The Crisis of Revelation

Fifty-one-year-old Jack Molay is a wealthy, retired engineer who now finds himself with plenty of time to read. Among his reading material are two highly controversial works of nonfiction: Holy Blood, Holy Grail and The Tomb of God. Both books posit that Jesus did not die in the Holy Land, as the Bible says, but rather later in France-and that his body was buried there. Molay is surprised when he seemingly makes more sense of these books than the authors. He believes the books are correct; furthermore, he believes he can locate the final resting place of Jesus Christ. He organizes an expedition to southern France and, once there, uses his expertise as a mining engineer to locate a cave that contains two limestone ossuaries filled with bones. His friend and associate, Dr. Ron Campbell, determines that the hand bones show evidence of a crucifixion-but are the bones really the last remnants of Jesus Christ? Soon, Molay feels as if he and his team are in danger. The Vatican appears, as do other sinister forces planning to thwart their efforts. If Molay's suspicions are true, the implications for the entire Christian faith are dramatic. There are those who would do anything to keep Molay's discovery a secret; his curiosity could get him killed.

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The Crisis of RevelationBy Ross McRonaldiUniverse LLCCopyright © 2013 Ross McRonaldAll rights reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4917-1261-0CHAPTER 1He read the letter again. He'd written it yesterday but postponed mailing it and it sat on his desk overnight. He wasn't certain why he hadn't sent it, a reticence. He'd seen something in the book that he thought the authors had overlooked. That was the reason for the letter. But then there was the uncertainty. The book was very provocative and something told him to keep the idea to himself.The title had fascinated him—The Tomb of God. It was on the discount rack at Barnes and Noble and the cover caught his eye. The writers, two Englishmen, reiterated the tale of Beringer Sauniere, a poor priest living in the south of France at the turn of the prior century, who became very rich. The book went on to recount and expand his story, one that had been the subject of a BBC documentary done in the early 70's based on the book Holy Blood, Holy Grail, written by Lincoln and Baigent. Some have ascribed the wealth to Suaniere finding the `Holy Grail'. Much of the same material had been described in Brown's best seller The Da Vinci Code, including using Sauniere's name for the murdered curator.The authors were quick to point out that the 'Holy Grail' didn't necessarily refer to chalice or cup but could be anything from bones to a manuscript. They were less hesitant however, to claim that they had located the site. The sensational title originated from the premise that Mary Magdalene had been buried at the site. It was Lincoln's contention, bolstered by significant historical evidence, she, and others, including her brother Lazarus, had traveled to the south of France after the crucifixion. This was an area that already was home to a large Jewish population that included extensive lands owned by Herod Antipas.What had fascinated him was the evidence that Lincoln and the two Englishmen had cited. Being an engineer Jack needed evidence. It was provocative but not being a historian it was difficult to evaluate the validity.The authors of The Tomb of God claimed to have located the site utilizing complex geographical derivations. Their calculations seemed contrived. But Jack saw something much simpler. It seemed almost self-evident and wondered why the authors missed it. That was what the letter was about. He had pointed out what he had seen in the letter. Then the questions began to creep in. Lincoln, the BBC producer, had discussed a small, powerful cabal that controlled the information. It sounded like a conspiracy theory. Perhaps that is why he hadn't posted the letter."Jack we've got to leave for the party. Are you ready?" His wife's voiced startled him."Yes dear. I'm in the den finishing up some things. I'm ready to go." For some reason he didn't want to leave the letter out so he slid both the letter and the envelope into the top drawer of his desk.His wife appeared at the den door. She was dressed for the party in a simple black dress and looked terrific. Twenty eight years of marriage hadn't dulled his ardor. It was the fiftieth birthday for his sales manager. Or more appropriately, his ex-sales manager now that he had sold the company."What were you doing?" She watched as he busied himself straightening his notes that he had taken."Donna if I told you you'd think I'm crazy; or crazier. But then you already knew that." He paused a moment. "I'm looking for the Holy Grail." He smiled as he said it. He knew it would cause a smirk and she gave him a loopy smile to confirm it."Jack, I think you have too much time on your hands since you sold the company." It was said with some conviction. It was four months since he'd sold his division of the mining equipment company that had been in his family for almost seventy years. Since then he was looking for something to occupy his time and brain. Since the sale he and Donna had spent time traveling and finding ways to invest the almost two hundred million dollars they had made after taxes. But he was bored and she knew it.He picked up his jacket, switched off the light and went to the door. He helped her get into her full length shearling coat. He opened the car door for her and got in the driver's side. "What would you think if I told you there are some historians who claim that Jesus was married," he waited for the comment to register, "to Mary Magdalene. And they may have had children together"."What brought that up? And where is the evidence? Sounds like more of the Da Vinci Code." The comment was one of curiosity coupled with the skepticism of a historian, Donna Molay's specialty."I just finished reading a very interesting book. According to their references a number of people, some with excellent credentials agree with parts of it. You taught history. Did you ever hear anything like that?"She looked at him intently. "You're serious aren't you?" He nodded. "I remember reading about Knights Templars and certainly the story of Parzival. The author, a guy named Wolfram wrote it about twelve hundred and claimed that the Knights were the guardians of the Holy Grail. It's the same story that Wagner used in his opera. It supposedly takes place around the time of the Albigensian crusade.""What the hell is that?""That was when the Pope sent in legions to southern France and slaughtered fifty thousand people for being heretics. It's where a monk asked the Pope how to tell the faithful apart. The Pope replied something to the effect 'kill them all and let the Lord decide'. Nice huh? But frankly it never grabbed my attention."Jack snickered. "You sound like going to that new internist. He never seems to have an answer. Only wants to send you to a specialist. Doctor Campbell wasn't that way. He usually made the right diagnosis and rarely sent you running around trying to tell your story to another specialist. Boy, I'm sorry he retired.""Well, I'm sorry". It was said with a hint of sarcasm. "That's the sum of my knowledge about the Holy Grail. But as for Jesus being married and having children. That would put a new spin on things.""Not anymore than finding out he didn't die on the cross. That would really cause a stir." He stared at her. "What do you think?""Look, being brought up Jewish we certainly didn't hold that Jesus was god. But then the Jews are still waiting for the Messiah. My family thought of him as a wise man. Possible a rabbi and rabbis were encouraged to marry. What is the saying? 'Go forth and multiple'.""In the book Holy Blood Holy Grail Lincoln argues that the when Jesus is at the marriage at Cana he was told that the wine had run out. He performs a miracle and changes water into wine. Do you know how much he supposedly made?" He briefly glanced at her, saw her shake her head and then focused back at the road. "He made the equivalent of 120 gallons. That must have been some wedding! They contend that it must have been his wedding because why would they have come to him? And no mention is made as to who's wedding it was. What do you think?""What are you alluding to?" Now her curiosity was mixed with a degree of concern. "I can tell by the way you're talking you have a new idea; a project. Am I right?"She was hoping the answer was yes. He needed something. He was getting morose, complaining that his life wasn't going to amount to anything. Since he was just past fifty he thought he was ready for the scrap heap. She was worried. His vibrancy was gone. He was acting old for the first time. But this seemed different. There was a familiar spark in him. Perhaps she could pique his interest. "I know an interesting professor at the university that might be of some help. He's a professor of theology but some say he's an atheist.""Would they let an atheist teach theology? That seems strange.""He apparently was an ordained minister when he got tenure and then, I guess evolved."They pulled up in the portico of the Cherry Hills Country Club and a valet rushed over to open Donna's door."I always feel funny coming here," she said. "Just a few years ago they wouldn't let a Jew in the place."Jack had first met her, Donna Goodman, at Colorado in his freshman year. He was smitten from the first. He'd asked her for a date but she refused. He tried again and then she told him that she swore to her parents that she wouldn't date anyone who wasn't Jewish. He tried to explain that he really was Jewish but she didn't believe him.Jack Molay, or more appropriately Jacques Molay was born in Lyon France. He was the son of Michel and Sarah Molay. His father owned a rather prosperous mining equipment company. Jack was schooled in the local catholic school. He never questioned his background until at fifteen a school project that included a family tree caught his attention.Going through the family photo album he realized that there weren't any pictures of his mother's family. That was odd. He confronted his parents. They were vague, seeming to avoid the questions. Finally after an early Sunday dinner they talked to him."There aren't any pictures because they were destroyed. It was too dangerous." His father said.Jack looked at his father. He was confused. "Why?""It was during the war." He shrugged his shoulders in that quintessential Gallic fashion, glanced at his wife and said, "He's fifteen. He should know what happened.""What happened?""Your mother's family was Jewish. They were rounded up in 1942 and sent to the gas chambers.""Why wasn't Mom?" He stared at his mother. She avoided his look."Your mother was only three. She was blond and blue eyed. She was taken in by a family in the country without children. They raised her as their own including having her baptized Catholic. She escaped the Holocaust.""What's the Holocaust?" Jack had never heard the term in school."It was named after the six million Jews who were murdered in the camps.""Six million people?" He was incredulous. "Why don't they tell us about that in school?"Sarah finally spoke. "Jack, according to Jewish law, having a Jewish mother makes you a Jew.""Me? I don't have any say in the matter?""Certainly you do. But when you tell a Jew that your mother is or was Jewish they are going to tell you that you are too."Jack was confused and taken aback. He didn't know what to do about the school project and in the end got an incomplete saying he didn't finish it. Instead he began to immerse himself in finding out what happened in Lyon and France during the war. After finding that the school library barely had any information he spent days in the public library researching. He read about Klaus Barbie. He went by the building, one he had passed numerous times before, and realized that his grandparents were probably interrogated there before being sent east. It made him shutter. He grew up that summer. He saw his mother in a new light.Jack finished his secondary school at eighteen and his father was intent for him to attend the Polytechnic Institute in Paris. Jack had other ideas. He was an excellent skier having won some regional junior down-hills. In addition, he was eager to leave France for a while to clear his head. He wanted to go to the United States; specifically to Colorado and the university. He argued that the school had an excellent engineering department. Finally his mother convinced his father."Michel, let him go. We can afford it and it will broaden his horizons.""All right, but you must promise me to return for your graduate degree. Besides you'll need to work in the company. It'll be yours one day."In August, after an intensive English course, he packed his bags and skis and headed for Boulder Colorado.Donna slipped out of her coat and handed it to the girl in the cloak room. She slipped her arm onto Jack's and they went into the private room where Charles Ranson was having his birthday party. People glanced their way. They were a striking couple. Her dark beauty, slender in what Jack always thought was typically French and he just a shade over six feet but with a bearing that made many think he was taller."Jack, Donna. Thanks so much for coming." Charles, or Chuck, was shaking Jack's hand, trying to give Donna a kiss on the cheek all while holding a Martini."We wouldn't have missed it Charles," replied Donna. She was the politician in the family. She didn't dislike him but his charm left her flat. She realized that he was one of the reasons that Jack and his company had made so much money. By the time he finished greeting them he was off to greet another couple."I'm conjuring up a powerful thirst. I'm going to the bar. You want anything?"She replied, "Just a white wine. Sauvignon Blanc if they have it. I'm going to say hello to Harold and Nancy over there," nodding across the room.Jack was amused. My wife never drank and now loves French wines. Me I like scotch and martinis. How we evolve.Jack ordered a Famous Grouse on the rocks. He used to drink Johnnie Walker but after being addicted to W.E.B. Griffiths' books whose heroes always drank Famous Grouse he switched and liked the Grouse better. He picked up Donna's wine and his drink, turned and almost tripped over Jim Ellison, Chuck's neighbor."Jack, it's nice to see you here. What have you been up to with all your millions?" It was well publicized that Jack had sold the company but it still seemed so gauche the way Americans talked about money."Not much Jim. Been thinking about taking on a new project.""Something interesting I suppose. You never do anything half way."Jack took that as a compliment. He knew he shouldn't say anything but he wanted to test out his idea. "Been thinking about searching for the Holy Grail.""You and Harrison Ford, or Indiana Jones," he roared."No, it's not what you think. There is a growing body of evidence, or more appropriately, questions about whether Christ actually died on the cross. That's what is interesting me.""Hold up right there! I'm an Evangelical Christian and I don't take lightly those words." His face had grown stern. "That's contrary to everything that is known.""Well, not really." He didn't want to try presenting his material but instead asked, "Wouldn't you like to know if the story is true? Wouldn't you like to know the truth?""The truth? The truth is in the Bible. I find what you're saying very offensive. It must because you married a Jew." He turned on his heel and walked off.Jack was stunned. He hadn't realized both the depth of some people's convictions but their total adherence to the party line. Then he really got pissed about marry 'a Jew'.Given half a chance he would have smacked him.He walked over to Donna, gave her the wine and said perfunctory hellos to Harold and Nancy. He glanced up in time to see Jim Ellison talking to two other couples and they were shaking heads."Donna please finish your wine. I don't feel too well. I'd like to leave."She gave him a quizzical look but said "I'm okay. We can leave." She put the glass on a table behind her, said to Nancy, "I'll call you tomorrow."They walked to the lobby and retrieved her coat after Jack gave the girl a five dollar tip. They waited until the valet brought up his Porsche, accept the same tip from Jack and remarked, "Nice ride.""It'll do." Jack wasn't in the best of moods.Pulling out of the country club Donna finally broke the silence. "Want to talk about it?"He hesitated. He wanted to spare her the comment but it was the reason that they left. "I'm so stupid." He started. "I tried to discuss my idea with that ass," pausing not to swear. "then he gets in my face about being an evangelical Christian and how offensive it was to him.""That wasn't why you wanted to leave. What was it?"He hesitated, his anger rising, pulled the shifter down into second and punched the accelerator. The Porsche rapidly accelerated past two other cars. "He said I thought that way because I married a Jew, the prick." This time he couldn't contain himself. "I almost laid him out.""Jack, that wouldn't solve anything.""No, but it would have made me feel better.""Jack, you were sheltered from anti-Semitism because for fifteen years you didn't even understand about being Jewish. You grow up with it and you hear all the whispers and snide comments. You hear it in the nail salon, the supermarket, everywhere. You try not to let it get to you but the constant comments eat away. How do you think I feel going to that club? I never say anything but it makes my skin crawl at times." (Continues...)Excerpted from The Crisis of Revelation by Ross McRonald. Copyright © 2013 Ross McRonald. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse LLC. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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