The Teacher

The Teacher: Part II Testament, Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

SINCE WE REALLY NEVER SLEPT, getting up early was not a problem, no matter how active we were during a 24-hour period. Except for meditating just long enough to learn the meaning of the pictures he received from the falcon, Holden was up all night monitoring and managing developments on the band's web site. In Russia, the Guardian's gospel was spreading like a brushfire whipped up by Santa Ana winds during a hot, dry Southern California summer.

Following the fall of communism, a period when the practice of any religion was considered a useless superstition by the state, the Russian people today were apparently still hungry for something, Christian or not, to fill that spiritual void inside every human soul. The band played in Moscow, then Saint Petersburg, and in less than a month there were growing Disciple communities in six new Russian cities. The same rapid expansion was happening in China and Japan. India, though, was another story.

Traditionally Buddhist or Hindu, more passive and contented by nature, the concert in the capital, New Delhi, was only met with enthusiasm by a radical fringe eager for the power to change things for themselves and their country.

Holden understood that what the Guardian had to offer went so far beyond the mysticism and promises of most other religions inevitably focused on the hereafter.

Christianity promised heaven for eternity after a life of sacrifice and suffering. In certain sects of radical Islamist extremism, you could book passage on the Heaven Express by signing up to be a suicide bomber, and find yourself in their version of nirvana surrounded by 72 virgins and lots of dinars. As a Buddhist or Hindu, if you weren't happy with your life, through reincarnation you might return to a better one the second, third, fourth, or fifth time around. The Guardian promised heaven on earth and backed it up with the power to make it happen for every Disciple.

It was closing in on 9 AM and I knew we'd better head out to our first class in the Humanities building just beyond Bascom Hall. I walked into the den and found Holden at his laptop.

"Hey, whatcha doin'?"

"Take a look...things are breaking loose in every city where we held a concert! I just knew this would happen!" Holden cheered while high-fiving me as I looked at the Reports page on his web site.

"Don't you ever get tired of being right all the time?" I teased.

"Cute...but, seriously, the campus could turn over in less than six months. What do you think of that?" he chided, challenging me to once again question his judgment.

"You know, I'm here for you, and whatever happens, happens. Let's go for it, but right now we've got to head to class!" I reminded.

"Oh, sure...just let me shut everything down here."

With that, Holden logged off of his laptop, dropped it into his Wisconsin Badger-colored cardinal-and-white High Sierra book bag, and we were off to confront the university establishment with an irresistible tsunami-like wave of change.

OUT OUR FRONT ENTRANCE WE CUT right for Langdon through the maze of alleys and walkways nestled between the frat houses, and joined the throngs of students heading for first-day classes. After stopping at Memorial Union to grab some java, we continued on walking up Bascom Hill with thousands of others bound for every part of the sprawling rolling campus. Passing Bascom Hall, another block and the Sociology building was on the right.

The courses we enrolled in could be used to complete some of the requirements for a traditional university degree, but that wasn't the point. Before leaving on his tour, Holden left instructions for me to sign us up for the History of Religion, Sociology of Religion, Philosophy, Political Science, and World Governments. He knew we'd have the opportunity to raise certain questions and present challenging arguments in support of the Guardian's agenda.