Read Miss Buddha Online

Authors: Ulf Wolf

Tags: #enlightenment, #spiritual awakening, #the buddha, #spiritual enlightenment, #waking up, #gotama buddha, #the buddhas return

Miss Buddha (70 page)

Well, Miller had to concede, the man had a
point. Marten mentions God in none of her lectures, and he had
checked them—or, rather, had had his staff check them. There was no
mention of any Deity whatever. Didn’t the Buddhist have a score of
deities, or was that the Hindus?

“By omission, perhaps,” Miller finally
conceded.

“Yes,” Otto Jones smiled. “Yes, by omission.
But by more than omission, in my opinion. By so fervently
advocating self-sufficiency and meditation rather than faith in the
Creator, she is demeaning God.” He repeated this last, for effect,
“Demeaning God.”

John Keeler cleared his throat, which—to
those who knew him meant that he was about to say something, and
which also meant that he now expected everyone’s silence and full
attention. This signal, however, was lost on this gathering, so
instead he now spoke into a blurred silence, and rather loudly at
that, “If I may.”

Otto Jones looked at Keeler, then around the
table, twice, and then back at Keeler. “Of course.”

“Although we have not examined this for the
exact numbers, our priests, and not only those in Boston, but in
New York, Philadelphia, and Baltimore as well, to name a few cities
surveyed, our priests report, or estimate, rather, a falling off of
almost thirty percent in attendance.”

Before he continued he cleared his throat to
actually clear his throat.

“These same priests
estimate that this figure doubles in the twenty-to-thirty age
bracket. There is no doubt in my mind, or among us, I should
say,
us
meaning
the majority of our bishops, that this falling away of our flock,
as it were, is as a direct result of the astonishing spread of the
word of this Ruth Marten. What with the Internet and her lectures
available to anyone with a computer or a phone or a Mortimer these
days.”

Otto Jones smiled.

And he smiles a little too much, thought
Margaret Gurney, who would have been surprised to learn that her
thought mirrored Aisha Amiri’s to the letter.

Then Jones said, “The last thing this world
needs, today, is the spread of sacrilegious doctrine. Are we all
agreed?”

“Of course we’re all agreed,” said the
Reverend Blackburn Moses in a voice so deep, and so resounding, as
to remind Margaret Gurney of a fog horn. “Or we wouldn’t be
here.”

Nods and noises of assent.

“What about you, Rabbi Hefter?” said Jones.
“Are we on the same page?”

The Rabbi, who seemed startled to be
addressed directly, looked down at his leather binder—as if the
answer was concealed within—then looked up at Jones. “What question
are you asking me?” he said finally. “What page are you talking
about?”

“We don’t need the spread—especially with
this speed—of sacrilegious doctrine. That page.”

“Ah, that page,” said Hefter. “Yes, I mean
no, I agree, we don’t need that page, or that doctrine, rather. It
is disruptive. Definitely.” He then looked down at his binder
again, as if consulting it.

“Does anyone
dis
-agree?” said Jones.
“We need to be very clear here. A consensus here can, and will,
accomplish things. A disagreement will only lead to
discussion.”

He then looked at each one in turn,
lingering a little too long on Aisha Amiri, then asked Margaret
Gurney, “And you, Mrs. Gurney. Do you agree as well?”

“Of course I agree,” she said, hoping to
sound at least a little offended by the implied doubt.

“Good. Good,” said Jones. “Then I would like
to take care of the first order of administrative business.” He
bent to his right and fished up a slim, black portfolio, which he
carefully opened. Looked inside, and found what he was looking
for.

“First order of administrative business,” he
repeated. “Please confirm, by your signature, your agreement on the
line above your name.” He handed the single sheet of paper to Laron
Miller. “If you would.”

Miller received the paper, and began reading
it.

“It’s what I would call a conference
letter,” said Jones. “Stating that we, the delegates to the New
York Faith Summit of April 15, 2030, all agree that Ruth Marten is,
in fact, spreading a sacrilegious doctrine, one that not only
affects our respective flocks, but also denies the existence of
God.”

Miller finished reading, and looked around
the table. Nodded. “Yes, that’s pretty much what it says.”

“We can all read,” boomed Blackburn Moses.
“Sign it and pass it on.”

Miller fished around for a pen, prompting
Jones to find one first, and hand it to Miller. “Thanks,” he
said.

Miller signed and passed it over to
Fielding, who took it, glanced at the three paragraphs that spelled
out their agreement, then checked his watch, then signed it with
his own pen.

Gurney, Keeler, and Hefter followed
suit.

“Should I be insulted?” asked Aisha Amiri
once she read through the brief statement. “God?”

“Generically speaking,” offered Jones. “No
offense intended.”

Amiri shrugged, then signed and passed it on
to Reverend Moses who already had his pen poised.

Jones received it back, verified all
signatures, then signed it himself.

“Just a formality, really,” he said. “But a
formality that will carry weight, trust me.”

John Keeler cleared his
throat and then said, “But the question, Mr. Jones. The
question, if I am not mistaken, the real question is what do we do
about her? She’s like an avalanche. She’s everywhere. What with the
science experiments and the Alvarez situation, and the
assassination attempts and the Internet. Everyone knows about her.
Everybody listens to her.” He then fell silent, but silent in the
manner that said he wasn’t quite done yet, only looking for a word.
Found it, “I believe the word is
viral
.”

“That, sir, is indeed both the word and the
question,” confirmed Jones while restoring the now signed letter to
his portfolio. “And here is where I am wide open to
suggestions.”

That spawned the deepest silence yet around
the table.

Margaret Gurney looked at Aisha Amiri who,
with a frown, looked from Reverend Moses to Jones and back to Moses
as if trying to decide which of the two offensive men was the most
repellent.

Fielding checked his watch again, while
Miller shifted in his chair, and then shifted again.

“Anyone?” said Jones. Then waited a while.
“No one?”

“We could denounce her,” offered Miller,
“but I don’t see what difference that would make. People know that
she’s not a Christian, so they probably will not care.”

“Denouncement is good,”
agreed Jones, although taking his time to pronounce
denouncement
. “But you’re
right, that won’t stop her. In fact, if you stop to consider, it
might even boost her, if that’s even conceivable.”

“How so?” asked Miller.

“She’s a rebel,” offered Jones. “And rebels
tend to thrive in cross-fire, don’t they?”

“I see your point,” said Miller.

“Is she,” said Aisha Amiri, loudly. The
table, to a man/woman turned to face her. “Is she breaking any
laws?”

“That’s the
right
question,” more or
less exploded Jones. Perhaps a little bit too quickly, and a lot
too loudly. As if this was the very thing he was fishing for—which,
as it happens, it was.

“That’s is precisely the question,” he said
again, back to normal.

“Is she?” said Amiri.

“Well, as it happens,” said Jones. “It may
be what some may call a stretch, though it really isn’t.” Then
stopped.

“And?” said Amiri.

“And,” said Jones. “We still have an
impressive collection of fairly stretchable anti-terrorism laws on
the books.”

Amiri quietly wondered
what, precisely, Jones meant by
stretchable
.

“Surely,” said Miller, but Jones held up a
hand to stop him in his tracks, for Jones wasn’t done yet.

Miller, however, did not take to kindly to
that, and insisted on completing his thought: “Surely, the woman is
not inciting to terrorist attacks. Far from it.” And then added,
“At least according to our research.”

“Granted,” said Jones with a forced smile,
for he was used to having his way in these situations. “But I ask
you, and not only you Reverend Miller, what is the prerequisite for
inciting a group to riot, or to terrorist-like attacks or
destruction?”

“Weapons?” said Blackburn Moses.

“Not really,” said Jones. “More fundamental
than that.”

“A target,” suggested John Fielding.

“Yes, you need that,” said Jones. “But more
fundamental than that. What do you need, first of all, to incite a
group to destruction?”

“You need a group,” said Margaret Gurney.
Statement of fact. So obvious. She really did not like Jones.

“Pre-cise-ly,” said Jones,
beaming now. “You need a
group
.”

Aisha Amiri did not take kindly to being
talked down to at the best of times, and especially not by this
man. “What’s your point?” she said.

Smile now firmly in place, Jones turned to
face her. “My point is that Ruth Marten is creating and rallying
one of the largest groups every rallied in the history of
mankind.”

He let that sink in.

“And,” he then added. “They are doing what
she tells them to do.”

“That’s overstating it, isn’t it?” said the
Archbishop from across the table.

“Not really,” said Jones.

“They’re all doing that Anapasti Mumbo
Jumbo,” said Rabbi Hefter who seemed infatuated with the
phrase.

“Yes, they are,” agreed
Jones. And then took the delegates in, one by one. “What do you
think they’re doing when they’re not attending your congregations?
Why do you think they are abandoning your churches, in the
millions
?”

“Anapasti?” said Fielding, after consulting
his watch.

“Anapana…” began Jones, but then thought
better of correcting anyone. “Anapasti. Yes, correct. That’s what
they are doing.”

“But that’s simply meditation,” said the
(from Jones’ viewpoint) irritatingly well-researched Miller.

Jones sighed. “Do you want to split hairs or
stop this lunacy?”

“Yes, of course,” said Miller. “Of course
I—we—want this to stop. But we can’t go rogue here.”

“Rogue? Who said anything about going rogue?
Ruth Marten is organizing the largest congregation on earth, and
they are doing her bidding. Can you think of a larger threat to
national security?”

“Well, put that way,” conceded Miller.

“You’re right. It is definitely a stretch,”
said Amiri.

Margaret Gurney had been about to voice a
similar opinion, but now did not want to follow suit. She was her
own person, not just a mirror.

Keeler had no such qualms, however. “A
definite stretch, yes, I’d say so.”

“But a legal one,” said Jones, smile still
in place. This was going very much according to plan.

Blackburn Moses drew breath, and even that
seemed to boom. “It’s a matter of intent, isn’t it?”

An unusually bright observation coming from
that quarter, thought Jones. “Of course it is,” he said. “But how
do you establish intent? Based on Ruth Marten’s say-so? And she
will definitely claim to be well-intend.”

He paused to survey the seven faces again,
all at various stages of attention. Then said, “Legally, we
establish intent based on effect. Cause and effect.”

Another long pause. “But when it comes to
the anti-terrorist statutes, we cannot take a chance on intent. If
someone who might be a terrorist has a bomb, and the opportunity to
use it, we cannot take the chance that he or she is well-intended
and will in fact not use it.”

Again he paused for effect.

“We cannot take the chance that Ruth Marten
is well-intended.”

“I believe she is, though,” said Miller.

“The effect is,” and Jones
stressed the word
effect
. “The effect is that your
flocks are leaving, and they are rallying to her cry. She is
decimating your churches. That is the effect, and effect
usually—and legally—leads back to intent as the cause. There is no
way this young lady does not know that her gun is
loaded.”

Heads nod around the table. Jones has a
point.

“And it’s aimed right at you,” said
Jones.

More nods. Yes, yes, they see his point.

“Does anyone disagree?” said Jones.

No takers.

Again, Jones looks into his portfolio, and
selects a document. This time it is a two-page conference letter,
again with pre-arranged signature lines. He looks at it for a
moment, as if considering how best to proceed. But it’s all for
show, Jones is nothing if not the ultimate showman.

“Please,” he says to Miller, has he hands
him the letter. “Please sign this, and pass it on.”

Miller laughs, a little nervously. “What
does it say?”

“Take your time, read it,” said Jones. “By
all means. Though all this letter says it that we, as the delegates
of the New York Faith Summit, recognize the grave danger posed by
the unparalleled influence of Ruth Marten on the young of the
world, and how this unparalleled influence is driving our flocks
away from our churches.

“It further states that we request that the
U.S. Justice Department, as well as the Department of Homeland
Security, look into this threat and take whatever legal action they
deem appropriate. Not verbatim, but that’s the gist.”

Miller, reading the letter nods in
agreement. “Yes,” he says. Then looks for his signature line, and
signs it.

The letter then makes its way around the
table, to then arrive back to Jones by way of Blackburn Moses,
signed by one and all. Jones then, with quite a flourish, signs his
allocated line, and restores the letter to his portfolio.

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