Children of Kemet

The church was silent as the congregation bowed their heads as instructed by the priest. The service was nearly finished, with communion about to occur followed quickly by announcements and dismissal. This was the thing that Sam loved most about Catholic Mass. As much as the ritual there was routine. Everything was timed, choreographed, all designed to end in an orderly fashion. It freed you up  so that the rest of your day could be spent in reflection or perhaps getting ahead with a little bit of work before heading to brunch with your family. As the people around him bowed their heads in prayer, Sam eagerly awaited what came next. Soon the priest and the Altar boys and the various volunteers at the front of the church would be ready for communion. A nearly imperceptible signal given and all the heads would rise, the priest would call for communion, and the lines would form.  But today, as Sam stood shoulder to shoulder with those in the congregation, he couldn't help but feel something was missing. For some reason today nothing seemed to make sense. He said the prayers, took the same steps, recited the litanies, but today they did not resonate within him as they once did. Now as he stood in line to receive the communion, he recognized that the last thing he felt was community and fellowship with any of these people.

In fact he despised them. These "weekend Christians" who drink and party and s**t their way through life Monday through Saturday, then fall to their knees on Sunday and beg forgiveness from a god that, should it exist, was completely capricious and wholly ignored them. He was envious of their delusion, their ability to blind themselves to the tragedy and suffering of the world and pretend that there was something better waiting for them after the only true kindness paid them a visit at the end of their years.  He stood in the midst of them, in awe of them, and wished their end to consume them as quickly and completely as did their sanctified delusion.

Is this, a crisis of faith? He wondered as he approached the front of the line. All his life, his dedication to the Catholic church had been absolute. His grandmother had raised him in the faith, sending him to the CCD classes and making sure he was eventually confirmed. All the years after, as he grew and matured and went on through high school and college, he'd always found a comfort in the peace and routine of his Catholicism. And yet now, at 31 years old, he felt no connection. That peace was gone, a gentle unrest now taking it's place in his heart. As he stood before the priest, offering his tongue for the body of Christ and the sip of wine that was to follow, he couldn't help but feel an intense revulsion, and as he quelled the urge to spit the wine he walked back to his seat and felt as though he'd betrayed some part of himself. It was such a foreign feeling, a new experience in the church. He waited patiently for mass to end, and instead of lingering to talk with people as he normally did, he rushed home.

Sam sat at his desk in his one bedroom apartment. It was a little on the small side, but for downtown Austin it was just right for his budget. He had an awesome view from a large window that dominated his living room, and from it he would often look out and feel completely surrounded by the sprawling city scape before him. He liked to feel immersed in the city, grounded somehow by the never ending flow of the many ambitious entrepreneurs that flocked to the city for work and to stake their claim in the rising IT empire that was emerging in Austin.  Yet now, as he  stared out at the city, it brought him no comfort, no joy.  The sprawling beauty of the place he'd once loved to call home now felt alien to him. Rather than feel alarmed by this, he felt nothing.  Looking out his window brought him no comfort. There was no peace. No inspiration. Just a city that seemed darker somehow.

The darkness he felt from church lingered. Sam refused to call it depression, but there was something off about him, a state of cognitive dissonance that enveloped his world. Attending mass at his church only seemed to intensify the feeling. He questioned even going back to church at all. As he stared ahead out the window, he realized he only still went to church because it'd been ingrained in him since childhood.   But now as an adult, church just didn't seem to resonate with him the way it use to. Again the thought of a "crisis of faith" filled his mind and he chuckled, the soft sound filling the void of his vacant apartment. He certainly didn't feel in crisis, just conflicted. Why continue down a path to which he felt no connection?

Turning from the window, Sam grabbed a small remote on the corner table and pressed a button.  A small light came to life on a sound bar and the accompanying sub woofer, and with a quick scan of his collection from his phone, music filled his efficient apartment. The soothing classical melodies of his childhood temporarily eased the disquiet of his mind, and allowed him a modicum of peace. Not for the first time he found himself wishing there was more to his life than what he currently had. This sudden recognition of complacency in his daily goings on annoyed him.  Perhaps that was the root of his real problems, not his disconnect with the church.. He scanned through a couple of news stories, checked twitter, and then decided to give up on the outside world.  Nothing seemed to ground him in any of those things. Resigning himself to a quiet night, he grabbed a bottle of his favorite whiskey from the depths of his freezer and sat down in his favorite chair. He didn't bother with a glass. There was no one around for him to stand on any ceremony with. This was just him, alone, his time. And he was definitely about to enjoy it.

The first thing he noticed was the wetness. His face was wet, hot and as he became more and more aware, he realized he was completely soaked.   He was outside, in the rain. It was a cool September morning and he'd been caught outside in an early downpour. But it was light enough, he could see.  He took off down the winding path, through the park and over several hills as he traced the very familiar route of his morning run.  This was the first time in a long time he'd done it quite this early, and never would he normally run in the rain. Yet right now, he loved it. He couldn't imagine running any other way.  He charged along the path, leaves from nearby trees whipping around his head as he pushed himself harder and harder until finally his lungs just couldn't take anymore. He was at the top of the hill, chest heaving as he doubled over and tried his best not to collapse and black out.  He'd never run so hard. It was as though some new force had seized his life and made him acutely aware of his struggle and how little he'd done to know himself, his cause, and his people. Life had purpose, and yet he hadn't discovered his own.  The realization shook him. His knees gave first and he plummeted to the ground. But then he realized the ground was still shaking, the calm reassurance traditionally brought by a solid firmament now abandoned him. The ground rose up before him, blotting out the sky. It was as though a mountain formed in front of him, the many folds and fissures and fjords blotted out as the mountain removed any light from his field of vision. Fear filled him and paralyzed him as he stared upward at the mountain that continued to grow. Impossibly huge, he wondered if he wasn't seeing something of the future, the world that was replaced by a world that had no place for man.

"You have forgotten ME" a voice said to him. Rather than hear it he felt it. It reverberated not just in his mind but in his heart, and the warmth it engendered made him feel ashamed of the truth it spoke.

"You do not know yourself, your power, therefore you have forgotten me." The voice was inside him, flashes of his life played before his eyes, and again Sam felt shame. He didn't want this thing looking at his life, looking at him, and seeing how he wasted the gift given to him.

"This is how you have lived, but this is not who you are," The voice said. It was powerful but gentle at the same time, a comforting benevolence for all its austerity.

"I gave you the power to be more. Look." Sam turned from his own past and saw back, back through his blood line and beyond, to the core of his and his ancestry. Life after life passed before him, some horrendous, some tragic, but as they retreated further and further through the lives and into the past, he saw a wealth beyond his wildest imaginings. True, there were material riches, but there was a wealth of spirit, of well being and love and confidence that flowed through these people. They communed openly and lovingly, they embraced one another in casual greeting. They were individuals who knew they were of one body, one soul, connected forever.

You are he, the portions of an old proverb filled Sam's mind as he watched these people. The pain in your heart is the pain in your sister's. Your brother mourns as you mourn, rejoices as you rejoice. Your bond is irrevocable, timeless. You are he.  He'd known the words all his life, but never until now had he seen anyone who exemplified them. Now he watched as his ancient ancestors made those words real. They lived it. And as he watched them live and dance and share in a richness so commonplace place to them but foreign to him, Sam's sense of shame intensified.

"It is not your fault you forget, Son. It is not your fault this love is alien to you. It is mine. A great evil took you from me, and I let it. I am to blame, but I have returned to restore you to your rightful path."  That voice again, assuaging Sam of his shame and guilt. It was so calming, so peaceful, yet there was something more in the words as it spoke. There was an odd familiarity.

"Who are you?" Sam asked softly. His eyes filled with tears as he looked upward at the mass. As his eyes travelled up they also attempted to penetrate its darkness, and suddenly his perspective shifted again and he was traversing the abyss, rushing toward something faster and faster with each passing moment. Suddenly a man stood before him. Taller by far than any man Sam had ever known, the strangeness of him was startling. His skin was dark, a deep onyx with an almost polished sheen to it. His eyes were a dull gray with white pupils, giving him a penetrating stare. Even now Sam felt as though he were not only looking at him but through him, still seeing the strands of his life. His thick, coarse beard was black, thick at his jawline yet ending in a sturdy braid at the end of his chin. Gold lace work accentuated the dark hairs, glittering in an unknown light. His robes were a black with gold and purple trimmed accents, and at his neck was a thin gold necklace which at it's center was a gold eye with a ruby iris. His hair was completely black, tight dreadlocks stopping just below his ears. He stood before Sam, and he outstretched his arms and smiled.

"I am Osiris," He spoke, the powerful voice barely contained within the towering body before him. Sam took a step toward him and touched his hands. They were strong, and warm.

"Like, the God Osiris? Of Egypt?" Sam asked hesitantly.

"I actually have many names, many times many," Osiris replied.  "But for now, for my purposes for you and your kindred, and the message I bring the people here, Osiris will do."  He smiled again and pulled Sam to him. He hugged him and as his arms closed around Sam and their chests touched for the first time, Sam felt a sharp pain in his chest. He gasped at it's suddenness and savagery, but then he felt it lessen. Soon it was completely gone, replaced by a new feeling of warmth and happiness and love. Now he knew this being. Now he understood. This was the feeling he had watched earlier. It was from Osiris that it flowed, and into him it now poured. It wasn't as intense, but was strong, and it was building.

"What is your message?" He asked as he continued the embrace a moment longer, not wanting the feeling to fade.

"I have come back to take my people, our people, home and restore them." Osiris looked down at Sam and into his eyes.

"I have come for you all, and I will not rest until you have all been freed and returned to me."