The soft chiming was suddenly replaced by a deeper tone reminiscent of a large metal "gong". In the small anteroom behind the "podium", Malaclypse looked at Lev Shestov and circled one finger in the air. Lev nodded, and closed the breakers on large fans which would quickly replace the air in the smoke-filled chapel. He wanted the attendees receptive.. not dozing off.
The gong sounded a second time, as Mal took one last peek at the monitors in the anteroom. The crowd seemed sufficiently settled. He was somewhat surprised to see more than a few past and present members of TAZ in the congregation. Mal composed himself and reviewed his "sermon" mentally; and by the fifth deep, lingering tone, he was ready.
The self-proclaimed Episkopos Prime of the Goddess Eris and her Church in Sirius stepped from the anteroom into view of the seated crowd. He wore a pure white cowl-less robe with the golden Apple of Eris emblazoned on the left breast. He advanced a few paces towards the crowd, extending his open hands in greeting.
"Kallisti! And Welcome, seekers of the Goddess!" (He knew damn well that most of them weren't seeking anything, and would "find" even less.)
Hands still extended, Mal's voice rose a few decibels.
"Who makes the grass green?!?" Mal's pure white robe had instantly changed to a deep green.
There were a few gasps and "oohs" from the crowd; but no one ventured a reply to his question.
"And who makes the sky blue?!?" Again, the color of Mal's robe instantly changed to a soft blue hue. This time a few catcalls and boos could be heard among the gasps; but again, no answer was forthcoming.
Malaclypse shook his head slowly, as if saddened by the lack of response. He placed his right hand over the sigil on his breast, and "plucked" a yellow apple, which he tossed nonchalantly into the air. With his left hand he caught the apple, and flipped it repeatedly into the air as he continued speaking.
"Come now!! Not even a guess??" He placed his hand over his breast again, and a second apple soon joined the first, juggled effortlessly by his left hand.
Again the right hand over the sigil; but this time he held the third apple and extended it towards the grumbling crowd.
"This apple is yellow, but why??"
The third apple joined the first two without missing a beat, as Mal stared at the crowd. This time, a few half-hearted responses came back from the throng: "God made the sky blue.." "Light refractions!" Mal's inquisitive stare turned to a small smile.
"Yes. The Scientist knows, and will prove, that color is solely dependent on reflecting or absorbing different light frequencies." A fourth apple joined the three being juggled by the Episkopos' left hand.
"The Theologian will tell you that it is due to some omnipotent force which created all things, and their accompanying color schemes! The Particle Physicist will insist that the apple is colorless until an Observer happens to notice it and goes 'Oooh... yellow!'"
A fifth and final golden orb appeared, and their flight became circular rather than vertical as Malaclypse began to use both hands.
Mal paused a moment, surveying the crowd. Most seemed to have their attention focused on the apples moving through the air; but he also took note of the few who seemed to be focused on his words.
"The Zen Buddhist will answer this Koan with another: 'Who is it that asks who?'; and the TAZ will undoubtedly tell you that the answer is 'Five Tons of Flax!" At this, he cast a broad wink at the TAZ Popes grouped together as if for comfort and safety.
It was time to raise the stakes, and separate the group into "rubes" and "marks". Without missing a beat, Malaclypse crossed his ankles and was instantly seated za-zen, the apples still making their circular orbits between his deft hands.
"All of these answers are true, in sombunall sense!"
He placed his hands, cupped palms upward, in his lap.
"All of these answers are false, in sonbunall sense!"
The apples continued to spin in their circular paths, but their flight became slow and sedate. More gasps and catcalls ensued from the audience. Mal smiled gently, and paused momentarily to watch the apples himself.
"But most of all, they are meaningless. The Golden Apple of Eris is merely a metaphor. A focal point. An object of adoration and meditation. It gives the Mind and Soul an anchoring port while sailing the stormy seas of Illumination."
Now for the heresy.
"In truth, ANY metaphor will do, and have been used for millennia to raise consciousness!"
The revolving apples suddenly became geometric shapes.. a pyramid, a triangle, a star tetrahedron, a sphere, a diamond. The shapes of "Sacred" geometry.
"The Hindi spoke of 'Raising the Serpent'; the Meso-Americans of the 'Union of Eagle and Snake'.."
The apples transformed again, becoming writhing snakes; here, entwined in a "cadeucus"; there, wrapped about an Egyptian "ben ben" or a foliated cross; and there, held captive in the talons of a great bird.
"The color, or the shape, or the Symbol itself is of little importance, as long as it furthers the process of connecting your Mind, Body, and Spirit to the Energies which pervade every nook and cranny of the Universe!"
The flying shapes became apples again. Their orbits diminished until they became a single golden orb, which settled gently into Mal's right hand. He gazed at the apple briefly before taking a huge bite and chomping noisily, eliciting another round of confused chatter from the congregation.
Mal was standing again, hands outstretched towards the crowd. Some would say the middle-aged man "rose" to his feet during the outbreak. Some would later swear he "rose" in the air before extending his crossed legs to the floor...
"YOU are the Master who makes the grass green! Wake up!!"
"YOU are the Random Factor which will either accelerate, or impede, the next step in Humanity's evolution! Wake up!!
A tinge of hostility entered the confusion. Several of the crowd were standing now.. pointing accusing fingers or shaking angry fists. Mal raised his hands, and spoke with quiet conviction.
"You ALL have the ability, and the power, to make the needed connection. Call it what you will. Samadhi, Samsara, Illumination, Raising the Fire, or simply "juggling the Apple". Like everything else worth doing, it requires concentration and practice, desire and WILL!
"Oh, one more thing I promised: It's not truly kept "secret" by the TAZ; but it is not widely proclaimed either. The Geode in Baffin is not just a "tourist attraction". It IS a place of power, where Cosmic Energies are intensely focused, by design or by accident. Visit the Geode. See for yourselves. That is all I ask."
Malaclypse smiled softly at the congregation, and raised his arms again in benediction. A golden glow began to bathe the Episkopos, growing gradually brighter and larger until it almost obscured his form.
"May Eris Bless you on your journey. And may she damn well goose you in the arse if you haven't begun it yet. All Hail Discordia!"
The glow became almost unbearably bright, and then winked out. Malaclypse was nowhere to be seen.