Adapa’s wife sires child with father/father-in-law Enki in rare duo-parent conception
The banquet that was thrown for Adapa, the visiting young Earthling, by King Anu in the plush Nibiru palace turned out to be an anti-climax. For when Adapa was presented with the Bread of Life and the Water of Life, he dismissed them outright.
Now, to Nibiruians, the Bread of Life and the Water of Life were nothing special. They were part of their daily sustenance. But unlike our day-to-day food regimen on Earth, these were rich with Ormus, the white powder of gold also known as manna or shewbread in the Bible.
On Nibiru, they had what they called the “Semen of the Father”. This was simply Ormus which fell down on the ground as a constituent of rain. The Ormus-rich rain was the result of gold particles that were suspended higher up in the Nibiru atmosphere both to seal the ozone hole and to lend vigour and vitality to overall Anunnaki health.
When this golden rain bathed the plants and vegetation and soaked the ground, they too became Ormus-rich. By the same token, animals that chewed on the Ormus-rich leaves and grass became Ormus-rich too, such that when the Nibiriuans consumed the crops, fruits and animal meat; drank beverages that were made from fruits; or took herbal products as daily supplements, they assimilated a lot of Ormus in their body tissues.
This not only endued them with very sound health but lent them extraordinarily lengthy lifespans and made them grow considerably taller, up to at least 8 feet for men and 7 feet for women. Ormus also gave them great intellectual capacity, extrasensory perception, and metaphysical insight.
To an Earthling, however, the Ormus-rich bread and drink that were of Nibiru origin would be radically transforming on many levels. It would be like becoming a brand new man altogether, particularly for a youngster like Adapa. Thus when Adapa turned down the sacraments that were offered him, King Anu was not only mystified: he was embarrassed. How could the youngster decline such supremely efficacious food items and from a King for that matter?
Suspecting that it was simply one of those puerile antics, the King kindly and tenaciously endeavoured to cajole Adapa. “Come now, Adapa,” he pleaded. “Why did you neither eat nor drink, our hospitality rejected?” It seemed Adapa did not want to appear as if he had affronted the King of his own accord. That would have given rise to a very distorted view of Earthlings as a whole. So he decided to come clean on the cause of his seemingly outlandish conduct. “My master the lord Enki commanded me: bread do not eat, the elixir do not drink!” he candidly disclosed.
King Anu was taken even further aback. Why did Enki advise the young Earthling as such? Was he anti-Earthling, which would be odd considering that he was their very creator? Why couldn’t he allow at least one Earthling to enjoy the longevity of the Anunnaki and therefore assume monarchic status once the gold mission was over?
Turning to his vizier Ilabrat, Dumuzi, and Ningishzidda respectively, he sought to extract a fitting rationale. The trio said they too were nonplussed. Ningishzidda, however, now revealed that he had a parcel for the King that could provide the answer to the conundrum at hand. Keen to know what the little parcel contained, the King promptly rose and announced a time-out, at which point he proceeded into his private chamber to study it.
ADAPA COMMISSIONED INTO AGRARIAN PURSUITS
The parcel Ningishzidda had delivered to King Anu on behalf of Enki was an encrypted data stick. In it, Enki owned up as to who Adapa exactly was. He made known to his step-father that Adapa was not his servant as such but a biological son of his he had sired with an Earthling woman and that he was actually one of two such siblings, the other one being a daughter.
He also bid the King not to avail Ormus to Adapa but to let him remain “mortal” so that he identified more with his fellow Earthlings than the Anunnaki. His offspring’s role would be to grow food and rear proteinaceous animals to succour the Anunnaki contingent on Earth. It was Adapa who as the first civilised Earthling was going to teach fellow mankind the art of both arable and pastoral farming.
Though the message did not exactly astound the King given Enki’s sordid reputation as a serial philanderer, he was disappointed. He did not expect the staggeringly wise man that was Enki to breach a cosmic law which forbade the Anunnaki to indulge in sexual relations with other races. Summoning Ningishzidda to his private chamber, the palpably disillusioned King asked him whether he was aware Adapa was his brother. Ningishzidda said he had long established that was so after secretly subjecting Adapa to a DNA test.
Having learnt of the urgency with which Adapa was wanted on Earth from Enki, King Anu decided he was to return to Earth forthwith, accompanied by Ningishzidda, with a specific commission in heed of Enki’s petition. “To be of civilised mankind, a progenitor your destiny shall be,” Anu said to Adapa. “Let your offspring there on Earth fields till and in meadows shepherd.”
Ningishzidda too was given his own dedicated commission. He was to be the spiritual teacher of Adapa’s offspring, a lifelong mandate he would fulfil with distinction. Dumuzi, meanwhile, would remain on Nibiru for a full shar, a year on Nibiru which was equivalent to 3600 Earth years, to master the art of agronomy.
Meanwhile, Adapa was provided a special garment to wear, which befitted a king. He was also given a special oil, with which he straightaway anointed himself as per Enki’s advance instructions. The unction and garlanding officially designated him as Earth’s first Sanga-Lugal, meaning Priest-King. This is Melchizedek in Hebrew. Not only was he going to start a new kingly line on Earth but he was going to institute a new line of priests.
Later in the day, Ningishzidda and Adapa were escorted to the “place of chariots”, the interplanetary spaceport, and soon were headed back to Earth. They were carrying with them cereal seeds and breeder ewes. As the spaceship coursed through the inky space, Ningishzidda administered to his little half-brother lessons on the dynamics of cosmic bodies, more so those of the Solar System.
HISTORY’S FIRST SOLOMON
Enki was at once surprised and overjoyed that Adapa had returned to Earth way sooner than expected. He commended the little boy for standing his ground before the great King and for refusing to eat and imbibe the Ormus aliment. On his part, Adapa was gleeful that Enki had turned out to be both his master and dad. Father and son thus embraced, with Titi, Adapa’s half sister, joining them in a rather sentimental posture.
Ningishzidda advised his father that the seniormost members of the Anunnaki pantheon be told of what transpired on Nibiru. Enki agreed and soon Enlil and Ninmah were on their way to Eridu. Ninmah made no fuss about Enki’s fathering of Adapa and Titi. Enki’s wife Ninki also made light of the matter as she was already emotionally attached to the two kids having brought them up like her own kids. It was Enlil who was apoplectic with rage.
“You are defiling our race,” he thundered. “And you are setting a very bad precedent which rank and file Anunnaki would now want to emulate. You know how few Anunnaki women are here on Earth. I want this to remain a closely guarded secret. Not even your own grown children should know about it other than Zidda and Dumuzi. Do you hear me?” And he stormed out of the meeting.
One certain thing about rumour is that it spreads very quickly in the manner of a wildfire and so Marduk soon got wind of these new developments. In the event, he approached his father and Ningishzidda, who had now taken over Enki as their pedagogic instructor, to seek clarity. He was told it was all the work of busybodies: Adapa and Titi were no more than Enki’s pupils and adopted children.
Before he was installed as Priest-King at Eridu, Enki’s cult centre, Adapa first had to be groomed for the task, particularly that he was still a youngster. Accordingly, when he attained adulthood, Enki installed him as Chief of Staff in his household. His duties were to “supervise the bakers, assure water supplies, oversee the fishing for Eridu, and tend to the offerings and prescribed rites … Daily he attended the sanctuary of Eridu.”
Meanwhile, Ningishzidda was tutoring him in “all manner of knowledge” with a view to transform him into the very “model of a man”. Soon he had entered the annals of Earth as the first Wisest Man on record – the first Solomon. An adage was even coined which said, “as wise as Adapa” to describe somebody phenomenally intelligent.
Upon attaining 21 years of age, Adapa was officially crowned as Priest-King. According to the WB-62 pre-diluvial king list (where he appears as En-Me-Lu-Anna, meaning “Enki’s Man of Heaven”, an epithet that commemorated his celestial journey to Nibiru), he ruled for 21,600 years. The Berossus list accords him a reign of 36,000 years.
As Priest-King, Adapa’s duties included the interpretation of the will of the Anunnaki; the representation of Earthlings before the Anunnaki; the administration of justice as well as the entire realm; and supervision of the temple clergy, the term temple simply meaning the abode of Enki and not a house of worship as at the time there was no such thing.
Like dad Enki, Adapa was a fanatical seafarer. He loved to traverse the seas in his boat from shore to shore. A daredevil, he took great delight in braving mighty tempests, so that more often than not he was sent adrift. Thankfully, the Anunnaki’s excellent wireless communications which covered every inch of the planet as well as excellent sky craft made it easy to be reached when one beamed a distress call.
ADAPA MARRIES A SHE-DEVIL
Although Enlil looked down on Adapa by virtue of his being a Lulu, he simply had to recognise him for what he was. King Anu had “Anu-nointed” him as the first civilised human King. He was the designated progenitor of a bloodline that would rule Earth forever. This bloodline would over time come to be known as the Sangreal, meaning “Blood Royal” – the now famous Holy Grail lore which in our day was popularised by Dan Brown in his blockbuster fact-based novel titled The Da Vinci Code. It is this same bloodline that spawned Jesus and today’s leading Western monarchs.
Since Adapa was an Enkite, the Enlilites wanted a genetic stake in the emerging bloodline. The two clans therefore held a meeting to decide on this critical matter. What the Enlilites proposed was that Adapa must marry an Enlilite to even the scores. This was a moot point as Enki had already chosen a spouse for Adapa.
This was Titi, Enki’s daughter with the other Earthling woman. Enki wanted the bloodline to be unilaterally Enkite but the Enlilites were adamant that an Enlilite had to be part of the equation. When a neutral Ninmah was asked to break the ice, she suggested that in order to content either party, Adapa should marry two women: Titi and another woman who had Enlilite blood in her even if that would entail relaxing the cosmic clause that forbade cross-racial marriages. Albeit, Titi would be the junior wife whereas this other woman would be the senior spouse.
Following a very heated debate which involved the input of Adapa himself, it was a deal: Adapa was to take a woman with Enlilite blood as his senior wife. And the woman chosen in this regard was Lilitu. Lilitu was related to both Enki and Enlil: she was the daughter of Nergal, Enki’s son, and his wife Ereshkigal, Enlil’s granddaughter.
Initially, Lilitu was not happy. Being a full Anunnaki and therefore a “goddess”, she thought Adapa, a half-human, half-Anunnaki, or “demi-god”, was beneath her notwithstanding his incandescent virtues and qualities. She made it clear that the man she would have loved to marry was Enki himself, who she had always admired since childhood. However, she was finally prevailed upon and reluctantly agreed to be Adapa’s main spouse.
Since Lilitu was geneologically senior to Titi, the book of Genesis’s other Eve, it meant the heir to Adapa would come from her as per the Anunnaki monarchical merit, which ran through the female line as opposed to the male line. Such a scenario proved to be a perpetual nightmare to Titi-Eve, who would have loved her own son with Adapa to be the heir.
Now, whereas Adapa’s marital relationship to Titi-Eve was a joyous one, that with Lilitu was hell. Lilitu was wayward and insubordinate as a wife. Not only did she defy Adapa at will but was reluctant to give him a heir. In the Adapa household, the workers were in dread of her. She was always screaming and swearing at them, calling them all sorts of demeaning names. This mean streak in her largely stemmed from Enlilite genes than the typically beneficent Enkite genes. The “wicked queen” Jezebel pales in comparison with Lilitu.
TWINS WHO HAD TWO FATHERS!
Although Titi-Eve was aware that being a second-fiddle wife her son would never inherit, she wasn’t resigned to such a fate, which was forcefully decreed on her. She was determined to upend it by foul or crook. She was sworn that her son must be heir come what may. But exactly how was that to be attained?
Having pondered the matter over, Titi-Eve and her Earthling mother came up with a most ingenious strategy. This strategy revolved around her own father/father-in-law Enki. Titi-Eve reckoned that if she were to sleep with Enki and produce a son, that son would take precedence over Lilitu’s in the succession stakes if Lilitu happened to bear girls only or if she stood by her volition not to give Adapa a child at all.
Titi-Eve was a stunning beauty and Enki was hopelessly weak where women were concerned. It therefore goes without saying that sexual relations between the two were a natural. It did not take long before Titi-Eve became pregnant. The pregnancy was an interesting one. Titi-Eve gave birth to two boys who were fraternal and not identical twins.
Furthermore, the twins had distinctly different skin tones and other features. The boy who arrived first was much lighter than the second one. Naturally, Adapa, who was no dupe, knew something was amiss. He asked Ningishzidda to conduct a DNA test on the two boys.
Ningishzidda found that whereas the younger one was Adapa’s son, the older one was not. Adapa straight-off confronted his wife and she was quick to own up: the older son was Enki’s. What had happened was that when Titi-Eve ovulated, she produced two eggs. During the three days the eggs were in her tubes, she slept with both Adapa and Enki in succession. The two eggs were therefore fertilised by two sperm cells coming from two different men, something that happens only once in a million times.
Titi-Eve’s plea to her husband was that she did so for purely political reasons: she wanted a son who would inherit after him all other things being equal. Since Adapa had the tender virtues of his father Enki, he did not begrudge his wife but simply made bygones be bygones.
As per the culture of the day, it was Titi-Eve who reserved the right to name the kids. The older twin she named Ka-En, meaning “One begotten of the Lord”. This is the biblical Cain. He was so named because his biological father was Lord Enki. The Bible itself actually attests to that.
GENESIS 4:1 as properly translated in the King James corpus quotes Eve as exclaiming of baby Cain that, “I have gotten a man from the Lord”, that is, she had given birth to a son fathered by Enki. The Midrash, a Jewish traditional commentary on the Bible, also emphasises the point that Cain was the son of Enki and not Adapa/Adam.
The younger son Titi-Eve named as Aba-El, meaning, “He whose father is of the Lord”. This is the biblical Abel. Why was he so named? Well, the person who was “of the Lord” in this regard was Adapa. Remember, Adapa did have Anunnaki blood in him as he was the son of Enki but he was not Anunnaki himself. Although the term “El” (“Ilu” in Sumerian) referred to the Anunnaki pantheon as a whole, in the context of Abel it referred to Enki.
Enki’s other epithet was Sama-El, meaning “Lord of Sumer”, that is, Sumeria, or Eridu in particular. Thus paraphrased, the name Abel meant “a son of the son of Enki”. The name Abel was thus a tribute to Adapa, who was the son of Enki. This indeed was fitting as Adapa was Abel’s father.
A case can be made, General Atiku, that history’s most infamous Roman is Pontius Pilate. It was Pilate who condemned Jesus, the “Son of God”, to the most cruel, most barbaric, and most excruciating of deaths – crucifixion – and cowardly at that as the gospels attest for us.
Yet the exact circumstances under which the crucifixion took place and what followed thereafter far from jells with what is familiarly known. The fact of the matter was that there was a lot of political wheeling and dealing and boldfaced corruption on the part both of the Jewish authorities and the Roman establishment in the person of Pontius Pilate. In this piece, we attempt, General, to present a fuller photo of Pilate as the centre of the whole machination.
Pilate’s historicity, General, is not in doubt. In 1961, an Italian archeologist unearthed a limestone block at Caesarea Maritima on the Mediterranean coast of Israel, which as of 6 AD was the Roman seat of government as well as the military headquarters. The block bore the inscription, “Pontius Pilate, the Prefect of Judea, has dedicated this Temple to the divine Augusti” (that is, then Roman Emperor Tiberius Caesar and his wife Livia).
Pilate also gets varying degrees of mention in the works of Roman senator and historian Cornelius Tacitus (56-117 AD); the Hellenistic Jewish philosopher and chronicler Philo of Alexandria (25 BC to 50 AD); and the legendary Jewish historian Flavius Josephus (37-100 AD).
Although his year of death (37 AD) is documented, his year of birth is a matter of conjecture, General. He came from the Pontii tribe (hence the name Pontius), a tough, warlike people. The Pontii tribe was of the equestrian class, the second-tier in the Roman caste system. Originally, the equestrians were those Romans with ample pocket power to bribe their way to knightly ranks in the Roman army. Pilate was born to Marcus Pontius, who had distinguished himself as a general in Rome’s military campaigns.
Following one of his particularly sterling military exploits, Marcus was awarded with the Pilum (javelin), a Roman decoration of honour for heroic military service. To commemorate this medal of valour, the family took the name Pilati, rendered Pilate in English and Pilatus in Latin.
The son, Lucius Pontius Pilate, also distinguished himself as a soldier in the German campaigns of Germanicus, a prominent general of the early Roman Empire. Thanks to his scintillating military profile coupled with strategic connections in the hierarchies of the Roman government, Pilate was able to wend his way into the heart of Claudia, the granddaughter of Caesar Augustus, the founder of the Roman Empire and ruler from 27 BC to 14 AD.
Claudia’s mother was Julia the Elder, who was also the biological mother of the apostles John and James. When Claudia was about 13 years of age, Julia sent her to Rome to be reared in the courts of Emperor Tiberius Caesar, to whom Julia was once married from 11 BC to 6 BC.
Although Tiberius was not the biological father of Claudius, General, he gladly acquiesced to being her foster father in deference to the memory of her late grandfather Caesar Augustus. Pilate arrived in Rome when Claudia was sixteen years of age. In AD 26, the two tied the knot. Needless to say, it was a marriage based not on love as such but on political opportunism.
The high-placed connection who facilitated Pontius Pilate’s smooth landing into the inner sanctums of Rome’s royalty and put him on a pedestal that saw him take pride of place in the cosmic gallery of rogues was Aelius Sejanus. Like Pilate, Sejanus came from the subordinate equestrian class, who would never be eligible for a seat in the Senate, the legislative council of ancient Rome.
Sejanus, however, had over time become Emperor Tiberius’ most trusted lieutenant and to the point where he was the de facto prime minister. He had been commander of the Praetorian Guard, the elite Special Forces unit created by Augustus Caesar as a personal security force, which developed under Sejanus’ command into the most significant presence in Rome.
In AD 26, the emperor was not even based in Rome: he had confined himself to the 10.4 km2 island of Capri, about 264 km from Rome, and left control of Rome and the government of the Roman Empire to Sejanus. It was Sejanus who recommended the appointment of Pilate as prefect, or governor/procurator of Judea. The appointment was pronounced right on the occasion of Pilate’s nuptials with Claudius.
Philo records that when the bridal party emerged from the temple where the marriage ceremony was celebrated and Pilate started to follow the bride into the imperial litter, Tiberius, who was one of the twelve witnesses required to attend the ceremony, held him back and handed him a document. It was the wedding present – the governorship of far-flung Judea – with orders to proceed at once to Caesarea Maritima to take over the office made vacant by the recall of Valerius Gratus.
Pilate was notified by Sejanus that a ship was in fact waiting upon him to transport him to Palestine right away. The only disadvantageous aspect about the assignment was that Pilate was to leave the shores of Rome alone, without the pleasure of spending a first night in the arms of his newly wedded wife: by imperial decree, the wives of governors were not allowed to accompany them in their jurisdictions. Pilate, however, was a royal by marriage and so this prohibition was waived. By special permission granted by His Imperial Majesty Tiberius Caesar, Claudia soon joined her husband in Judea. The wily Pilate had calculated well when he married into royalty.
A SADISTIC ADMINISTRATOR
The Judean perch was not prestigious though, General. The prefects of Judea were not of high social status. At least one – Felix, referenced by Luke in the Acts of the Apostles – was an ex-slave, which says a great deal on the low regard in which the province was held by Rome.
Pilate was only secondarily sent to Judea on account of having married into royalty: his posting to the volatile province stemmed, primarily, from his being of a inferior social pedigree. Be that as it may, Pilate relished the posting in that it gave him the chance to exercise power, absolute power. Absolute power corrupts absolutely and in Pilate was the archetypal example, General.
Pilate’s brief was simple: to collect taxes, maintain law and order, maintain infrastructure, and keep the population subdued. Although he was born lowly, he positively had the power of life and death over his Jewish subjects. Let us, General, listen to Josephus in his allusion to Coponius, Judea’s first Roman governor and who like Pilate was from the same subservient social class: “And now Archelaus’ part of Judea was reduced into a province and Coponius, one of the equestrian order among the Romans, was sent as procurator, having the power of life and death put into his hands by Caesar.”
Pilate, General, was callous to a point of being sadistic. He was scarcely the scrupling judge with the rare soft spot that we encounter in the gospels. Philo charges him with “corruptibility, violence, robberies, ill-treatment of the people, grievances, continuous executions without even the form of a trial, endless and intolerable cruelties”.
He further declares him to be a “savage, inflexible, and arbitrary ruler” who was of a “stubborn and harsh quality” and “could not bring himself to do anything that might cause pleasure to the Jews”. The essentially humane character of the Pilate who presided over the trial of Jesus as portrayed in the gospels may not be wholly fictitious but is highly embellished, General.
Why did Pilate have such a pathological hatred of the Jews, General? Sejanus had more to do with it than the spontaneous leanings of his own nature. According to Philo, Sejanus hated the Jews like the plague and wished “to do away with the nation” – to exterminate it. In AD 19, for instance, he forced the Jews in Rome to burn their religious vestments and expelled them from the city without much ado.
For as long as Sejanus was in power, General, Pilate could do pretty much as he pleased. He didn’t have to worry about compromising reportage reaching the emperor as everything went through the implacably anti-Jewish Sejanus. Sejanus was unrivalled in power: golden statues of the general were being put up in Rome, the Senate had voted his birthday a public holiday, public prayers were offered on behalf of Tiberius and Sejanus, and in AD 31 Sejanus was named as Consul jointly with Tiberius.
The Judea posting also gave Pilate a golden opportunity to make money – lots of it. The governors of the Roman provinces were invariably rapacious, greedy, and incompetent: this we learn not only from Jewish historians of the day but from contemporary Roman writers as well such as Tacitus and Juvenal.
As long as the money skimmed from the provinces was not overly excessive, governors were allowed a free hand. It is said of Emperor Tiberius that, “Once he ordered a governor to reverse a steep rise in taxes saying, ‘I want my sheep shorn, not skinned’!” For those governors, such as Pilate, who had support from the very acmes of Roman power, General, they were practically a law unto themselves.
PILATE’S WINGS ARE CLIPPED
Pontius Pilate, General, was untrained in political office. Furthermore, he was a sycophant to the core who was prepared to go to any length in a bid to curry favour with and prove his loyalty to the powers that be in Rome. Both these attributes gave rise to a series of blunders that brought him the intense hatred of the Jews.
The first abomination he committed in the eyes of the Jews, General, was to set up a temple dedicated to Emperor Tiberius, which he called the Tiberieum, making him the only known Roman official to have built a temple to a living emperor. True, Roman emperors were worshipped, but Tiberius was the one exception. According to the Roman scholar and historian Suetonius, Tiberius did not allow the consecration of temples to himself. Pilate’s act therefore, General, was an overkill: it was not appreciated at all.
Throughout his tenure, General, Pilate had a series of run-ins with the Jews, some of which entailed a lot of bloodshed and one of which sparked an insurrection that paved the way to Calvary. Then it all began to unravel, General. On October 18 AD 31, his patron Sejanus was summoned to the office of Emperor Tiberius and an angry denunciation was read out to him. It is not clear, General, what caused Sejanus’ fall from the emperor’s good graces but circumstantial evidence points to the perceived threat to the emperor’s power.
As the ancient historian Cassius Dio puts it, “Sejanus was so great a person by reason both of his excessive haughtiness and of his vast power that to put it briefly, he himself seemed to be the emperor and Tiberius a kind of island potentate, inasmuch as the latter spent his time on the island of Capri.” Sejanus, hitherto the most powerful man in Rome, General, was thrown into a dungeon.
That same evening, he was summarily condemned to death, extracted from his cell, hung, and had his body given over to a crowd that tore it to pieces in a frenzy of manic excitement. His three children were all executed over the following months and his wife, Tiberius’ own daughter, committed suicide. The people further celebrated his downfall by pulling his statues over. Meanwhile, General, Tiberius began pursuing all those who could have been involved in the “plots” of Sejanus.
In Judea, Pilate, a Sejanus appointee, must have been badly shaken, General. Were his friends and family under suspicion? Would he be purged like others? Imperial attitudes to the Jewish race seemed to have changed now with the riddance of Sejanus. Tiberius made sure this was the case by appointing a new governor for Syria (who went by the title Legate and to whom Pilate was obligated to report).
The governor, Lucius Pomponius Flaccus, arrived in Rome in AD 32. Philo records that Tiberius now “charged his procurators in every place to which they were appointed to speak comfortably to the members of our nation in the different cities, assuring them that the penal measures did not extend to all but only to the guilty who were few, and to disturb none of the established customs but even to regard them as a trust committed to their care, the people as naturally peaceable and the institution as an influence promoting orderly conduct.”
So Pilate, General, had lost his supporters at the top, his new boss was on his doorstep, and there had been a change of policy regarding the very people he was in charge of. Surely, he would have to watch his step. The fact of the matter, however, General, was that he hardly did so. In November 32 AD, for instance, he provoked a mini-uprising by the Zealots led by Judas Iscariot, Theudas Barabbas, and Simon Zelotes. It was this revolt, General, that culminated in those three “crosses” of Calvary that are indelibly etched on the mind of every Christian.
Until as recently as the 1980s a career often meant a job for life within a single company or organisation. Phrases such as ‘climbing the corporate ladder’, ‘the glass ceiling’, ‘wage slave’ & ‘the rat race’ were thrown about, the analogies making clear that a career path was a toxic mix of a war of attrition, indentured drudgery and a Sisyphean treadmill.
In all cases you fought, grafted or plodded on till you reached retirement age, at which point you could expect a small leaving party, the promise of a pension and, oddly, a gift of either a clock or watch. The irony of being rewarded with a timepiece on the very day you could expect to no longer be a workday prisoner was apparently lost on management – the hands of time were destined to follow you to the grave!
Retirement was the goal at the end of the long, corporate journey, time on your hands – verifiable by your gifted time keeping device – to spend time working in the garden, playing with the grandchildren, enjoying a holiday or two and generally killing time till time killed you.
For some, retirement could be literally short-lived. The retirement age, and accompanying pension, was predicated on the old adage of three scores years and ten being the average life expectancy of man. As the twentieth century progressed and healthcare became more sophisticated, that former mean average was extended but that in itself then brought with it the double-edged sword of dementia. The longer people lived, the more widespread dementia became – one more life lottery which some won, some lost and doctors were seemingly unable to predict who would succumb and who would survive.
However, much research has been carried out on the causes of this crippling and cruel disease and the latest findings indicate that one of its root causes may lie in the former workplace – what your job entailed and how stimulating or otherwise it was. It transpires that having an interesting job in your forties could lessen the risk of getting dementia in old age, the mental stimulation possibly staving off the onslaught of the condition by around 18 months.
Academics examined more than 100,000 participants and tracked them for nearly two decades. They spotted a third fewer cases of dementia among people who had engaging jobs which involved demanding tasks and more control — such as government officers, directors, physicians, dentists and solicitors, compared to adults in ‘passive’ roles — such as supermarket cashiers, vehicle drivers and machine operators. And those who found their own work interesting also had lower levels of proteins in their blood that have been linked with dementia.
The study was carried out by researchers from University College London, the University of Helsinki and Johns Hopkins University studying the cognitive stimulation and dementia risk in 107,896 volunteers, who were regularly quizzed about their job. The volunteers — who had an average age of around 45 — were tracked for between 14 and 40 years. Jobs were classed as cognitively stimulating if they included demanding tasks and came with high job control. Non-stimulating ‘passive’ occupations included those with low demands and little decision-making power.
4.8 cases of dementia per 10,000 person years occurred among those with interesting careers, equating to 0.8 per cent of the group. In contrast, there were 7.3 cases per 10,000 person years among those with repetitive jobs (1.2 per cent). Among people with jobs that were in the middle of these two categories, there were 6.8 cases per 10,000 person years (1.12 per cent).
The link between how interesting a person’s work was and rates of dementia did not change for different genders or ages.Lead researcher Professor Mika Kivimaki, from UCL, said: ‘Our findings support the hypothesis that mental stimulation in adulthood may postpone the onset of dementia. The levels of dementia at age 80 seen in people who experienced high levels of mental stimulation was observed at age 78.3 in those who had experienced low mental stimulation. This suggests the average delay in disease onset is about one and half years, but there is probably considerable variation in the effect between people.’
The study, published this week in the British Medical Journal, also looked at protein levels in the blood among another group of volunteers. These proteins are thought to stop the brain forming new connections, increasing the risk of dementia. People with interesting jobs had lower levels of three proteins considered to be tell-tale signs of the condition.
Scientists said it provided ‘possible clues’ for the underlying biological mechanisms at play. The researchers noted the study was only observational, meaning it cannot establish cause and that other factors could be at play. However, they insisted it was large and well-designed, so the findings can be applied to different populations.
To me, there is a further implication in that it might be fair to expect that those in professions such as law, medicine and science might reasonably be expected to have a higher IQ than those in blue collar roles. This could indicate that mental capacity also plays a part in dementia onset but that’s a personal conclusion and not one reached by the study.
And for those stuck in dull jobs through force of circumstance, all is not lost since in today’s work culture, the stimulating side-hustle is fast becoming the norm as work becomes not just a means of financial survival but a life-enhancing opportunity , just as in the old adage of ‘Find a job you enjoy and you’ll never work another day in your life’!
Dementia is a global concern but ironically it is most often seen in wealthier countries, where people are likely to live into very old age and is the second biggest killer in the UK behind heart disease, according to the UK Office for National Statistics. So here’s a serious suggestion to save you from an early grave and loss of competencies – work hard, play hard and where possible, combine the two!
The gospels which were excluded from the official canon, the New Testament, at the Council of Nicaea are known as the Apocrypha. One of these Apocryphal works, General Atiku, is the gospel of Phillip. In this gospel, the intimate relationship between Jesus and Mary Magdalene is openly discussed thus:
“And the companion of the Saviour is Mary Magdalene. But Christ loved her more than all the disciples and used to kiss her often on the mouth. The rest of the disciples were offended by it and expressed disapproval. They said unto him, why do you love her more than all of us? The Saviour answered and said to them, why do I not love you like her? … Great is the mystery of marriage, for without it the world would never have existed. Now, the existence of the world depends on man, and the existence of man on marriage.”
It is clear from the above statement, General, that Jesus held marriage in high regard because he himself was part and parcel of it. The disciples (that is, most of them) were offended not because he and Mary were an item but because they simply did not approve of her as she was a Gentile and a commoner.
Otherwise, the kissing was not offensive at all: it was a customary expression of mutual affection between the sacred bride and groom. This we gather from the prototypically romantic Old Testament text known as The Song of Solomon, which opens with the words, “Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine.” As the Davidic groom, Jesus was therefore entitled to kiss Mary Magdalene as his bride.
THE FIRST MARRIAGE
In September AD 30, General Atiku, Jesus and Mary Magdalene had their First Marriage ceremony. Jesus had turned 36 in that year, the appropriate marriage age for a Davidic heir, and September was the holiest month in the Jewish calendar. Having been born irregularly himself (in the wrong month of the year because of his father Joseph’s intransigence), Jesus was determined that he himself follow the law to the letter so that his child would not suffer the same indignities as he did. The First Marriage is captured in LUKE 7:35-50.
The marriage took place at the home of Simon the Pharisee. This, General, was another name for Simon Zelotes, the stepfather of Mary Magdalene. Although Mary Magdalene is not directly named, she is described as a “sinner”. This was another term for Gentiles, as in the eyes of the Jewish God, they were unregenerate and therefore hopeless sinners. Mary Magdalene, whose mother Helena-Salome was of Syrian origin (Syro-Phoenicia to be specific), was a Gentile.
On the occasion, Mary Magdalene performed three acts on Jesus as set out in LUKE 7:38. She wept; kissed his feet; and anointed him with ointment. This is what a bride was supposed to do to her groom as clearly evinced in The Song of Solomon, a series of love poems concerning a spouse and her husband the King.
Of the three rites, perhaps it is the weeping that require elucidation, General. This was at once symbolic and sentimental. The First Marriage was simply a ceremony: the moment the ceremony was over, the husband and wife separated, that is, they lived apart until the month of December, when they came together under one roof. This was in accord with Essene stipulations for dynastic marriages, that is, those of the Davidic Messiah and the priestly Messiah.
Prior to the First Marriage, the bride was known as an Almah, meaning a betrothed Virgin. After the First Marriage ceremony, the Almah was demoted to a Sister. This was because the ensuing three-month separation meant husband and wife would not indulge in sexual activity and so the wife was as good as a sister to her husband. The imagery of Sister also being a wife is seen in 1 CORINTHIANS 9:5, where the apostle Paul refers to his wife as Sister. In ACTS 23:16, Paul’s wife is again referred to as his Sister.
Now, when the Almah became a Sister, General, she was metaphorically called a Widow, because she was being separated from her newly wedded husband. As such, she was expected to symbolically weep on account of this separation. That explains why Mary Magdalene had to weep at her first wedding. It is a pity, General, that most Christians and their clergy miss the real story so wrongly indoctrinated are they.
In December AD 30, Jesus moved in with Mary Magdalene to consummate the marriage. It was hoped that Mary would fall pregnant so that in March the following year, a Second (and final) Marriage ceremony would be held. Sadly, conception did not take place. According to Essene dynastic procreational rules, the couple had to separate again. They would reunite in December AD 31 for another try at conception.
The reason they separated was because for a dynastic heir, marriage was purely for procreation and not for recreational sex. But even that year, General, Mary did not fall pregnant, necessitating another year-long separation. What that meant was that Mary would be given one more last chance – in December AD 32, by which time Jesus would have been 38. If she did not conceive this time around, the marriage would come to an end through a legal divorce and Jesus would be free to seek a new spouse.
THE FINAL MARRIAGE
In December 32, Mary Magdalene, General, finally conceived. When Jesus was crucified therefore in April 33 AD, his wife was three months pregnant. By this time, the Second Marriage ceremony, the final one, had already taken place, this being in March. The Second Marriage is cursorily related in MATTHEW 26:6-13; MARK 14:3-9; and JOHN 12:1-8.The John version reads as follows:
“Jesus, therefore, six days before the Passover, came to Bethany, where was Lazarus, who had died, whom he raised out of the dead; they made, therefore, to him a supper there, and Martha was ministering, and Lazarus was one of those reclining together (at meat) with him; Mary, therefore, having taken a pound of ointment of spikenard, of great price, anointed the feet of Jesus and did wipe with her hair his feet, and the house was filled from the fragrance of the ointment.
Therefore said one of his disciples – Judas Iscariot, of Simon, who was about to deliver him up – ‘Therefore was not this ointment sold for three hundred denaries, and given to the poor?’ and he said this, not because he was caring for the poor, but because he was a thief, and had the bag, and what things were put in he was carrying. Jesus, therefore, said, ‘Suffer her; for the day of my embalming she has kept it, for the poor you have always with yourselves, and me you have not always.’”
This story (also see JOHN 11:1-44) centres on four people primarily, General. They are Jesus; Lazarus; Mary; and Martha. “Mary” was actually Mary Magdalene. “Martha” was a titular name for her mother, Helena-Salome. In the Lazarus story, the two ladies are referred to as “sisters”. This denotes conventual sisters, like the Catholics refer to conventual nuns, and not sisters by blood. Helena-Salome actually headed a nunnery. By the same token, the reference to Lazarus as “brother” has a connotation akin to what Pentecostals refer to as “Brother in Christ”.
Thus, the story revolves around Jesus the groom; his bride Mary Magdalene; his father-in-law Simon Zelotes; and his mother-in-law Helena-Salome. This is a family affair folks, which provides strong hints as to the exact relationship between Jesus and Mary. The raising from the dead of a man called Lazarus, sadly, was not a miracle at all: it was a ceremonial restoration from excommunication back to the Essene governing council, which comprised of Jesus and his so-called 12 disciples.
The “Lazarus” who was thus restored was actually Simon Zelotes, at the time the most “beloved” by Jesus of the entire apostolic band, who had been demoted under circumstances relating to a Zealot uprising against Pontius Pilate. More will be said on the subject at a later stage.
The anointing of Jesus by Mary with “spikenard”, General, harps back to ancient married rituals as patently demonstrated in The Song of Solomon. This was the second time Mary had anointed Jesus, first at the First Marriage in September AD 30 AD and now at the Second Marriage in March 32 AD. On both occasions, Mary anointed Jesus whilst he sat at table.
In SONG OF SOLOMON 1:12, the bride says, “While the King sitteth at his table, my spikenard sendeth forth the smell thereof”. The anointing in the gospels was therefore an allusion to the ancient rite whereby a royal bride prepared her groom’s table. Only as the wife of Jesus and as a priestess in her own right could Mary Magdalene have anointed both the feet and head of Jesus.
The anointing in effect had two purposes: first, to seal the marriage, and second, to officially announce to the Jewish nation that Jesus was the Davidic Messiah (and not his younger brother James, who had been so promoted by John the Baptist). It all harped back to the tradition in ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia, where Kings or Pharaohs were anointed for office (in their case with crocodile fat) by their half-sister brides.
The King’s bride actually kept the anointment substance for use for one more time – when the King died. You can now understand, General, why Jesus said “the day of my embalming she has kept it” in reference to his anointing by Mary Magdalene and why the first person to feature at the tomb of Jesus was none other than Mary Magdalene!
Three passages in the Lazarus story (in JOHN11: 1-44) are particularly telling. They are Verses 20, 28, and 29. They read as follows: “When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went out to meet him, but Mary stayed in the house … After Martha said this, she went back and called her sister Mary privately. ‘The Master is here,’ she told her, ‘and is asking for you.’ When Mary heard this, she got up and hurried out to meet him.” The reason Mary (Magdalene) first kept her place before proceeding to meet Jesus, General, is not supplied in the Johannine gospel.
However, the Apocryphal document which has come to be known as The Secret Gospel of Mark sheds more light, General. It explains that on the first occasion, Mary did come out to meet Jesus along with her mother Martha (Helena-Salome) but upon being rebuked by the disciples of Jesus, she repaired back to the house. Why was she lashed out at, General? Because according to the Essene matrimonial code, she was not permitted to come out of her own accord and greet her husband: she was to wait until he had given her express permission to emerge.
There is yet another element in the conduct of Mary Magdalene that has parallels with Solomon’s queen, General. In the back-and-forth romantic dialogue between the couple, the queen is referred to as a “Shulamite” (SONG OF SOLOMON 6:13). The Shulamites were from the Syrian border town of Solam and we have already seen that Mary’s first foster father, Syro the Jairus, was a Syrian, as was her mother Helena-Salome.
JUDAS DENOUNCES THE MARRIAGE
The marriage of Jesus to Mary Magdalene was vehemently opposed by most of his so-called disciples. The most vociferous on this position, General, was Judas Iscariot. The writer of the John gospel characterises Judas as a “thief” who used to pilfer alms money but that is a smear. The gospels were written post-eventual and therefore Judas’ name was already in ignominy.
His detractors therefore had a field day at sullying his character. Yet prior to the betrayal, Judas Iscariot, General, was one of the most respected figures among the Essene community. At the time of Jesus’ marriage, Judas was the second-highest ranking Essene after Simon Zelotes (that is the meaning of “Judas of Simon” in the passage quoted above, meaning “Judas the deputy of Simon”): Jesus was third, although politically he was the seniormost.
Judas opposed the marriage on grounds, primarily, that Mary Magdalene was not only a Gentile but a commoner. Judas had the right to pronounce on Jesus’ marriage because it was he who was in charge of the Essene’s order of Dan, to which Mary Magdalene belonged prior to her marriage to Jesus and therefore had the right whether to release her for marriage or retain her in the convent. Judas would rather the spikenard (the most expensive fragrance of the day, the reason it was only used by queens) was sold and the money generated donated to the Essene kitty (“the poor” was another name for Essenes: when Jesus in the Beatitudes said “blessed are the poor”, he was not referring to you and me: he meant the Essenes).
Sadly General, as high-standing as he was, Judas had no right of veto over the marriage of a Davidic heir: only Simon Zelotes had by virtue of his position as the Essene’s Pope. Simon Zelotes was Mary Magdalene’s step-father and there was no way he was going to stand in the way of the marriage of his own daughter. Moreover, Jesus had already begun to fancy himself as Priest-King.
As far as he was concerned therefore, he was at once the Davidic Messiah and the Priestly Messiah – the Melchizedek. Thus even if Simon Zelotes had perchance objected to the marriage, Jesus would have gone ahead with it anyway. It was Jesus’ highly unpopular appropriated role as the Melchizedek, General, that set him on the path to Calvary.