The Second Messiah Read Online Free PDF

eddied away, toward Qumran’s tangerine hills.
    Jack thought, Is this all that remains of the two people I loved? My life and theirs simply turned to dust?
    When the last of the ashes blew through his fingers, he held up his dusty gray hand and smeared it on his face. Why, he didn’t know, except that for some strange reason, and just for that brief moment, it made him feel closer to his parents. Overcome, his body convulsed in a fit of sobbing.
    All he remembered after that was Lela appearing by his side, her arms going round him, holding him wordlessly. And so he stood there, clinging to her, both of them swaying in the desert breeze, as if at that moment each was all the other had in the world.

    Jack opened his eyes, let the past wash away. He looked out over the vast dusty landscape toward Jerusalem. Lela, where are you now?
    A hawk circled overhead, its shriek interrupting his thoughts. The months after his parents’ deaths were a reckless time when he’d done things he never should have, just to bury his anguish. It was a time in his life he just wanted to forget.
    He stared down at the grave marker. Dad, Mom, I finally hit pay dirt and found a scroll. Everyone on the dig’s thrilled. Professor Green, our director, thinks it could be a pretty important discovery. I’m excited about it. I want you both to know that .
    Jack thought: I sound like a child . It was as if he were trying to impress his parents with his exam results. But he had such a powerful need to communicate his excitement with the two people who had shared his life.
    A memory came to him.
    A sunny winter’s day outside Cairo on his fifteenth birthday. Helping his father dig near some old burial sites at the Cheops pyramid, they had stopped to brew coffee, talk, and eat lunch. About that time Jack began to really feel the powerful allure of a career in archaeology. Ancient tombs, cryptic inscriptions etched in stone or onto papyrus, valuable coins, bits of jewelry, human bones, and broken pottery—this was the stuff adventures were made of.
    And as they sat and talked his father spoke about the Egyptians’ unshakable belief in an afterlife. It almost seemed to Jack that his father was suddenly conscious of his own mortality as a parent.
    At fifty, Robert Cane had come late to fatherhood. The experience had awed him. He adored his son, loved him with a depth that was sometimes frightening in its intensity. He was an emotional man, and his bright blue eyes had a hint of tears that day. “I want you to know that I love you, Jack.”
    “I love you too, Dad.”
    “You know what I believe, Jack? I believe love never dies. It’s the sole reason why we’re all here. To create love and to nurture it. And I believe the Egyptians were right, just like so many other civilizations that put their trust in an afterlife. There’s a dimension that as humans we can’t even begin to perceive, call it heaven or Nirvana or whatever you want, but it’s a dimension created by God, where we all meet again and renew our love. Do you understand what I’m saying, Jack?”
    “I think so.”
    “You know what else I believe?”
    “What, Dad?”
    “That once we depart into that dimension there’s no coming back. We can no longer be part of this earthly life and the loved ones we’ve left behind. But we can observe them, at least be with them in spirit until we join with them again.”
    Robert Cane looked out over the mighty splendor of the Cheops pyramid, and his voice filled with emotion. “The ancients believed that the spirits of the dead lingered near their tombs. I sometimes get that feeling when I’m here. The hairs rise on the back of my neck. It makes me feel as if I’m touched by something powerful, something magnificent and unearthly. It’s almost as if the dead can touch us.”
    “You mean physically?”
    His father smiled. “No, not in that sense, Jack. But I believe the spirit world can induce feelings in us, like intuitions and emotions, or