone we’ve spoken of before. It’s considered by many—not only those of theJewish persuasion—to be the most important: the Tetragrammaton. We’regoing to meditate on the name and then repeat it 12 times. After we do so,we’ll recite the words En Sof.”“You’ve said that phrase earlier. What does it mean again?”“It literally means ‘without end’ or ‘boundless,’” Phil replied. “Wesometimes talk about the light of the En Sof. It is said that before thecreation of the world, the light of the En filled the infinite space. Using it inthis way amplifies the light of each Divine Name, magnifying its power anddirecting even stronger intention into the heart of these sacred expressions.”“And why do we repeat it 12 times?”“There are lots and lots of reasons to do so. The number 12 has enormousmystical, biblical, occult, and especially geometrical significance. For ourpurpose here, let’s just say that there are 12 primary permutations of thefour-lettered name of God—the Tetragrammaton—although in truth, thereare far more. That’s as good a reason as any, don’t you think?”“Whatever you say, Phil. I’m just following your lead.”Phil showed me a way to count off the numbers by looking at the fourfingers from the index finger to the pinky. There are 12 sections to thosefour fingers, making it easier to count by simply touching each fingersection while reciting the names. “After a while, it gets to where you don’teven notice that you’re counting. This is good because we’re trying to takethe left brain out of this process as much as possible.”“Is there something that should happen at that point?”“You’ll have to tell me,” he stated. “The names we will be working withproduce waveforms, or patterns of electromagnetic energy, that are shapedaccording to the architecture of the church, not to mention the geometricarchitecture of the thought-forms we generate when we chant the names.Energies and perceptions that are veiled from normal waking consciousnessare revealed through chanting the names. The words can actually part theveils like Moses parting the Red Sea, or bring down the walls of Jericho . . .to quote the song, ‘It’s in the way that you use it.’ So to answer yourquestion, quite a lot can happen. It just depends on why you’re here andwhat you’re ready for.”I could feel myself craving something I could depend on, or at least anidea or potential I could anticipate. “If you had to guess, what would yousay?”“There are so many possibilities,” Phil replied. Then his lips curled into aslight smile. “And besides, if I told you, it would take the surprise out of it.”“Great . . . another surprise. And you haven’t done this before, right?”“Like I said, I honestly don’t think anyone has ever done this before, atleast not successfully. We’re working from things I’ve pieced together fromvarious traditions and writings. To my knowledge, there’s really noprecedent for any of this. For the most part, we’re wingin’ it. The angelsunderstand that.”“That scares the heck out of me!” I exclaimed a bit too loud. A woman infront of us turned around to see what was happening. I turned my headaway from her toward Phil. “You throw out all this stuff like you’ve done itdozens of times. How can you really know what we’re up against if—”“I’ve already told you that I haven’t done anything like this before. Andanyway, what difference does it make? We’re explorers in a bold newexperiment in consciousness. We’re going where peacemakers have nevergone before. It’s not the kind of things they write books about, you know.”“I’ve personally never read anything about going into Gothic cathedralsto release entities that have been trapped inside Templar architecture,” Iadded, moving uncomfortably in my seat.“Yes, it’s exciting but also a little scary.”“A little scary?” My discomfort had reached its height.“You need to let go of your fear, Jimmy. Remember what Mother Teresasaid: there are powerful allies at our side. Especially using the Holy Namesas we are . . . it sets up a powerful protective frequency that would be hardfor anyone, or anything, to penetrate.”“Okay,” I said, relaxing a bit. “Tell me more about what we’re going todo after we chant the Sacred Name.”“Well, before we even start, I’ll offer up a prayer of protection. Then afterthe Name has been chanted, we’ll sit in silent meditation for a while. We’llsimply see what happens or what feelings we get. I suggest we split up atthat point and walk around the cathedral. Try to be aware of anything out ofthe ordinary. Maybe you can let your eyes scan the different frescoes orartwork in case anything opens there. All in all, there are no set rules, onlyguidelines. We just have to be open to the moment.”It didn’t seem like I had much of a choice. I had come this far anddecided that I may as well see where it led. If nothing happened, then so beit. It would just be another wild-goose chase, a “bold experiment inconsciousness” as Phil proclaimed. But what if something did happen? Wewould be in different parts of the church, and I wouldn’t have his support ifa demon suddenly came alive out of a Renaissance painting and attackedme. The idea almost made me laugh, yet I sat back in the pew and took adeep breath.“Are you ready?” he asked.“Yes, I’m ready. Let’s do this.”“Okay. Close your eyes for a moment, breathe deeply, and we’ll beginwith a short meditation. The first Holy Name we’re going to invoke isYahweh, followed by the words Eloah Va Daath, which means ‘Lord God’or even ‘Goddess of Knowledge.’ In a way, the name relates to theintelligence of the heart and wisdom of Divine Presence. As I said before,Yahweh, or the Tetragrammaton, is held by many to be the most sacred ofall the names of God. The word in Hebrew is Havayah. It is the secondname that God gave Moses in the book of Exodus, when God said to tellthem: ‘I AM has sent me to you.’ It represents the active principle of the En(‘boundlessness’) here in this world, the world of phenomenal existence.It’s the four-lettered name of God (spelled ‘Yud Heh Vav Heh’) sometimestranslated or pronounced as ‘Jehovah.’“It’s a name that cannot and must not be taken in vain, for it invokes thevery essence of the Godhead. This is why the words Adonai or Elohim areusually substituted for it. It’s said to contain the original vibration behind allmanifest existence. If you recall, Maimonides believed that it’s the onlyproper name for God, and that is why we use it reverently.“So here’s what we’re going to do.” Phil continued, “We’re going tomeditate on the name Yahweh Eloah Va Daath, but we’re going to vocalizethe word Adonai, meaning ‘Lord.’ Does that make sense?”“No, it doesn’t,” I replied, confused. “Why are we saying one thing andthinking another? Why can’t we just recite the letters ‘Yud Heh Vav Heh’?I’ve heard them beingchanted before.”“Because from a strict Jewish perspective, to chant the letters of the nameis tantamount to saying the name. You need to trust me on this, Jimmy. Thismay be the first name we’re chanting—and I promise it won’t continue tobe this complicated—but we need to be extremely respectful, especiallywith this particular name . . . but just for the time being. You’re the one whosaid you wanted to learn about Kabbalah. If you really want to, this is how.”“Okay. I guess I can relax and follow your lead here.”“I’m glad to hear that. So, once again, we’ll focus on theTetragrammaton, in this case the name Yahweh Eloah Va Daath, but we’llvocalize the word Adonai. Let’s take a few deep breaths and begin.”I did as he asked and took a deep breath. I could feel my soul beginningto expand as I meditated, as if each breath were bringing the name closer tomy heart. The sound of Phil’s voice seemed far away as he softly spoke,even though he was only a few inches to my right. I continued to take deepcleansing breaths, filling my lungs with as much air as I could.“Now we’ll chant the name 12 times, each time ending with En Sof,meaning ‘boundless existence,’” Phil said, showing me his open palm.“Continue breathing deeply, and don’t forget to focus on theTetragrammaton.”Then we began: “Adonai, En Sof; Adonai, En Sof; Adonai, En Sof . . .”Twelve times we chanted the name, and the feeling of expansion continued,especially as I focused my attention on the four-lettered name ‘Yud HehVav Heh.’ My heart and soul seemed to soar over the church and throughthe rafters. Although I was still fully conscious of myself sitting there in thepew with Phil, I was also aware of so much more . . . an infinite expansefilled with the infinite name of God. When we finished, we sat for a fewmoments in silence, and then Phil turned and looked at me.“Remember, Jimmy, each name represents an aspect of spiritual force, orenergy, and their use is ultimately to help us receive complete joy andfulfillment. This is what God desires for us. Now we wait and see whathappens.”“What should I do?”“I can’t say . . . just stay open and follow your guidance. Be open toreceive. I’m going to just walk around. We’ll give it as much time as ittakes.” Phil stood up and walked away toward the front of the cathedralwhile I sat there wondering what I should do next. The statue of Michaellooked down at me, and his powerful stare seemed to be calling me forwardinto an experience I hadn’t yet realized.“What should I do?” I whispered under my breath. No answer came, onlythe sound of people brushing past me to get a better look at the side altarwhere I was sitting.A man dressed completely in black pushed through three or four touristsuntil he stood just beneath Michael. The others walked away annoyed,leaving him there looking up into the archangel’s eyes. He seemed to bemumbling something under his breath, but it was either in French or wastoo low for me to discern. He was unshaven and wore dark sunglasses thathid his eyes. Something about the man seemed out of place and I felt astrong urge to get away from him, so I stood up and started walking towardthe front of the church to the altar.I realized that I was walking against the sea of people who had startedtheir tour on one side of the church and then followed a predesignated patharound the back and up the other side. It felt right for me to be walkingagainst the grain, as if the only way I’d be able to see whatever it was Icame for was to move counter to the rest. I passed at least four side altars,but none of them seemed to call to me. Just across from the main altar,another smaller section dedicated to the Sacred Heart of Jesus drew myattention, so I stepped closer to have a better look. At first nothing jumpedout at me, but then I knelt down thinking I’d look less conspicuous than if Istood there like the rest. The enshrined heart was pierced by 12 swords witha tiny flower at the end of each one. I wondered if there was anysignificance to the prayer Phil and I just shared, as if the number 12 wouldsomehow unlock a deeper mystery. Nothing happened, and after anotherminute, I stood up and kept walking against the sea of tourists.I darted between them, moving from side chapel to side chapel, until Iwas finally directly behind the main altar. There seemed to be a gap in thetour groups, creating just a moment’s space for me to look around withoutbeing pushed from one side to the other. The sound echoed off the stonewalls, and the ancient smell of long-spent incense and burning candlesconfronted my senses in a way that was both relaxing and alarming. Isuddenly remembered why I was there—that the actual architecture of thissacred cathedral might house the souls of entities trapped between worlds . .. and that I would somehow play a role in their release.It suddenly seemed absurd that I ever believed such a story, and Iwondered if it was finally time for me to snap out of my misplaced trust andreturn to reality. I looked around to see if Phil was watching me or wasanywhere to be found. Wave after wave of embarrassment washed over me,and I was seconds away from walking out. Our plan was suddenly a reality,not a concept. Until that moment, we were just having a conversation, and Iwas trusting Phil’s brilliance and far-out ideas like a child. But now that Iwas actually standing there looking for symbols or signs that would indicatethat the church might really be holding the energies of which Phil spoke, thereality came rushing around me like quicksand. It was time to get out, and Ididn’t want to wait another moment.“Why am I here? Why am I here?”The voice startled me, and I looked to my left to see who was mumblingthe words. It didn’t even strike me as odd that it was in English, not French.There were plenty of tourists walking through the church, and many ofthem were certainly from English-speaking countries, but there wassomething different, like it wasn’t the English I’ve known and spoken sinceI was born. I recognized the words, but there was something strange aboutthe way they sounded, perhaps the accent, that made my skin crawl.“Why am I here? Why am I here?”It was the man dressed in black wearing sunglasses that I saw at thestatue of Archangel Michael. He was looking up at a statue of St. Peter, whoheld a set of large skeleton keys, which indicated his role of binding inHeaven what was bound on Earth. The man rocked back and forth as hespoke, seemingly staring at the statue without actually seeing it. His eyesseemed to be focused on something much farther away, something thatneither I nor anyone else in the church could see. His left hand also seemedto twitch as if holding something that required constant motion . . . as if heheld a phone and was sending text messages to another realm. His darkglasses rested on the bridge of his nose just low enough for me to see hiseyes, which were vacant in a way that was impossible to describe.“Why am I here? And why do you keep coming?”The change in cadence almost shocked me. It was a startling difference,but one I couldn’t really understand. The tone of his voice and even theinflection was the same, but the words seemed to indicate something veryintimate. Then he turned toward me, as if seeing me for the first time, andthe words he spoke sent a cold chill up my spine. “Why did you come here?Why did you come?”His glasses seemed to descend a fraction of an inch down the bridge ofhis nose, revealing his eyes and reflecting the candle light in a new andexcruciating way. There didn’t seem to be anything behind his eyes,although in other respects, they seemed perfectly natural. He lookeddirectly at me but didn’t seem to be looking at me at all. It was more of asensation than a real observation, but it made me feel like running.Then he stopped, but his eyes continued their blank stare. “I’m sorry,” Ifinally replied. “Were you talkingto me?”At first it didn’t seem like he heard me, but then he tilted his head to theleft and his eyes seemed to focus for the first time. “Who are you?” heasked.“I’m just visiting the church.” I didn’t think it was wise to actuallyanswer his question—to tell him the real reason I was there.“How long have you been here?”“Um . . . maybe 20 minutes. Not more.”My words didn’t seem to register in a normal way. His head tilted backstraight, and then he said, “How is that? How can that be true?”I had no idea if I should continue the conversation or just walk away.Then I remembered that Phil told me to pay attention to every detail, nomatter how strange or unusual. For the first time, I considered thepossibility that this was more than a chance encounter, that it may havesomething to do with the chant. The first time I saw him was when we weresitting in the back chanting the name. Was it a coincidence, or had wesomehow summoned the man? It was a thought I didn’t want to exploremuch further.“Do you know why I’m here?” he asked me with a voice that was filledwith both anger and regret.“I can’t say I do.” The words came out of my mouth almost withoutthinking. The fact is that I didn’t know what was happening, and I wasn’tsure I wanted to. “Do you know what’s happening?”He pushed the glasses over his eyes again. “Oh yes, I know what’shappening. I’ve always known. You don’t want me to leave. You come andgo and think you’re free, but I stay and even forget what it looks likeanywhere but here. Do you have any idea how that feels? Can you imaginehow hard it is to lie on this cold floor every night and then watch peoplewalk in and out of those doors as if it’s nothing?”He looked back at the statue of St. Peter and within seconds seemedmesmerized. It was suddenly as if no one was there but him, and Iwondered if there was something about the statue I was missing. I lookedback hoping something would jump out at me. It was obviously an ancientsculpture, at least five feet high, and the keys he held were dramatic andalmost surreal looking. And that was when I noticed where his eyes werefixed. They weren’t on the statue, but something at the base of the piece,which I hadn’t noticed until then. It was a Templar cross, and the mandidn’t seem to be able to turn away from it. He returned to the originalchant: “Why am I here? Why am I here?” There was now a sorrowful soundto his voice, and I felt my heart nearly explode inside my chest.“Can I help you?” I asked, suddenly realizing that I knew exactly what todo. He didn’t seem to hear me but kept up his slow and deliberate chant. “Ithink I know what to do. If you can hear me, can you nod your head?”His voice continued its unbroken mantra, but then his head began toslowly move up and down almost imperceptibly. “There’s a prayer I thinkwill help you,” I said. “If you can say the words, then you may be able toleave. If that sounds like something you can do, nod your head.”Once again, the slight nod came. “Good. We’re going to call on God,through the most Sacred Name. It’s called the Tetragrammaton. You don’thave to know what it means—just say the words with me if you can.” Ibegan to chant the name just as Phil and I had moments earlier in the backof the church but this time without substituting the name Adonai. I don’tknow why I decided to change the method Phil proposed. It felt right,though, so I decided to follow my intuition. I could see the man slowlymoving his lips, first only a remote sign, then more pronounced. The energywas building inside me as we spoke the words: “Yud Heh Vav Heh, En Sof;Yud Heh Vav Heh, En Sof; Yud Heh Vav Heh, En Sof . . .”His voice became loud enough for me to hear it, and I closed my eyes tofocus. The energy of the name was beginning to pull me into a deep trance.All the sounds of the cathedral seemed to disappear, and I could only hearmy own voice and the soft whisper of this strange man, who I wasn’t evensure existed. Seconds seemed to become minutes, and as quickly as itbegan, I was suddenly aware of my surroundings and the sound of my voicealone. For a moment, I had the vague impression of something thatreminded me of a net, or web, that spread itself throughout the basilica. Iopened my eyes and realized that I was standing in front of the statue bymyself. The man was gone, whoever he was, and I took a deep gulp of air.At least two minutes passed before I was ready to move. The tours werefiling past me again, and I decided to walk in the same direction, no longeragainst the current, until I finally found myself standing in the rear of thechurch where I saw Phil waiting for me. He was standing in the middle ofthe aisle near the back door, and he had a look on his face that made me feelhe was aware that something had happened to me.“It was the Templar cross, wasn’t it?” I asked, referring to the symbol atthe base of the statue. As I said those words, I looked at the exit and saw theman in black walking out through the door. His arms were open wide as ifhe was feeling the air for the first time.“Yes, they’re all over the place. I’ve been standing here for the last fiveminutes or so looking at them. I had the feeling it would mean something,as if it would somehow connect with whatever you were doing.”I wasn’t sure if I was meant to tell him what had happened. I wasn’t evensure if I believed it myself. Could it have been a figment of myimagination? For a moment, I wondered if the man I met was nothing morethan a confused tourist who had wandered away from his group, and I hadsimply used him to fulfill some need inside me—something that wouldjustify the stories and lessons I was learning from Phil. Maybe when I waschanting, he simply walked away and I was too deep to notice it. All thesethoughts were swimming through my mind, and I didn’t know what wasreal. I waited until we were outside before I said anything to him.“Whatever you experienced, it wasn’t your imagination,” he said.“How do you know that?”“Because I felt it when it was happening. I knew that something wasgoing on wherever you were. I didn’t know what it was, but I knew it wassomething.”“Who do you think he was?”“Who are you talking about?”“The man. The man by the statue of Michael.”“I was looking at the statue of Michael, but I didn’t see anyone.”“How is that possible? I just saw him walk out the back door a fewseconds ago.”“There’s no way to know for sure,” Phil stated. “These are unchartedwaters. It could have been an apparition, maybe even a hallucination, orperhaps it was a spirit entity that was able to actually manifest in a physicalbody. If I had to guess, though, I wouldn’t think it was either of them.”“What was it then?”“My guess is that it was a hyper-spatial, dimensional entity that’s beentrapped in the church and is occasionally able to temporarily enter intopeople, especially those who have a weak energy body.”“Hyper what? What does that mean?” I was really hoping that Phil wasputting me on, but deep down I knew he wasn’t, which really scared me.“Just what I said—a hyper-spatial, dimensional entity. Some people, onaccount of a variety of health issues or various addictions, have cracks orholes that appear in their auras. It’s much easier for a strong entity to enterinto them and use them for a short period of time. For many, it’s the onlyway they’re able to experience the physical world for a limited time, buteven so, most are somewhat confused and aren’t able to interact in normalways. Remember, these things usually happen by invitation.”“You’re saying that the man I met was actually possessed by a spirit ordemon?” Just saying the words made me feel strange and out of touch.“It’s certainly not possession in the way you’re thinking about it. It’s notlike Linda Blair with heads spinning and pea soup flying around. It’sactually a lot more common than you think and quite similar to thephenomenon of channeling, ortransmediumship, as it used to be called. It’svery much the same. More like a sharing of consciousness . . . like I said, byinvitation.”“So do you think that us chanting the name drew the spirit out?”“There’s lots more to explain, Jimmy. Everything in due time. You saidthe first time you noticed the man was in the rear of the church when wewere doing the chant, right?”“Yes, that’s correct,” I affirmed, still a bit shaken.“Then you saw him again in the back, by the statue of St. Peter. The factthat I didn’t see him may mean nothing, or it may mean everything. Onlytime will tell. What’s important is that something happened—somethingpretty amazing, by all accounts.”“So it was real?” I needed to hear the words out loud.“Yes, it was real. And it’s just the beginning. That was only the firstname. We still have nine other places to visit.” Phil began walking towardthe door where the man exited moments earlier.I thought of him with his arms outstretched feeling his freedom, perhapsfor the first time. As we walked out, I felt a bit of that myself, as if my ownheart was feeling free after years of constriction. All I knew for sure wasthat something was happening that I couldn’t explain. And in that momentas we left the cathedral, I didn’t want or need an explanation.CHAPTER 7The Marriage ofMary MagdaleneElohimWe walked a block to the Métro on our way to the next stop—L’ÉgliseSainte-Marie-Madeleine, the Church of St. Mary Magdalene.“Tell me what you know about this church and its history,” I said to Phil.“It was commissioned by Napoléon Bonaparte and modeled after thePantheon in Rome. Napoléon’s expeditions to Egypt are the stuff of legend,but that’s a story for another day. La Madeleine, as it’s called, is adornedwith 52 Corinthian columns, and if you look up, you’ll notice the TenCommandments in bas-relief on its imposing bronze doors.”“Why the Ten Commandments?” I asked. We’d just entered the Métro,and with our day tickets in hand, we walked through the turnstile and thendown the stairs to wait for the train.“I really don’t know, but the history isn’t that important in this case.What’s significant is whom this church is dedicated to and what itrepresents. There’s a statue inside that I want you to see. I’m more thancurious to find out what kind of energy you feel from it. As with Sacré-Coeur, there’s a strong Templar influence at La Madeleine, and that’s one ofthe things we’re looking for.”“Don’t you mean Magdalene?”“Same thing. In French, Magdalene is known as Madeleine.”“Tell me why the Templars are so important. We saw Templar crossesand other Templar imagery at Sacré-Coeur, and I sensed there wereadditional things as well, but I still don’t understand the connection toKabbalah or the Sacred Names.”“Following the First Crusade and the recapture of Jerusalem, the Frenchknight Hugh de Payns, a vassal of the Count of Champagne, along withGodfrey de Saint-Omer, Andre de Montbard, and several other Frenchknights (some say nine in all), proposed the formation of an order ofmonastic knights to Baldwin II, the king of Jerusalem. The function of these‘Soldiers of Christ,’ or Milice du Christ, would be to safeguard Christianpilgrims making the very dangerous trek from the port city of Jaffa toJerusalem. The date sometimes given for the formation of the KnightsTemplar is a.d. 1118, but no one knows for sure.”The train rolled into the station and we pushed our way aboard, finding aspot where we could stand together and continue our conversation. “Italways struck me as strange that nine middle-aged knights would be in aposition to protect Europeans making the pilgrimage to Jerusalem,” Icommented to Phil. “The constant threat of robbers on the road makes thatseem ridiculous, not to mention the impending attack of the Saracenslooking to retake the Holy Land.”“Precisely, Jimmy.” I wasn’t sure whether Phil was nodding in agreementor if it was from the vibration of the Métro bouncing to the next stop. “Thisis why it has always been held among serious researchers that the true andsecret agenda of those ‘Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ’ was to have accessto the Temple Mount and—”“The Temple of Solomon, right?”“Bingo! They spent nine years excavating the Temple Mount, and by allappearances, it would seem that they found what they were looking for . . .what they had, in fact, been sent to find.”“Who sent them?” I asked.“The most likely candidate would have been Bernard, the abbot ofClairvaux, now known as Saint Bernard de Clairvaux. You see, Bernardwas the nephew of Andre de Montbard, who co-founded the Order alongwith Hugh de Payns. Pope Honorius II himself had been a member of theCistercian Order before being elected Pope and was a close friend andconfidant of Bernard.“Obviously, Bernard had access to some very secret knowledge, mainlyby virtue of his close friendship with the Pope. The Order gained officialrecognition and endorsement by the Roman Catholic Church in 1128 at theCouncil of Troyes. By 1139, with Pope Innocent II’s papal bull OmneDatum Optimum, the Order—now known as ‘The Poor Fellow-Soldiers ofChrist and the Temple of Solomon’ or simply ‘The Order of the Temple’—was made to answer to none save the Pope himself, making them virtuallyuntouchable and a law unto themselves.”“This is fascinating stuff, Phil, but tell me more about the excavations onthe Temple Mount.”“Okay. King Baldwin of Jerusalem granted the fledgling Order quartersin a wing of the royal palace on the Temple Mount at the site of thecaptured Al-Aqsa Mosque, which just happens to be positioned directlyabove the ruins of the Temple of Solomon, the perfect location to begintheir work.”I felt a wave of anticipation wash over me. “What did they find?”“Many believe they may have found the Ark of the Covenant, which wasrumored to have been buried deep underneath the Second Temple before itsdestruction in a.d. 70. There are clues to be found at Chartres Cathedralindicating that the Templars had actually found the Ark and carted it away.There is no doubt in my mind that the Templars found treasures, such asthose described in the Copper Scroll.”“The Copper Scroll . . . I’ve heard of it. Wasn’t it among the Dead SeaScrolls found at Qumran?”“Yes, in Kirbat Qumran in 1952. Written on copper, they contain lists oflocations where vast treasures of gold and silver could be found. TheTemplars knew exactly what they were looking for and where to find it.”“When the Copper Scroll was found, did they find any treasure?”“Only evidence of earlier excavations . . . and here’s where it really getsinteresting and where the connection with Kabbalah and the Sacred Namesis to be found.” Phil tilted his head back and brushed his hair with thefingers of both hands, like a conductor getting ready to prime his orchestra.I’d come to expect this from Phil. The only thing missing was the baton. Atthe same moment, though, the train made a sudden turn, nearly knockinghim off balance.“It’s also rumored that the Templars found manuscripts,” he said, once herepositioned himself. “These were ancient writings that had also beensecreted under the Temple, deep inside Mount Moriah. I’m certain thesetexts covered an immense variety of subjects, ranging from architecturalplans written by master masons of old to priceless books of magicalknowledge dating back to earliest antiquity. Much of that knowledge cameto be incorporated into what is now known as ha-Kabbalah. Also believedto have been found were the earliest Gospels detailing histories andaccounts that could potentially shake the foundations upon which the HolyRoman Church is built . . . priceless artifacts and practical knowledge, notto mention powerful leverage that could be used against the Holy See.”“Where are these books now?” My heart was pounding in time with therhythm of the Métro as it came halting to a stop at La Madeleine.“I imagine that most are housedin private collections or in vaults deepwithin the Vatican’s Secret Archives or catacombs, as well as theSmithsonian, Area 51, Wright-Patterson Air Force Base . . . places likethat.”“Area 51?”“Sure, right next to the Ark of the Covenant.” He gave me a look that letme know he was kidding. At least I hoped he was.We emerged from the Madeleine Métro station, my head spinning fromPhil’s tales of the Templars and hidden treasure under the Temple Mount inJerusalem. It was just a short walk to the church. The Roman-lookingexterior immediately surprised me. We headed up the steps and enteredthrough the massive bronze doors that Phil had described, and once again Ifelt something expand within me as if I knew that another mystery awaitedus.Phil stopped me as we stepped inside. “Stand here for a moment and lookaround. Tell me if anything jumps out at you.”“What is it I’m looking for? Any hints at all?”“You’ll know it when you see it,” he answered.As I looked around, my attention was immediately drawn to the mainaltar of the church, which is dominated by a wondrous and massive statueof Mary Magdalene being held aloft and carried to Heaven. The Ascensionof Mary Magdalene is an incredible piece of art, but nothing immediatelyseemed out of place. I looked around more, amazed by the sheer scale andbeauty of the statue and the surrounding layout of the church, but onceagain nothing happened. As I started moving closer to the statue, however,something else drew my attention. I looked to my right, toward the veryrear of the church, and I saw what Phil meant. There was a side altar with avery large statue of three people: Jesus, Mary Magdalene, and another manwho looked like John the Baptist. The scene seemed to be a blessing oreven a marriage, with John the Baptist standing over Jesus and MaryMagdalene, who were kneeling and holding hands.“Ah, you found it,” Phil said.“What is it I found?”“What do you think is happening here?” Phil was pointing at the statue.“Actually, it looks very much like John the Baptist is marrying them. It’shard to mistake the image.”“That’s what seems to be happening, doesn’t it?” Phil had that typicallyironic look that made me think he wasn’t telling me something. “That’s oneof the things that makes this church so unique. Legends of Mary and Jesus’smarriage are very popular here in France, especially in the south. It’s morethan mere speculation at this point that the Magdalene came here after theResurrection and spent her last years in Provence. Mary Magdalene isvenerated in France like no other place, except perhaps in Wales or theDalmatian region of Croatia. There’s certainly a degree of corroborativeevidence that supports the idea that Jesus and Mary were married, and thatsome time after the crucifixion, Mary carried their daughter to France.These are teachings that have been obscured by the church, but that doesn’talter the fact that it has been believed here for nearly 2,000 years.”“So why would the church allow a statue like this to remain?” I asked.“Why wouldn’t they just have it removed?”“I have my ideas. The church is certainly privy to more knowledge thanthey let on. Maybe they’re afraid of the outcry if they removed it, or maybethey like it exactly where it is. All I know is that it’s here, and it speaksvolumes.”“Do you think the statue has anything to do with the reason we’re here?”“You mean energies or entities being held hostage?”“That’s a nice way of putting it,” I remarked. “I would have saidsomething about devils and such.”“I know you would. That’s because you still don’t really know whatwe’re up to. Anyway, to answer your question, I’m not at all sure. I alsodon’t want to get in the way of you sensing things yourself. I’d hate tocomplicate matters with all my opinions. Why don’t we get right to workand look at the next Sacred Name?”We sat down in the back away from the other people. There were far lesspeople there than at the Basilica of the Sacred Heart, but we still couldn’tafford to look too conspicuous. Phil opened his notepad and closed his eyes.“First of all, I want to begin with a prayer that invokes the energy of what’sknown in Jewish mysticism as the Shekinah, which is the feminine aspect ofthe Godhead. Remember, this church is dedicated to one of the greatestwomen adepts in history, so it feels appropriate.”“Tell me more about the Shekinah.”“Well, it originally referred to the Divine Presence, the presence of Godin this world. In Kabbalah, the Shekinah was given what’s known as a‘mythic independence’—in other words, it’s considered to be an aspect ofGod that’s in a state of exile from God, from itself. You see, with the exileof the Jewish people after the destruction of the Second Temple in a.d. 70, ithas been said that the Shekinah was with them, accompanying them in theirexile. At the End of Days, when God’s Holy Sparks—”“God’s Holy Sparks?” I interrupted.“Yes, the children, or ‘ecclesia of Israel.’ When the children of Israelhave been liberated, and that can be taken in a variety of ways, it is believedthat the Messiah will come and the Temple will be restored. When thishappens, God’s bride, the Shekinah, will come out of exile, and the Templewill be rebuilt for her. It’s all about the mystical union. You see, the gooddeeds we do in this world, called mitzvoth, are for the sake of the reunion ofGod and his bride, according to tradition.“When we’ve reconciled our dual natures and reintegrated the male andfemale within—when the Bride is reunited with the Beloved—then we willsee her in her white radiance, and we’ll get to play in fields of holy appletrees, upon whose branches beautiful blue apples grow . . . or so they say.She is the name of the rose, a lily among thorns and the dove of peace. Atthe time of Tikkun, the time of redemption, God will be reunited with hislost bride. In myth and fairy tale, she is the lost princess, the imprisonedprincess, the exiled bride, the lost bride. She is also known as the Queen ofthe Sabbath. She is the beautiful virgin who has no eyes.”“Why is she blind?”“She lost her eyes from weeping in her exile. In this state of cosmic exile,she wears black, with no light of her own, and like the moon she reflectsonly the light of the sun. She is the Virgin of the Torah, upon whom no eyesare directed. It is said the created Torah is the outer garment of theShekinah, the Torah as it was revealed to the world of men.”“That’s really amazing.”“Why is it amazing?”“I can’t believe how easily you remember all that. It flows out of yourmouth like you’re reading it from a book.”“When you’re passionate about something, it’s easy to remember everydetail,” he added. “I’m sure you, of all people, know what I mean. Therehave been times when I’ve heard you speak in seminars or retreats whenyou tap into that flow, and everyone in the room is transported to what I liketo call the ‘Land of Faerie,’ the place that is ‘within and beyond all things,’to borrow a phrase from Joseph Campbell.”“Wasn’t it the poet Kabir who said, ‘Bring the vision of the Beloved intoyour heart’?”“It was. So in honor of all the great romantic poets, all seekers of love,wisdom, and truth, let’s go ahead and say a prayer to her.” Phil bowed hishead and crossed his hands over his heart. I did the same. “Here at L’ÉgliseSainte-Marie-Madeleine, built in memory of Her—the Divine Sophia, theDivine Wisdom in the person of Mary Magdalene—at the time of theRestoration, when the Temple, the Temple in Man, will be restored . . . ourbodies becoming chariots for the Shekinah, we open and offer ourselves inservice. We ask that the indwelling presence of God be reunited with hislost bride who will liberate us from our bondage in the lower worlds. Amen,and so it is.”As we prayed, I felt myself being filled with a strange emotion—doubt. Iwasn’t aware of anything that triggered the filling, but it seemed to begrowing. I decided to simplystay with it and see where it would lead.When Phil finished the prayer, he looked over at me. “Now that we’veprayed to the Divine Sophia, we can begin.” He took a deep breath. “Thename we’re going to use now is Elohim, which is the third word in theHebrew book of Genesis, and its common translation is simply ‘God’—Godin its creative aspect. It’s associated with Hod, the eighth sphere on the Treeof Life, connecting it with wisdom and splendor. It’s important toacknowledge that this name, like all the others, has multiple levels or layersof meaning. For the time being and for our purposes here, though, I’d likefor us to understand Elohim as it corresponds to the ‘penetration of wisdom’and as an element of a geometrical process that brought the world intobeing.”He then closed his notebook and set it down on the pew. “Now we’regoing to chant the name 12 times, and we’ll add the En Sof at the end likewe did before. Are you ready?”“Yes, I am.”“Okay, let’s begin.”I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Then we started: “Elohim, EnSof; Elohim, En Sof; Elohim, En Sof . . .”I counted each time on my hand the way that Phil had shown me. Whenwe finished, we sat in silence for a while until I heard Phil shift in the pew.“Let’s open up and see what happens,” he said. “Go ahead and wanderabout. If you need me, I’ll be here in the back.”I stood up and slowly began walking toward the front of the church. Thesound of a woman singing Vivaldi drifted through the speakers, a recordingthey must have decided added to the sacredness of the experience. Ipreferred silence to the music and decided to focus on the pictures and otherstatues, as I looked for clues or any other sensations that arose. The feelingof doubt had grown stronger since beginning the chant. It was almost toomuch to bear, and I wondered what was causing this sudden internal shift.There was no thought or situation that came to mind that could explain it,and I had no other choice but to consider that it was inspired by whateverenergy, or entity, we had come to visit and to hopefully aid in its release.I was nearly in front of the altar. A rope was looped lazily through holesin the walls to keep tourists away from the tabernacle, so I stood justbeyond looking at the statue of Mary Magdalene being carried to Heaven.On her face was a look of profound ecstasy, as if she wasn’t even aware thatshe was being lifted. As if in contrast to what Mary must have been feeling,I felt as if I was being pushed down, not lifted up. The heaviness in myheart was beginning to spread to the rest of my body. There seemed to be atangible force adding weight to my emotions, but I could neither explainnor directly perceive it. The more I looked at the statue, the morepronounced the feeling became until I wasn’t sure what I would do. Part ofme wanted to run out of the church and perhaps not stop until I was out ofParis—away from Phil and everything he was trying to convince me of. Atthe same time, however, it was the moment in which I was most convincedof the importance of being there. The emotion that was building inside mewasn’t self-created—I was sure of it—but was being required of mesomehow, and no explanation seemed more tangible than the unseen forceswe were seeking.I looked above the altar to a perfectly lit painting depicting a longprocession of saints just above the statue of Mary Magdalene. They alllooked toward the central figure of Jesus with arms outstretched in blessing.Some seemed to be filled with awe and wonder while others stood as ifunaware of their surroundings. I looked from one to the other wonderingwho they were or what they represented. One saint, several people to theleft of Jesus, held a staff in both hands and seemed focused on the heavenlyscene. When my eyes rested on this figure, the heaviness I felt seemed toincrease, and when I looked away from him in either direction, it began todissipate. I tested this several times until I realized that the energy, or thefeeling, was actually radiating from this one figure. Whatever it was Iexperienced, it started there.I walked away from the altar hoping I was wrong. How was it possiblethat a painting could radiate an emotion and it would have an effect onpeople as they gazed at it? When I reached the very rear of the church, thefeeling felt like a drum pounding inside my chest. There seemed to be aband of energy, almost like a giant rubber band, pulling me back to the altar,back to the painting and the saint with his staff. I turned around and walkedas fast as I could without being obvious. When I arrived at the spot where Istood a moment earlier, I almost expected the picture to have changed, forthe staff to have shifted in his hands or for him to be facing the otherdirection. It hadn’t changed, but the feeling when I stared up at it hadn’tchanged either, and I looked around hoping to find Phil standing nearby.When I realized I was alone, I felt an immediate sense of relief. As muchas I wanted Phil to tell me what he thought or what to do, I knew this wassomething I had to discover on my own. I closed my eyes and took a deepbreath, then squinted as I looked again. For the first time, I thought Irecognized something different about this particular saint, as if there was afaint glow around his body. I closed my eyes and looked again. Now it waseven more pronounced, and I also felt something stirring inside me,something different from the emotion I’d been feeling since beginning theprayer . . . more of a voice or thought that seemed to be forming inside mymind. I tried to clear away all other thoughts so I could discern what I feltor heard. Within seconds, words seemed to form, only four, but I wasalmost sure that they were not from my own mind.“Stop what you’re doing.”Was I simply getting to the point where I was imagining demonseverywhere I looked, or were the words actually coming from the man inthe picture? And how could a painting be alive and speak to another personwho happens to pass beneath its gaze? The whole idea seemed ludicrous,yet I couldn’t deny what I was sensing. I decided to answer the words, tosee if I could actually enter into a conversation. Maybe if I could hear more,then I would know what this was and why it was happening.“Stop what you’re doing,” the man in the painting seemed to say again.“I’m not sure what you mean,” I answered. “What do you want me tostop?”“Stop what you’re doing.”“Please speak to me . . . tell me more. Why are you here?”There was a long pause, and for a moment I thought the communicationhad stopped. Then more words came. “Let me be. Why are you doing this?Go away. Leave me alone!”When he said those words, the doubt I felt turned to anger. It filled melike fire, and I wanted to explode. Although I knew the feeling wasn’t myown, it felt like it came from the very core of my being, and I used all mystrength to push it away. The faint glow around the picture was now a brightpink, and I was forced to sit down in a chair that stood against the wall. As Idid, I felt the sensation lessen but only enough for me to compose mythoughts and speak again. “Please,” I responded. “I’m not here to hurt you.I’m here to help.”“I do not need your help.”“I came here to pray.”“You came to displace me.”“I mean you no harm. I came to invoke an aspect of the Godforce withinme, in the name of Elohim. I’m here to bless you . . . not to curse you.”All the emotions seemed to drain from my body as I spoke. I wasengulfed by a profound silence, and it was a welcomed relief. I stood upagain and walked over to the rope and then looked directly up at the man inthe painting. “I don’t know how long you’ve been here,” I said, almostaloud, “but you don’t have to stay. We’ve brought the name here to helprelease you from your bondage and guide you home.”No answer. I continued, “I’m sure you don’t want to stay here forever.Whoever you are and wherever you belong,I’m sure you’ll be muchhappier.”No answer. “Please, you must understand that I am only here to be ofservice. I want you to be free so you can be happy again.”The voice suddenly returned. “Free?” he added, in a low, almostreverential, tone.What felt like a gentle wind seemed to brush against my face, and Istepped back from it in amazement. The feelings of doubt and anger weregone, and I knew I was alone. I turned around and looked toward the backof the church. That was when I saw Phil. He was standing with his arms athis side, gesturing with a tilt of his head toward the spot where I’d felt thepresence. His eyes were closed, and I wondered how long he had beenstanding there. When I felt I was able, I began walking toward him.“Did you feel any of that?” I asked.“I felt all of it, although I’m not exactly sure what happened.”That was when I looked down and saw where he was standing. There wasa very large Templar cross on the floor, with Phil in the very center. “ATemplar cross,” I remarked. “That has some significance to what justhappened, doesn’t it?”“I think it might be better if we left now,” he said. “Whatever it was wecame to do, it’s over now. We can discuss everything as we walk.”As we stepped out of the church, I realized that the energy and emotion Ifelt had completely vanished. The cool wet air felt amazing against myface, and I pulled the collar of my coat around my neck to avoid the chill.We walked down the stone steps until we were once again on the sidewalk,and then we crossed the street and turned left. I explained what I’dexperienced with the painting and the energy I felt. “Is it possible that somekind of, how do you call it, interdimensional entity, could attach itself to apainting like that . . . then react when it felt us there?”“I love it when you say words like interdimensional entity,” Philcommented, smiling. “But, seriously, I think you already know the answerto that question. It’s possible because it just happened to you, didn’t it?Imagine that it was a painting of you. Imagine that somehow you’ve beendrawn there and regardless of the reason, you believe that you can’t leave.You’re imprisoned. You look around trying to find something you canidentify with, something that feels familiar. Then you notice a painting thateither reminds you of yourself or perhaps you want or need to insinuateyourself into the scene portrayed in it for whatever reason. In this regard,you literally inhabit the painting. Does that make sense? Think of thepainting again and the emotion you felt when you looked at it. What didyou say it was?”“It was doubt, then a heaviness in my heart and the feeling that I wasweighed down.”Phil put a hand on my shoulder. I noticed we were walking down a streetcalled Saint Honoré. Just at that moment, a balloon freed itself from thehand of a small child walking between his parents. As they passed us theboy stared at me, seemingly oblivious to the fact that his balloon wasascending over the streets and boulevards of Paris. It was a strange momentgiven the subject we were discussing, and I wondered if there was somekind of correlation.“So whoever or whatever it was, it identified itself so completely with thefigure in the painting that it actually thought it was the image?” I asked.“That’s a bit like what we all do—identify with an image or a projection ofourselves rather than the truth. You can call it the ego or whatever, but inthe end, it’s the exact same thing.”“I think you’re beginning to understand, Jimmy. One of the mostbeautiful of the Gnostic Gospels is the ‘Hymn of the Pearl.’ It talks aboutthe merging or the union of the image and the angel—that the Prince ofPeace sees in the Angel of Light his true reflection, that there’s an image ofourselves preserved for us in the higher Heavens. It’s written that name andimage become one, see? When we can elevate and exalt our thoughts tohaving no thought devoid of a consciousness of ourselves as DivineCreations, then we’ll be able to reclaim the ‘garment of light’ we lost at thetime of the Fall. The names we’re using are surely exalted thoughts. Ibelieve you may have given this fallen angel an image of itself it hasn’tseen for a very long time.”I thought of the boy and his balloon. Was it possible that some form ofsentient intelligence or confused spirit was now free and soaring over thestreets of Paris toward Heaven? The thought brought me a feeling of solace.Then I turned back to Phil, saying, “That’s amazing, but how did it makeme feel those emotions—the doubt and the anger?”“We feel what we feel, Jimmy. You helped me learn that lesson . . . that inthe end, we are responsible only to ourselves for what we feel and what wecreate.”As he said those words, combined with the light rain that was falling, Ifelt a sense of clarity and purpose that I couldn’t quite grasp . . . but it feltwonderful.“I think that it was its only defense.” Phil continued, “A skill masteredover hundreds and hundreds of years. Who knows how may others have hada similar experience but didn’t have the knowledge base to understand it.They probably felt the same things you felt. Maybe it stimulated thememory of some troubling event in their life or in a past life. When they feltthose same feelings, it made them leave. The difference here is that wedidn’t leave. We decided to stay and help.”“One last question,” I added. “When I saw you standing on the Templarcross, it seemed like you were helping me somehow.”“I was,” he replied. “I saw you there and realized you were in some kindof distress. It was pretty obvious. I noticed the cross on the floor and knewthat by standing on it and using a few choice words, I could project someenergy to you. Do you remember what I said about these symbols being likebatteries that keep things charged? As far as I can tell, it helped you getover the hump. That’s when you seemed to regain your strength.”“That’s two entities in so many churches. It makes me wonder whatwe’re in store for next.”“Well, you won’t have to wonder long,” he said as he stopped in thesidewalk. “We’re on our way to the next location.”CHAPTER 8The Nun and the IconYahThe Church of Our Lady of the Assumption . . . we would have walked byit if Phil hadn’t abruptly stopped on the sidewalk. We turned to the right andwalked up several stairs until we were inside. It was small compared to thefirst two places we visited, but as with most churches in Europe, it was justas much a marvel. We stood in the back for a moment and looked around.The altar was dominated by a painting of the Blessed Mother praying, orlistening, to an angel that hovered slightly above her. To the left of the altarhung an ancient-looking icon of Mother Mary wearing a crown of 12 starsand standing on a crescent moon, her hands folded over her chest. Goldleaves covered most areas, giving the church a sacred glow, and the smell ofincense filled the air.“What do you know about this church?” I whispered to Phil.“To be honest, this wasn’t the one I had originally intended for us to goto. I just stopped here for directions or maybe for direction, as it turns out.We’ll make it to Saint-Roch sooner or later, but now that we’re here, I’mfeeling a sensation I can’t deny. I think we’re meant to be here . . . as if wedon’t have a choice.”“I thought you had a total of ten locations you planned for us to visit.Won’t this throw us off by one if we stay?”“Actually, I figured something like this into the equation. I sensed thatSpirit might take us off the grid, so to speak, so I factored this eventualityin.” Then he paused. “I can already tell why.”“What do you mean?”“I’m not going to say anything for now. I’d like to see if you can notice iton your own. All I’ll say is there’s something here that is quiteextraordinary given the raison d’être for this tour, as it were. Rememberthat we’re here to draw upon the grace and power found within themanynames of God to help release blocked energies within ourselves that will inturn help release certain forms of sentient consciousness that may beimprisoned within these sacred places. That being said, there’s somethingimportant that you should be able to pick out rather easily.”I looked around again. “Really . . . I don’t see anything that strikes me asstrange.”“Look again.”I carefully gazed around the church, trying to pick out any detail thatseemed out of place or that could be connected with our mission. I didn’tsee anything except exquisite pieces of art and then . . . “Wait! Above thealtar, just over the painting of Mary and the angel—there’s a goldenpyramid with rays shooting out from it. Aren’t those Hebrew letters insidethe pyramid? Isn’t that the Tetragrammaton, the name we used at SacredHeart?”“Very good!” Phil affirmed. “The Highest Name of God in this church,right above the altar—that can’t be a coincidence.”“But what does it mean? If the name is enthroned right here on the altar,then how could the energy get trapped?”“There are many possibilities. Remember, I told you that many of thesechurches were built with the added purpose of restraining or containingcertain energies that were never meant to wander the earth until such timeas various celestial alignments occurred. Then they could be guided back towhere they belong. Another reason may be that the force of the name itselfcould have pulled something in. We have to be open to all of thepossibilities. Let’s sit down and do our chant and see what we discover.”When we first entered the church, there was a lone woman in her late 20ssitting in the front pew. She seemed to be deep in prayer, periodicallylooking up at the painting of Mary and the angel, and then raising her headslightly to settle her gaze on the Tetragrammaton . . . or so it seemed. Asimpatient as I was to begin, there was something about this girl in the act ofprayer that gave me pause. By the time she finished, stood up, crossedherself, and slowly walked out, a few other people had filed in. Not even aminute passed before they left as well, and we were alone.“What is the name we’ll be using?” I inquired.“The Sacred Name we’ll be chanting here is Yah. It’s generally thoughtthat this word is a shortened form of YHWH, the four-lettered name ofGod. Moses Maimonides considered it, along with Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh, tobe the true explanation of the Shem ha-Meforesh, the Tetragrammaton. Hedefined it as ‘everlasting life’ or alternatively, ‘He or She Is.’ This name ofGod occurs about 50 times in the Tanakh.”“The Tanakh?”“The Bible of Judaism. The name Yah is also found in ‘hallelu-yah,’meaning ‘praise the Lord.’”“The fact that it’s short for YHWH should be significant, don’t youthink?”“Yah man, it just might be,” Phil quipped in a Jamaican accent. “Theother thing to remember is that the first letter of the Tetragrammaton is theYud, and it’s connected with Yah, through the sphere of Chokmah on theTree of Life. It’s funny how things keep coming back to your comma.”“And in this depiction, it’s above the other letters.”“Yes, as you said, it’s the letter of transcendence. The Talmud states thatGod used the letter Heh to create the world but will use the Yud to createthe world to come. It’s all coming together so perfectly. Let’s go ahead andchant the name 12 times and see what happens.”We both took a deep breath. I held out my left hand and Phil his right inorder to begin counting. “Remember to pay close attention while we’rechanting,” Phil said. “There may be powerful forces released here thatmanifest in some fashion. Just be aware of everything—your feelings, eventhe temperature in the room. Nothing is insignificant.” We took anotherdeep breath, and he continued. “It’s nice to be the only ones here. Let’sbegin with a prayer: We’ll be using the Holy Name Yah in this Temple ofDivine Science. The name is one of the Shemot ha-Elohim, the pillar namesof God, and corresponds to the sphere of Chokmah on the Tree of Life. Thesphere of Chokmah, which corresponds to wisdom, is the sphere throughwhich the light of the En Sof illuminates the ‘world of emanation.’ The lightthat emerges through the sphere is just as pure as the light that entered it,making this the actual Light of Divinity.”I leaned in closer to Phil. “That all sounded great, but do you realize thatI didn’t understand a single word?”“Ne vous inquiétez pas, mon ami,” he replied coyly. “You don’t have tounderstand the words if you can hear the music they make.” He smiled andput down the notebook he’d been reading from. He glanced over to the highaltar. I could just make out the reflection of the Tetragrammaton with itsgolden rays in Phil’s eyes before he closed them. “Let’s repeat the name 12times.”And we began: “Yah, En Sof; Yah, En Sof; Yah, En Sof . . .”As before, the chant seemed to delve deep to the core of my being. Philalways stressed that we weren’t there to release the energy of spirits thatwere somehow outside or separate from us, but that we were there to let theSacred Names release energy blocked in our own hearts. He also said thatusing the names would help open gates within us, giving us access to vaststorehouses of knowledge, as well as allowing grace to come into andthrough us into the world. I remembered him saying something about spaceand time overlapping or that many different dimensions were blending—information that was usually over my head . . . over most people’s heads, Iimagined.I’m not sure what made this come to my mind at that particular moment,but I couldn’t seem to shake it. According to Phil, the gates that would openin us when we chanted the various names would correspond to the portalsor stargates through which certain entities could pass through to find theirway home and continue the reeducation of their souls. Once released, then aresonant vibration would help the same energy release everything around it.That, as I understood it, was the reason why we were there.Each of the places Phil chose—or that chose him . . . I really wasn’t surewhich at this point—seemed to host some form of trapped consciousness, aspirit or entity, a light or dark angel. Perhaps it was even a demon that hadeither been drawn there intentionally or one that, as Phil might say, gotcaught in the cross fire. Once we embodied each of the names, these entitieswould somehow present themselves to us and then have the opportunity tobe released. I was skeptical at first, but after two such experiences, mydoubts were quickly fading.My eyes were closed as we finished the chant. I opened them to see thatPhil had already walked away from the pew, and I thought it was strangethat I didn’t hear him leave. Had I gone that deep? And how much time hadpassed? Phil was on the far side of the church looking at the icon of Mary tothe left of the main altar. I stood up and felt my knees wobble a bit before Ifound my balance. Then I stepped out and noticed myself instinctivelywalking toward the altar, to the Tetragrammaton.Golden rays of light radiated outward from the pyramid with the HolyName. I noticed the Yud, the first letter that began on the right side of theword and was suspended above the rest. I listened within to see if there wasanything I could discern or hear. Nothing came to me. My instinct told methat I was on the right track, although I still hadn’t been able to identifyanything in particular.I looked at the Tetragrammaton again. There was something significantabout it—I was sure—but there didn’t seem to be anything unusual to leadme in one direction or the other. I thought about the Yud and everything itrepresents. It’s the “hand of God” and symbolizes Divine Inspirationcoming into form. I thought that the bottom of the letter, the tail, might bepointing in a particular direction. I’m not sure what made me think this, butit entered my mind as if it came from somewhere outside ofmyconsciousness. I tried to follow the trail to see what it pointed to. It shotaway from the center of the altar toward the left, apparently to the floor justbetween the altar and the icon of Mary. I decided to stand on that spot andsee if I felt anything unusual. The air seemed to be colder in a very smallarea just in front of the icon. I stepped away, then stepped back. Yes, it wasdefinitely colder there, but what that meant, I still wasn’t sure.I moved to the pew directly across from the cold spot. Phil had movedaway from the icon and was moving from one side of the church to theother, so I decided not to ask for his help. Just as before, I felt that this wassomething I’d have to figure out on my own, as much as I would have lovedan ally. I sat staring at the spot hoping something would happen. At leasttwo minutes went by, and I was almost ready to search for another plan.That’s when I felt something move—not so much from the outside butfrom within me. It felt as if my stomach jerked forward, but it wasaccompanied by a sensation of profound devotion. My heart filled withintense joy and an unbelievable sense of love. I stood up and walked over tothe spot I’d found. It was still cold, but the wonderful sensation seemed toincrease as I stood there. I almost didn’t want to leave, but I then felt that Iwas intruding on something or someone, although I had no idea what thatmeant. I went back to the pew and knelt down. I closed my eyes and beganto pray, which seemed like the only appropriate measure given the supremesensation I was still experiencing. My heart was expanding and filling withlight. I tried to focus on the feeling and for a moment the urgency ofdiscovering the cause vanished. All I wanted to do was bask in the beautyof the sensation, and to feel such an intimate, holy connection with God.Then I felt an image forming in my mind. At first it seemed like a mist ora ghostly figure, but within seconds, it gained solid form and I could makeout the figure of a nun kneeling on the cold stone floor in front of the icon.She wore an ancient habit, the kind I often saw in old paintings, whichhadn’t been worn by most orders for at least a hundred years. Her back wasturned to me in the vision, so I couldn’t see her face, but the feeling of lovecontinued to increase.Then a new thought came to me. If I was actually perceiving the spirit ofa nun who was trapped there, maybe I should leave her alone. This was notat all like the other two situations, where the spirits were antagonistic andgave me an uncomfortable feeling. Who was this nun hurting? If anything,she was lost in a rapturous experience that most people would give anythingto achieve. She was in Heaven, not hell, and I considered whether it wouldbe better to let her be.But she wasn’t in Heaven, and I knew it. For whatever reason, she wascaught between Heaven and Earth and probably didn’t realize that she wasthere at all. She thought she was in the convent praying and that herdevotion had brought her to the highest and most coveted of spiritualexperiences—perfect union. But the fact of the matter was that she wastrapped in the church, and she wouldn’t be free until she was released. Thenher meditation would be complete, and she would be able to worship Godface-to-face, not from this unbearable distance. Once again, I thought aboutcalling Phil, but the moment was so tender and sublime I decided to holdthe energy on my own.But what was I meant to do? The thought of chanting the name againentered my mind. At the very least, it could give me some kind ofinspiration—something that might lead me to being of some help or benefit.I closed my eyes again and began repeating the Holy Name: “Yah, En Sof;Yah, En Sof; Yah, En Sof . . .”In my vision, the nun seemed to hear my words and slowly turned herhead in my direction, searching for the source of the chant. Her skin was aswhite as snow, and she didn’t seem to be more than 30 years old. She wasbeautiful, and I almost lost my concentration looking at her. I decided toadd a message to the chant since this seemed to be the only way she couldhear my voice. At the same time, I felt as if I were enmeshed in some kindof web or net of light. I’m not sure how I did this, but I encoded anintention onto the words, which was simply, The Mother is calling youhome. The Mother is calling you home. . . .Her eyes twitched, and I wondered if she’d heard me. A look ofconfusion seemed to fill her face, and she looked down at her hands as ifshe were waking from a dream. Then she gazed at the icon again, and Icould feel her confusion vanish. I suddenly sensed that she was floatingtoward the icon of Mary. Her hands were now open wide as if she wereabout to embrace the Mother. Then she disappeared, and I realized I wasalone.I opened my eyes again and looked around. Phil was still on the otherside of the church, but he was now looking in my direction. We were aloneagain, especially now that the ecstatic nun had passed beyond my ability toperceive her.“Is everything okay?” he asked.I took a deep breath. “Yes, everything is great . . . even more than I cansay.”CHAPTER 9Saint-Roch andthe Cross PattéeShaddai el ChaiWe left the church but paused on the steps. “Something happened, didn’tit?” Phil inquired.I told him everything I experienced, and he listened intently. I talkedabout following the Yud, feeling that it would lead me in the right direction.Then I noticed the cold spot in front of the icon, ultimately sensing thepresence of the beautiful nun. Finally, I explained how chanting the nameYah seemed to awaken her, as if she had fallen into a deep prayerful trance.Once awakened, she was able to see the icon as a portal—her gate or pathto freedom. She then vanished, merging with the icon she so adored.Phil smiled. “That’s really amazing. An interesting detour, as it were, if infact it was a detour. Very different from the other two, wouldn’t you agree?”“Thankfully,” I answered. “After the ghost in the painting, I was readyfor the nun.” We turned onto St. Honoré and began to walk. Phil’s pace wasbrisk. I could see he was in a hurry to get to our next destination. “Whereare we off to now?” I asked, doing my best to keep up.“We’re going to a church dedicated to a 13th-century saint named SaintRoch. It’s just up the street here on the left.”“I’ve never heard of him.”“Very interesting person, as you’ll see. From the moment he was born, hewas a miracle. His mother was unable to conceive, so when her son cameinto the world, everyone thought it was an act of God. This was supportedby the fact that he had a birthmark on his chest, a small red cross that grewas he grew. He was known for it. His family was very affluent inMontpellier, and both his parents died when he was 20. He was meant to begovernor of the area and to wield great influence over the region, but heinstead decided to follow the example of St. Francis of Assisi. He gaveeverything to the poor and went to Rome. When he arrived, the city was inthe midst of a great plague, and Roch became known as a healer. Wheneverhe would make the sign of the cross on individuals, they would live. A littlelater, he became ill and was expelled from the city. The only way hesurvived was by training a local dog to bring him bread to a little hut he’dbuilt. Fascinating story, don’t you think?”“Does it have some relevance to what we’re doing here?”“That’s what we’re here to find out. I’m intrigued by the cross on hisbody—a red cross, no less, like the Templars—and also how he would healpeople. So far, all the places we’ve visited today had something in common:there was significant Templar influence in the architecture or in concretesymbols, such as the Templar cross, the cross pattée. In the case of theChurch of the Assumption, we were guided by the four-lettered name ofGod, the Tetragrammaton. There seems to be a theme developing here that’sinformingour Parisian adventure, wouldn’t you agree? I suggest wecontinue to pay very close attention to any and all signs and synchronies,letting them continue to guide us.”“Tell me more about the significance of the Templar cross.”“Well, where did we leave off? I don’t know if you know this—actually, Idon’t know if many people know this—but the cross first used by theTemplars was called the Cross of Lorraine. In 1146, at the behest of our oldfriend St. Bernard of Clairvaux, Pope Eugenius III substituted the nowiconic red cross that we’re familiar with in place of the Cross of Lorraine.This was done purportedly as a symbol of martyrdom, according to the13th-century bishop of Acre, Jacques de Vitry. I think that was his name.Anyway, the red color of the cross may represent the blood of Christ.”“Or maybe his bloodline.” I added, as if the thought appeared in my mindwithout my being consciously aware of its origin.“That may very well be, Jimmy. The color red is often associated withMary Magdalene. There are, however, more esoteric associations with theTemplar cross. Would you like to hear the one that has the most relevance interms of what we’re doing here?”“I’m all ears.” As the words left my mouth, the sky opened up, andinstead of the light misty drizzle that had been falling since we began ourquest, it started to rain harder.“The great storm!” he shouted, covering the backpack that contained hisnotepad. “Yahweh must have been listening in and wants us to continueinside.” We ran for cover toward the entrance to the Church of Saint-Roch.We stepped into the massive church, the largest from the Baroque period.According to Phil, the foundation was built in 1653 and was one of the mostimportant churches in Paris. It was awe inspiring, and some of the mostmagnificent paintings and sculptures I had ever seen filled each corner andwall. The ceiling in particular was a masterpiece. The domed roof portrayedbiblical scenes, including Jesus with his hand outstretched in blessing. Itwas difficult to imagine that such a place could also host energies thatremained unseen by human eyes.“It’s crucial to understand,” Phil stated, “and I think you already know orat least suspect that these churches and cathedrals are built on the sites ofearlier churches, temples, or structures that performed much the samefunctions—”“Like holding these energies?” I interrupted.“Yes, I would agree. Many of these energies have been around a longtime, long before we appeared on the scene. I’m talking a looong time.” Heextended the word to add emphasis.“How do you suggest we begin?”“If you look around, you’ll see some of the most amazing art andarchitecture. The Main Lady Chapel houses a collection of religious art thatis virtually unparalleled in all of Paris. Saint-Roch was designed by thesame architect who designed the Louvre, and it contains something veryspecial, which you’ll discover in due time.” He motioned for me to followhim to a pew in the back. “The name we’re going to use here is Shaddai elChai or El Shaddai. Among its many meanings are the ‘Lord GodAlmighty,’ ‘Almighty God Lives Forever,’ ‘Almighty Living Creature ofGod,’ and ‘God Almighty Who Is Sufficient.’ In Exodus 6:3, Yahweh isidentified with El Shaddai, as he was known to the Patriarchs. Shaddaiitself is one of ten Divine Names quoted in the rabbinic legend of theangelic hierarchies. It’s the Divine Name for the Sphere of Yesod on theTree of Life. Its name can be used for protection and, perhaps moreimportant, it can be used to summon jinni.”“You mean jinni as in genie?” I was beginning to feel yet another piecefall into place.“Absolutely. Do you think that all the genies loosened upon this worldsince the beginning of time are all bottled up safe and sound? Guess again.Think about it . . . it’s very interesting considering what we’re up to, don’tyou think?”Unlike our last experience, Saint-Roch had many visitors—most, itseemed, were just trying to get out of the rain. I wondered if we’d be able tokeep a low profile. We sat down, Phil unzipped his pack, and then heopened up his notebook. “I can only hope that our experience with thebeautiful nun marks a definite turn for us,” I remarked.“I wouldn’t get too comfortable in that idea,” Phil answered, his voicetaking on a decidedly ominous tone. “I’m already getting the feeling thatthis is going to be different.”His words shot through me like poisonous darts. I was hoping we wouldconfront more angels than demons in our quest, but when I closed my eyesand took a deep breath—allowing myself to feel deep into the cavernouschurch where we sat—I realized that I also sensed it. There seemed to be aconfused energy enveloping the entire area. And just like the previousexperiences, it was beginning to work its way into my emotional body. Itook a deep breath and opened my eyes again, and then I noticed that Philwas sitting with his head bowed.“Are you okay?”“Yes, I’ll be fine. I’m just getting ready.”“Getting ready for what?” He didn’t answer me, which made me evenmore nervous. Whatever was about to happen, it was something we wouldneed all our energy for.“As I mentioned,” Phil said as he sat up, “the name we’re going to callupon is Shaddai el Chai. El Shaddai is also known as the ‘God of theMountain.’ Please understand that when we call upon these Divineexpressions, we’re tapping into archetypal, primeval forces that wereworshipped long before the creation of the world, not to mention ha-Kabbalah. This is not the mere evoking of lesser Gods, as many wouldbelieve. Those who think this are as guilty as those who see only the outergarment of all the works of higher calling. These names represent nothingless than the elements of creation. We know that we’re here to do goodwork, and that there are many powerful allies on our side. After a shortprayer of protection, we’ll repeat the name 12 times, ending each with EnSof.”Phil said the prayer and then bowed his head. We repeated the chanttogether: “Shaddai el Chai, En Sof; Shaddai el Chai, En Sof . . .”Our lowered voices echoed off the stone walls just to our right, and Icould feel myself becoming more confused as we chanted. I could neitherexplain nor truly identify this energy, and when I looked over at Phil, heseemed to be having a similar experience. His eyes were closed, and hismouth was tight as he recited the words. I wondered if we had simply talkedourselves into the feelings of anxiety and foreboding, but the longer itpersisted, the more I realized we weren’t making it up. Something washappening, but it was still unclear what it was.When we finished, Phil and I sat still for a moment, contemplating whatour next move was. He was the first one to stir. “So let’s walk around andsee what happens.”“Just don’t wander too far away,” I replied as I stood up. “I want you tobe near me if anything goes wrong.”“You don’t have to worry. Nothing too far out of the ordinary will happenhere.”His words didn’t seem to match the look in his eyes. I knew he was asconcerned as I was, although I didn’t know why. The feeling of confusionhad now increased to the point that I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t knowif I should walk toward the altar or stay in the rear of the church. I lookedback to the ceiling and hoped to find some inspiration. The saints andapostles there were silent. I finally decided not to think at all but to followmy instincts. It said to go to the altar, and so I did.I passed many side altars on the way to the front, and my steps felt slowand uncommitted. When I finally arrived, I stood looking at the tabernacle,wondering if the source of the energy I was feeling emanated from there. Isomehow knew that it wasn’t. I felt drawn to the rear, just behind the mainaltar. I began walking and noticed that my steps had a stronger purpose thanbefore. The first thing I noticed was a replica of the Ark of the Covenant,the legendary casing thatAnd since I didn’t comprehend it, I disregarded any importance itmight have held. It’s clear from the story, however, that the name containedgreat significance. The miracles that Moses produced, ultimately leading tothe release of the Israelites, came about through his harnessing the power ofGod’s name and effectively directing that power. I figured there wassomething I was missing—the knowledge that would allow me to finallycomprehend one of the greatest mysteries in the history of the world. Butwhat was it?I was in Israel when the tumblers fell into place. While visiting the DeadSea, I had an experience that resulted in my writing The Art of SpiritualPeacemaking, a large part of which involved Moses’s conversation withGod at the burning bush. I was meditating on the name I AM THAT I AMwhen suddenly it seemed to change. It would be more accurate to say that Ichanged, or that my perspective shifted gears, and something new (or veryold) fell instantly into place—a comma.As I watched the name of God in my mind, I saw a comma fall like acomet, landing right after the word that. The single sentence was now intwo parts: I AM THAT, I AM. In the same instant, I also understood amystery that had eluded me until then—the meaning of the name. Thiswasn’t the indecipherable equation I thought it was, but rather a love letterfrom God to humanity with the secret for manifesting everything we desire.And that was only the first layer. Behind it there were other mysteries,deeper teachings that if understood would lead humankind into the directexperience of the Divine. This simple comma had unlocked the mysterybehind the greatest gift God had ever given the world: the actual formulafor creating miracles.The words of The Moses Code flew out of me as if it had already beenwritten. In some ways it was hard to believe that no one had realized thisbefore I did. It seemed so simple, and yet every time I put it into practice,miracles followed. The subtitle I chose, “The Most Powerful ManifestationTool in the History of the World,” was a big statement, but the more Iworked with the Code, the more I believed it was true.The phrase I AM THAT can be found in many religions and esoterictraditions. It’s a statement of sacred union, of seeing the Oneness withinsomething that seems to be isolated and alone. This is what God was sayingto Moses when he asked him to go to the Pharaoh: I am that freedom. Andsince we cannot be separated from our Divine Source, we are that freedom,too. It isn’t something we want or hope to someday achieve. God is saying,You are that already.It was the same power that Jesus harnessed throughout his three-yearministry. He said, “Before Abraham was, I AM.” And because uttering thename of God was considered to be the highest blasphemy by the orthodoxy,the next line in the gospel says that people picked up rocks to stone him,such was the gravity of the offense. I could feel the same power as I satdown to write the book, and just as with Moses and Jesus, miracles beganfilling my life.Then came the movie. The book was already written, and the rights hadbeen sold to Hay House. Around the same time, The Secret was releasedand began spreading its wings across the entire planet. Millions of peoplewere suddenly turned on to the Law of Attraction, and the illusion wascreated that it had been hidden away by powerful forces. It may not havebeen true, but it certainly sparked massive devotion. Before long, TheSecret was the highest-grossing spiritual film of all time, and it seemed thathumanity had finally learned how to manifest a new world.But it wasn’t meant to be. Unfortunately, most of the information in TheSecret was focused on using spiritual laws to get more things, such as cars,houses, and money. Very little energy went into balancing those desireswith the wisdom of the soul, and so people were soon disenfranchised withthe message and began throwing the baby out with the bathwater. The focusof The Moses Code was less about “getting”; instead, its focus was ongiving everything. It dealt with what I like to call soul manifestation,creating from the longing of the soul rather than the ego. It was suggestedthat I take matters into my own hands and produce a movie that would pickup where The Secret left off. In the spring of 2007, I began production onThe Moses Code movie, and the comma once again came into focus.A year later, I was in Scottsdale for the premiere of the finished film.Some of the best-known spiritual teachers in the world agreed to be part ofthe project, and by the time we arrived in Arizona for the screening, theenergy had grown to a fevered pitch. Everyone was waiting to see if thefilm would live up to the hype, and I was no different.It was the first time seeing the film with an audience, hearing the laughsand watching all the pieces fall into place . . . hopefully. It couldn’t havegone any better, though, and when the final credits began to roll, the entirecrowd was on its feet, greeting us with wild applause.After a moment, Liz and her assistants set microphones and chairs on thestage so I could answer questions and listen to remarks. This is always amoment I both crave and fear. It’s a great gift to hear from an audience,especially when they liked the film. But on the other hand, if they didn’tlike it, then it would be a very different experience. In every crowd, there’salso at least one naysayer who demands to be heard, and if the person’spoint is well presented and on the mark, the view of an entire crowd can beturned in a minute. As I sat down in the chair, I scanned the audience forany potential threats. For the most part, everyone I saw seemed happy andcontent, including the young woman in the front row who was determinedto go first. I acknowledged her and asked if she had a question. It started offnice enough.“First of all,” she said, as she stood tall so everyone in the room could seeher, “I want to commend you for a well-made film. I really feel that it willbe successful and touch millions of people. But there’s something else Iwant to mention.”She tipped her hand, and I knew she was heading off in a new direction.The fact that she was the very first person to speak wasn’t a good sign. Shewould set the tone for the entire evening, and if she said somethingnegative, it would be up to me to turn it around quickly . . . or else. A knotwas beginning to form in my stomach as she continued.“I’m Jewish, and I’m also a student of Kabbalah, the esoteric teachings ofJudaism,” she said. “And I have to say that I was deeply offended that youreduced God to a comma. For me, that was an outrage and a profoundblow.”I could tell from her energy that she wasn’t going to let this endgracefully, and I realized that I had to save things as quickly as possible. If Ididn’t find a way to make things right with her, then we were going to be infor a very long evening.“I want to say that it wasn’t our intention to reduce God to a comma,” Isaid, interrupting her. “The comma was used as a device to unlock thedeeper meaning in the name of God. If it came across in any other way, thenI want you to know that it wasn’t intended.”“You’re not Jewish,” she replied, not slowing down, “so I don’t expectyou to understand what I’m about to explain. Anyone who is Jewish knowsthat the comma looks very similar to the Yud, the smallest yet mostimportant letter in the Hebrew alphabet. The Yud is the hand of Godrepresenting Divine energy flowing from Heaven to Earth. I doubt youknew this, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’ve stepped on one of theholiest truths in the Universe. It reminds me of Jesus when he said, ‘Forgivethem Lord, for they know not what they do.’”I tried to interject, to say anything that would turn things back in myfavor, but she wouldn’t allow it. Even when members of the audience askedher to stop, it only added fuel to the fire.“What would you have me do to correctonce held the Ten Commandments. Phil wasalready standing there, so I walked over to him.“That’s pretty amazing,” I commented.“The Ark of the Covenant, or the Ark of the Testimony, which is a moreaccurate description. A pretty good replica, if memory serves. Why do youthink it’s here?”“Me? I’m not sure, but the energy I’ve been feeling seems to be comingfrom somewhere in this area, maybe this very spot.”“What do you know about the Ark?” Phil asked. Smiling, he continued,“Aside from the Indiana Jones version, which, to be honest, wasn’t too faroff the mark.” He seemed to be trying to relieve some of the anxiety of themoment—trying to be serious and funny at the same time, but it wasn’tworking as well as it had on previous occasions. He sensed this, and Idecided to break through the tension on my own.“The Ark was meant to hold the tablets Moses brought down from MountSinai,” I responded. “It’s also said to have held Aaron’s staff, as well asmanna, the food God sent to the Israelites when they were lost in the desert.God communicated with Moses from between the two cherubim, the angelsyou see there at the top. There were, in fact, two different arks: thetemporary one made by Moses and a later more ornate version made byBezalel. Wherever it went, it produced miracles, eventually becoming oneof the most mysterious and sought after objects in history.”“Very good. Although there’s a lot more to the Ark than meets the eye. Itheld far more than what we’ve been taught.”“Isn’t it unusual to find a replica of the Ark in a Catholic church? Maybesomething is hidden inside.”“Well, unless we develop x-ray vision or pry the lid off, we’re not aboutto find out.”“I have the feeling that whatever is being held here isn’t physical, butsomething different,” I added, groping for a plausible answer.“What makes you think that?”“It’s just a feeling I have, to be honest. I’m learning to trust that more aswe move from place to place. I have the feeling that there are formulas oreven codes here that, as you say, have energetically imprisoned a force ofenergy we don’t necessarily want to deal with. That’s the feeling I’mgetting.”“Look straight up,” Phil said, pointing to the ceiling.I did as he asked and saw what he was pointing at: a single Templar crosswas painted on the ceiling directly above the Ark. Lightning boltssurrounded the cross, giving it a strange, almost occult power.“What do you think it means?” I asked.“I’m not entirely sure, although I have my suspicions. There’s somethinghappening here that I don’t fully understand. I’ve never felt anything like itbefore, although it’s reminding me of something. It’s a feeling I just can’tshake.”That sounded familiar to me. “I’m experiencing the same thing. I keepfeeling confusion . . . and pain. I’m also noticing something that I can’tquite identify.”“Betrayal, maybe?”“Yes, betrayal! I’m feeling betrayed. How did you know? Do you think ithas something to do with the Ark?”“Oh, I’m sure it’s centered right here, in and around the Ark. It didn’tstart until we began chanting the name, so maybe whatever it is that we’refeeling, we definitely had a hand in teasing it out. I suggest that we chantthe name El 12 times, adding some special words each time—that is, if Ican remember them all.”“I have to tell you the truth. This is making me a little nervous,” Iconfessed. “I just hope it doesn’t get worse.”“I think I have a handle on what it is we’re dealing with here. What willhappen is anybody’s guess, but that’s why we’re here.”“Somehow that doesn’t fill me with much confidence,” I added in a lowvoice.We stood in front of the Ark and closed our eyes. Phil continued, “I’mgetting that we should continue chanting—not just the one name I chose forthis church, but many. There’s a power in this spot that cannot be releasedwithout harnessing more energy and strength than before. I’m going tochant many names, and you can simply respond after me. Understand?”“Yes, I do.”“Okay, Jimmy. Repeat after me: El Echad, The One God.”“El Echad, The One God.”“El Emet, The God of Truth.”“El Emet, The God of Truth.”Phil continued chanting as I carefully recited the words back to him: “ElShaddai, All Sufficient God; El Elyon, Most High God; El Gibbor, MightyGod; El Hashamayin, The God of Heaven; El Malei Rachamin, AllMerciful God; El Rachum, God of Compassion; El Olam, The EverlastingGod; El Channun, The Gracious God; El Yeshuatenu, The God of OurSalvation; El Tsaddik, Righteous God; Immanuel, God Is in Us.”By the time we finished chanting the various names, I began feeling afamiliar sensation. A strong sense of devotion—the same thing I felt whenwe were in the Church of the Assumption—began to wash over me. It wasvery much welcomed, given the confusion I was experiencing before. Then,almost as if I were dreaming, I saw her: the beautiful nun. I wasn’t sure if Iwas actually seeing her with my eyes or somewhere deep within my ownheart. She was radiant and dressed in a dazzling white garment, not theworn black habit she wore before. It was as if she had gone to Heaven andcome back, and I wondered why she was there. She smiled at me andmotioned for me to follow her. At first I didn’t know what I should do.Phil’s eyes were still closed, and I decided to step away from the Ark to seewhere she would lead me. It felt more like I was following a feeling than anapparition, but it felt completely real, as if she were really there walkingdirectly in front of me.We walked around the corner in the direction of the main altar. I wasn’tsure where we were heading, but it seemed like she was floating a fewinches off the ground instead of walking. She suddenly stopped and turnedto face the altar. I came as close to her as I felt comfortable and then alsoturned to see what she was looking at. I couldn’t believe that I hadn’tnoticed it before. At the rear of the altar, surrounded by enormous goldenrays of light and ominous clouds, was the Tetragrammaton—YHWH. It wasenclosed in a beautiful golden triangle and radiated its energy throughoutthe expansive church. She gazed at the name, then back at me. I realizedthat it was just on the other side of the wall from the Ark, under the Templarcross. I knew that Phil was still there, and I wondered how I was supposedto interpret this experience. Then the nun began floating back in thedirection of the Ark, so I followed her once again.When we arrived, Phil was still standing where I’d left him, but his eyeswere now open. He didn’t seem to see what I was seeing (or feeling), as ifthe nun was only visible to my eyes. He seemed lost in his own thoughts.Perhaps like me, he was having an experience that only he was privy to. Itseemed that he was intently studying the Ark, and as I walked up to him,the nun stopped and turned to face it as well. Although I wasn’t exactly surewhat she was trying to communicate, I knew that it had something to dowith the Tetragrammaton . . . and the Ark.Was there some connection between the two? The Ark once held the TenCommandments, Yahweh’s covenant with Moses and the Israelites. But wasthere more? We had already chanted the name Shaddai el Chai as well asthe additional ones. Perhaps adding Yahweh would push things over theedge. My only worry was that it might push us over the edge as well. Theonly thing that made me feel optimistic was the presence of the nun, and herradiance felt like the best defense from whatever might be inside.“There’s something I didn’t see at the altar at first,” I told Phil. “ATetragrammaton is there, and I think we’re supposed to use it to releasewhatever is inside the Ark.”“Yes, I knew it was there. But what makes you think—”“The nun from the last church is here with us,” I whispered. “She wasdressed in black there, and now she’s in white. I think I know why she’shere.”We were all facing the Ark now: Phil, the nun, and me. At first, nothingseemed to be happening,but then it started. I began to feel waves of heatemanating from the Ark. The whole section of the church we were inseemed to be getting warmer. I also started to feel a slight vibration—like atrain that was passing on a nearby track—and it remained at a steady pace. Ilooked over at Phil to see if he felt it, too, but he was standing theremotionless with his eyes closed. I looked back at the Ark and saw a blackhaze forming over the cover, between the outstretched wings of thecherubim at the top of it. It startled me at first and I wanted to pull away,but something inside told me not to move.The haze over the Ark increased. Within seconds, it had lifted away fromthe lid and was now hovering directly in front of us. It looked more silveryplatinum in hue with what resembled rainbow-colored lights flashingthrough it. I felt a sudden rush of emotions, and I wanted to prod Phil out ofhis reverie or whatever it was he was experiencing, but something told menot to disturb him. I did, however, notice that he seemed to be hummingsoftly, his lips barely moving.I tried to make out what he was saying and finally realized that it was theTetragrammaton. He was repeating the four letters over and over again, justunder his breath. I decided to join him. A chorus of “Yud Heh Vav Heh, YudHeh Vav Heh” rippled in waves toward the Ark, the vibration beginning toincrease until it felt like the whole church was beginning to shake. I knewthe sensation really wasn’t happening except perhaps in my mind. But whenI looked over at Phil, I noticed that his hands, which were gripping therailing, were moving almost imperceptibly, as though in response to someforce or vibration. The haze began to lift higher over the Ark, and Iimmediately knew where it was heading—the golden Tetragrammaton. Justbefore the cloud disappeared into what seemed like a vortex spinning in theTetragrammaton, all the emotions I was feeling seemed to blend into onedistinct, unmistakable feeling: gratitude.I looked over at where the nun had been and was almost unsurprised tosee that she was no longer there. “Whatever it was, it’s gone now,” I said toPhil, whose gaze was still fixed on the radiant triangle with its golden rays.I noticed that his eyes were welling up with tears and realized that minewere as well.“Anything from your nun?” he asked softly.“No. She disappeared before the portal closed.”“Then I suggest we leave, too. Our work here is done.”We took a step back and turned away from the Ark. The air of the churchwas damp and cold, and I could think of nothing other than getting out ofthat place.CHAPTER 10The Obelisk of LuxorAdonaiI stopped on the steps of the church as we walked out the door. I needed tohold still, if only for a moment, as if it would somehow make me feel saferto be in a more familiar place, a world I could predict and understand.Whatever just happened, I didn’t understand it, and it filled me with anxietythat I needed to shake before we moved on. Otherwise, I wasn’t sure I’d beable to continue, and that was a possibility I didn’t want to consider.“Maybe we should talk about what happened,” Phil finally said.“Yes,” I answered, taking a deep breath. “That’s a great idea.”“Tell me your thoughts. What do you think that was all about?”“I have no idea. I was hoping you’d tell me. Isn’t that how this works . . .you orchestrate the adventure and then answer my questions when it’sthrough? That’s what I was hoping for, anyway.”“I’m not sure you’ll like my answer—in fact, I’m not even sure I like it.”There was a look on his face that frightened me, even more than theexperience itself. It made me want to run back inside and reverse thedirection of the last half hour, making it seem like it never happened at all.I sat down on the wet steps. “That makes me feel even more uneasy.”“That’s because it flies in the face of everything we’ve been taught. Thereare truths about the past we’re going to need to confront sooner or later ifwe want to make sense of our lives and potential futures. I wish I hadsomething more concrete for you right now, but I don’t.”“So you’re telling me that you don’t know what it was that came out ofthe Ark? You’re right—I don’t like it.”“I’m not saying that, Jimmy. The truth is that I do have an idea of whathappened back there and, more than that, why it happened. I just don’t thinkthat now is the time to go into it. I’d rather wait and see how things developso I can be sure. I know that’s difficult to hear, but I need you to trust me,trust yourself, and trust that all will be revealed at the proper time andplace. There are some things that must remain mysteries to us, and I thinkthis is one of them, for the time being at least . . . that is, until we reach aplace of peace.”“What do you mean by a ‘place of peace’?”“All in good time. I do believe we’re accomplishing what we’ve set outto do.”“Remind me what that was,” I retorted, sounding more harsh than I’dintended.“We are transforming ourselves through the Divine Names and, throughus, everything we touch.”“It definitely did that.”“And we may need to leave it there. I suggest we continue on and moveto our next location, which is just up the road.”“I’m not sure I’m okay with being in the dark like this,” I added, as westarted to walk again. “That was one of the most intense—and scary—experiences of my life. There has to be more you can tell me, somethingthat will help me feel at ease.”Phil didn’t say anything for several seconds, but it was long enough toincrease the tension. “Like I said, when the time is right—all I’ll say fornow is that the places we’ve been to and the experiences we’ve shared seemto be leading toward something, some kind of—”“Final encounter?”“Well, I wouldn’t use those words, but you’re on the right track.Confrontation might be a little more accurate. Even so, there’s no reason tomake this any more menacing than it needs to be. I promise you that there’sa method to this seeming madness . . . that it’s part of a much larger plan.”I thought I saw a flash of uncertainty on Phil’s face, as if he was trying toconvince himself as much as me. It was time to move on, though, and Iknew it. I’d have to be patient and wait for more information. We turnedright when we came to the street and began walking down the Rue deRivoli, one of the most famous thoroughfares in Paris, if not the world. “So,where are we going now?”“We’re going to one of the most storied locations in France,” Phil replied.“It’s a place where ancient mysteries and bloody histories collide, and thatmakes it a perfect candidate for the work we came here to do.”“I’m sure this city is full of places that match that description.”“Yes, but not like this one. To tell you the truth, I’m not exactly sure whatto expect. I do know that where we’re heading is an important link in thechain of events we’re helping to create.”We turned off the Rue de Rivoli onto a lovely path framed byoverhanging trees. We were walking along the edge of the TuileriesGardens, which borders the Seine River, toward the Avenue des Champs-Élysées and the Arc de Triomphe. In the distance, I saw a large square withtraffic running around a central point, and at the very center, I could seewhat looked like a needle rising into the sky. Phil seemed focused on thespot, walking with distinct purpose. “What’s that place ahead of us?” Iasked him.“That’s where we’re headed. It’s the largest and most famous publicsquare in Paris—the Place de la Concorde. Situated along the Seine, itseparates the Tuileries Gardens from the beginning of the Champs-Élysées.When it was built in the mid-1700s, it was called Place Louis XV and had ahuge statue of the king riding a great stallion. From the square, you can turnaround and see many of the most important and well-known places in thecity, including the Eiffel Tower. And at the very center sits a potent pinnacleof power and ancient magic.”“That’s the point I see in the middle of the square?”“Yes, the Obélisque de Luxor at the Place de la Concorde—a pink granitemonolith that was given to the French in 1829 by the viceroy of Egypt,Mehemet Ali. The obelisk, which once marked the entrance to the Templeof Amun-Mut-Khonsu at Luxor, is more than 3,300 years old and isdecorated with hieroglyphics documenting the reigns of Ramses II andRamses III.”“Ramses II was the Pharaoh whom Moses confronted,” I added, finallygrasping the connection.“Let’s just say that’s what most people believe. Regardless, I’m getting alittle ahead of myself. To more fully understand the significance of thisamazing structure, you need to know what happened on the spot where itnow stands. It served as a focal point for the bloodiest political upheaval inFrance’s history—the French Revolution. When the revolutionaries seizedpower, they renamed the square Place de la Révolution and replaced thestatue of Louis with a guillotine. Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette wereexecuted there, among other notables. And in the summer of 1794 duringthe Reign of Terror, more than 1,300 people were beheaded there in publicexecutions. People used to say that the stench of blood was so strong on thespot that cattle refused to cross the grounds. When it was known as thePlace de Grève, convicted criminals were torn and dismembered alive forthe entertainment of the reigning nobility and bourgeoisie of the time.“Then came the Obelisk of Luxor and everything changed. It arrivedduring the winter solstice of 1833. Gilded images on the pedestal portraythe monumental task of transporting the monolith to Paris and erecting it atthe square. Rising to a height of 23 meters, it weighs over 230 tons, so youcan imagine what it took, especially then.”“Makes one think about the building of the pyramids,” I said. “Theyweren’t afraid of grand projects.”“No, they certainly weren’t. They were going to bring another obelisk butfigured it was just too much work. This one stood for more than 33centuries at the Temple of Luxor. Its capstone was believed to have beenstolen in the 6th century. I’m hoping that a special way of looking at thehieroglyphics on the obelisk will help guide us on our journey.”“And that’s why we’re going there?” I inquired, almost with a sigh.“That’s why we’re going there.”As we arrived at the square, I experienced the same feeling as when weapproached Phil’s other chosen ‘power points’—fascination bordering onterror. Hundreds of people filled the area taking photographs in front of theobelisk or sitting on the steps enjoying a rare few moments of sunlight. Iwas still 30 or so meters away from the monolith when the hieroglyphicsseemed to explode off the surface and penetrate my third eye. I stopped inmy tracks and for several seconds felt as if I were paralyzed.Phil quickly walked over to me. “Tell me what’s happening.”“I don’t know,” I finally answered. “I can feel all this energy, but I’m notsure why.”“The other places we’ve visited seem to have opened you to the point thatyou respond almost immediately to their energy. I think you’re starting tofeel the hidden codes in the hieroglyphics—not intellectually, butenergetically. I can feel it, too.”“Yes, but what does it mean?”“That’s what we’re here to find out.”We walked toward the mysterious artifact, and as we did, the energy I feltsoftened. I started wondering if the day’s excitement was beginning to getto me since I was now sensing ghosts and spirits lurking around everycorner. I’ve always considered myself to be very discerning when it came tothese things, but Phil’s sense of drama was like a powerful tractor beam thatpulled my awareness into his strange world of spirits, codes, and ancientmagic.The other possibility, however, was more likely to be true, and I knew it.As much as I wanted, perhaps even needed, Phil to be crazy, I knew hisintuition was usually on target. In addition, what I felt and saw at the fourchurches we visited was real, and there was no way to argue it. I tried hardto convince myself otherwise, but the evidence was stacking up fast in favorof the impossible. I stepped toward the obelisk, and my knees weakened.After our experience with the Ark at Saint-Roch, I wasn’t taking anyunnecessary chances.“What do you suggest we do here?” I asked tentatively.“We’ll do the same thing we’ve been doing at the other locations.” Philsensed my nervousness. “Don’t worry about things going in the direction ofSaint-Roch. As I’ve said, we’re here primarily for the continuing educationof our souls. Please don’t forget that. We’re going to call upon another ofthe Sacred Names of God, but not for any purpose other than to transformour own consciousness. In doing so, we’ll have an effect on everythingaround us . . . every person and every situation because that’s how graceworks. It’s the Moses Code in action again. As we free ourselves, thepromise of liberation is extended to all of creation. This is the only thingwe’re here to do. I can’t overemphasize how important this is to remember.”“I remember.”“I suggest we have a seat on the ledge.” Phil pointed toward theenormous spear. “It may be the only time we feel sunlight today.”We walked toward the obelisk and sat down on the wet granite. A youngFrench couple was kissing only a few feet away from us, and a Japanesefamily was busy taking pictures of each other on the other side. I tried tofocus on the cars that spun around the square, the incredible buildings thatlined the boulevard, anything other than the fear I felt. Phil must havenoticed this and nudged me with his arm. “Did you hear what I just said?”he asked.“No, I spaced out for a minute.”“The next name we’re going to call on is one of the most powerful, andthat’s why I wanted to use it here. The name is Adonai, meaning ‘Lord.’Along with Elohim, it’s used in place of the Tetragrammaton. As we’vediscussed, it’s common practice to substitute terms of reverence rather thanuttering the unspeakable Holy Name.”“Didn’t we already use this in place of the Tetragrammaton when wewere at Sacré-Coeur?”“It’s important to remember that the names we’re using, in one fashion,simply represent Divine Natures or attributes. They relate to aspects ofourselves, to our own Divinely inspired natures that we bring to light whenwe repeat them. And yes, we did use it at Sacré-Coeur, but now we’ll use iton its own . . . not in substitution for anything else.”I tried to listen intently as Phil was speaking, but there seemed to besomething drawing my attention to the obelisk.“A common variation of this name as it applies to the Kabbalistic Tree ofLife is Adonai Melekh ha Aretz, meaning ‘Lord-King of the Earth.’” Philcontinued, “Actually, let’s use that. If my suspicions are correct, this is thebest choice.”“What suspicions?” I asked, with more than a hint of curiosity.“It’s hard to say what form of consciousness we’re going to encounterhere. The energy of this place is unlike anywhere we’ve been. Remember,this obelisk used to stand at the Temple of Luxor, situated along the Nile inEgypt. The true name is the Temple of Amun-Mut-Knonsu, representing the‘temple of man.’ It’s literally an alchemical text in stone, encoding a vastand sophisticated knowledge of sacred spiritual science and power lost tomost of us in the mists of antiquity. We’ve got to be ready with both barrelsloaded.”“I just hope that doesn’t end up being an accurate analogy.”“Just remember what I keep telling you: we’re not here to use the namesto release anything other than the chains around our own souls. To doanything else would be truly blasphemous. It would be tantamount to usingthe Holy Names of God in vain, so to speak. We want to stay clear, focused,and in the highest integrity—agreed?”“Agreed.”We closed our eyes and took several deep breaths, using them to drownout the noise and traffic. Phil said something about Dorothy’s silverslippers(I don’t remember exactly what it was) and did a somewhat longer thanusual protection ritual. Then, using our finger-counting system, we beganchanting the name: “Adonai Melekh ha Aretz, En Sof; Adonai Melekh haAretz, En Sof; Adonai Melekh ha Aretz, En Sof . . .”Just as we had done four times previously, we chanted the name 12 timesand let it sink deep into our consciousness. When we were finished, Phillooked over at me. “There are two things I need to say to you: I don’t wantyou to get too far away from me this time. I’m not trying to scare you, but,like I said before, there’s very ancient magic at work here, possibly a formwe haven’t yet encountered. It may surprise us.”“I haven’t stopped being surprised since we began. What’s the secondthing?”“I have a suggestion about how to focus on the obelisk’s hieroglyphics.It’s an ancient way of looking at encoded material and letting your soulunlock the mysteries, instead of your mind. I don’t know if it will workhere, but it’s worth trying. It’s called stereogrammatic vision. Rememberthe Magic Eye books that were popular in the 90s? The principle is similar.The books featured autostereograms, which allowed people to see three-dimensional images on two-dimensional surfaces. In other words, one couldsee hidden patterns within the images. The process is somewhat related towhat’s called stereoscopic vision. You let your eyes go out of focus,allowing them to cross slightly. The builders of ancient temples were wellaware of this process, I assure you. Use this special technique for looking atthe hieroglyphics, and we’ll see what happens.”“And what should I do if I see something?” I asked.“Come and get me. I’ll do the same and find you if I see something. Juststay close.”We walked in different directions until we stood on opposite sides of theobelisk. At first I didn’t know what to do but stood gazing at the intricatedesigns, hoping something would jump out at me. It didn’t. I tried to blendin with all the other tourists around me, not wanting to seem too strange. Idecided to look at the obelisk using the process Phil showed me. I started tofeel silly, until I looked over to the other side of the monument and saw Philsquinting and tilting his head back and forth. A young woman giggled asshe walked past him. It actually took the pressure off of me for a moment,so I focused on the writing once again and began looking at thehieroglyphics as Phil had suggested.“Let me see something here that makes sense,” I uttered beneath mybreath, hoping the symbols and Egyptian letters would suddenly spring tolife and realign themselves in English. The illusion of movement couldeasily be created by crossing my eyes too far, but the physical discomfortthis caused seemed to cancel out any potential benefits. I stood in front ofeach side of the obelisk hoping for something to happen, and it wasn’t untilI tested the fourth side that something seemed to stir inside me. At first itfelt like a flutter in my stomach, but then the feeling increased until it wasin my throat. I stood rooted in place holding my gaze, waiting forsomething more. A minute passed and the sensation I felt seemed to growstronger, but still no message.Finally, I let my gaze release its grip on the tower, and I looked down atmy feet. I noticed I was standing directly on something carved into thesidewalk. I took a step back and realized that a Templar cross had beenetched into the cement when it was originally laid, and the uncomfortablefeeling in my body seemed to dissipate when I wasn’t standing directly ontop of the symbol. I stepped back again and the feeling returned. I lookedover at Phil until he caught my eye, and I waved for him to come over.“What’s happening?”“I think I discovered something. Someone carved a Templar cross intothe cement, and when I stand on it, I feel the strangest sensations.”“Let me try.” Phil stood on the cross and closed his eyes. “Wow, I canfeel it, too. It’s like currents of energy running through my feet and up mylegs into my solar plexus.”“I felt something similar. What do you think it means?”“Give me a moment. . . .” Phil began squinting and crossing his eyes ashe looked up toward the obelisk. He stood on the cross staring at the obeliskfor at least a minute, then closed his eyes and looked at me. “I was chantingthe name as I looked and something seemed to happen. Here, you try it, andtell me what you see.”Phil stepped to the side of the symbol, and I replaced him. I took a deepbreath and then began to chant “Adonai Melekh ha Aretz, En Sof” in a softvoice. At first nothing seemed to change on the obelisk, and I wondered if itwas another dead end. Then I noticed something shift in the corner of myeye, almost as if the Egyptian letters were rearranging themselves. For asecond, I lost my focus and when I looked back at the monument, I realizedthat nothing had changed at all. But when I let my focus fade again, thesensation returned.The symbols seemed to morph, and I knew they were trying tocommunicate something to me—not with words as much as through myunconscious mind. I recalled the movie A Beautiful Mind and how JohnNash used to see letters come right off the pages of newspapers. I wonderedif the same process was at work here. The possibility of translating what Isaw into normal words seemed impossible in that moment, and yet Iunderstood on a deeper level that a conversation was taking place deepwithin me. Even in the midst of the experience, I questioned whether it wasreal or in my imagination, although the feeling that I was actuallycommunicating with something that was attached to the obelisk—a spirit orsome kind of ancient entity—suddenly felt more than plausible.“You feel thy presence?” it seemed to ask.“I’m not really sure,” I responded in my own mind, sure that whateverwas speaking through me would understand. “I’m taking all this as itcomes.”“Who art thou, and why do thou disturb me?”“Who are you and why are you here?” I asked.“Thou canst fathom not who I am, but why I am here thou art beginningto understand, though thou grasp is that of a primitive mind.”I didn’t know whether or not to feel insulted. Then again, I was the onetalking to an obelisk.“I have been here longer than thou canst imagine, and my power, thoughfaded with time, is still great. I can create or destroy. What wouldst thouhave me do?”I lost my focus for a moment, wondering again if it was all in my mind. Ilooked over at Phil. “What’s happening?” he asked.“I’m not really sure. It’s like I’m talking to someone, or something,imprisoned in the obelisk, but I’m not sure what it is or even if it’s actuallyhappening.”“Just stay with it and trust your intuition. I have the feeling you’re on tosomething.”I closed my eyes for a few seconds and then let my gaze return to theobelisk. At the top was a cap made of gold leaf, which only added to itsallure. The voice returned almost immediately: “What wouldst thou have ofme?”“Nothing. We are here to help. We are here to chant the name of God.”“‘The name of God,’ sayest you. And which God wouldst thou becalling?”“We’re calling upon the One God who is known by many names.”A high-pitched laugh began reverberating in my head. “Who is the onethou wouldst call?”In a barely audible voice, I said: “We call upon Adonai, the Lord of theUniverse. We have been called to stand in this spot and speak to you. TheLord wants you to know that you do not need to stay here. You have beenbound to this structure for thousands of years; you have been taken to thisforeign land, and you have become confused. But you do not need to stay.Through the power of the Sacred Name Adonai, I call upon you to bereleased from this bondage, all this magic, and return to your Source.”I felt a wave of searing heat hit my face that nearly knocked mebackward. Then I heard Phil speaking with urgency. “Stop, Jimmy!” heexclaimed. “This isall wrong.”The voice resumed in my head: “Who is he?”“He is my friend, a friend who understands this better than I do,” Ioffered, not sure whether bringing Phil in at that particular moment was agood idea. Phil was looking at me with a mixed look of utter disbelief andcompassion.“Jimmy, please stop,” he repeated, in a low voice very close to my ear.“Please don’t use the names like that. How do you know it doesn’t belonghere?”I willed myself to turn away from the tower. “Belong here? What do youmean?”“It may belong here. How are we to know? Just because whatever it is ishere, it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t belong—that it isn’t part of the plan.”Just then I remembered what Phil had told me earlier: that Paris means atthe ‘feet of Isis.’ At that moment, I felt a wave of relief wash over me andalso something else . . . understanding. I felt a voice inside my head saythank you, and I nearly collapsed on the spot as blood rushed into my brain.Suddenly, just as it all started, it was over. I listened and heard no voice. Isearched my feelings and felt nothing, except perhaps relief. The symbolsand letters seemed to settle again inside the stone giant. I turned to Phil, andhe was smiling at me.“Did you feel any of that?” I asked, regaining my balance.“Any of what? I’m not sure what happened. I felt you going deep, but Icouldn’t follow. When I heard you make that command in the name ofAdonai, I tried to stop you.”Phil listened intently as I told him about the conversation as well as theenergy I felt. “Do you think it’s even possible?” I asked. “It’s more likelythat I’m making things up in my head because of everything that hasalready gone down.” I blurted this out to convince myself as much as Phil.“I have no way of telling you if you made it up. Of course, it’s possible—anything’s possible—but it’s also possible that what took place has a basisin reality . . . although not this reality.”We sat down on one of the embankments lining the square. “Think aboutit,” he said. “Whatever it is, we have no idea how long it’s been here orwhere it’s from. Maybe it’s been here all along. Lord knows the magic ithas witnessed, possibly at its own command. And then there’s the plaza, apowerful vortex of its own. Think about all the terrible and wonderfulthings that have happened right here where we sit. Think about theguillotine and the couple kissing. As I said before, anything is possible.”“But there doesn’t seem to be any kind of conclusion. I thought we werehere to release entities and send them into the light.”“No, Jimmy. We’re here to release ourselves into the light. Anything thatwants to come along for the ride is more than welcome.”“Do you think it’s still here?”“I honestly don’t know. And I really don’t think that’s the point anymore.Do you?” Phil closed his eyes and raised his hands as if to feel somethingthat his normal senses might otherwise miss. He stood that way for at least aminute and then turned to me. “We should go.”“Go? Why? What just happened?”Phil took me by the arm, and we started walking away from the square.“Sometimes things are better left undisturbed,” he replied, picking up thepace. “All I know is that regardless of whatever it was you felt, it eitherdoesn’t want or need to leave—or is unable to leave—and it’s beyond ourexpertise to know one way or the other.”“I’m getting the impression that you’re afraid.” The thought alone mademe even more scared.“I’m not really afraid. I’ve just been around long enough to know whenit’s time to throw in the towel.”“You mean give up?”“No, Jimmy, I mean surrender.”I turned to look at the obelisk. At that moment, the sun disappearedbehind a cloud, making it look dark and foreboding. The light drizzlereturned, and a shadowy energy filled the entire square, yet I felt very muchat peace.“This is the Place de la Concorde, the Place of Peace, after all. Let’smove on to the next location.” Phil smiled as he spoke. We gazed at thetowering monument one last time and started walking toward the EiffelTower.“Yes, let’s. I couldn’t agree more.”CHAPTER 11The Final Grand MasterElohim Gibor“I don’t know whether to doubt all the things that are happening or tobelieve them.”We were a block away from the Obelisk of Luxor, walking back along theRue de Rivoli, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to continue. After fiveparanormal adventures, I was almost convinced that my imagination hadfinally gotten the best of me. There was very little I could point to thatdidn’t seem to end with one definite conclusion: I’d made it all up in myhead. In a way it made me feel better, as if I were off the hook and wouldn’tneed to continue exorcising the demons and spirits of Paris. The fact wasthat I felt overwhelmingly relieved.“Only you know if you’ve imagined everything,” Phil remarked. “Even ifI told you that what you’ve been experiencing was real and that you’veplayed a very important role at each stop on this little journey of ours, youwould still need to decide for yourself what was and wasn’t real.”“Is that what you’re telling me?”“I’m telling you that the power in each of the Sacred Names is very real,and when you open to their power, they have the potential to transform youon the deepest levels imaginable. What happens after that is the mystery.I’ve never claimed we were using them to do anything other than—”“‘To open the seals within our own hearts and souls to let grace flow intoand through us.’ Yes, I remember. But you can’t blame me for freaking outa bit. This is pretty far outside my normal box.”“It’s outside my box, too,” Phil said as we turned a corner onto PontNeuf. He explained that the bridge we were now on was the oldest standingbridge that spanned the Seine in all of Paris. “I told you I’ve never doneanything quite like this before. There’s a part of me that’s amazed at what’shappening—same as you. But I know it isn’t in my imagination. I’mconvinced that it has all been very real.”We stopped at a statue of Henry IV mounted on a horse. Then Phil led medown a winding stone staircase that opened up into a public park called theParc Vert Gallant. The grassy area was long and narrow, flanked with well-manicured shrubs and benches that ran the entire distance of the park. Wecontinued down the stairs until we reached the bottom, and Phil motionedfor me to stop.“Welcome to the Île de la Cité. This island is the geographic center of allof Paris—and its heart in medieval times.” Phil pointed toward three stonepillars behind me, between which were twin stairwells. Near the top of thecentral pillar a few feet above our heads, an iron plaque was bolted to thewall that read: A CET ENDROITJACQUES DE MOLAYDERNIER GRAND MAÎTREDE L’ORDRE DU TEMPLEA ÉTÉ BRÛLÉ LE 18 MARS 1314 “At this location, Jacques de Molay, last Grand Master of the KnightsTemplar, was burned on March 18, 1314,” Phil read. “Île de la Cité is onlyone of two natural islands in the Seine within the city of Paris. It used to becalled Île des Javiaux or Île aux Juifs and was home to the originalinhabitants of Paris, the Parisii. And it was here at this location that Jacquesde Molay, 23rd and last Grand Master of the Knights Templar, along withGeoffroy de Charney, was burned at the stake in the shadow of the Conventof St. Augustine. Just like it says on the plaque, more or less.”I looked at the plaque and then back at Phil. “Jacques de Molay,” Irepeated. “I knew the name sounded familiar.”“Anyone who hasn’t been living in a cave for the past several years hasheard the name Jacques de Molay. Most people nowadays are somewhatfamiliar with the story of the Knights Templar, especially since thepublication of The Da Vinci Code.”Phil was right. The popularity of Dan Brown’s magnum opus reignitedworldwide interest in the exploits of the controversial Templars, as well asgiving millions of people their first glance at this mysterious order ofmonastic warrior-knights.The book Holy Blood, Holy Grail had done thesame back in the early ’80s.“Why was de Molay brought here to be burned?”“King Philip IV of France, also known as Philippe le Bel, along withPope Clement V, orchestrated the Templars’ downfall. At that time, if you’llrecall, the Louvre served as the Palace Complex. Having it done hereprovided Philip with an excellent view from his palace window. You see,Philip himself tried to gain admission to the Order. He thought that in timehe could possibly become a Grand Master and control or subvert it from theinside. When he was denied admission, he began in earnest to plot itsdemise. He even named de Molay as godfather to his son in order to gainfavor with the Order. This is not very well known. You see, Philip hadborrowed a ton of money from the Templars to finance his war on England.De Molay was also one of the pallbearers at the funeral of Philip’s sister-in-law. This was on October 12, 1307. The very next day, Friday the 13th, justabout every Templar in France, including de Molay, was under arrest.”“This is really fascinating.”“On November 22, 1307, Pope Clement issued his papal bull PastoralisPraeeminentiae, directing all Christian monarchs throughout Europe toarrest all members of the Order and impound their assets, which wereconsiderable. This, in effect, was the death knell for the Templars. The nailin the coffin was, of course, the papal bull Vox in Excelso of April 3, 1312,which declared the Templars suppressed, officially dissolving the Order.”“I’m guessing that canceled King Philip’s debt to the Templars,” I added.“That’s right. And de Molay, along with Geoffroy de Charney, receivedthe harshest punishment the king could unleash, and this was after years ofhorrendously brutal torture and duress, in which they and countless otherTemplars confessed to all manner of blasphemous acts. By the way, whenyou’re being burned at the stake, you hope they build a very large fire. Thatway the carbon monoxide in the smoke kills you before the flames evertouch your skin. If they build a small fire, like they did here, you literallyroast over a long period of time. You might say that de Molay and deCharney died as martyrs, even though they didn’t die in battle, which to theTemplars was a great honor and guaranteed them a place in Heaven.”“Weren’t documents found that exonerated the Templars?”“Yes—in 2001 or 2002, I believe. Dr. Barbara Frale, a medievalist at theSecret Vatican Archives, discovered what’s known as the ‘ChinonParchment.’ It was found due to a filing error—isn’t that amazing? Itproved that Pope Clement secretly pardoned the Order in 1314.”“How do you know all this?”“Let’s just say that my application to view the Secret Archives has beentied up in a lot of red tape for some time . . . I’m not holding my breath.”“I can’t even imagine you loose in the Vatican Archives,” I quipped. “Sothe Templars weren’t the heretics they were made out to be?”“To be perfectly honest, there’s no simple answer to that question.According to church dogma, their beliefs would certainly be regarded asheretical. As far as their practices, well, that’s a horse of yet another color.Spitting on the cross, denying the crucifixion, and other ‘acts ofabomination’ they were accused of are still the subject of hot debate invarious circles. So many of the mysteries of the Templars are tied up inintrigue and the pursuit of vested interests. Many will remain mysteries.The truth can seem like heresy to the one who is afraid of the truth, if youknow what I mean.”“That’s an unbelievable story, but I’m wondering why you felt this wouldbe an appropriate place for us to work with the Divine Names.”“I chose this location for two reasons,” Phil contended. “First, becausethis island is the center of Paris—a very powerful vortex and the home ofthe Parisii. That’s enough in and of itself.”“What’s the other reason?”“The second reason is that the Sacred Name I want to use here isespecially appropriate for this spot. It’s Elohim Gibor, meaning ‘HeavenlyWarrior’ or ‘God of Battles.’”“We usually don’t want to think of God as a warrior, or leading heavenlyarmies into battle, but I believe it’s important,” I interjected. “When wespeak of God, we’re not talking about a person or an entity that has somequalities but not others. We’re talking about the complete summation ofeverything that exists, which includes many of the parts of ourselves wewould rather deny. God is lover and warrior in one, as well as every otheraspect.”“Yes, you could say that Elohim Gibor represents the warrior aspect ofGod. The name corresponds to Geburah on the Kabbalistic Tree of Life: toseverity, judgment, justice, harsh action, and—are you ready for this one—defending innocence.” Phil smiled broadly, knowing he’d just scored adirect hit. “De Molay recanted his forced confession at the burning, restatedhis innocence, and asked that his hands could be freed so that he could prayto the Virgin Mary. He had asked to be tied facing the Cathedral of Notre-Dame, which stands on the opposite end of the Île de la Cité. He prayed asthe flames engulfed him, and his ashes were scattered on the Seine.“By the way, I read where Geburah is also associated with fire in therespect of a ceremonial burning as form of purification. And if that wasn’tenough, images that are commonly associated with the sphere of Geburahare the sword and the flame. Pretty appropriate, wouldn’t you agree?”“This seems very different from the other spots we’ve visited,” I added.“I don’t get the sense that de Molay is here. Do you?”“I do feel there’s something here for us and that the name will reveal it. Inall the places we’ve visited so far, we’ve looked for certain signs orsymbols that confirmed we were on the right track. So far we’ve beenguided by Templar crosses and images of the Divine Feminine, as well asthe Tetragrammaton.”“You said this place is an energetic vortex. Maybe we’ll find somethinghere, some energy signature that stops energy from flowing. That’s whathappens when a house or a place is haunted, right? Something locks theenergy in place so that it can’t move on. If that’s happening here, we canuse the name to heal the rift and release whatever is holding it in place.”“What makes you so sure that anything needs to be released?” Phil asked.“Why do you think the place is haunted?”“Why else would we be here? I’m sure you didn’t bring me here just tosightsee. What do you suggest we do?”“As before, let’s begin by chanting the name and then let Spirit move uswherever we need to be. If I’m right, then something will happen. It may besubtle or obvious, but it will be there nonetheless.”We looked over to one side of the park and spotted several benchesagainst the water. We walked over and sat down. I took hold of my left handand felt for the first knuckle. With my fingers in place, we began our chant.“Let’s hope that our prayers pass through the Gate of Tears,” Philremarked.“The Gate of Tears?”“Let’s just say I believe that someone is always listening. Let’s begin.”He hadn’t answered my question, but I decided to let it pass for themoment: “Elohim Gibor, En Sof; Elohim Gibor, En Sof; Elohim Gibor, EnSof . . .”When we finished, I expected to feel a change in the air, as if a suddenwind would rise or the Seine would send a thick wave crashing against theshore, spilling onto the grass and sidewalk. Nothing happened. I lookedover at Phil, but his eyes were still closed, and I wondered what I should do.I finally stood up and began walking slowly to the far side of the island, asmall point with steel railings to keep visitors from wandering onto therocks and into the water. I stood there for a moment watching a glass-covered boat pass by, filled with assorted tourists completely unaware ofthe tragedy that took place on this tiny stretch of land 700 years ago. Whywould they care that two innocent men had been torturedin the mosthideous manners imaginable and burned alive? The fact that I was standingon the spot where de Molay was killed made it feel very real, and I wantedto experience it for all it was worth.I turned and walked back in the other direction, back where I saw Philstill sitting on the bench. As I walked, I looked around in the grass andflower beds, hoping to find a symbol or sign that would give us anadditional reason for being there. If one had been placed on the islandhundreds of years ago, it could be covered now, perhaps hidden beneath ashrub or somewhere else the eyes wouldn’t instantly perceive it. I expectedto find a Templar cross, perhaps one that was placed there to honor themartyred Templars. I looked for at least 15 minutes, but in the end there wasnothing that drew my attention. I headed back over to Phil.“There’s nothing here,” I said to him.“What do you mean?”“There are no signs or anything similar to the other places we’ve been to.I thought there would be, but there isn’t.”“It’s here. You just haven’t been looking in the right place.”“What do you mean?”Phil stood up and we walked back toward the stone pillars and the plaquededicated to the last Grand Master of the Templars. “I want you to imaginede Molay. Think about what he might have looked like—a long whitemantle worn over his armor and the one thing that would have stood outmore than anything else. Can you guess what it is?”I thought for a moment, jogging my memory to evoke images of TemplarKnights I’d seen in books and films. Then it hit me. “The cross. You wouldsee the red cross on the front of his tunic.”“Exactly! The croix pattée. The blood sacrifice of the lamb of God andthe enduring mystery of Christ’s blood. In Dialogue with Trypho, SaintJustin Martyr talks about the lamb, which the law prescribed to have roastedwhole. You see, de Molay’s cross is our cross. You’ve been looking forTemplar symbolism in the grass, the flowers, the shrubbery . . . but it’s allaround us.”“You mean the spirit of de Molay himself.”“That’s correct. His spirit is everywhere here, and that’s why we came—to honor all genuine guardians of the Grail and all seekers of the truth, aswell as those who died protecting and preserving the truth. We’re allchildren of the Grail, Jimmy. The true Grail is inside each and every one ofus. The quest for the Grail is the greatest of all spiritual endeavors: it’s thequest for the eternal in ourselves and a deeper connection to the Source ofall creation. We aren’t here to release or exorcise anything at all. It’s allabout our return to innocence. It’s about the confessions we’ve made underduress and how we are washed clean in the light of grace.”“Yes, I can feel it. I didn’t recognize it in that way, but now that you saythat . . . yes.”“And that’s all that really matters. The Holy Names of God are simply tohelp us wake up to the holiness within. When that happens, then the dramasand the fictions we weave around our lives simply lose their significance.I’m certain that the gates of Heaven opened wide to receive de Molay thatfateful day.”Phil began walking up the staircase back toward the street. I followed, butstopped momentarily to take a last look at the plaque; and for the first timesince we began earlier that morning, I felt light and deeply satisfied.CHAPTER 12Notre-Dame CathedralElohim TzabaothI’d visited the cathedral once before many years earlier, but the sight of itin the distance still aroused such energy and emotion in me. The stories ofVictor Hugo, of the Hunchback and the French Revolution, immediatelysprang into my mind. The two enormous bell towers filled me with anoverwhelming desire to stop and absorb its transforming beauty. The squarein front of the cathedral was filled with tourists and street performers fromevery corner of the globe, and the line of saints looking down upon themfrom just above the ancient doors seemed glad to have them. It’s a sight likenone other in Paris—or the world, for that matter—and for a moment, itmade me forget why I was there, other than taking in the sheer majesty ofthe place.“It’s awe inspiring, isn’t it?” Phil remarked.“Amazing. It makes me wonder how anything sinister could be lurkinghere.”“There’s nothing sinister about it,” he answered. “There’s nothingintrinsically sinister about any of these places, no matter how things mayappear. Nothing is lying in wait for innocent souls to come passing by. Onthe other hand, we sometimes do invite these energies through our ownchoice not to acknowledge them. This can be conscious or unconscious.The way scenarios like this play out is more a matter of the latter, so tospeak. Many of these energies are like lost orphans—not so different fromthe way a lot of us feel. They’ve been magnetized to a world not of theirchoosing . . . in many cases by misguided magical intent, often byagreement. They’re not evil or bad; they just don’t belong here.“Please don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying there aren’t sinister energiesout there. Regardless, the only thing we’re required to do is love them andlove ourselves enough to let them go, and sometimes that requires toughlove. If we went in thinking we were entering a battle, then we would beinviting one. Trust me, these are not the kind of forces you want to do battlewith, or otherwise mess with. It’s a fight you’d be fated to lose. But if weenter with open hearts, a genuine desire to serve, and protected fields, thenthe reception we’ll receive here, and in similar places, will be verydifferent.”Considering the gargoyles that lined the roof of nearly the entirestructure, these were interesting words. And yet I had to agree with him.After visiting six different locations and encountering a number of strangeand bizarre energies, I realized that there was nothing demonic or evil aboutany of them. As Phil had said, they seemed trapped in a world they didn’tknow how to escape from, and we came with an answer, an answer to theirprayers.We seem to petition the angels for guidance and assistance in times ofneed, but I guess it may also work the other way. Maybe they need us justas much as we need them. After all, they’re part of us just as we are of eachother. More and more this mission, and my life, was beginning to makesense. The Holy Names we brought did seem to contain profound andparticular energies with the power to transform. And as Phil kept repeating,the only person I had to really be concerned with was me. As I transformed,everything around me had the potential to transform. It’s about individualchoice.“I think I want to know the name we’ll be chanting before we go inside,”I said to him. “I don’t really know why. Maybe because there will be toomany people once we’re in there . . . I’m really not sure. We can still chantin the cathedral, but do you mind?”“I was just thinking the same thing . . . good to know that our thoughtsare on the same lines. There are an awful lot of people inside. It will be niceto get the discussion out of the way now, and then we can do the chant oncewe’re in the cathedral.”Three steps lined the street moving away from the main doors of Notre-Dame, so we found a spot away from the largest groups and sat down. Therain fell like a gentle mist covering the people and everything around us likea baptism, and I felt the wetness from the cement as I found my place. Itdidn’t feel strange at all that we were there, as if the multiplicity of thethrong blended with the diverse emotions I was feeling within myself.“Okay,” Phil started as he opened his notebook. “The name we’re goingto use here is Elohim Tzabaoth, meaning ‘God of Hosts’ or ‘God’s Host ofArmies.’ It’s related to the Hod on the Tree of Life, which is itselfassociated with Din, the Hebrew word for the Divine attribute of justice.This name also has associations with Archangel Michael, the B’nai Elohim,the ‘Sons and Daughters of Light,’ and the ‘Giversof Pain and Delight,’ butnot in a Star Trek sense.”“You know, I’m pretty sure I’ve heard this name before, and I think it wasin some magical context.”“It’s not really magic at issue here,” Phil replied, adjusting himself in hisseat, more for dramatic effect than comfort. “In truth, we’re all magicians atheart. Aleister Crowley was on the right track when he said that ‘magick isthe science and art of causing change to occur in conformity with will.’When you think about it, it’s really one of the major themes of the MosesCode. I think the message, and the great power of using the Code, is justthat—to effect change by the use of will, the right and proper use of will.Take the name ‘I AM THAT, I AM.’ The more precise definition is ‘I willbe what I will be,’ or even more accurately, ‘I am in the process ofbecoming what I will myself to be.’ It’s all about choice and the exercise ofour wills.”“Yes, I see that,” I said.“I’m glad you do. Like I said before, the object of all spiritual practice,including magic, is to deepen one’s relationship with the Source of AllThings, to God. In true spiritual practice, you dedicate your life tounderstanding the true nature of the Divine, leading, of course, to thecentral mystery of yourself.“According to most Kabbalists, we cannot yet understand the infinity ofGod. We can only fathom the unfathomable through his creations. As wecome to know ourselves, we come to know more of God. We come to knowGod through our experience of God. Through the ages, systems of magichave been passed down to us, or maybe even brought up to us, allowing usto evoke very powerful spiritual energies . . . energies that can be used, orabused, according to the will of the magical operator. I’m sure you’ve heardof Enochian magic.”“Yeah, I have. Tell me more.”“Enochian magic is a system of summoning and commanding spiritualenergies (mainly in the form we know as ‘angelic energies’) that wasbrought through most recently in the late 16th century. This system employsa language known as Enochian, the same language that was taught to thebiblical patriarch Enoch by the same class of angels.”“What do you mean by a class of angels?”“Fallen angels, to be precise, or so it is believed,” Phil said with a halfsmile. “These angels are said to watch over humanity from the fourWatchtowers of Creation. Enochian magic is designed to literally open thelocked gates of these great Watchtowers, which are said to stand guardagainst the chaos that lies at the outer extremities of our Universe.”“Doesn’t this have something to do with Dr. John Dee?” I asked. “Iremember reading about this. He was a close confidant of Elizabeth I, andsome actually suspect he had something to do with the storm that destroyedthe Spanish Armada.”“That’s right,” Phil confirmed, almost surprised that I was aware of theconnection.“So, what was the purpose of these Enochian calls?”“It’s from these Watchtowers that these angels can be summoned into thisworld by means of the Enochian systems. There are many hierarchies andorders of spiritual intelligence in the Universe that can be made to do ourbidding, although there’s usually a price to be paid.”“You mean our souls?”“Perhaps, if you believe your Bible stories. The important thing toremember is that it’s not magic that’s at fault here. It’s not the fault of thesystem per se, but more a matter of how the system is used. It’s all aboutconsciousness and intent. I’m talking about misguided souls who, in a self-serving quest for power or control, let loose spiritual energies on this planetthat were never meant to wander the earth freely. That’s why many of thesecathedrals were built—to attract and trap them until such time as they couldbe guided home. Lots of other energies get trapped in places like this aswell. We’ll talk more about them at our next stop. Much of the strife andpain that exist in the world today is on account of these energies beingpresent.”I was feeling a little confused and needed some clarity. “I don’tunderstand, Phil. This is something I’ve been meaning to ask you since webegan. Now is as good a time as any. How is it that spiritual energies can benegative or evil?”“Spirit is spirit, Jimmy,” he replied, as if he were a high-school teacher.“Everything is composed of spirit, of particles, units of the consciousness ofGod. It’s like someone calling themselves an ‘energy healer,’ as if therewere something else we use to heal with. It’s simply energy. It’s theintention that gives it its direction. Crowley also said that every intentionalact is an act of magic. It’s all spirit, all consciousness, all God.”I thought about what Phil was saying, and I felt myself beginning tocomprehend his words on deeper levels. I began to think about all of myexperiences—all the lessons I’d been taught in my adventures and how theywere beginning to make even more sense given the context of what we weredoing. I thought about the world at large and why peace seems so elusive.Could it really be true that these energies contribute to the hatred andnegativity manifesting in the world today?At the same time, I remembered what A Course in Miracles says, thateverything is either a call for love or an act of love. Phil must have sensedwhat I was thinking and feeling. He spoke more softly and in measuredtones. “When we chant the names, we’re opening ourselves up to graceflowing into and through us. This field of grace acts like a beacon of light,illuminating the portals so that these energies can find their way back fromwhere they came. This is the time of prophesy, Jimmy. The dimensions areblending and the gates are opening like never before. It’s a perfectopportunity to light the way home. Even the devotional systems of St.Francis of Assisi are thought to encode vast alchemical secrets. What doyou think of that?”“I find that hard to believe, but go on.”“Why do you find that so hard to believe? You don’t think it’s possiblethat St. Francis was privy to some of these codes and secrets, or that hemight have been able to see past the veils through his devotional practicesand meditations?”“I really don’t want to get too off track on a discussion about St. Francis.I’d really rather hear more about Enochian magic.”“Suit yourself,” Phil replied, almost disappointed that I didn’t want tospar with him. “Enochian is an extremely complex and sophisticated systemof magic. There are many others that have a bearing on the work we’redoing here. I could go down a list for you, but that would only bog youdown with lots of information. I’ll mention a few, though.”I wanted to hear more, but I was also conscious of the time. There wasstill a lot of work to do, and we needed to be getting inside.Phil noticed my impatience. “We’ll go inside in a minute. I just want tofinish this thought. Here are some of the other forms of magic that arerelated: there is The Lesser Key of Solomon, The Heptameron, TheNecronomicon, The Sacred Magic of Abra-Melin the Mage, and manyothers. And then there are the grimoires, magical workbooks that werewritten expressly for use by Catholic priests.”“Catholic priests?” I gasped, suddenly reengaged.“Yes, but that’s definitely something we’ll need to put on the back burnerfor the time being. Time, as you said, is of the essence.”“Yes, but why did you feel the need to tell me all this? What’s thegreatest threat to us regarding these misplaced energies?”“Well, the first thing that comes to mind is the electromagnetic balance ofthe planet,” Phil answered. “Especially at this critical juncture . . . so muchchange is taking place, changes that are absolutely unprecedented in ourrecorded history. I’m talking about the shifts we’re in the midst of, righthere and now. I’ll fill you in more later. We should probably be making ourway inside.”“But what does the electromagnetic balance of the planet have to do withmagical systems . . .” By the time I finishedmy question, Phil was up andwalking. I caught up to him, and we joined the line that snaked its way tothe primary entrance.“What can you tell me about the history of Notre-Dame?” I asked as wemoved slowly toward the door.“Well, there’s so much I’m not really sure where to begin. Mosthistorians believe there were pagan churches and temples here on this islandfor hundreds, even thousands, of years before Christianity finally took hold.Then sometime around the 4th century, an enormous basilica with fivenaves was built to resemble the ancient basilicas of Rome. It was dedicatedto Saint Stephen, and its western façade was located about 40 meters westof the current Notre-Dame.“It remained there for hundreds of years until the 12th century, when,during the rule of Louis VII, a new cathedral much larger than St. Stephen’swas built according to the Gothic style that was gaining popularity. ThePope actually came to watch the first stone being laid in 1163. The firstphase of its completion was around 1270. Then during the Revolution, itcame under attack and much of it was destroyed, especially statues from thegallery of kings. The only primary one spared was a 15th-century statue ofthe Virgin Mary. The church is dedicated to her, after all, or so it issupposed. Finally, in the early 19th century, Notre-Dame was restored andgiven back to the Catholic Church. It’s one of the first of its kind, withvaulted ceilings and massive flying buttresses that seem to defy gravity . . .a true jewel of Gothic art. Suffice it to say that she’s had a long and colorfulhistory.”We were at the door, and the familiar sensation of walking from daylightinto a dark church returned. Immediately, the smells and sounds sweptthrough my senses, along with feeling the ancient history and significanceof one of the greatest churches on Earth. People and tour groups walkedabout, not so interested in the sacredness of the place, but wanting to takepictures and talk. It made me sad to see how these incredible structuresdedicated to prayer and grace are often treated in this modern age. Therewas no one to demand silence, so it didn’t exist.If only the walls themselves could speak . . . then I remembered—theywere speaking volumes! Phil had told me that Notre-Dame is really analchemical text in stone, and the bas-reliefs he pointed out certainly attestedto that fact. It felt more like a museum than a church, which seemed tospeak to something very deep and forgotten within us.“Follow me,” Phil said as he led me to a back corner of the enormouscavern. “We can do our chanting over here away from most of the people.”The corner did seem to be the safest place, yet we still found that weneeded to turn our backs to the open space in order to avoid suspicion. Wefaced the corner and closed our eyes, taking a few deep breaths. Then, likeeach time before, we started: “Elohim Tzabaoth, En Sof; Elohim Tzabaoth,En Sof; Elohim Tzabaoth, En Sof . . .”It was as if something in the enormous building took a breath with us aswe finished the chant. We both opened our eyes and wondered aloud aboutour next step. There was a part of me that didn’t want to move, wantinginstead to hold perfectly still and hope nothing would happen at all. We’dalready experienced the strange and the benign, sensing the presence oflight and dark angels, as well as more malevolent spirits. Whether any of itwas real was still an important question in my mind, although by then, thenotion was quickly receding. Something was happening to us and all aroundus. I still couldn’t accurately identify it, but the hours of denial seemed tohave passed.I looked over near the exit and saw an old nun sitting in a chair holding abasket, clearly petitioning donations for whatever charity or convent shewas devoted to. She nodded and smiled as people passed her, and the forceof her grace alone seemed enough to coax many of them into charitablesubmission. Although I couldn’t be sure, she seemed to look over at me andsmile, and it sent a shiver down my spine. Memories of Sacred HeartBasilica returned . . . about the strange man dressed in black who seemed tohave been possessed by something in the church, a spirit that seemed to bemagnetically drawn to us through the power of the Tetragrammaton.Was this nun really herself, or was she also inhabited by a wandering,listless ghost that was too afraid to move into the light? Perhaps it couldn’tfind the light and needed help. I thought of ships that would be lost at sea ifnot for the blazing beacon of the lighthouse. Maybe this was how theSacred Names worked: they were the lighthouses that guided lost shipsback to safe havens.I remember Phil telling me that we are all inhabited, even possiblypossessed, by what we believe, what we hold to be true. I tried to shake offthe feeling as the nun looked back to the line of tourists as they exited. Myimagination was getting the best of me, and I knew it. I finally decided towalk around and relax, so I nodded at Phil and started making my waytoward the altar.Until I passed at least three of the cathedral’s side altars, I didn’t realizethat I was actually forcing myself to look straight in front of me, hoping notto be distracted by some metaphysical anomaly that might present itself. Itwas hard to tell if I’d simply reached my limit for one day, or if there wassomething drawing me in another direction . . . toward the back of thechurch it seemed, perhaps to discover the real reason we were there.Whatever the case, I was torn between continuing to walk forward andrunning in the other direction.As I reached the main altar, I was amazed by the intricate reliefs sculptedinto the long ornate partition that separated the aisle from the tabernacle.Figures of saints and scenes from the life of Jesus stretched along theancient wood, including the sacred history of the church’s most challengedcanon and doctrines. Some of the faces in the figures seemed to look outthrough the wood directly into my soul, and I once again found myselfimagining that there was something that was waiting to reach its etherealhands out to touch my life and deliver a message. I stood there for amoment lingering, even hoping for something to reach out to me—someentities begging me to help them release the heavy grip of whatever formulaheld them captive. I scanned the wall for several minutes but felt nothing.Whatever promise the cathedral held, it wasn’t to be found here.I continued walking toward the rear of the church, weaving my waythrough the tourists and groups of sightseers. I came to an altar with aclosed iron gate that sheltered a tall statue of St. George with his swordraised to slay the dragon. A crowd of people took glimpses through thegate, looking at the other paintings and statues, but this was the one thatdrew my attention. St. George had a powerful frame with an athletic build,and the look on his face was determined and unafraid. I was mesmerized bythe look in his eyes, and while the crowd filed past from one alcove to thenext, I stood there transfixed, unable to even look away. My stare solidifiedand seemed to lock in place, allowing the saint’s face to almost come alive.At this point, I didn’t know if it was a real occurrence or the result of mystaring. Either way, I didn’t seem to have the will to turn and walk away, soI took a deep breath and waited for something to reveal itself.It was only then that my gaze shifted focus, and I noticed the wall behindthe statue. Shields with the Templar cross filled the entire area, framing St.George’s raised sword with a powerful energy capable of cutting throughany dragon or—how Phil would put it—any remaining vestiges of ourDraconian-controlled reptilian brains. When that thought came to mind, Ifelt a jolt of pain cut through my chest. It pushed me back from the gate atleast six inches, and I reached out to steady myself. The pain disappearedbut then returned, and fora moment, I thought I was having a heart attack,even though I was sure the intensity had yet to approach that level. Secondslater, it rocketed through me a third time, and I fell to my knees, holding onto the railing to stop my body from hitting the floor. Anyone who stoodnearby would have mistaken my movement for sudden religious fervor, butthe look on my face would have told a different story. Luckily, the third joltwas the last, but I stayed on my knees in case it returned again.My heart was racing, and I waited to make sure the incident had finallyended. When I was confident enough to stand, I pulled myself up andleaned against the bars, never taking my eyes away from St. George exceptto refocus on the Templar crosses behind him. I expected something tohappen—a word or phrase spoken out loud or in my mind that would offerme some details or information to explain what was happening . . . but nonecame. The name we chanted moments earlier did enter my mind, though, soI decided to focus there, reciting the Sacred Name over and over until a newdirection revealed itself: “Elohim Tzabaoth, En Sof; Elohim Tzabaoth, EnSof; Elohim Tzabaoth, En Sof . . .”As I chanted, I could feel something building deep within me, starting, itseemed, in my stomach until it reached my chest and then continued intomy neck and head. It was a heavy energy, not unpleasant but also notsomething I wanted to maintain. I kept reciting the name, knowing that theenergy I was sensing in the statue was somehow linked to what I wasexperiencing. Once again, I had the feeling of being caught up in some kindof net or web. The weight seemed to be pulling me back toward the ground,and I thought I was about to fall to my knees again, but as quickly as itbegan, it ended. I looked at the statue, and it seemed different, although Iwasn’t sure I could identify how. In my logical mind, I knew it wasimpossible, but St. George’s face seemed more serene and his sword lesssharp. I pushed myself away from the gate, almost expecting the pain toreturn. It didn’t, so I stepped back and began walking away.I walked with a group of Japanese tourists, passing them as they stoppedto look at a large painting in another of the side chapels. By then I wasnearly at the door, and I saw Phil standing there ready to leave. He smiled,and I gave him a look that told him I was done. It must have revealed morethan I’d intended because his smile immediately disappeared and wasreplaced by a look of concern. I put on my hat as I approached the door andrealized just how happy I was to leave Notre-Dame.A few feet before I reached the exit, I was face-to-face with the nun, andas I passed, she pulled her hands back as if she didn’t want anything fromme. But her eyes drew me in, and as our gaze met, she smiled and her lipsparted.“Thank you,” she said in English. “Thank you.”I paused for no more than a second and then walked out the door.CHAPTER 13Heretic CentralEl“What in the world just happened back there?” I asked Phil as we leftNotre-Dame Cathedral.I’d just finished telling him about the statue of St. George and the strangeenergy I felt, concluding the story with what the nun said to me on the wayout of the cathedral. It was as if she were totally aware of what occurred ina part of the church she couldn’t see.“Tell me more about the pain you felt,” Phil replied. “You mentioned thatyou felt it the moment you thought of St. George slaying the dragon.”“Yes, I was thinking about how St. George slew the dragon in the myth,and then I thought about Archangel Michael—a very similar story exceptthat Michael slew Satan, the devil. That’s when it hit me.”“That’s when what hit you? Was there anything else you saw or feltimmediately before the pain started? Did you hear anything?”“What was strange was the fact that I didn’t see or hear anything. I knowthat sounds bizarre, but at this point, the bizarre is normal; it seems oddwhen unusual things don’t happen. As soon as I thought the word devil andfelt the jolt to my heart, I expected that I’d come into contact with someangry spirit that was trapped in that altar. When I realized I hadn’t, it mademe wonder about the whole thing . . . except that there was no way I madeup the pain.”We walked away from the busy square down a street lined with stores andrestaurants catering to the millions of tourists who visit every year. Thelight drizzle we battled most of the day stopped for a short period, and Philtook out his notebook and jotted down a few thoughts as we walked.“I wish I could tell you what happened in there,” he said. “The fact is thatunless you can tell me more of what you were thinking or feeling, I can’tfigure this out any easier than you can. I do know that the parallels betweenSt. George and Michael the Archangel are very strong. Much of what weknow of St. George comes to us from the Golden Legend, which wasbrought to us from the Holy Land by means of the Crusades.”“Are you making a connection here with the Templars?”“Quite possibly. After all, he did protect himself with the sign of thecross. On the other hand, we have Archangel Michael, the Prince of Light,leading the forces of good against the powers of darkness and evil.”“Isn’t Michael known as the Good Angel of Death?” I offered.“Absolutely—and in contrast to Samuel, the Evil Angel of Death.Michael is also known as the field commander of the armies of God, whichis why the choice of Elohim Tzabaoth at Notre-Dame was inspired, to saythe least. He is also known in certain circles as Sabazios, or Sky Father.Notice the resemblance to the word Tzabaoth? Also, remember that Jewsconsider Michael an advocate, as strange as that may seem considering theJewish stance on that kind of intervention. At the same time, some believethat Michael was the teacher of Moses. In the book of Jubilees, Michael isthe angel who instructed Moses on the Mount and delivered the tables ofthe Law to him. Michael called Satan the primitive serpent. Do you now seethe connection with George’s dragon? This is the true adversary we have torise above, or slay. The thing about the nun at the exit? That’s the mostinteresting part of the story.”“I agree. What do you think it means?”“You really felt that her thanking you as we left had to do with what youexperienced in the rear of the cathedral, don’t you? Do you really think sheknew what was happening?”“I’m almost sure of it!” I was feeling more animated than I’d intended.“She actually pulled her hand back as she said it. I wouldn’t have been ableto give her any change if I wanted to. And she spoke in English. Do youthink she could just tell that I’m not French, or does she speak English toeveryone?”“Well, to be honest, you do look more like the north side of Chicago thanParis. But, seriously, I think what she said was for you—for your ears.”“So do I. I think she knew what was going on or was even a part of it,although I can’t imagine how.”“I’m sure how she fits in will be made clear to us as we go on.” Philcontinued, “I do have a theory, though. I really do feel that Rabbi Eleazarhas something to do with all this. Are you familiar with the concept of theibbur?“Yes, I am. Isn’t that when the spirit of a great teacher literally fuses withanother person?”“That’s right. The soul of a great sage—in this case, Rabbi Eleazar—bound his spirit to yours, at least for this journey through Paris. This usuallyhappens when more wisdom and faith are called for. And haven’t theseadventures been a test of your faith and trust, in some form or other? I thinkwhat you may have sensed at NotreDame, and possibly elsewhere on thisjourney, was a dybbuk, which is an evil or malevolent spirit. In the Jewishfolktale called A Kiss from the Master, the spirit of the great KabbalistShimon bar Yohai comes to someone in a dream. This someone has noexperience in the deeper study of the Torah . . . sound familiar? RabbiEleazar’s soul hasthis?” I finally asked. “And I’mstill having a difficult time seeing why it’s so offensive.”“I have no idea what you should do,” she said, her growing angerreaching its apex. “And the fact that you can’t see why it’s offensive makesit even worse for me. Imagine me trampling on a Christian doctrine that youhold dear. It ruined the entire film for me, and that’s really too bad because,otherwise, I liked it very much. But this I cannot condone.”By then the audience had heard enough and asked her to pass themicrophone to someone else. Unable to contain her feelings, she handed itto the volunteer standing next to her and stormed out of the room. Aftertaking a deep, cleansing breath, I tried to find someone with a kind face andopen smile to go to next, but it really didn’t matter. The question-and-answer session went on for another half hour, but it never really got ontrack.As I walked out of the room when it was over, I saw Mike Larson.“Hey man, nice film,” he said with a smile. “I really mean it.”“Thanks. Hearing what people really feel seems to be what this night wasall about, even if it wasn’t always very easy or fun.”Days later, I still hadn’t shaken the uncomfortable feeling from that night.On the one hand, I was sorry that an otherwise perfect event had beenturned against me, and yet there was something more, something that keptpoking at my consciousness with unrelenting persistence. What if thatwoman had been right? Was my revelation about the comma in The MosesCode movie going to offend the very group that had inspired the entireproject, both the book and the film? Would every Jewish person I met fromthat point on have the same reaction and accuse me of being shamelesslynaïve? A dark cloud seemed to hang over what I had put so much love andeffort into, and I wasn’t sure what my next step should be.There was another thought that drove me, one that was even morepressing than the opinion of other people. Of course, I’d never heard of theYud before that night. If what the woman said was true, then there had to bea correlation between the comma I used to explain the Code and thesmallest letter in the Hebrew alphabet. She mentioned the “hand of God,”and that the Yud represented the flow of Divine Light to humanity, whichsounded very much like the concept I developed with the Moses Code.Manifestation only occurs when we link our being with the being of God.The Secret may have focused on ego manifestation—or the act of attractingstuff—but true manifestation comes from the soul, and the soul is thehighest aspect of who we are. It’s the part of us that is fully aligned with ourSource, otherwise known as God. I started to wonder if this was more thana coincidence, and if the woman in Scottsdale wasn’t actually a messenger.I decided to do some research online and see what I could learn about theYud. As the woman had stated, it’s the smallest letter in the Hebrewalphabet and is said to represent the primal vibration of the Universe. Theanalogy of the hand of God comes from the Yud’s shape, which has a tipextending upward and an appendage trailing downward like a traditionalcomma. The Yud is the hand that draws energy from Heaven and thenanchors it on Earth. It’s also been said that all other Hebrew letters sprangfrom the Yud. In fact, it’s the only letter that is often placed above othersbecause of its transcendent qualities. And because it is the smallest letter, itrepresents the all that is contained within the most diminutive thing. Butthere was something that was an even greater surprise.The Yud is also known as an aspect of the Creative Fire, a fire that cannotbe consumed. Images of Moses at the burning bush immediately filled mymind. Is it possible that when God appeared to Moses and first revealed theHoly Name, it was actually the energy of the Yud that Moses wasexperiencing? My initial inspiration of the Moses Code being a comma wasbeginning to make more and more sense.About a week after I made these discoveries, I was scheduled to give alecture at the Sivananda Ashram Yoga Retreat on Paradise Island in theBahamas. I’d visited the ashram at least five times over the years andalways loved the opportunity to be in the atmosphere, chanting and praying,and of course, sitting on the beach. It was just what I needed after so manyconcentrated months of work getting the movie finished and released.The director of the ashram is named Swami Swaroopananda. Originallyfrom Israel, he is one of the most intelligent men I’ve ever met, especiallyin matters of spirituality and spiritual practice. In addition, he had lived andworked directly with Swami Vishnu-devananda, the Indian master whobrought Sivananda yoga to the West. One of the things that alwaysimpressed me about this organization is its dedication to peace, somethingthat came from Vishnu-devananda himself. He was known as the FlyingYogi and often flew his single-engine airplane into dangerous situations topromote peace. He even flew over the Berlin Wall during the height oftensions there, despite being warned that his plane would be shot down ifdetected. Swami Swaroopananda had been part of organizing that flight andonce shared the details with me. James Bond couldn’t have been betterprepared for a mission, and in the end, it was successful. This was the typeof person I wanted to model myself after.For several days I tried to get a meeting with Swami Swaroopananda, buthis busy schedule made it difficult for him to break away. It wasn’t untilafter I gave my talk on the Moses Code that he could finally meet with me.“I didn’t know anything about the Yud before that night in Scottsdale,” Itold him after I explained what happened at the premiere, “but ever sincethen, I’ve become obsessed with it. The connections are too amazing to bemere coincidence. It feels like I was led along only so far, and until now theonly way I had to understand the Moses Code was to call it a comma. NowI see that it’s much more than that. I’m starting to feel that this rabbit holegoes much deeper than I thought it did.”“There is no question about this,” Swami remarked in his thick Israeliaccent. We were sitting on hard wooden chairs next to the bay where thesound of passing boats made it hard to hear. “These are very deepmysteries, and it’s clear to me that you’re being guided by God.”“That’s why I wanted to ask you about it,” I continued. “Your experiencewith the Kabbalah could be very helpful. I just need to learn more. I feelthat if I do, then I could solve this and finally understand everything.”“But there is nothing to solve, and you’ll never understand it,” he replied.“You’re trying to do too much with your mind, but it isn’t your mind thathas brought you this far—it’s your soul. You’ve been guided here throughdirect revelation, and that’s the only way this can be understood. I couldgive you more information about the Yud and Kabbalah, but I’m afraid if Ido, it might bring you more harm than good.”“How could that hurt me? Wouldn’t it help me sort through everythingI’ve already read?”“I think it would only confuse you more, and that’s something I don’twant to happen,” he answered, as he reached for his handkerchief andtouched his forehead. “There is something I can tell you about the Kabbalahthat may help you, though.”I sensed that I was about to receive what I came for. In the past, I felt likethe Swami was always playing with me, testing me to see what he shouldsay or how much information he should offer. His responses were oftencloaked with intrigue, and I didn’t expect this occasion to be any different.But this was the first time I felt desperate to learn from him. He was theonly person I knew with such experience and knowledge, and I wasdetermined to receive it.“There are two types of Kabbalah,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “Thefirst is the one that is written down. This is not the true Kabbalah. Thesecond is received throughbraided with yours, in a sense, to help guide us. He cameto you in a dream. In a way, he initiated this journey of ours, and I’m justhere to dot the i’s and cross the t’s.”“This is the man who was redeemed even after a lifetime of sin,” I added.“Why would he want to help me, especially in something as far out as thisadventure?”“Some of the things you’re experiencing have their parallel in his life andteachings. Does that make sense? You were fixated on the statue of St.George who killed the dragon, which could be seen as a symbol of oursinful lower nature or repressive reptilian consciousness. Whatever it wasyou contacted there, it responded to something within you and the exampleof Eleazar. Remember, he taught us that there is no sin that cannot beforgiven or soul redeemed.“I don’t think I understand. It all sounds so crazy.”“It may be crazy from one perspective, but we left the sane world behinda long time ago. All I know is that your dream indicated that there’s apsychic link, a soul connection between you two. It’s an amazing gift. Whatyou’re experiencing through this fusion with Eleazar is like a purifying fire,and it’s not just for you either. I really believe that everything that’shappening to both of us here is for the benefit of so many more—maybe thewhole world. And it’s the meditation on the Holy Names that has triggeredit.”“What about the nun?” I asked.“I’m guessing that she’s so tuned in spiritually that she knew exactlywhat happened . . . certainly what needed to happen. She was thanking youfor what you allowed to occur. Who knows the specifics or what the finaleffects will be, but you released something very powerful within yourself.She acknowledged it and thanked you.”We walked in silence as we entered the Métro, once more descending intothe bowels of Paris. I tried to wrap my mind around not only what justhappened, but also Phil’s explanation. Even though much of my fear hadvanished, I was still apprehensive about our journey. If it really was truethat the soul of Rabbi Eleazar had somehow fused with my own and wewere sharing the experiences and lessons, then the puzzle pieces werebeginning to fall into place. Phil explained that Eleazar wasn’t made a rabbiuntil after he died because his life itself was the teaching, and his namemeans ‘God can help.’ He taught us that no one was beyond the healinggrace of God.“Eleazar asked for Divine mercy,” Phil recalled. “He asked it of the sun,the moon, the stars . . . especially for Heaven to have mercy on him, but hewas told that he has to forgive himself before he can ask for forgivenessfrom another. A valuable lesson, indeed.”I also thought about the implications this idea had when applied to themodern world. By many accounts, humanity had already passed the point ofno return, and some feel that the opportunity to turn the tide back toward ahealing path has vanished. If Eleazar’s lesson teaches us anything, however,it’s that it’s never too late. Perhaps humanity is ready to learn the samelesson, and in doing so, begin sustaining rather than destroying the earth.We exited the Métro at the stop Louvre Rivoli and emerged back into thelight. The drizzle had returned, and we stopped for a moment and took in anamazing sight. We were at the east end of the grand Louvre complex, themost famous museum in the world. Within that endless expanse of brickand marble, many of the greatest works of art have found their permanenthome, and it didn’t surprise me that our adventure would eventually bringus there.“I had a feeling we’d end up here at some point.”“We’re not going to the Louvre,” Phil responded. “We’re going to achurch just across from it: Saint-Germain l’Auxerrois, the Church of theLouvre . . . heretic central.”“Heretic central?”“Yes. The church used to house an amazing collection of relics, not tomention numerous references, veiled and unveiled, to certain truths theCatholic Church would prefer to keep hidden. I’ll tell you more when we’reinside.” He smirked, which told me that we were in for trouble.We stopped before we entered, and it seemed that I could emotionallyfeel something even before we walked inside. Enormous arches marked theentrance, and the stained-glass window at the front of the building promiseda grand reward. Phil was quick to point out among the statuary on theexterior of the church the image of Mary Magdalene, with long flowinghair, carrying three loaves of bread. Heretic central, indeed, I thought. “Tellme more about this place,” I said to Phil.“Back when the Louvre was still a royal palace, prior to Versailles, Saint-Germain l’Auxerrois was its church. Originally founded in the 7th century,this has been a sacred location for far longer, I assure you. The first majorchurch on this site was built in the early 12th century and was known asSaint-Germain-le-Rond. The church as it stands today is an interestingmixture of Roman, Gothic, and Renaissance styles. The bell tower, which iscalled Marie, is the only element that survives today from the original.What you see here was mainly built in the 13th century. On August 23,1572, the bells in this tower rang to launch a slaughter of thousands ofProtestant Huguenots who had been invited to celebrate the marriage ofHenri de Navarre to Marguerite de Valois—now known as the St.Bartholomew’s Day Massacre.”“They used the wedding as a way of trapping and murdering thousands ofpeople?”“Yes, they did,” he replied mournfully.“What a sad place.”“Paris is full of sad places. That’s one of the reasons why we’re here.”We stepped inside, and I was instantly filled with what could only bedescribed as profound apprehension. I didn’t want to be there, but I wasn’tsure if it was because of an inherent danger or Phil’s story. The knowledgeof what happened within the walls centuries earlier was enough to fill mewith dread, as if the walls themselves remembered the screams and pain ofso many. I closed my eyes so they would quickly adjust to the dim lighting,as well as shutting out the overpowering sensations I felt.St. Germain was refreshingly devoid of tourists when we arrived. It waseasy for us to find a pew in the back and feel like we had the privacy weneeded for our ritual. Once we were settled, we began.Phil opened up his notebook. “The Holy Name we’ll chant here is simplyEl, which comes from a root word meaning ‘might,’ ‘strength,’ or ‘power.’It commonly refers to God, as you know. When referring to angels or men,it simply means power. It appears 250 times in the Tanakh and around 200times in the Old Testament. You know, Jimmy, if Moses wanted to get theOld Testament published today, he probably would have to self-publish it.He—”“Phil, focus.”“Okay, sorry. Among the Canaanites, El referred to the Father God. It’soften combined with another word, such as Echad, producing El Echad,meaning ‘The One God,’ or El De’ot, meaning ‘God of Knowledge,’ as I’msure you’ll recall from our experience at Saint-Roch. You can see fromthese examples that although it is simple in form, it is profound in itsessence. El is the key to the Celestial Gate that allows the principle ofabsolute mercy to flow into the world. El is, in fact, the true essence of God.That’s why we’re going to use it here.”We closed our eyes and began the chant: “El, En Sof; El, En Sof; El, EnSof . . .”Just as we had seven times previously, I felt for the 12 creases of my leftknuckles and spoke the sacred words. This name of God echoed off thenearby wall, returning to us like the voices of forgotten souls who onceprayed and worshipped there through the centuries. I could feel the energybuilding as we chanted, and when it was finally over, the silence rose aboveus as powerfully as the words themselves. We sat for a few more secondsbefore it was time for me to explore on my own.“I don’t know why, but this place scares me a bit,” I confessed. “I thinkthe stories you told me have got methinking too much.”“You’ve done this so many times already and nothing truly terrible hashappened, has it? Just remember to keep your heart open. You’re protectedby the name, your faith, and your love. There’s nothing here that can harmyou.”Phil did his prayer of protection that he’d done at the other locations. Ibelieved what he said, but it didn’t do much to relieve the worry and fearthat seemed to have overtaken me. I stood up and started walking to theback, as I’d done so many times before in the other churches, hoping I’dstumble upon another welcoming soul like the nun in Notre-Dame. I wasn’ttoo particular about the type of experience I wanted, but my fear was thatI’d find an entire assembly of spirits that were lost and unable to leave theplace they were slaughtered. I thought about how it might have been todress up in my finest clothes because I’d received an invitation to attendone of Paris’s most anticipated weddings, only to be trapped and butcheredbecause of the particular church I belonged to. The dread I felt seemed toincrease as I walked, and by the time I reached the back of the church, Iwanted to leave.Something caught my attention almost immediately, however, that mademe want to explore another moment or two. I noticed dozens of Templarcrosses decorating the walls that separated the side altars, and there was onealtar that seemed to be the primary focus. I walked in and noticed that itwas largely bare except for an ancient tabernacle with two doors, both withsmall Templar crosses on the front. I remembered Phil telling me to alwaysfollow the signs, especially when crosses like these show up.As I approached the altar, I looked up and saw something else that let meknow I was in the right place: a beautiful stained-glass window stood justabove the tabernacle in four sections. In the center window, Jesus and Mary(as far as I could tell, it was Mary Magdalene) wore crowns of gold andangels were on both sides of them. What made the scene even moreinteresting was that there were dozens of Yuds—the Hebrew letter that hadinitiated our journey—adorning the entire scene. The fact that all thesesigns were in such close proximity to one another confirmed to me that I’dfound the source of energy I’d been looking for.The doors of the tabernacle kept pulling my attention more than anythingelse I saw. There was a rope to prevent tourists from entering the chapel, butthe longer I stood looking, the more I knew I had to break the rule. I lookedaround to make sure that no one was close enough to see and realized I wascompletely alone. Then I stepped over the rope and walked the three or foursteps until I was directly in front of the altar. My hands were shaking as Ireached out, somehow sure that whatever it was I was looking for, theanswer was lying behind those doors. I was surprised to find that theyweren’t locked or even latched. They opened easily, and I leaned forward soI could see inside.At first, it seemed empty, but the shadow was too deep for me to get agood look. I would have to peer directly inside, perhaps even reach myhand in to feel anything that might be within. The thought sent a wave offear through my body, enhancing what was already there. Reaching inmeant trusting my intuition, but that wouldn’t mean anything if my intuitionwas leading me into danger. I had been skirting along the side of dangersince beginning this journey with Phil, and until then, I had done well toavoid it. But this could be pushing the boat to the other shore, and thepossibilities both frightened and excited me.I took a deep breath and slowly stretched out my fingers, reaching as iffor a snake whose bite might end my life if caught off guard. My fingersfinally broke the empty space left by the open door, then disappearedcentimeter by centimeter into the shadowy deep. Soon my entire hand wasinside, and I groped about hoping to find something that would justify mybreach. My index finger seemed to rub against something rough on thebottom of the tabernacle, perhaps a parchment or piece of cloth, I thought. Itried to wrap my fingers around it to bring it into the light when I heard aloud voice.“Excusez-moi!” I quickly turned to see a janitor standing a few feet awaywith a mop held menacingly in his hand. “Que faitesvous?”I yanked my hand out and starting backing away. “I’m sorry. I was just—”“Sortez!” He yelled at me to get out.He rushed toward me as the mop head swung wildly in the air. He was insuch a hurry to expel me from the church that he forgot about the ropeseparating the aisle from the chapel and tripped. Before he was able toregain his balance, though, I was on the other side of him running to thefront door.“Sortez!” he yelled again. Phil heard the commotion and came out of aside chapel just in time to catch sight of us, and I grabbed his arm as Ipassed.“Come on—we have to go!” I yelled as we ran. Seconds later, we wereout the door jogging down the Place du Louvre. When we were out of sightof the church, we stopped to catch our breath.“What just happened?” Phil asked me.“I’d love to tell you, but there’s something else I need to do first.” Iopened my fist to reveal a tiny piece of paper, worn and decayed as if it hadbeen forgotten for decades.“What is that?”I told Phil about the tabernacle and the door with the two Templarcrosses, and how I reached inside just as the janitor confronted me. “I don’tknow what it is, but I feel the whole reason we were in that church was tofind this.” I held out the parchment so we could both see it. There were onlytwo words on it, written in French. “I don’t know what it means though.”“I do!” Phil exclaimed. “It says medal extraordinaire, which means‘miraculous medal.’ I know exactly what it means.”The look in his eyes told me more than words ever could. Miraculousmedal? I somehow felt like I was going home.CHAPTER 14The Incorruptible SaintYahweh TzabaothI was 14 years old when Mrs. Meyer gave me the gift that in many wayschanged my life. The mother of a friend and classmate of mine, she musthave noticed something in me—a bent or inclination toward the mysticalside of spirituality, something beyond the rituals and dogma most peoplecling to in fear. My friend told me about her mother and said that I shouldcome over to the house to meet her. After an hour or so of conversationabout saints and other religious topics, she reached out her hand and placeda small object in my palm—a Miraculous Medal.“I think my parents gave me one when I was confirmed a few years ago,”I told her. “I never really understood what it meant, though.”“It’s sign of devotion to the Blessed Mother,” she replied. “Every greatsaint was devoted to her, and if you’re going to follow their example, youshould do the same.”“You think I’m meant to follow the example of saints?” I asked indisbelief. The idea seemed so foreign and unreachable that I didn’t evenwant to consider it.She was smiling. “I don’t think you’re going to follow their example. Ithink you’re going to be an example—and if you choose to, you could be asaint yourself. I can see it in your eyes, the fidelity and the devotion. Butyou’re going to need her help if you want to stay pure. The medal will helpyou. It’s a way of giving yourself to her care, and once you’re hers, shenever lets you go. Just keep the medal close, and everything will work outon its own.”I never forgot that conversation. Within seconds, it was attached to achain I wore around my neck and was with me for years. Unfortunately,somewhere along the way, I lost it, as well as the original enthusiasm thatMrs. Meyer helped inspire. But it was still there, deep in the back of mymind. All it took was a little prodding, and perhaps an ancient-looking pieceof parchment.“That piece of paper you found changes everything,” Phil said, pullingme out of my reverie, as we walked toward the Métro.“It does? What does it change?”“Firstof all, it changes where we’re going to next. I chose ten places tovisit according to their importance and my intuitive guidance. I actually hadsomething completely different in mind for the ninth location; however, youfinding this piece of paper tells me that we’re meant to go somewhere else,a place I’d originally chosen but then changed my mind about.”“Where is it?”“Before I reveal that, there’s something else I need to tell you. Don’t youthink it’s strange that so many symbols and clues were present at St.Germain? It tells me that we were meant to find that parchment. The onlyquestion is who put it there? And why? Was it there for us to find, to guideus to our next location? I told you that there were allies assisting us on thisjourney. The parchment is very old, but there’s really no way to tell. Andthe words medal extraordinaire. As far as I know, they only mean onething, and that’s why we have to change our route.”“Change our route?”“Have you ever hear of the Miraculous Medal?”“Of course I have. Every Catholic knows about it. They used to handthem out like candy.”“How much do you know about its history or where it came from?”“I used to know a bit, but it’s been awhile.” Phil and I were standing onthe platform waiting for the train. It was late in the afternoon by then, andthe Métro was busier than it had been earlier, so we moved to the far sidewhere it was less crowded.“There was a nun here in Paris named Catherine Labouré from theDaughters of Charity. One night in 1830 she woke up to the sound of ayoung child asking her to come to what’s called the ‘Sister’s Chapel.’ Theplace where it happened is very near here. The Blessed Mother Maryappeared to Catherine that night and said she was going to charge her with aspecial mission. Later that year, Catherine had another vision of Marystanding inside an oval shape on a globe. She also saw the following in ahalo around her head: ‘O Mary conceived without sin, pray for us who haverecourse to thee.’ Mary then instructed her to have a medal made depictingwhat she saw, telling her that those who wear it would receive great grace.At first it was known as the ‘Medal of the Immaculate Conception’ but waslater changed to the ‘Miraculous Medal.’”“Yes, that all sounds familiar.”“But do you know what happened to Catherine after her experience?”Phil asked.“I don’t think so. What?”“No one other than her confessor actually knew that she was the one whobrought the Miraculous Medal to the world. She spent most of her life as anordinary nursing sister, and she died in 1876. In 1933, her body wasexhumed and was discovered not to have decayed.”“Yes, I remember now. She’s one of the incorruptibles. There are manysaints throughout Europe who are on display in various churches andcathedrals whose bodies have not decayed.”“That’s correct. As for Catherine, almost 60 years had passed, and itlooked like she’d just died. It was considered a miracle, one of the gracesthat Mary said she would bestow. Since then, Catherine rests in a glasscoffin at the side altar in a church at 140 rue du Bac, inside the chapel at theMother House where the Blessed Mother appeared. As I’ve said, it wasn’tone of the places on my list, but given the discovery you just made, I nowfeel it should be. We’re going to the Chapel of Our Lady of the MiraculousMedal.”I looked down at the piece of paper in my hand. Was it really meant toguide us to the church where a saint’s incorrupt body now lay? If so, whatwas the connection? The train pulled into the station as I was contemplatingthis, and we stepped into the already overflowing car. Phil was pushed inone direction and I was pushed in the other, and we held on to the steel poleas it jerked forward, pulling us closer to the next step. But what was it astep toward? It was the first time I’d asked myself that question, suddenlyneeding a purpose that would offer some deeper meaning to all of theseexperiences. Each spot we visited and the Sacred Names we chanted gaveme a deeper appreciation of the power in the names themselves. But therehad to be a deeper reason for it all, and the piece of paper I found was a steptoward its revelation.I thought about Mrs. Meyer and the Miraculous Medal she gave me. Itwas a gift and a step that led to so many other openings and opportunities—all of which led to that moment in Paris, bumping along on the Métro.Within days after speaking with my friend’s mom, my life completelychanged. My prayers and devotions took on a new level of dedication, andmy heart seemed to open to a deeper intimacy with the Divine, a shift thathas driven my life ever since. Through Mrs. Meyer, I discovered a sacredwealth of fidelity and grace that had eluded me until then. My spiritual lifewent from fulfilling my Sunday obligation to attending daily mass andpraying my rosary each morning before school. It was a juvenile beginning,but one that gained profound momentum as I grew up.Years later when I felt the desire to expand my journey to include morethan the narrow frame I had been raised with, that devotion never left me.And I couldn’t relate to those I met who felt wounded by their upbringing,calling themselves ‘recovering Catholics.’ For me, my faith was acontinued source of strength, like a beloved mother who may live in adifferent state but continues to exert tremendous influence.We stopped at Saint-Placide and filed off the train. When we reached thestreet, I noticed that we were in a trendy neighborhood with designerclothing stores and upscale food markets serving its chic clientele. Wewalked several blocks and turned down rue du Bac, and in the distance, Icould see people standing outside a large churchlike building. Near the alleythat led between two buildings stood a young bearded Franciscan, and Irecognized him as being part of a burgeoning community from the Bronx inNew York called the Franciscan Order of Atonement.I’d read about the order in several magazines commenting on their back-to-basics approach to religious life. His beard was at least five inches long,leading me to believe (if it were true that members were forbidden to shavetheir facial hair) that this man had been a member of the community forseveral years. His presence lent an air of conservatism to a shrine that Iknew attracted more traditional Catholics, a group I was for the most partraised and rooted in. Memories were streaming into my mind as weapproached the building, and I held the parchment in my left hand as ifsomeone were going to steal it from me at any moment.We turned left into the entrance that was still open to the air and rain,walking toward the door at the end of the alley where the real action surelyawaited us. A door to the right led to a small bookstore where older nuns,clearly the descendants of their Sister Catherine, sold large bags filled withmedals to be passed out to members of churches or prayer groups when thetourists returned home.“It’s funny that fate brought us here,” Phil remarked. “When I wasresearching and trying to decide where we would go, this church was anoriginal choice, but like I said, I’d changed my mind.”“Why did you change your mind?”“I’m not really sure,” he said as we stopped in front of the doors that ledinto the main church. “It just didn’t add up at the time, but now it makesperfect sense.”It was unusual at first to walk into a chapel that was so much smaller thanthe other churches we’d visited. A brilliant light seemed to radiate from thealtar, and although the lamps that illumined the central statue of Mary wereperhaps brighter than they needed to be, I sensed that there was somethingmore, something I couldn’t see with my eyes that inspired a sense of awe.Above the altar, a wondrous tableau commemorating Catherine’sapparitions with Mary drew the attention of every person there, and theangels that surrounded them seemed to have a quality that made them seemreal, althoughI knew it was impossible. The statue of Mary was meant toresemble Catherine’s vision: the glowing halo, a circle of 12 stars, andoutstretched arms. As always, stone angels surrounded her, sentinelsholding sacred space and guarding the bridge that separated Heaven andEarth.Then I saw something that confused me at first. To each side of the mainaltar, two glass coffins rested on the ground, each seeming to contain theremains of a nun. Phil had mentioned only one incorruptible, Catherine, butthere seemed to be an additional saint resting in front of us. I turned to him,and he seemed to recognize my puzzlement.“I don’t know,” he replied. “I didn’t know of any other incorruptibleshere. Let’s go to the front and see if it says anything there.”We crossed to the far aisle, and I found myself instinctively genuflectingwhen I passed in front of the tabernacle holding the Blessed Sacrament—acustom I’d learned and practiced from the time I was a child but which Ithought had been abandoned. I made the sign of the cross, then stood againto follow Phil. He looked back at me and smiled, probably wondering why Isuddenly chose to follow the custom there but not in any of the otherCatholic churches we’d visited. I shrugged my shoulders as if to say that Ididn’t have an answer either, for him or for myself.In some ways, this church reminded me of the devotions that had been soimportant to me when I was young, but as I grew older, praying the rosaryor wearing the Miraculous Medal became less important. At that time, thechurch was my entire spiritual world, and it wasn’t until I left college thatI’d discovered a new world where I could apply the same lessons to a widevariety of expressions. Years later I would put the peace prayers from the 12major religions of the world to music, and in doing so, my reach expandedto uncovering the essence of peace found in every spiritual path. But when Icame to places like this—churches where the old practices were stillhonored and devotion to the Blessed Mother was still in vogue—somethingdormant within me came to life, and I found myself automatically returningto the practices of my youth.We made our way to the glass coffin sitting to the left of the altar thatcontained the body of a nun in an ancient habit. Beneath the container, therewas an inscription that revealed her identity.“Saint Louise de Marillac,” Phil read in a soft voice. A bright mosaic roseabove her with two angels in prayer looking down upon the body, and adove symbolizing the Holy Spirit shining its light onto the middle of thecasket. “I think she was the founder of the order.”“One of the founders,” a voice behind us corrected him in a thick Frenchaccent. We turned around to see a small nun, perhaps in her 70s, smiling upat us. “She helped St. Vincent de Paul found the order. Oh, hers was anamazing story.”“Can you tell us more about her?” I asked in as soft a voice as possible.“Well, she was born in 1591, and she was illegitimate, which meant shewas despised by so many. She wanted to be a nun, but instead she marriedand had a son named Michel. When her husband died, she decided to giveher life in service to others, and this is when she met St. Vincent. Theywould visit the poor together, and she ultimately became his collaborator instarting the order. She was very holy, and that is why she is here near thealtar.”“But sister,” Phil said, “I didn’t realize there was more than oneincorruptible here. I thought that St. Catherine was the only one.”“She is. This isn’t the real St. Louise; it’s just a wax image of her. St.Catherine is the only one whose body has withstood the ravages of time.”We were both surprised by this. The body beneath the glass seemed soreal and natural. It was easy to believe that the miracle had happened twice.“What does it mean?” I asked her. “There must be a reason why St.Catherine’s body didn’t decay as normal.”“There is a reason,” she said. “It’s grace. The grace of Our Lady filled hercompletely as a reward for her humility and service. Catherine was theperfect example of everything Mary expressed. She didn’t draw attention toherself but to the beauty and holiness that was demonstrated to her. Eventhough she died, her body remained whole, and her soul remained free.Come, I want to show you something.”We walked with her as she crossed in front of the altar, genuflected, andthen walked to the body of St. Catherine. I followed her example andgenuflected as I passed and Phil did the same. Then we stopped directly infront of the glass coffin. Catherine was dressed in the same style of habit aswhen she was buried, although there was no way for me to know if it wasthe exact same one. I assumed it was since it had been either encased hereat the altar or beneath the ground held separate from the elements.“Come close so we can speak softly,” she whispered. We moved in as shepointed toward the body. “Everything looks perfectly normal, but there isone thing you could say is unusual. Tell me if you can see what it is.”I looked at the body beneath the glass and had a difficult timedetermining what wasn’t unusual. Her wimple seemed as clean and starchedas the day she was first professed, and the famous symbol that could befound on all Miraculous Medals was embossed in gold behind hermidsection. In her hands, which pointed straight upward, were the beads ofa black rosary balanced between her fingers as if she were still deep inprayer. As much as we looked, though, neither one of us could spotanything obviously out of place.“Don’t look for what is missing,” the nun instructed, “but for what isthere in abundance.”I tried to follow the train of her words, but as long as I looked, nothingseemed abnormal, given, of course, the strange circumstances we weredealing with.Finally, Phil spoke up. “The rosary. She has two rosaries, one in the handand one at her side.”I looked and realized that he was correct. There was a second rosary lyingat her side, as was customary for a nun’s habit, in addition to the one in herhands.“That’s right,” she affirmed. “Very good. Now, as soon as you discoverwhy she has two rosaries, then you’ll solve the mystery.”“The mystery?” I asked, as if she’d read our minds. “What mystery?”“The mystery of the medal and of St. Catherine’s incorruptible body.They’re linked, you know. Understand one and you’ll understand themboth.” She walked away smiling, toward the back of the church. I looked atPhil.“Was it a coincidence that she spoke of a mystery involving the medal?”“There are no accidents,” he replied, gazing through the glass at her paleand lifelike body. “We were led here because of a tiny parchment that saidmedal extraordinaire. Now we’re told there’s a mystery around the tworosaries. Why? It isn’t just a coincidence, that’s for sure.”“Any idea what it means then?”Phil didn’t say anything for several seconds but stood looking at everydetail of the body, the rosary, even the clothing she wore. His eyesconsumed every detail like a fire moving over the scene, and I wondered ifhe perceived something that was invisible to me. Then he took a deepbreath and relaxed. “No, I don’t know what it means. Not yet. But I dobelieve that we were led here and that it’s all part of the puzzle. I suggestwe sit down and chant the next name. Every other time it has initiatedsomething, like a chain reaction, that brought us to the right spot or theperfect experience. I’m sure the same thing will happen here.”“But this isn’t like the other places we’ve visited,” I added. “This isn’t aGothic cathedral that was built with the Templar symbols and ancientformulas etched in the walls. This is a relatively new church, so I can’timagine that it has the same charge the others had.”“You may be right, but there’s something here—at the very least, there’ssomething for us to learn. When we were in Saint Germain l’Auxerrois, youwere led to the side chapel where you sawthe tabernacle with the Templarcrosses, right?”“Yes, that’s correct.”“And the tabernacle just happened to be open, and there just happened tobe this piece of paper with the words medal extraordinaire. It seems tooconvenient, too easy, don’t you think?”“I didn’t question it till now . . . but maybe. What does it mean?”“It almost makes me feel like it was put there for us, but by whom?”“Who would have put it there?” I asked in disbelief. “No one knowswe’re here, and even if they did, how could they have known that I wouldlook there?”“Don’t be so naïve. It’s no secret we’re here. We haven’t been alone sincewe started this journey. We’ve been making ourselves known in some prettydramatic ways, and not only to other people.”“Now you’re scaring me.”“I didn’t necessarily mean that the way it sounded.” Phil took me by thearm and walked me to the side. Two older women were trying to get closerto Catherine’s body, and I had the sense we were starting to speak over awhisper. “What I meant to imply is that we’re not alone. Maybe that’s whatthe parchment was about. Maybe it was meant to remind us that we’redoing important work here, and that we should keep going.”“Why all the mystery, then? First the paper, then the nun. What did shesay about the rosaries?”“She said that if we could figure out why there were two rosaries, wewould understand why Catherine’s body remained uncorrupted. And I thinkI have the answer—at least part of it.” He moved a foot or so to the left sowe could see into the glass coffin where Catherine lay. “One rosary is at herside, but pay attention to the one in her hands. Maybe it’s not so much aboutthe rosary itself but the hands that hold it. Notice that her hands are turnedupward, in prayer position. Her fingers are pointing straight up, almost as ifthey’re pointing to something. Do you see that?”I realized that Phil was onto something. Her fingers indeed seemed to bepointing, but toward what? I looked above the glass coffin and saw abrilliant white statue of the Blessed Mother directly above her, a direct linefrom her upturned fingers. I took a step closer to see if there was anythingin the statue that might give another clue, a symbol or a familiar sign. Noneseemed obvious, though I couldn’t let go of the feeling that there wassomething I wasn’t picking up on.“Let’s go back over to the side,” Phil said as he pulled me into a pew.“It’s time for us to do the chant. I’m sure something more will happen oncewe focus on the name I’ve chosen.”“What name is that?”“The Sacred Name we’ll be using here is Yahweh Tzabaoth, which means‘Lord of Hosts.’”I noticed we were going to repeat what we chanted at our first stop.“We’re back to the Tetragrammaton. Are you going to vocalize somethingelse again like we did at Sacred Heart?”“No. This time we’re going to actually stay with Yahweh and simply addthe word Tzabaoth.”“Wait a minute. You gave me this whole speech about how the Most HolyName can’t be vocalized. This is really confusing. Which is it?”“Do what you feel is right. Let’s allow Spirit to move us since this placeis so different than the others. We’re in a spot where a miracle occurred alittle over a hundred years ago. The other locations we’ve visited are olderand have much more history. I was going to recommend using a differentword than Yahweh just as we did before, but I feel like I’m followingsomething here. I say we go with it.”“Hey, I’m not the one who had an issue with it in the first place, and Idon’t have an issue with it now,” I added. “I don’t feel quite ready, though.Do you mind if I walk around a bit more?”“I was actually going to suggest that we move about the church a bitmore and let the perfect place find us. There’s an incredible amount ofenergy in this church, and it seems to be moving us effortlessly into a verydeep experience. We can begin our chant once we’ve located the spot weneed to be in.”I could sense the strong energy all around me, as if I were beingenveloped in a feeling of grace that I’d never experienced before. My firstinstinct was to walk back to St. Catherine’s body and look for more clues,but when I stepped into the aisle, I felt a strange sensation, almost like I wasbeing pulled backward. I decided not to resist the urge and found myselfwalking to the rear of the church. It was a subtle feeling but one I couldn’tignore. I walked to the back and stood by the door, stepping to the side aspeople walked in and out of the entrance. From that spot, I had a clear viewof the altar and the two coffins, one with the body of St. Catherine and theother with the wax effigy of St. Louise.As I stood there, an idea seemed to enter my mind that I didn’t expect. Isuddenly remembered the obelisk and the stereogrammatic vision Philtaught me. I wasn’t sure why, but I had the feeling to look in the direction ofCatherine and the statue of Mary with this form of soft focus, letting myeyes slightly cross and fade in and out. I hoped no one was looking becauseit must have appeared very strange. A minute or two passed as I followedmy guidance, and it was only when I decided that it was pointless that I sawsomething out of the ordinary.In the statue above St. Catherine, Mary held a golden globe with a thincross at the very top. I had the sensation that the globe began to move,almost lift from her hands, and I closed my eyes for a second to see if it wasreally happening. When I opened them again, everything had returned tonormal, but after a few seconds, the globe once again seemed to lift a fewinches from her hands. And as I retained a soft focus, it appeared to keeplifting and then fell slowly toward the glass coffin. I watched and held mygaze, and it continued to fall until it seemed to come to rest at the tip ofCatherine’s fingers. I blinked, but the vision remained. I didn’t want to lookaway because I was convinced that there was a message for me, as if I wasseeing something that wasn’t really there for anyone else, and it had greatsignificance.Then I heard a quiet feminine voice enter my mind. At first it was like awhisper, but the single phrase seemed to gain momentum until it penetratedmy entire being.“Pray for the whole world. Pray for the whole world.”Was it her voice—Mary, the mother of Jesus? The sound made me feelbuoyant, and my soul felt like it was lifting from my body, just as the globelifted from her hands.“Use the name and pray for the whole world.” By now an ecstaticfeeling rushed through me, and I thought I might actually loseconsciousness. I was barely aware of Phil as he touched my arm, bringingme back just enough to hear what he said.“I don’t know what you’re experiencing, but I believe it’s time for us touse the name I’ve chosen for this location.”I nodded my head, which is all I seemed capable of at the moment, andwe began: “Yahweh Tzabaoth, En Sof; Yahweh Tzabaoth, En Sof; YahwehTzabaoth, En Sof . . .”It felt like a key was being inserted into the proper hole, and all thetumblers were suddenly falling into place. I’m not sure how, but the SacredName seemed to trigger something in the globe that was still floating nearthe tip of Catherine’s fingers. It was beginning to glow and radiate a goldensilvery light that soon encompassed and surrounded her entire body. Itseemed to be enveloping her—that’s the only way I can describe it—as ifthe energy was holding her in a state of suspended animation. Was Iactually witnessing the miracle of her incorruptibility? Was this why herskin was as intact as it was the day she died 120 years earlier?Behind her in the casket, the medal she was famous for reflected the lightof the radiating globe, and in that instant, I knew why we were drawn there.It was impossible to know if someone had placed the parchment in the lastchurch for us to find, or if they were simply meaningless words with noconnection to what we were now experiencing. Coincidence or not, theydrew us tothis spot, to the church where a marvelous miracle was takingplace. Holiness and grace were flowing from Heaven through this statue,imbuing the body of this faithful nun with an unearthly energy that coulddefy the laws of time. It was indeed a medal extraordinaire, and through theHoly Name, I was blessed to directly perceive it.“It’s so beautiful,” I murmured just below my breath.“I didn’t hear you,” Phil whispered. “What was it?”But as much as I wanted to tell him, I couldn’t speak. All I could do washold on to the ecstasy and grace that was by then filling me completely.Tears were flowing down my cheeks, and I barely sensed the presence ofthe helpful nun who spoke to us at the front of the church earlier.She looked at me and smiled. “Maintenant vous comprenez . . . now youunderstand. It’s nice when someone understands what’s happening here.”CHAPTER 15Chartres CathedralEhyeh Asher EhyehWe arrived back at our apartment early in the evening, and there was onlyone thing I wanted to do: sit perfectly still and not think about the events ofthat perplexing day. As we walked up the stairs, we passed the bizarrepainting of Rhett Butler and Scarlett O’Hara, as well as the ghastly portraitsof demons and men enduring horrendous torture. Just what I needed, Ithought to myself. It had been a day of slow torment mixed with momentsof sheer ecstasy—and now I was back in a place that seemed more likehell’s waiting room than a bed-and-breakfast.“What should we do tonight?” Phil asked, as if I had any interest at all ina nighttime excursion. “How about Moulin Rouge? That would be amazingafter everything we saw today.”“I think I’d rather have toothpicks inserted through my eyelids,” I blurtedout, as I fell onto the couch. “You do what you want, but I’m not goinganywhere. Just knowing there’s still one place left on our Kabbalah tour ofParis makes me feel even more exhausted. Why won’t you tell me wherewe’re going tomorrow?”“I wanted it to be a surprise—the cherry on top of the sundae!” heexclaimed with far more enthusiasm than I could bear.“I think I’ve had enough surprises. If there’s no esoteric reason for notrevealing it, I hope you’ll take me out of my misery and spill it now.”“Fine.” Phil sat down across from me in a large stuffed chair. “We’regoing to one of the most amazing churches in the world—ChartresCathedral. You’ve probably heard of the famous Chartres labyrinth, as wellas some important relics we’ll find there that I’m sure might be of specialinterest to you.”I sat up straight in my chair. “Of course! I’ve always wanted to go toChartres. That’s great news . . . but it’s not in Paris. How far away is it?”“It’s 80 kilometers from Paris—a very easy trip. I figured we can getsome breakfast and spend a good part of the day there. That’s the benefit ofhaving accomplished so much today. Now we don’t have to rush.”“What can you tell me about the cathedral?” I asked.“Well, first of all, the proper name is the Cathedral of Our Lady ofChartres, or Cathédrale Notre-Dame d’Chartres. It was built in honor ofMary, mother of Jesus, and is sometimes called the ‘Seat of the Virgin Maryon Earth.’ Even before it was built, it was a very important Marianpilgrimage destination with enormous fairs that honored Mary with manyfeasts dedicated to her.”“That’s always a distinction we need to make in France: Mary Magdalenealways seems to creep in somewhere.”“Mary Magdalene will always insinuate herself, especially in this part ofthe world, either overtly or covertly. Worship of the Magdalene has oftenbeen replaced by the Blessed Mother since the Catholic Church has alwayshad an uneasy relationship with the other Mary. Anyway, because of itshistory, it was only natural that in the year 876, it became the home of thetunic of Our Lady, called the Sancta Camisia. It was supposedly given tothe cathedral by Charlemagne who received it as a gift during a crusade inJerusalem. None of that’s true though . . . you know how legends go. It wasactually presented by a man named Charles the Bald, and it’s believed thatthe fabric came from Syria. Carbon dating proves that it was woven in the1st century. It’s all very interesting, don’t you think?”“I think it’s interesting that his name was Charles the Bald,” I added as Ireached up and rubbed my own head.“I thought you might like that. And here’s something even moreinteresting: in 1194, there was a fire in the church that nearly destroyedeverything. The townspeople, as you might imagine, went completely crazy.It didn’t seem possible for Mary’s tunic to have survived. It was one of themost crucial relics in Christendom, and it was gone. What they didn’t knowwas that some of the priests hid with it in an underground vault (in the cryptthat we’ll be visiting tomorrow) that was beneath the main church. Threedays later, after everything cooled down, they emerged carrying the relic.Can you imagine what that must have been like? The entire town ismourning the loss of their most precious possession, and three days later,the priests walk out through the smoke and debris carrying it high in theair.”“So it’s still there . . . the tunic?”“Yes, of course: the tunic, the crypt, Our Lady of the Pillar, and evenChartres’s Black Madonna. That’s why we’re going tomorrow—all thosereasons and more, as you’ll soon find out.”I stood up from the couch and began pacing the room. “Do you see howsignificant this is? We were led to the Chapel of Our Lady of theMiraculous Medal by a seeming coincidence, and it was while we werethere that I actually believe I saw how Mary was keeping St. Catherine’sbody intact. Now we’re going to the cathedral that houses her actual tunic.That can’t be a simple coincidence. I have the feeling that a great part ofthis journey is being guided by her, in one way or another. Does that makeany sense?”“I can’t say for sure,” Phil replied, “but it does seem possible. We’vebeen using various Kabbalistic-related names of God to unlock the keys toour own souls, knowing that we would be helping to release other forms ofsentient consciousness in the places we’ve been visiting, both physical andnonphysical. Somehow she keeps showing up in the equation.”“Mary has always been believed to be the perfect reflection of God’sgrace, much like the moon reflects the sun. So it stands to reason that she’sbeen behind much of this journey.”“I think you might be right.”“What about the name?” I inquired. “There’s one in particular that seemsto have been missing.”“I figured you would notice. You used it as the foundation of the MosesCode: Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh, ‘I AM THAT, I AM.’ I’ve been saving it forChartres because I knew it would have the most impact, although I don’tthink I realized just how much until now. Everything we’ve experiencedseems to have led us to this point, straight back to the Mother.”“That’s somewhere I’m very comfortable,” I remarked.“What do you mean?”“I don’t know how much I’ve ever told you about this, but my entireyouth was spent praying my rosary, wearing my Miraculous Medal, andgiving myself to Mother Mary. It’s the reason I decided to join theFranciscans when I was 18. I may have gone off in other directions sincethen, but my devotion to Mary has always been a center point of myspirituality.”“That’s great to hear,” Phil said, “and you may want to hold on to thatbecause the way this day has gone, there’s no telling what will happennext.”I was back in Jerusalem, but everything looked different from what Iremembered. People walked through the street speaking to one another andholding hands, and the smell of incense filled the air. It took me severalseconds to recall my previous visit with Rabbi Eleazar, when I sat in thecafé and learned more about the mission that Phil and I were about toembark on. Since that conversation, we had experienced so much, morethan I could have ever imagined. I hoped that I’d find him there again andthat he’d be able to tell me more about our last day in Paris, and what it allmeant.As I walked, I noticed a woman who sat staring straight ahead with ayoung boy on her lap. It struck me as strange, and as I watched, the boysprung from her lap and grabbed my hand, pulling me through the crowd ofpeople, darting around them as we passed. It was only then that I realizedhe was the same boy from my dream the night before—the one who led meto the pregnant woman—although he seemed perhaps younger now. Whenwe finally stopped, I noticed that we were back at the café where I had myconversation with Eleazar. The boy let go of my hand and climbed onto thelap of another woman with dark olive skin, different from the one I saw himwith before, yet she too sat silently, staring straight ahead. Then I heard afamiliar voice speaking.“Come and sit down, my son. You do know where you are, yes?”I turned and saw Eleazar sitting at a table. It was similar to the one we satat the last time we met, but it was also higher, and I noticed that thetablecloth was much more colorful. I walked over to him and sat down.“I’m back in Jerusalem, aren’t I? Isn’t this the same place we met lastnight?”“Look around and tell me what you see.” He waved his huge hands in theair as he said these words, and it was only then that I noticed that thingswere indeed very much different. People walked around us in modern dress;and I saw merchants’ tables filled with jeans, cell phones, CDs, and piratedDVDs.“It’s Jerusalem,” I replied, “but it’s now modern-day Jerusalem, notancient times like it was last night.”“Last week or 2,000 years ago . . . time means little in this world.”Eleazar sipped his tea. “It is the same place, but everything is different asyou can see. But you are the same, and I am the same. And that means thatGod is the same. Do you understand?”“Yes, I think I do. Times and places may vary from one era to another,but truth and God are constant. They don’t shift from one period toanother.”Eleazar nodded and smiled. “Very good. And what about this music . . . itwould make anyone meshuga. The sacred music of my time fills one with asense of longing: the longing of the soul’s vessel for the light and thelonging to return to the state of Devekut, which is the state of spiritualunion with the Creator.”It was only then that I heard the sound of rap music blaring from a nearbywindow. Eleazar plugged his ears and smiled, making a largerdemonstration than he needed to.“I can see what you mean,” I said to him, “but will you tell me moreabout the soul’s longing for the light?”“As you ask, my son. It is from the teaching of the Beloved Ari, blessedbe he. He spoke of the original vessels that were not able to contain thesheer power of the spiritual light that was poured into them. As a result,they shattered. The vessels were made to be able to hold or contain thelight, but they were no longer able to. Before the beginning, everything wasfilled with the light of En Sof.”“Is this what happens when we receive more light than we can handle?” Iasked. “This seems to be what many people are experiencing at this time onour planet.”“This is very important, and I want you to try to understand.” Eleazarleaned over the table and moved a foot closer, staring into my eyes with anintensity I hadn’t ever experienced. “When that happens, when the soul isno longer able to contain the light, there is a restriction, but this restrictionallows a new creation to occur. It is related to the concept of what’s calledTzimtzum, whereby a void was created into which the Light of Existence ispoured. The question is: Are you ready to make room in your life—in yourheart—for your new creation? This, as you’ll soon see, is what your journeyhas been all about.”“Yes, rabbi, I believe I am. This is why we’re here, and why I’m sittingwith you now.”“Yes, but first the curtains or the veils that hide the light need to beremoved.”“Is that what Phil and I have been doing with the names?”“You’ve been using the Sacred Names to connect with the ongoingmoment of creation,” he answered, leaning back in his seat again. “Thenames are mathematical programs. Think of it in this way: when you needto access information in those things that have been invented that do somany things and are so powerful—”“Do you mean our computers?”“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. When you need information from yourcomputer, there is something you need first. Do you know what it is? Itallows you to begin.”“Yes,” I answered, “we need a password or a pass code.”“Precisely. And these are what the names are: they’re passwords. Theyare keys that unlock gates of light within you—celestial gates. They openyour heart and allow your light to shine. They allow access to the mostsecret chambers of the heart: to the intelligence of the heart. They will opento your future and your past, allowing them to fuse into the presentmoment.”“And when we finally open our hearts in this way, what will we find?”“What will you find? Ah, that’s the big question, isn’t it? All I can tellyou is that this is a very special moment, my son. Now is the time for therepair of the world, the Tikkun Olam. Even to nonmystical Jews, theconcept of Tikkum Halev points to a restoration of the human heart and soulto a primordial state of unity and harmony that was known and experiencedbefore what’s called the ‘Shattering of the Vessels.’ We are all Holy Sparkslonging to return to the state of unity we knew before the creation of theworld, before the fall. The Creation, your world, is in a damaged state rightnow, a state of imperfection, and special souls have come at this time ofcorrection to restore and reinvigorate humanity.”“I feel that there’s a very special role for the Divine Feminine in all this,”I added. “The role of Mary seems to be coming up again and again in thisjourney, both Mary the Mother of Jesus and Mary Magdalene. Am I on theright track with this? Is this all about the Divine Feminine finally bringingbalance to the world?”“You are closer than you know,” he said smiling. “It is she who will crushthe serpent’s head—the serpent being the egoic world that seems to reign.She is the Shekinah returning from her exile. When she does, then allshadows will disappear, and a new world crowned in glory will rise. Do youknow what I’m referring to?”Instantly a scene from the book of Revelation popped into my mind: theapocalypse of St. John, of a woman with the sun and moon at her feet and acrown of 12 stars around her head holding the child—the son who wouldrule the world to come. “Yes, I think I do. It’s one of the signs of the endtimes. Is that what you’re saying—that she signals the end of the world?”“All I’ll say for now is that you are very close,” Eleazar replied.“Continue following the signs, and let the Sacred Names guide your way.You’ll soon discover that this goes far deeper than you realize. There is stilla Torah invisible to human eyes. It will show you how beginning andending are to be joined.”I woke up to the sound of music in the next room—what seemed likesome kind of jazz-rock fusion, far more than I hoped to hear so early in themorning. I looked at the clock: 7:30. The desire to go back to sleep escapedme, and I assumed this was Phil’s way of getting the day moving. I threwmy legs over the side of the bed and made my way to the bathroom.“What do you think?” he asked as I entered the living room momentslater. “I found a few CDs. Nice way to get the blood going when you’re inParis!” He looked so happy and excited about the final day of ouradventure. I didn’t feel that I could share his enthusiasm until after a strongcup of coffee and perhaps even a visit to our favorite crepe shop.“It’s a bit much for me right now. Maybe just a tad softer?”Phil turned the CD player off. “Just didn’t want you to sleep too longwith Chartres waiting for us. I have a good feeling about this finalleg. Howare you feeling?”I wondered if I should tell Phil about the most recent dream with Eleazar.I decided to hold off and see where things led. So much had alreadytranspired, and I knew that everything would work out just as it was meantto, regardless of my interference. “I’m feeling like moving along andgetting on the train,” I told him. “Did you check the schedule?”“The train leaves every hour from Gare Montparnasse, so we’re fine. I doagree that there’s no time to waste, though. Everything’s about to fall intoplace, and I for one am curious about what that will look like.”The train rolled through the French countryside, and the sun beganelbowing its way through the dark clouds. It was a pleasant relief to knowwe wouldn’t have to struggle through the rain again as we had the previousday; the elements were finally on our side. Perhaps it was a sign of things tocome: that we were about to enjoy a whole new range of possibilities andlearn how the various names of God fit together in some kind of coherentwhole.That was the truth of it—regardless of what it’s called, God is one and weare one in God. We’d wrestled with and been blessed by the variousenergies we encountered along the way, but in the end, they all led back tothe same place . . . me. I realized that it wasn’t a personalized “me” I felt,but the truth within each one of us. Whoever we are and whatever weexperience, God’s grace is personal and intimately involved in our lives.The journey we had chosen was a journey to the core of who we really are—Phil, me, and each one of us. The lesson may be simple when approachedthrough the mind, but when claimed by the heart, it’s an experience that canchange the world.The train turned a corner, and I could see a village in the distance. In thecenter of the village, two enormous spires rose above the roofs and trees,giving the impression of angel wings spreading over all the inhabitants ofChartres. For more than a thousand years, the cathedral watched silently asthe rest of the town grew and matured. It alone remained the same,expressing a constancy that’s refreshing and rare in these modern times.“The cathedral is a short walk from the train,” Phil said as we approachedthe station. “I say we make our way there and begin right away. If there’sstill time at the end, we can explore a bit.”“What do you expect here?” I asked, hoping for at least a guess.“There’s no telling,” he replied, without looking away from the windowof the train. “Yesterday we helped open energy channels and portals withinus and within these structures that have been resting or blocked forcenturies. That’s bound to have an impact in ways we can’t begin toimagine. I don’t mean to be mysterious or evasive, but it all comes down toChartres, and to the name Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh. Tell me what you’ve learnedabout that particular Sacred Name.”I was surprised by the question, especially since we were seconds awayfrom arriving in the village of Chartres. There must be some significance, Ithought, so I looked inward and spoke more from my heart than from mymind. “Moses asked one of the most important questions in history. Heasked God for a name, but not just any name. The name God gave helpedMoses understand the nature of Divine Presence. The Israelites didn’t havea name for God at that point, other than appellations that representedqualities or attributes or even terms of reverence. God was always at armslength, separate and somewhere in the distance.“Moses realized that Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh (I AM THAT, I AM) offered thekey for creating miracles, not only in their lives but for the entire world.Moses claimed the freedom that the Israelites desperately sought, and withthe Holy Name of God on his lips, there was nothing that could stop him.It’s a lesson that has been overlooked for 3,500 years, but now I think it’stime for all of us to realize that we’re no different than Moses—that wehave the power within us to create miracles. The name of God is our name,in that sense, since we are ultimately one with God. The lesson of theMoses Code is that we cannot be separated from truth except in our minds.Release the thought of separation, and miracles happen all around us.”“And the other Divine Names—how do they relate to all this?”“Each aspect of God, represented by the various names of God, areaspects within each one of us. They’re lessons that remind us who we arewhen we’re aligned with the Divine within us. If we live in the ego, then welive our lives opposing the attributes of God, but when we live from oursouls, then those same aspects take us over and we resonate with them onthe deepest levels. I believe this is something that has always beenunderstood and lived by the greatest mystics and saviors, such as Jesus, forexample, when he used the ‘I AM’ so expertly. Now it’s time for us to dothe same, to live from a fully awakened heart and a fully realized soul,which is the source of our lives and highest nature.” The words had flowedso fast from my lips that my own mind couldn’t keep up with them. I had tostop and take a deep breath before I realized what I said, and how true it allfelt.“Okay.” Phil smiled. “That means we’re ready to go.”It was only then that I realized that the train had come to a stop, andpeople were making their way to the door. “Was that okay . . . what I justsaid?”Phil turned back to me. “That wasn’t only you speaking. It was alsoEleazar.”“What do you mean?”“It’s what I’ve been saying all along. Eleazar has merged, or braided,with your consciousness in some way, at least for the duration of thisjourney. I felt it yesterday morning after you told me about your firstdream.”“My first dream?”“Yes, the first, and there was another last night. I already know about it. Iwas watching just as I did the night before. It all tells me one thing: thatwe’re ready. And in many ways, everything has led to this one moment. Idon’t know what’s about to happen here, but I know that it will be perfect.”A whistle sounded, indicating that we had to hurry. We grabbed ourbackpacks and stepped off the train.“I can’t believe this!” I exclaimed, as we stepped out from beneath thecovered enclosure. In a matter of minutes, the blue sky had turned dark withclouds, and rain was beginning to pour. The wind had also begun whippingthrough the station, and it only increased as we stepped out into the narrowstreet. We opened our umbrellas and had to lean into the wind to preventthem from being torn apart.“This is amazing,” I added. “It was looking like it was going to be abeautiful day. This seems to have come out of nowhere.”I looked over at Phil, but he didn’t answer. There was a look of concernon his face, and he didn’t seem to be surprised or shocked at the abruptchange in weather. But he did seem worried, as if it were something he’dhoped would not occur—a sign or omen that revealed something more tohim.“Is there anything you’re not telling me?” I asked as we made our waypainfully down the sidewalk in the direction of the cathedral.“No, there’s nothing I’m not telling you,” he stated, finally looking in mydirection. “I have to say, though, that this sudden shift has me a bit worried.It could just be the weather, or it could be something more. I’m stunned thatthe sky darkened so fast, especially since the entire train ride was beautiful.There was hardly a cloud in sight, and the forecast for today was excellent.Let’s just get to the cathedral and finish what we came here to do.”“And what is that?”“Chant the final name and then see what happens. It’s the same asyesterday. I don’t want us talking ourselves into something that isn’t reallythere, if you know what I mean. I want to sense what is here and then fulfillour mission.”I could see the spires in the distance, and within a minute, I saw the entireawe-inspiring structure. Even from a block away, it was an amazing sight.So much had happened here overthe centuries—so many births and deaths,wars and festivals, popes and peasants who wandered down this very samestreet focused on the gifts this architectural giant might offer them. Andnow we were there, holding on to the final name as if it were a relic. Atleast it wouldn’t be alone, I thought to myself. One of the most famousrelics in the world lay just ahead.“There’s a shop I want to go into over there next to the cathedral,” Philsaid, “sells souvenirs and such. If you want to go into the crypt, you have tobuy a ticket and join a guided tour. I have the feeling there’s somethingthere for us.”“Is that where they keep Mary’s tunic?” I asked.“No, that’s in the main church. We can go there after the crypt.”“By the way,” I said as we approached the shop. “The labyrinth is inside,isn’t it? I’ve always heard that people come here just so they can walk—”“Yes, that’s right,” Phil interrupted. “Unfortunately, it’s usuallycompletely covered with chairs, and it’s difficult to get whoever is in chargeto remove them. I guess they don’t understand the power of walking alabyrinth.”“Does that play into what we want to accomplish here?”“It might. Chartres is rich with opportunities, and we’ll just have to waitto see what jumps out at us.”“That was just a figure of speech, right?”Phil grinned. “Right. I don’t think we have to worry about anythingjumping out at us—not today.” He walked inside the shop, and I followed.As I expected, it was filled with tourist mementos and gifts. I looked aroundas Phil tried to speak French with the woman behind the counter. In the end,they both decided it was best to stick with English.“We’re lucky,” he remarked as he walked over to me. “There’s a tourbeginning in a few minutes, and there’s only one other person signed up forit. She’s French, which means the guide will need to switch back and forthas she describes things.”“That’s fine. When will we be able to see the tunic?” I felt like a childwho was too anxious to wait. Phil gave me a look that communicated morethan words could. Just relax and be patient, he said with his eyes. I took adeep breath and waited for our guide to arrive.The woman placed an ancient-looking skeleton key into an even moreancient-looking keyhole. Centuries of rust and dirt forced her to use morestrength than I’d expected, and seconds later, the huge door swung inwardtoward the dark crypt. She reached around the corner and turned a lightswitch, and electric fire illumined the cold stone walls. I thought about thedays before electricity existed and how a guide had likely given each persona fiery torch as they entered. These and other thoughts filled my mind as thefour of us entered: Phil, our guide, the unnamed French tourist, and me.Then the guide shut the door separating us from the modern world with amedieval thud. Suddenly, my mind was devoid of chatter, and I was fullypresent once again to the adventure at hand.“Chartres Cathedral as we see it now was completed in 1220, but notofficially dedicated until the year 1223, on the eighth of September, thebirthday of the Blessed Mother,” our guide stated, first in French and thenEnglish. “It is a splendid example of radiant Gothic. This area of the Beauceregion—this ancient forest—has been sacred since ancient times, moreancient than the Druids. A bit later in the tour, we’ll visit a place called OurLady of the Underground.”This sparked my interest and attention. “Our Lady of the Underground?”I repeated.“Yes, the Virgin Paritura, the Virgin who is about to give birth. If I maycontinue . . . at least three other cathedrals stood here on this spot beforethis was built. But the Middle Ages were a cruel time, and each of them fellto the various scourges of their era. Other disasters brought about varyingdegrees of destruction, until, of course, a local bishop decided to build oneof the most glorious churches in all of Europe—the one we are standing innow. The fire of 1194, which was ignited by a lightning strike, and theFrench Revolution both nearly brought her to an end. But the grace of Godwas on her side, and she still stands as tall and proud as she ever did.”We walked through the various dark hallways and tiny chapels listeningto our monotone guide describe each detail of construction and historicalimportance. She talked about Druids, ancient springs, healing waters, andimages of virgins and children, but the fact that she spent the vast majorityof her description in French made it even more difficult to hold my interestand attention. Even Phil was beginning to look impatient and agitated. Ilagged behind long enough until it seemed I’d been forgotten, and then Iturned back to venture off on my own.The ancient corridors were dimly lit, and shadows made innocentsculptures seem like approaching demons. I passed through an archedentrance that led into a narrow hallway. The ceiling seemed to be lower andthe hall stretched around 40 or so feet before another archway led to adifferent room, probably a chapel. I walked into the area and was amazed tosee Templar crosses, images of the Virgin, and other strange symbolsadorning almost the entire ceiling. Then I felt something familiar, almostlike I was being watched, as if someone or something sleeping in the crypthad suddenly stirred and was now wide awake.I kept walking until I passed under the second arch and found myself in asmall chapel with two stained-glass windows behind the altar. The firstwindow depicted the Sancta Camisia (Mary’s tunic), and the otherdisplayed a huge Templar cross. I wanted to shout for Phil so he could see itfor himself but decided against it. I didn’t want to draw too much attentionor alert them to the fact that I had abandoned the small group. But it didconfirm that we were in the right place and that there was something,perhaps above us in the main church, waiting patiently.“Hello? Where are you?” It was the voice of our tour guide. My absencehad been discovered, and I was forced to rejoin the others.When the tour was over, Phil and I stood outside one of the southernentrances to the main cathedral. “Templar crosses next to the SanctaCamisia,” I stated after I’d told Phil what I saw. “That means a lot—the factthat someone, at some point, linked the two or at least saw the influence ofone over the other.”“What do you think it means?” Phil asked.“I have no idea yet, but the answer must lie inside, so let’s go see.”We entered Chartres through the west front and what is called the RoyalPortal. In the tympanum of the right-hand doorway was an amazingsculpture of the Virgin and Child seated upon a throne of wisdom andflanked by angels. Phil told me that the north entrance to the basilicadepicted the crowning of the Virgin, as well as her death and Assumption.He then pointed to the second window on the south ambulatory, to what isconsidered the finest and most beautiful example of stained glass in all theworld: Notre-Dame de la Belle Verrière, the famous Blue Virgin Window. Itshows Mary and Child in blue on the Seat of Wisdom against a redbackground. The window survived the fire of 1194, and its alchemical bluelight has captivated millions through the centuries. I was nearlyoverwhelmed with the beauty and magnificence of the cathedral, perhapsmore than any other place we visited in Paris, including Notre-Dame.Phil pointed to the middle of the nave, and just as he’d told me, I saw thefamous labyrinth completely ignored beneath many rows of chairs. I walkedover and stood on one of the circular pathways, walking only three stepsbefore being blocked by a chair. It seemed a shame, but then I rememberedwhat he said—sometimes the trick is finding your way into the labyrinth aswell as the way out. We weren’t there for anything other than fulfilling ourmission with the final Sacred Name. All that was left was for us to find theright place, chant the name, and then wait. What happened after that wasanyone’sguess.Something drew my attention to one of the side chapels to our right, thefirst bay of the north ambulatory. A group of people knelt and prayed whileothers took pictures. I wondered if it was the famous relic so many revered:the tunic that once belonged to the Blessed Mother. I walked over with Philfollowing close behind, but when we arrived, I realized it was somethingvery different yet just as interesting.“Ah, Our Lady of the Pillar, Chartres’s Black Madonna,” Phil stated.“What can you tell me about the Black Madonna?” I asked. “It’ssomething I’ve read about but never fully understood.”A young woman with flowing red hair was standing next to us and musthave overheard the conversation. “It’s always assumed that it’s a statue ofthe Mary,” she replied in a thick French accent, “the Mother of Jesus, but inthese parts, there is a very different understanding. The color black refers tothe one who was pushed into the background, relegated to the shadows—Mary Magdalene. As you probably know, the early church neverunderstood her role or her relationship with Jesus, and it has little to do withwhether or not she was his wife. At the very least, she was one of hisconfidants, if not his closest one; and even today, she’s sometimes calledthe Apostles’ Apostle.“But the church didn’t want her stealing the light, so she was turned intoa prostitute and a sinner, none of which was true. Most people don’t evenrealize that a number of years ago, the Pope issued a statement reversing thechurch’s position on that matter, saying that there was no link betweenMary Magdalene and the adulterous woman in the gospel story. Anyway, inFrance she was never forgotten, but she was disguised. What you’re lookingat here is the mask she’s worn for 2,000 years—the mask of darkness.”“Is there any link with the Templars?” I inquired.“The Templars?” She seemed surprised that I would bring them up. I waseven more shocked by her answer. “It is strange that you would think to askme that. Yes, actually there is. It’s believed that St. Bernard de Clairvauxhad a very strong relationship with the Black Madonna, and a historiannamed Ean Begg suggested that there was an esoteric branch within theTemplars, which revered the Magdalene in her shadowy form. Suffice it tosay that since the Templars were powerful here in France, there’s littlechance they could have avoided the association, and given their less thanorthodox rituals and practices, it’s likely that the association was deep. Doesthat answer your question?”Before I could answer, she walked away, and Phil and I looked at eachother.“Did that just happen, or was she in my imagination?” I muttered.“Best not ask questions like that in here,” he replied. “Some mysteries arebetter left unsolved.”“I agree. We’ll leave it for now.”“Have you ever heard of the concept of Theotokos?” Phil asked me.“I think so. It’s the doctrine that states that Mary was the Mother of God.”“Yes, it was proclaimed at the Council of Ephesus in 431. You may notknow this, but the first stage in the alchemical process is called the negridoor ‘black stage.’ It’s all about liberating the light in dark matter—what thealchemists called the materia prima. It’s been said that the return of theShekinah will finally liberate matter from its bondage. She is the liberatingangel and the sum total of all the Divine Names. She is Mary, Mother of theWorld. This is the best way I have of describing this concept.”The dark Madonna held the Christ child in her arms, and both wereclothed in magnificent gowns covered with jewels. There were also crownsatop their heads, and each of them had one hand outstretched with whatlooked like a single finger extended in a John the Baptist gesture. It was asif they were both pointing toward Heaven, or perhaps even indicating thenumber 1, which was more likely.“Do you think this is where we should chant the last name?” I asked.“Actually, no. Let’s move a bit farther down. I want you to seesomething.”I looked in the direction he motioned toward and saw a larger group ofpeople standing at another side altar. We walked in that direction, and I feltmy heart beginning to stir in a familiar way—an emotion I both welcomedand desired. It reminded me of the feeling I experienced when I met thebeautiful nun who was trapped inside the Church of the Assumption and therapture I sensed at the Chapel of the Miraculous Medal when I witnessedthe heavenly light enveloping the body of St. Catherine. It grew stronger aswe approached, and I knew before we arrived what it meant.Phil turned to me. “The Chapel of Saint-Piat and the veil or tunic of theBlessed Mother.”It was enshrined in a small glass case and was locked inside a goldenchurch-shaped reliquary with two gold angels on either side. The cloth wasstretched inside and didn’t look at all like the 2,000 year old tunic it wassaid to be. The glass case sat atop a stone altar, and within seconds, Ispotted something carved into it, which was directly aligned with the relic. Inudged Phil. “Do you see that? It’s a Templar cross right beneath the cloth.”“Yes, of course, but I never noticed it till now.”“Everywhere we go . . . it’s like bread crumbs leading us somewhere.”“I think they’ve led us here,” Phil said, “to this Our Lady of Chartres. It’salso leading us to the final Sacred Name we’ll chant. This adventure beganwith the Moses Code and ‘I AM THAT, I AM,’ and now it ends there withEhyeh Asher Ehyeh. Everywhere we’ve gone we found symbols and signsthat told us we were in the right place. I don’t know about you, but this feelslike the last and most important of them all.”“Do you think we should do our chant here by the Sancta Camisia?”Phil looked around as if trying to make a decision. “Yes, I think weshould. If we walk over to the side, we can probably avoid the crowd.”We found a spot on the wall, and I stood facing it with my head restingagainst the cold stone. Phil stood a foot or two beside me, just close enoughfor me to hear him clearly. Then I took three deep breaths, somehowsensing that our journey was about to reach a final climax, even though Istill had no idea what that really meant. Would I finally be able to graspwhy Phil felt it was so important to use the Sacred Names in this way?Would I be able to rest knowing that I did what I could to understandeverything that began with a simple comma, but that led to so much more?There were so many threads that seemed to be weaving themselvestogether. I just hoped that I’d be able to see the tapestry it created andcomprehend what it was all for.Phil began speaking. “We’re going to activate the first name that Godgave Moses at the burning bush through the Angel of Light. This is thename that, as you say, indicates that we are one with God and all creation. Italso contains the secret for creating miracles in our lives and in the world.When we understand that God claims and accepts us this and everymoment, and that we are worthy of the abundance of the Universe, then allthings flow to us with ease and grace. Haven’t you noticed how muchEhyeh sounds like Ah, Yeah? This is part of the secret you cracked—whenwe say yes, we invoke the full creative power of the Universe. This is thelesson of Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh, the Moses Code, and the lesson we learntoday.”Then we began our final chant: “Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh, En Sof; EhyehAsher Ehyeh, En Sof; Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh, En Sof. . . .”My forehead was pressed against the wall and as I tried to push away,something seemed to hold me in place. I attempted to raise my hands togain leverage, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t move. Then thenatural sounds of the cathedral seemed to fade, and I had the sensation thatsomeone was standing behind me, but it wasn’t Phil. I caught his silhouetteas he walked away toward the Sancta Camisia, and still I felt the presence—even a shallow breath against my neck. I wanted to turn around anddirect experience. This is the true Kabbalah.Only that which is received through direct revelation can be said to be true.When you read a book or if I tell you what I know, then you’reexperiencing another person’s interpretation of their direct revelation. Thiswill only satisfy the mind, which is always seeking to avoid the trueKabbalah. It’s clear to me that you’ve been guided to this point, and there’sno reason for me to think that it will not continue. Therefore, I’m not goingto tell you anything more because I want you to proceed exactly as you arenow. The more you trust the way God is revealing everything, the more itwill endure. Then you’ll know everything you need to know, and theanswers you seek will be revealed.”I sat back, dissatisfied. “I understand what you’re saying, Swami, butthere must be something you can tell me.”“I am telling you something very important,” he replied. “If youunderstand the gift I’m giving you, then you will be able to move into thismystery in a way that words can never penetrate or comprehend. You arebeing guided, just as I said. And yet it isn’t your mind where these lessonsexist; it’s in your soul. Listen to your soul, and it will guide you to whereyou need to go and whom you should go with. This is a journey you musttake . . . it isn’t a destination. It is a journey into your own heart, Jimmy.Trust it and it will trust you. Do you understand what I mean by that?”“I’m not sure. Trust it and it will trust me?”“Your soul is waiting only for your trust, and then it will guide you inways that may seem impossible right now. It needs to trust that you willlisten, and you need to trust that what it tells you is the truth. This is a timeof great discovery, and the more you’re able to surrender to that energy, theeasier the lessons will be—and the more profound.”The meeting was over, and I didn’t know what to think. Of course, Iunderstood what he said. If someone came to me in the same situation, Iwould have probably done the same. I was being guided—that was clear—but I was hoping for someone to help me sort through everything I waslearning to make sure that I wasn’t going off track. Without the Swami, Iwas on my own again and no closer to the truth than I was before.Unless he was right, of course. If he was, then I wasn’t alone at all. If thiswas just a way for me to listen to and trust the wisdom that was streamingto me from my soul, then I was headed in the right direction. I left theBahamas with a mixed sense of relief and anxiety. I was on a sacredjourney, one that was getting stranger and stranger by the moment. The lastthing I wanted was for it to end . . . but of course it didn’t.CHAPTER 2The Flawed GeniusI decided to e-mail my friend Phil Gruber and ask for some guidance andhis thoughts on the matter. Phil has an encyclopedic knowledge ofmetaphysics, and if he was willing to help me, then I knew I would soon beable to grasp everything I seemed to be missing. After a few days, Ireceived a reply from him: “So, you want to know about the Yud and how itapplies to the Moses Code? I’ll meet you in Switzerland and explaineverything. Maybe we’ll even have an adventure or two. . . .”There was nothing unusual about Phil simply showing up in my life inthe strangest of circumstances or when I least expected it. Whether in theHighlands of Scotland or a tiny village in Israel near the Sea of Galilee, hetook great delight in surprising me. I’d seen him a couple of months earlierwhen he came to Madison and Chicago for public screenings of the roughcut of The Moses Code. After the Chicago screening, Phil had flown toSingapore, after which he was going to stop off in Bangkok on the way toMelbourne, Australia, to visit his girlfriend. While in Singapore, however,he fell into a very bad depression and needed to return to the States farsooner than planned. He was staying with his sister in Austin, Texas, whenhe called to tell me what had happened. He wanted to surprise me inGeneva, but given his fragile condition, he wasn’t sure if he was up for it.He had been severely depressed when his first marriage fell apart, and overthe course of our friendship, I knew that he had suffered occasional bouts ofdepression. The old saying “To those who much is given, much is required”is certainly true of my friend.Phil is one of the most brilliant and interesting people I’ve ever met. Hecharacterizes himself as a “flawed genius,” which I’ve always found a bitstrange. He told me that the first time his mother came to see him lectureyears earlier, she said, “I didn’t understand a word you said, but you lookedhappy.” The scope of his knowledge is beyond remarkable, and when hespeaks on esoteric subjects, my mind usually reels. And his rapid-fire brainis so sharp and his speech is so fast that I usually only digest about 30percent of what he says. Once when I was traveling through Australia, Philshowed up unexpectedly (in his usual style), and I invited him to speak toseveral groups I was leading. He brought along his Autoharp, an instrumentthat’s deeply soothing, and I noticed that when he sat and just played orplayed while he was speaking, it helped slow him down. His words weremore measured, and he was more fully present. Since then, I’ve alwaysbeen happy when he has brought his harp along. When he’s on a roll, he’sreally something to watch. Still, I like it when the calmer, mellower side ofhim comes out.The fact that he was waiting for me as I exited Swiss customs was nogreat surprise. Phil’s decision to drop everything and travel on such shortnotice made me wonder if his information was more urgent than I’d thoughtit might be. It also made me question whether he’d made the right decisionabout coming at all. Given his most recent bout with depression, Iwondered if it was more important for him to rest at his sister’s home thanhelp me. On the other hand, the other reason for his being there could bethat my soul had actually called him. As strange as it sounds, at themoment, it felt like the more probable explanation. I smiled when I saw himand then braced myself for the steps to come.“Jimmy! Over here!” he exclaimed, as he waved his arm back and forth.He was wearing a red beret and oversized jeans. I could also see his luggagesitting next to him, which consisted of just a backpack and a shoulder bag.There was one other bag at his side, the case that held his harp. I was happyto see that he’d brought it. “Over here, Jimmy.” I walked in his directionand sat my guitar down to give him a hug.“I can’t believe you’re here at the airport,” I said to him. “What, nosurprises or sudden appearances in the middle of nowhere? I’m almostdisappointed.”“Don’t be disappointed,” he said. “I know it’s not my usual thing, but Ifelt this was too important and had to come. I have so much I need to tellyou, and I wouldn’t have turned down your invitation for the world. I thinkyou know that. You’re really onto something here, and you know how hardit is for me to resist.”The words ran from his mouth almost faster than I could hear them. Iknew he was excited, and that was good. At the same time, I didn’t wanthim to get so wound up that he wouldn’t get the rest he so badly needed. Ilooked into his eyes for a sign. They were clear, which was a relief.“Mr. Twyman? Are you James Twyman?”I turned around to see five people standing behind me. The womanspeaking had dark skin and kind eyes. They all seemed relieved and happyto find me.“Yes, I am.”“I’m Christiane, the sponsor for your events here in Switzerland,” shesaid to me, reaching out her hand. “Your flight was late . . . we werebeginning to worry.”“Yes, I’m afraid it was,” I said. I shook her hand and then said hello tothe others who were with her.“These are my friends who wanted to help escort you,” she said.“And this is my friend, Phil Gruber. I don’t remember if I told you that hewas coming.”“No problem,” said the mandispel the illusion, but my paralysis continued. I suddenly heard the soundof parting lips, as if someone were about to speak . . . and then came thewords: A great sign in Heaven; a woman clothed with the Sun, and theMoon under her feet, and upon her head a crown of 12 stars. She waspregnant and screamed in the anguish of delivery.Then I remembered the dream from two nights ago—the scene appearingin my mind as if I were watching a movie. Every detail was present, andalthough I was still completely conscious of my body pressed against thewall, I was also totally present in the memory itself. I looked in front of meand saw the woman in labor, lying in the bed as the concerned womensurrounded her. The woman was screaming with pain, and I felt myselfstepping forward as I had done before.One of the women addressed me. “Please help us. She is going to die, andthe baby with her. Please help her live.”Then the pregnant woman looked deep into my eyes and said, “You knowwhat to do. It is nearly time, but I can’t do this without you.”“But why me? Why do I need to be here for you to give birth?”“You seem to be one man,” she stated, “but there are so many more. Andthey are all here with you. Each of the names represents a different aspectof not only God, but humanity itself. And that is why you brought themhere, all the names you chanted, because they would bring all the worldhere as well. And when you are all represented and are able to hold theenergy with me, then I will be able to bring the child into the world.”“Who is the child?” I asked. “Is it an actual baby, or are you speakingabout something much more esoteric?”But before she could answer, she turned away as a contraction rippedthrough her body. “Do what you know how to do,” the woman beside hersaid. “It is almost too late.”I placed my face against her belly just as I had done before and beganchanting the final Sacred Name. “Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh, En Sof; Ehyeh AsherEhyeh, En Sof; Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh, En Sof . . .”My eyes were closed as I chanted the name, and I could hear the soundsof the women and their heart-wrenching weeping. Then I opened my eyesand realized that I wasn’t in the same room at all—once again, I foundmyself in the streets of ancient Jerusalem. I wondered what was happeningand then began running, looking for Eleazar. Minutes later, I saw a flight ofstone steps and somehow knew that I should go to the top of the wall thatenclosed the city. I ran as fast as I could, rising above the throng and thenoise of the market. When I finally arrived, I covered my eyes from the sunand scanned the crowd.“Who is it you’re looking for, my son?”I turned around and saw the rabbi standing to my left. “Rabbi—what’shappening to me?” I was panting, and it took me a few seconds to catch mybreath. “It’s all starting to make sense, and yet it makes no sense at all.”“Ah yes, but what does make sense in a world of seeming paradoxes, myson? Truth may be the most transient and impermanent of all things. Youfeel the truth and know the truth, but the mind alone cannot by itself graspits full meaning. It’s like water, which is always seeking its source. Themore we try and hold on to it, the more of its essence we lose. But what islost on us is not lost on the world. It will nourish new growth elsewhere inthe garden that may not have happened otherwise. Do you understand whatI’m saying? There are no mistakes. Even when it seems that we are movingbackward, there is an aspect of us that always moves forward.”“So much of this has centered on aspects,” I remarked, “aspects of Godand aspects of humanity. I’m realizing now that it’s all the same. The nameswe’ve been using aren’t just about God. They’re our names as well. They’reabout invoking God’s presence in all of us. That has to be what the dreamswere about. The woman giving birth said that the Sacred Names representall of humanity. Has that been the point of this journey from thebeginning?”“The point has been for you to play your role in the restoration of theworld, beginning with yourself. Each one of us has a role to play, and this isyours. Phil told you from the very beginning that using the power containedin the names never had anything to do with anyone but you. It was alwaysabout your personal relationship with God—or however you choose todefine the Almighty One—even when it seems to be about the whole world.We make special prayers of unification. They’re called Yihudim. What youwere both doing was not so different in essence—a sanctification of thename. I’m happy to see you’re beginning to understand.”“I’m beginning to understand a lot. Everything I’ve experienced andlearned has led to her—to the Mother.”“And who is the Mother?”“The Mother of us all, everywhere and in all her forms. It’s the BlessedMother and Mary Magdalene. It’s Ameratsu, Kuan Yin, and Demeter. It’sthe feminine aspect of God—the Shekinah.”“Yes, the Divine presence of God in the world. And what is she trying tosay to us?”“I think she’s trying to give birth to a new world. She’s in labor, and it’svery difficult. She needs our help—otherwise, I believe the world willsuffer greatly. The point of this whole journey seems to be helping the birthof a new world, what you might call the world to come.”“And where will that new world be born?” the rabbi asked me.“Where will it be born? In each one of us, I’m thinking.”“Yes, that’s true. But there’s something else, another aspect as you say,and it surrounds you now in this moment. So I’ll ask again. Where will thisnew world be born?”I looked around and saw people walking and horses pulling carts. Therewere stands set up along the road with merchants selling a wide variety ofvegetables, fruits, incense, and spices; and people of every race and colorseemed to be present. In that instant, something seemed to click inside me,as if everything finally fell into place, and I suddenly saw what had alwaysbeen right in front of me. “She’ll give birth here, in Jerusalem,” I declared.“That’s why I keep coming back—it was right here all along.”“In your book of Revelation, is there not a description of a woman givingbirth? She’s clothed with the sun and the moon under her feet with a circleof 12 stars around her head. I think you’ve seen her before, yes?”“I think I actually heard her,” I replied. “Right after Phil and I chanted thelast name, I heard a voice quote a verse from Revelation in my ear. Butwhat does it mean?”“You already know what it means. You said it yourself. The birth istaking place here in Jerusalem, the City of Peace. So the question is, Who isthe woman? The answer is . . .”Once again my mind reached for the answer, through all the experienceswith Phil, all the entities we had encountered, and all the lessons I’dlearned. The Hebrew names of God had been activated, opening gateswithin me, and now it was time for them to congeal into a meaningfullesson or whole, something I could understand and communicate to others—something that would impact the whole world. I was in Jerusalem again,a city I had visited many times before and where some of the most powerfulpeacemakers I have ever met live and work. But who was the womangiving birth here, and why would she . . . “Israel!” I exclaimed as soon asthe thought entered my mind. “The woman has to be Israel, and Jerusalemis the heart of Israel. Is that correct?”“The heart of the spiritual Israel beats in the entire assembly, or ecclesia,of this Holy Land. You believe that Israel is the woman that the book ofRevelation is referring to? If that’s true, then what is the meaning of the lasttwo days and the names of God you and your friend have been using?”“It relates because . . . well, because if the names represent the qualitiesor aspects of God and we are all one in God, then the integration of thenames activates our highest potential. And that has always been the visionof Jerusalem and Israel: to be the place wherestanding next to Christiane. “We broughtthree cars, so there’s plenty of room.”I nodded at Phil. He looked relaxed, but I sensed he was still fragilebeneath a brave veneer. Moments later, we were loading our luggage into asmall van and exiting the airport.“There’s so much I want to tell you,” Phil told me as we climbed into thebackseat. “More than you might imagine.”“I had that feeling. You’re being more mysterious than I expected,though.”He was quiet for a moment as if he was wondering what, or how much,he should say.“When I say ‘more than you might imagine,’” he continued, “what Imean is that we have work to do. We have an awesome opportunity here. Ofcourse, it has to do with the Yud, but that’s only the tip of the iceberg.”“Now you’re really being mysterious,” I said.“If I tell you everything now, you might want to send me back,” hequipped, smiling, although I knew he was being serious. “I’m not trying tofreak you out or anything . . . well, maybe just a little. This is some prettyserious stuff, and it has to be entered into with trust, dedication,determination, awareness, and conviction.”I sat up in my seat and must have raised my voice a bit because our newfriends in the front turned around slightly to see what was going on.Luckily, their English wasn’t fluent enough to understand.“What are you talking about? I thought you were going to tell me why theMoses Code was really a Yud. I was hoping that you’d fill in the missingspaces.”“This is way beyond what you’re calling the Moses Code,” Philremarked. “I think it’s more than you can wrap your head around right now.There are forces at work here that you don’t understand.”“I took notes based on our phone conversations and the e-mails yousent,” I replied, taking out my pad. “You said that we’re dealing withancient mysteries so powerful that there are those who would like to protectthem. Actually, you wrote that these so-called protectors aren’t necessarilypeople, but something more elusive. You also said something about angelsprotecting certain mysteries because of sacred seals or pacts between themand God, as well as something about demons being somehow locked intopatterns they can’t escape . . . or don’t want to. Is that right? These beingsare imprisoned in multidimensional fields that lock them in place, and insome cases, they don’t even know they’ve been captured. Am I getting thisright? You also said that it’s time for them to be released—that it’s time forthe pacts the angels made with God to finally be fulfilled.”“More or less,” Phil replied, obviously delighted by the fact that I wasserious enough to actually take notes.“But Phil, what does this have to do with the Yud? I had no idea we werestepping into a Dan Brown novel.”“This is more than a novel,” he said, his tone becoming more serious.“This is real, and it’s important. I also don’t think I’m exaggerating when Isay that so much depends on it.”I took a deep breath and sat back in my seat. Things had suddenly taken adramatic and unexpected turn.I first met Phil at a spiritual conference in Colorado in 1996. I saw him inthe cafeteria the Monday after the conference ended and remember seeing adouble rainbow out the window. I was heading back to my table carrying afull tray of food when, seemingly out of nowhere, Phil appeared in front ofme, blocking my way. At first I was a little taken aback, but there wassomething about his eyes—something that attracted me on a very deeplevel. They danced around like the flame of a bright candle, and behindthem was an energy that he couldn’t seem to contain.He immediately launched into a five-minute dissertation on the meaningand metaphysical implications of my name. I couldn’t repeat it if I tried.The very next day, I was in downtown Boulder with my daughter, Angela.My van had broken down, and I was killing time in a metaphysicalbookstore when I ran into Phil again. It was like no time had passed, and heimmediately continued his discourse on my name from where he left off. Iknew it wouldn’t be the last I’d see of him.“Tell me what you know about the Yud,” I said to Phil when we weresettled in our hotel in downtown Lausanne. We sat at a small table in thelobby and tried to maintain a healthy distance from the other guests. “Youwere there at the test screenings of The Moses Code in Madison andChicago, and you told me that you saw the final version in Austin.”“The Yud and the Moses Code are just the beginning,” he replied. “Fromthe moment the comma flashed on the screen, I knew you were ontosomething—it’s the tip of the iceberg, as I said before. You must know or atleast suspect that there’s a whole lot more beneath the surface.”“I didn’t know that at first,” I confessed, taking a sip of water. “I honestlythought that it really was a comma. I’m not Jewish, and I had no idea whata Yud was. Since then, though, it’s all I’ve been hearing about.”“I’m not surprised. Let me tell you a few things about the Yud, and thenyou’ll know how close you are. The Yud is the tenth and smallest letter ofthe Hebrew alphabet. Each letter of this specialized alphabet is acrystallization of an aspect of the Divine Word, or the Sacred Name. TheYud is the building block from which all other letters are generated. It hasbeen said that all the other letters are generated by its movement.”Phil took out a notepad and drew a Yud for me. It reminded me of aflame, or a flag unfurling in a breeze. It also reminded me of a comma.“This is getting interesting,” I said. “Keep going.”“For many, the Yud is being, pure being—a symbol of the omnipresenceof God in the world. It’s also the smallest letter and represents the primalvibration of the Universe. It’s the only Hebrew letter literally suspended inspace—a bridge between worlds, you might say. The beautiful thing is thatwithin the Yud is held the potential of all things to come into manifestbeing. It may very well be the point of light in the mind and heart of God . .. a point of condensed love and light, or what some people call the ‘middlepoint.’ It teaches us that within the smallest of things lies the greatestpotential for creation.”“I also heard that the Yud represents the hand of God,” I said. “But thereal question is, ‘What does that mean?’ Is it a real hand or a metaphoricalone? Or both? If God had a hand, what would it look like? Would it sweepthrough the sky like some kind of Michelangelesque nightmare, or would itbe like a gentle wind?”“The hand of God is definitely reaching down from Heaven right now,”Phil said, “but it may not be as gentle as we would like to think. There wasa time when it could have been, but no longer. There are no simple answers,and the clock is ticking.”“What would you say it is?” I asked, sensing the urgency that wasbeginning to show in his voice.“I’d say that the Yud is like a pause that’s pregnant with possibility. Theuse of the comma in The Moses Code was a brilliant stroke. It creates thepause that allows Divine Inspiration to enter. Commas also connect; theyare bridges. But the pause, to me, is the key. Are you familiar with TheEssene Gospel of Peace and the third communion with the Angel of Air?“The Essene Gospel of Peace . . . yes. Wasn’t that the one translated byEdmond Bordeaux Szekely?”“Szekely had access to the secret vaults within the Vatican,” Phil said.“The gospel he found talks about the ‘Holy Breath which is placed higherthan all the other things created.’ It says that between the breathing in andthe breathing out is contained all the mysteries of the Infinite Garden. Thecomma allows for that pause.”“That’s an interesting parallel,” I remarked. “Is there anything else youcan tell me about the Yud?”“Like I said, the Yud is the smallest letter in the Hebrew alphabet and iscommonly understood to represent the finger of God that points the way. Itcan also symbolize the hand—the hand being a symbol of the power ofcreative or directedenergy. You see, the closed hand, or fist, signifies Unity,the Creator. The open fist is the symbol of man and our inborn potential tore-evolve back into Oneness. In fact, the Hebrew word for hand is yad. It’sthe middle point. Also, the yin-yang symbol is a representation of two Yudsin the harmonious flow of dynamic equilibrium. The Yud, like all theothers, is a letter of fire, or of flame—meaning that the letters of thealphabet are expressions of the Creative Fire out of which all things areborn and into which all things will eventually return. It connects one to thatGreat Creative Fire. Each letter is an aspect of that Creative Force.”“That’s why Moses’s burning bush wasn’t consumed by the flames,” Ioffered. “This is what I wanted to bring out in The Moses Code: theinformation that Moses needed was already within him, just as it is alreadywithin us. Fire gets the energy moving, like electrons that begin firing andrevealing their hidden qualities. That’s what needs to happen to each one ofus. We need to burn inside a bit.”“A Divine Burn.”“Right . . . exactly. We burn and become like popcorn kernels thatsuddenly explode into something new.”“I’m never going to look at popcorn the same way again,” Phil said,laughing. “But seriously, time, as we perceive it with our linear minds, isspeeding up, accelerating. There’s not a moment to waste. When I saw themovie, I knew you were ready.”“What am I ready for?”“You’re ready to do a lot more than talk about the Moses Code,” Philanswered. “You’re also ready to do more than write about how the DivineName was revealed to Moses and how to use the secrets contained within it.It was a step, I’ll grant you, a rather large step, but you’re ready to dosomething much more important—and much more dangerous.”“Why dangerous? I’m not one to shy away from danger, but I have toknow if this is real or just some kind of lesson you’re trying to teach me.You spoke on the phone about demons and angels guarding ancient seals orbeing caught in some elaborate trap. How much of that is true?”“Whatever you’re willing to allow yourself to believe is true. What doyou think?”“I think I really need to understand the meaning of Kabbalah before I goany further,” I said. “Everything I learn keeps coming back to it, but since Ihave no background, I can’t see how everything fits together.”“Okay, let me give you a quick introduction into the ancient mysticalteachings of the Jewish people: the Kabbalah, or ha-Kabbalah, is a uniquelyJewish construction.” He sat back in his chair for dramatic effect. “Theearliest writings that scholars usually associate with it date from around2,000 years ago, although much of the source material for what weunderstand today as Kabbalah has its origins in remote antiquity. Ancienttexts talk about what were called Merkabah mystics. The ultimate goal ofthese Merkubalim, as they were known, was the penetration into the sevenHalls of Creation in order to reach a place called Merkabah, the thronechariot of God.”“What’s the throne chariot of God?” I asked him.“It’s a vehicle that can be used to ascend to the Higher Heavenly Realms—to literally penetrate the magnetic veils that normally separate us from afuller experience of God. The Merkabah Vehicle, Jeweled Vehicle, or SweetChariot as it’s sometimes known, can take you all the way to the throne ofGod, to stand before the face of the Ancient of Days, as expressed in sometraditions. The Sefer Yetzirah, the Book of Formation, is considered bymany to be the first text of Jewish occult mysticism, and it’s attributed toAbraham. It discusses, among other things, the manipulation of sacredletters in the construction of the world.“What we normally understand to be Kabbalah, in a more modern sense,dates to 12th-century Provence to a book called the Sefer ha-Bahir, theBook of Brilliant Light. Later, the Sefer ha-Zohar (the Book of Splendor, orRadiance), dating from 13th-century Spain, was a revelation to the greatKabbalist Moses De León, after which he later organized and collated thisvast body of occult mystical knowledge. De León claimed that it containedthe mystical writings of Shimon bar Yohai, a rabbi who lived in the 2ndcentury. Evidence suggests that the origin of the material compiled by DeLeón, which has come to be known as the Zohar, goes even further back inhistory. But there are some serious things to consider before we embark onthis journey . . . before we enter the Chapel Perilous.”“And that’s why you keep telling me that this is a dangerous journey,” Isaid, almost laughingly.“Challenging is a better word, actually; and if we’re going to do thistogether, you’re going to need to take it much more seriously.” He lookedmore composed and seemed to have a sense of purpose I hadn’t noticedbefore. “This isn’t some kind of New Age fantasy. It’s a real, mysticaljourney that requires extreme discipline, diligence, and preparation; andthat’s just for starters. What we’re going to attempt to do, to my knowledge,has never been attempted before, at least successfully. And if we’resuccessful, it will change much in the world, hopefully for the better. Ifwe’re not, then we take the risk of being torn apart like the Christians in theColosseum. And to tell you the truth, the planet as a whole might not fareany better. I wish I was joking, but I’m not.”“Okay, let’s keep going before you really scare me. Tell me more aboutthe Kabbalah.”“Fine. The origin of the word Kabbalah is attributed to a man namedIsaac the Blind who lived in the 12th and 13th centuries. It’s usually definedas ‘to receive’ or ‘to accept,’ also ‘that which has been handed down,’ aswell as ‘tradition.’ There are more esoteric meanings, but these are the onesmost commonly associated with it. I’ll give you a little clue, though. Theyall have to do with the relationship of the words KA, BA, and LAH. Theuniquely Jewish esoteric or mystical tradition known as Kabbalah isrumored to be the world’s oldest body of spiritual knowledge. Within thebody of Kabbalistic writings is encoded ancient secrets, long-hidden keys tothe creation and structure of the Universe, and how that design structure ismirrored in ourselves. Kabbalah penetrates to the deeper mysteries of thehuman heart and soul . . . of the material and nonmaterial realms. Itexplores the physical and metaphysical nature of humanity, as well as ourorigins and evolutionary destinies—those kinds of things.“The true origins of Kabbalah are shrouded in mystery and speculation,lost in the mists of time. It is said that, along with the written Torah that wasgiven to Moses at Mount Sinai, he also received an oral tradition, which inall respects explains the vast secrets and mysteries encoded in the Torah.Before Moses, the direct transmission of the true nature of the Law, asgiven by Yahweh, was offered sparingly to select individuals to provide aroad map to a very special place . . . a preexistent Heaven called thePleroma—to others, Paradise.”“I spoke with a Swami in the Bahamas,” I told Phil, “who is also aKabbalah expert, and he said that the true Kabbalah is not the one that iswritten but the one that is revealed through direct revelation.”“That’s correct. Gnosis, or direct revelation, is the name of the game, andthat’s what Moses received. It’s said that he received the Law during theday, but the explanation of the Law during the night. But he wasn’t the onlyone. Some Kabbalists say that there have been five direct transmissions ofthe inner teaching, and a few believe that there will be at least one more.“The first is said to have been given to a band of fallen angels. Thesecond was given to Adam by the fallen angel Raziel, the Keeper ofSecrets, as a road map back to Paradise, although the angel Uriel and God’sGood Angels would beg to differ. There was an original innocence weenjoyed before the fall into the illusion of separation, where we fullyunderstood the secret of creation.It was at this point in our evolution thatwe were given the Kabbalah. That’s what I mean when I say it was given toAdam, not necessarily a man of flesh and blood, but more a representationof our original innocence. Anyway, the third transmission was given toAbraham, the father of the three great monotheistic religions—Judaism,Christianity, and Islam—and through Abraham to his three sons. The fourthwas Noah, who, with his floating zoo, alighted on the top of Mount Araratin Turkey. The fifth was Moses.”“Do you think it ends there?” I asked.“No, I don’t, but that would be getting ahead of ourselves. The point I’mtrying to make is that the true Torah was more than what was written down.There is an esoteric wisdom and eternal mystery that has been encoded intothe written law that didn’t end up on Moses’s Tablets of Testimony.”“Would it be fair to say that Jesus was another to receive the fulltransmission of the teaching?”“Now that’s tricky, Jimmy. Certainly Jesus, from his travels and havingsat at the feet of many masters, and as an Essene initiate, as well as an adeptin Egyptian and Hebraic Secret Sciences, would have in all probability beenfamiliar with a great many esoteric doctrines. I’m sure he was well versedin not only the secrets of creation and re-creation, but the origin and destinyof all souls. In other words, the answer would be yes.”“Is it possible that Jesus had the fullest comprehension of all hispredecessors?” I asked.“Who can say? Most Jews, of course, don’t recognize Jesus’s legitimacy—certainly not as the ‘expected one,’ the Messiah. It’s argued that he neverclaimed that for himself. When he said, ‘I have not come to claim theTorah, only to fulfill it,’ the door was opened for a lot of possibleinterpretations. When Jesus was in the Temple, he said, ‘Before Abrahamwas, I AM.’”“He was claiming that he was one with God,” I noted.“Yes. I AM is how God is known to himself. I believe that Jesusunderstood God’s revelation, and you can bet that didn’t sit well with thepriestly elite of the time. Speaking of the priestly elite, you also need tounderstand something. At certain points in the tradition, there wereextremely strict laws determining who could even study the Kabbalah. Inearly Kabbalistic traditions, and even now, transmission came directly froma master, or a teacher, to his chosen pupils or disciples. Even today, in moreOrthodox circles, if you’re a woman, you can forget about it, although thereare records of women back in the day who, contrary to popular opinion,were well versed in many of the deeper mysteries of consciousness. Onesuch woman was Noa, one of the daughters of Zelophehad. There was alsoSarah, Miriam, Esther, Devorah, and many others, not to mention theMagdalene.“Even nowadays, to be considered a serious student of Kabbalah incertain circles, you must be male, 40 years of age or older, married, have atleast three children, and most important, you must be Jewish. All that’schanging now, but prior to the 17th century, there were no such restrictions,so when modern Kabbalists try to impose these rules, they really don’t havemuch, if any, historical precedent—not to mention a leg to stand on.”“It’s almost like most Catholics believing that it has always been a rulethat priests remain celibate and can’t marry,” I said. “It’s actually only beena strict rule for about half the life of the church, about a thousand years.”“That’s correct,” Phil confirmed, “but let’s stay on the subject so I don’tforget where I am. This may seem like an endless amount of informationthat may or may not have any relevance for you, but it’s significant, asyou’ll no doubt find out for yourself. The final thing I want to tell youregarding the historic transmissions of the Kabbalah is perhaps the mostcrucial. This is not a common belief among all teachers of the tradition butwas and still is believed by some, perhaps more than one would think. AsI’ve mentioned, most believe that God has revealed the true and fullKabbalah five times, possibly six, but there is rumored to be a final timethat is still left to come. This will be the most important transmission, and itwill determine the fate of this planet.”“Do you know whom it will be given to?”“Yes, I believe I do.”There was a long pause. I could feel goose bumps forming on the surfaceof my entire body. “Okay,” I said, “can you tell me?”Another long moment of silence. Finally, Phil looked at me. “It will begiven to you.”“Me?” I asked, swallowing hard. “Why me? What are you saying?”He leaned forward and said, “Let me be very clear. I mean you and meand everyone. The final transmission is for all of us . . . for humanity itself.The stage has been set for the ultimate revelation that will changeeverything on the planet. There’s an evolutionary leap that is about to takeplace that has, in fact, already begun. Whether it comes peacefully, withease and grace like that gentle breeze you were talking about earlier, I’mnot sure. All I know is that it’s inevitable. A table has been set and aninvitation has gone out. What was formerly reserved for the privileged few,such as Moses and Jesus, is being offered to all. Our continued presence onEarth is at stake, and as always, God has heard our prayers.”Phil closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. A waiter walked into thelobby at that moment and asked if we wanted anything. I took a deepbreath, welcomed the momentary break, and ordered a cappuccino. Phildidn’t look like he needed one.“You know, Phil, this isn’t terribly different from what many people sayabout the Second Coming of Christ—meaning that it won’t be a singleperson, like the physical return of Jesus, but that the consciousness of Christwould open for all of us, and each one of us will be able to embrace thesame light and energy that Jesus enjoyed 2,000 years ago. Do you thinkthere’s a correlation?”“We’re really saying the same thing,” he replied. “This is ultimatelyabout embracing and embodying the teachings of freedom and truth, theinner esoteric as well as the common, or outer exoteric. This is about asecond birth—the birth of something holy in each and every one of us.Jesus said that when he addressed huge crowds, he had to tell them stories,parables about God. They weren’t able to understand him in any other way.Jesus also realized that most of his closest disciples didn’t have the foggiestnotion what he was trying to express. Look it up. It would seem that onlyMary Magdalene and maybe a few others had any clue at all.“The time has come where we all need to be ready to receive therevelation of the secret teachings of the ages, and believe me, it’s requirednow more than ever. What’s currently happening on the planet iscompletely unprecedented, as far as I know. We stand on the brink ofdestroying our entire world or of re-creating another one altogether.Everything we’ve done over countless lifetimes has bought us to this point,and if we would only realize certain truths and practice them day to day in apractical way, then we would turn again toward peace. It’s time for us tofinally understand the true nature of God, our indelible connection andrelationship to the Source of All That Is, and the greater meaning andpurpose of our lives. That is what the Kabbalah and all works of highercalling are all about.”I took a big gulp of air, trying to absorb everything Phil was telling me.“Let me get back to the Torah for a moment,” he continued. “There is theRevealed Torah, or Law, called the Pentateuch, which consists of the firstfive books of Moses. But then there’s a hidden, secret Torah called Sod,which describes the nature of God, the origins and destiny of the cosmos,and the nature of man. All observant Jews believe, at least they arepresumed to believe, that the Torah is the Word of God and that Hebrew isthe Language of Creation. The Kabbalah, on the other hand, is said to be theinitiated understandingof the Torah and of all the Divine powers ofcreation; and when working with the Kabbalah, one can literally unlock itssecrets and share in the boundless joy that is our birthright. The Torah is thetemplate or blueprint of creation. It reveals the Laws of Creation and evenGod’s secret, not to mention how to live in the highest way day to day.“But without the initiated understanding of Kabbalah, we can’t read theblueprint. It remains a mystery until the inner teaching is revealed,experienced, actually lived every day—and that’s the invitation, and thechallenge, we’re being given now. And remember, even Kabbalah has itsexoteric and esoteric faces.”“It’s all very exciting,” I said, “but it’s also a little scary. It sounds likeyou’re saying that we have to learn this . . . or else.”“That is what I’m saying. The question then becomes ‘What is the whatelse?’ What will happen if we don’t? All I know is that if soft love doesn’twork, then tough love might be required. The earth is always renewingitself, and if we can’t learn these lessons, then it will renew us, although notgently. We see it happening all around us already. Actions taken and nottaken are threatening our very survival, not to mention the very realpossibility of someone possessed pushing the button and bringing about ourcomplete annihilation. If we don’t wake up and begin to live by DivineRight Law, we’ll all be up the pond without a paddle, so to speak.”“What can we do about it?” I asked. “I hope you’re not going to gocompletely doom and gloom on me and not offer any kind of solution.”“Not at all,” Phil assured me. “I’m not a doom and gloomer. Listen,you’re the one who unlocked the Moses Code, and now it’s time to unlockanother code. You were only scratching the surface in what you did before.You were right in everything you said and wrote, all about the name of Godunlocking the experience of our oneness and ability to create miracles. Butthat was just one name. The Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh, or I AM THAT I AM, isone, but there are nine more names, all of which point to different aspects ofthe Divine. You need to unlock the secrets encoded in those as well, andwhen you do, more mysteries will be revealed and more loving grace canflow in and through this world.”“These names you’re talking about . . . do they form some kind of code?”I asked.“Absolutely. It’s why fate brought us together again. There are multiplelevels of coding in all works of higher calling, including the Kabbalah. Andthere’s one set of codes that I believe we’re meant to use in some veryspecial places.”“And I’m sure that somehow brings us back to the angels and demons,” Isaid. “Everything seems to lead there.”“All I can tell you right now is that where we’re going, there are many ofboth that are imprisoned and aren’t able to break free. They’re imprisonedby forces we can’t completely understand, but the proper use of the SacredNames can help set them free, and in the process, it can also liberate us.When we’re free, very specialized channels of energy will be able to flowagain. There’s one spot on this planet where this is most true, and that’swhere we’re going next.”“Can you tell me where that is?” I asked.“Of course I can. We’re going to Paris.”CHAPTER 3A Kabbalist in ParisThree days later when the conference was over in Switzerland, we were onthe TGV, the fast train to Paris, and I had the familiar sensation that my lifewas about to change. Phil sat opposite me and didn’t seem interested intalking. This, of course, only made me want to talk more. The countrysiderushed by at dizzying speeds, and an occasional farmhouse broke themonotony . . . then it, too, was gone in a split second. Was it a symbol ofmy own life—the fast pace I’d been living and the speed in which onechapter would end and another would begin? I was glad Phil was with meto mark this new beginning, but the mysteriousness of this adventure mademe wonder if I was ready to step forward onto this ancient and mysticalpath—a road I knew little, if anything, about . . . the path of Kabbalah. Iwas less than a novice, but that didn’t seem to slow me down or dampen myenthusiasm.“I can’t stop thinking about everything you’ve told me so far,” I said toPhil as the conductor came to check our tickets. “I feel like I’m onlyscratching the surface, and it’s so rich and profound. It makes me want tolearn everything I can.”“You can study Kabbalah for a lifetime . . . lifetimes, in fact, and onlyscratch the surface,” he replied, wiping his eyes as if waking up from adream. Neither of us had slept much during our time in Switzerland. Pariswas consuming our thoughts, and yet the adventure felt as if it would neverreally arrive. “It’s like a well that has no bottom. You throw a rock in andwait for the sound of splashing water, but it never comes. That’s because it’sfathomless, like God. According to traditional Kabbalah, we can’t fullyunderstand the infinity of God since the true essence of God is unknowable,unattainable. At the same time, it’s said that Kabbalah goes into the veryessence of God; encoded in its very matrix are templates—literal maps andkeys that are essential in understanding the mysteries of cosmic creation.Your swami friend told you that the true Kabbalah can’t be written down,that it can only be experienced. Well, yes and no. I would agree with himinsofar as when you write something down, a piece is lost because you’veattempted to translate the infinite into the finite. But if you can remain openenough to simply allow it to flow into you, then you actually become itsessence. And that’s the real goal, isn’t it?”“I think at one point you told me that from the perspective of Jewishthought, thinking of oneself as being one with or an embodiment of God isblasphemy.”“Absolutely!” Phil exclaimed. “The furthest a mystic Jew is willing toventure is to say that he’s been able to contemplate the Divine Majesty. Tosay ‘I am God’ or ‘I am one with God’ is a big no-no. No form ofnonheretical Jewish thought would speak of even the possibility of a humanbeing becoming Divine in this world, for it’s impossible to have unity withthe Divine while on Earth. To do so would be heresy.”“Okay,” I said. “So that’s what Jewish mystics believe. How about you?What do you say?”Phil looked at me and grinned. “What would you guess I believe?”I put down the book I’d been reading. “I think we believe the same: thepurpose of life is to realize that we are one with God, pure and simple. Ibelieve that the single goal of our soul’s purpose here on Earth is toremember the truth of our Divine Nature.”“Yes, in essence I would agree. The goal is to access the infinite within,to reconcile our dual natures, to achieve the state known as Devekut:spiritual Divine Union, the union of man and his Creator, resulting in areunification with God that changes everything.”“A reunification with God?”“Sure. If I say that you’re re-merging with God, then it wouldn’t beentirely accurate.” Phil continued, “You can’t re-merge with something orsomeone that you’ve never been truly separated from. However, you canemerge from your sleeping state, your belief in separation, or the illusion ofseparation, and realize what has always been true—that you are one withGod. That’s the power of the Moses Code: it stimulates a remembering ofthe union that everything is contained within you, and you are containedwithin everything.“The name God gave to Moses, Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh, or simply Ehyeh,meaning I AM, was meant to describe God’s revelation of his personalbeingness. It was meant to show Moses, and us, that God is everywhere andin everything—that everything exists within a unified field ofdimensionalized consciousness. And when you chant the name, as youwrote in The Moses Code, you begin sensing that oneness within yourselfbecause, of course, you are one with God and you can identify with thepower of God within yourself, just as</pre></div><section><div><div><ul><li><span>1 - LIVRO MEC - educacao-infantil-igualdade-racial-e-diversidade-aspectos-politicos-juridicos-conceituais (1)</span></li><li><span>Luta e libertação de Moçambique</span></li><li><span>41_bombeiro_hidraulico</span></li><li><span>A política no Brasil</span></li><li><span>Atividade Interativa Reino Animalia</span></li><li><span>questions_geografia_america_america-central</span></li><li><span>questions_geografia_america_america-do-sul_Vestibulares</span></li><li><span>) Todas estão corretas.Questão 10: A teoria microeconômica pode auxiliar na análise de tomada de decisões das empresas com base na politica econô...</span></li><li><span>f) Assine sua tolna de respostas, Seroton destinado à assinatura. g) A folha de respostas não pode ser dobrada, amassada III- Os ou manchada. como ...</span></li><li><span>Questão 2: A capoeira é uma manifestação física criada nas preparações guerreiras dos indígenas brasileiros para enfretamento de combates entre tri...</span></li><li><span>O contexto político e econômico das eleições de 2002 no Brasil foi bem específico. 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Frankie Simonis</a></span> </p> <p><span class="font-semibold">Last Updated</span>: <span class="posted-on"><time class="entry-date published" datetime="2024-12-02T23:06:47+07:00" itemprop="datePublished">2024-12-02T23:06:47+07:00</time></span> </p> <p><span class="font-semibold">Views</span>: 6094</p> <p><span class="font-semibold">Rating</span>: 4.6 / 5 (56 voted)</p> <p><span class="font-semibold">Reviews</span>: 87% of readers found this page helpful</p> </div> <div class="text-gray-700 bg-gray-200 rounded px-5 py-4 space-y-2 my-3"> <div class="font-semibold text-center">Author information</div> <p><span class="font-semibold">Name</span>: Amb. Frankie Simonis</p> <p><span class="font-semibold">Birthday</span>: 1998-02-19</p> <p><span class="font-semibold">Address</span>: 64841 Delmar Isle, North Wiley, OR 74073</p> <p><span class="font-semibold">Phone</span>: +17844167847676</p> <p><span class="font-semibold">Job</span>: Forward IT Agent</p> <p><span class="font-semibold">Hobby</span>: LARPing, Kitesurfing, Sewing, Digital arts, Sand art, Gardening, Dance</p> <p><span class="font-semibold">Introduction</span>: My name is Amb. 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