And the Blessed One replied: "I am not the first Buddha who came upon earth, nor shall I be the last. In due time another Buddha will arise in the world, a Holy One, a supremely enlightened One, endowed with wisdom in conduct, auspicious, knowing the universe, an incomparable leader of men, a master of angels and mortals. He will reveal to you the same eternal truths which I have taught you. He will preach his religion, glorious in its origin, glorious at the climax, and glorious at the goal, in the spirit and in the letter. He will proclaim a religious life, wholly perfect and pure; such as I now proclaim."
Ananda said: "How shall we know him?"
The Blessed One said: "He will be known as Metteya, which means 'he whose name is kindness.'"
The Gospel of Buddha XCVII:12-15
Chapter 1
It was a bright but cold day as the six men approached the mud brick and wood house in the small village. The village was like many they had passed through on their journey west. Children played in the roads, goats, chickens, and sheep wandered near their owners' homes, some were tied up, others were not. They passed by several armed men in red tunics and iron breastplates and helmets patrolling the village, wearied looks on faces that were just as foreign here as their own.
This was not their own home, or even their homeland. They had crossed great towering mountains, seen the wonders of great civilizations and cities in their twilight, and crossed great blistering deserts to make this journey, and now, after two years of traveling on sore, bare feet, their long journey was finally at an end. The star which had appeared in the sky on the night of his birth had finally led them here.
The six men were out of place in this land. They wore no beards, their heads were kept shaved. They wore only yellow robes. They carried only bowls for eating, the clothes on their backs, strings of beads to assist in their meditations, and gifts for the child whom they sought and his family. They were out of place, and they knew it and felt it from the stares which they received from the local people, but they were unconcerned by it. If they were right, nothing else in all of the universe mattered as much as the child which had been born and which lived in this house.
They had set out from their own homeland of Ghandara far to the east two years prior when the new star had appeared in the heavens. These men who watched the stars were overjoyed when they saw it, and immediately took it to their own devoted King, Menander II, who rejoiced to here that the long awaited One might finally have been born. The simple, humble monks wanted to waste no time in locating the long awaited one, and their king agreed. He dispatched with them gifts befitting the new great one of gold, myrrh, and frankincense, luxuries they certainly wouldn't have possessed on their own in the monastery in which which they resided.
This village had not been their first destination. They had only the star to guide them, but they knew nothing of the politics of these lands so far to the west or its geography. The star had heralded the birth of either a king of kings or an enlightened one, much like the potential paths which had been prophesied for their own lord and teacher five hundred years before. Only time would tell which path this child would follow. But one who would be a king of kings must certainly have been born in a royal family, and so they had traveled to the capital of this land, a city the local authorities called in their Greek language "Hierosolyma," and which the common people called in their own tongue, "Yerushalayim."
It was a strangely governed land. It had its own king, but the men in yellow observed that he did not appear to have nearly as much authority as the soldiers in red tunics and armor. They learned from inquiring that the land was truly governed by the emperor of a city even farther into the setting sun than this land was. That city's name was Rome, and it was spoken of with fear and loathing by this land's inhabitants.
They had paid their respects to the king of this land, a man called Herod, and explained why they were there, to honor the birth of his new son, the future "King of the Judeans." That had not gone as planned. There was no newly born prince in his household, and he at first appeared upset at the prospect that one might have been born without his knowledge. Then, a strange thing had occurred, he came back to them with another place, a village not far from his own palace where a prince of the Judean royal family was prophesied to be born. He sent them to find this prince with his blessing, and the instructions to return and inform him of where the child might be found so that he too might pay him homage. The village was only six miles away. That had been yesterday.
The village's name was, in the local tongue, "House of Bread," which name the six men, disciples of the Enlightened One Siddhartha, found humorous and profound all at the same time. The Greek speaking people called it "Bethle'em." It wasn't a large village by any means, and most of the inhabitants seemed in as much poverty as the men themselves, though, unlike the six disciples, the poverty of the people was not voluntary by any means. It was not difficult to discern that the Romans and King Herod had much to do with this.
The house had a wall around it, though the gate which led within was open. They could hear the hammering and sawing sounds of a carpenter's tools being used from within as they passed through the open door to speak to the people who resided within. They came upon a man whose facial features, beard, and long linen tunic covered over by a long outer coat marked him as very much a native of this land. His beard and hair had turned white and silver a long time ago, and his face was marked with the wrinkles of a long, hard life of both laughter and deep pain. Around his neck and shoulders he wore a long piece of cloth with what they presumed were markings and tassels on the ends. On his forehead, he wore a band of cloth with a small box that didn't seem to be impeding his eyesight as he skillfully and artfully took off the most minute pieces of wood as only a master artist could.
The six men stood before him patient and serene, politely waiting for him to finish his project, what looked like a wooden table, and acknowledge their presence. It took great focus for a man to work a piece of wood in this way, and it became a constructive meditation for them.
"Shalom," the old man man finally said in the local tongue as he set his tools down and smiled broadly, though his eyes held a certain sadness in them which they could not understand just then.
The men smiled in return, and then responded in Greek, "Peace to you and to your house, lord," bowing at the waist and pressing his hands together as he did so.
"I am lord of very little." The man responded in jest. "But what I do have I am willing to share, friends. What can I do for you?"
The monk who had been selected as the leader, a man who had been following the Dharma for many, many years and was approaching the venerable age this Judean carpenter had reached, responded, "We have come far from the east, lord, in search of a newly born prince, the future king of this land." He explained. "We have traveled for two years looking for one who would be a king of kings, or an enlightened one. Finally, the star we have followed led us to this house."
The man's expression became more somber as he said, "Any new born 'king of the Jews' would be in Herod's palace in Yerushalayim. Here there is only myself, my..." he paused for a minute before continuing, "my wife, Mariam, and her son, Yeshua."
Their leader continued, "We went first to Hierosolyma, lord, but there was no new prince born to King Herod. He consulted with some priests of your people, and they suggested we come here, to Bethle'em. The star led us to this house."
"I don't know why it would have, friend." The old man replied, rubbing his heavily calloused hands together. "If you had come a thousand years ago, then perhaps a son of mine might have sat on the throne, but now he is more likely to become a carpenter like myself."
"This is very confusing." The leader said, and his brother monks agreed. "We were led to look for a boy who was born of a royal lineage."
"Well, both my wife and I are descendants of the ancient royal line of King David, but there hasn't been a descendant of David on the throne of Judea for almost five hundred years. I can't say any child of either of us would have much chance of reigning now."
The monk considered that. It was different than what they had expected, but then nothing about this journey was what they had expected. "May we see your son, lord?"
The man paused again, a look of tired pain crossing his otherwise friendly features. "I don't suppose it would hurt anything." He responded after a minute. The lead monk thought he might say something else in response, but the old man held his tongue."He's a good boy that one." The man finally said, and then he called out "Mariam! We have guests! Bring the boy! They want to meet him!"
The old man then turned back to them and said, "I am Yosef Bar-Ya'akov, my friends."
"We are disciples of the Enlightened One Siddartha and his teaching, the Dharma from the Monastery of Nagarahara. My name is Anandas. I am honored to be the abbot of our monastery." The leader responded to him.
Soon, a young woman, no more than fifteen or sixteen years old came out of the dwelling and into the small courtyard and workspace of the old carpenter. She had the long dark hair of her people, though it was mostly covered by the head coverings common among the women of this land. Her eyes were also careworn, and there was a burden in them that seemed far too heavy for one of her age to have to carry so soon. By her side, and holding her hand was a small boy, two years of age, with chestnut brown hair and a ruddy complexion. His eyes were bright and intelligent as he observed the world around him, and he had a smile of peace on his face as he toddled next to his mother.
Immediately, Anandas could see that there was something very different about this child as the young woman came up to stand beside her "husband." Anandas could also not fail to notice the extreme difference in ages between the old man and his "wife," although such a difference was not unheard of even among his own people. "We are honored to meet you and your son, lady." Anandas told her, bowing deeply again, and this time the other monks bowed deeply as well.
"Thank you." She responded graciously, if uncertainly, looking at the strange foreign men.
"As I have explained to your husband, we have traveled from a kingdom very far to the east to find and honor the newborn king of the Judeans. A new star in the heavens led us here, to this house after we could not find the new prince in the palace of King Herod. If it pleases you, we would like to offer one of three gifts for your son to choose from." He told her. He then called for his brother monks to bring the gifts they had brought, a bag of gold, a box of frankincense, and another box containing myrrh.
Anandas took the gifts in his hands, and then carefully sat down cross legged on the ground, to be on the level of the boy, meeting him eye to eye. There was something about the look in his eyes, Anandas noticed. Even at this early age he could see the depth of compassion behind them. Surely he would be the one? He opened the boxes and placed them both in front of him. Then he opened the bag of gold and spilled the many gold coins out of it into a pile on the ground in front of him so that they shone and gleamed in the sunlight, a temptation for any toddler. The scents from the frankincense and the myrrh wafted up from the boxes and sent their perfumes around the monk.
"Strange gifts for a two year old, sir." Yosef observed, watching the whole thing.
Anandas smiled broadly and then motioned for the boy to come and choose just one gift. Mariam let go the hand of her son and he toddler over and sat on the ground in front of the funny man in the yellow robes. The boy looked at each of the gifts intently, and then turned away from the gold to the fragrant frankincense and myrrh.
Anandas' heart began to race as he watched the boy deliberate. Then the boy reached out for the myrrh and took the box in his hands, placing it in his own lap thoughtfully, smiling as he did so. "For me," the boy said smiling.
Tears came to Anandas' eyes, and one escaped falling down his cheek. "Yes." He responded. "It is for you." He then whispered in adoration to the boy, "My Lord Metteya, we have found you at last." The yellow robed monk then repositioned himself onto his knees, and he pressed his face to the ground in homage to the boy. As he did so, his five other brother monks did the same, going down on their knees and pressing their own faces to the ground.
Neither Yosef nor Mariam knew what to make of the whole thing, and Yosef became very uncomfortable as then men silently continued on their knees, worshiping the bare naked babe who hadn't even been fully weaned yet.
Then Anandas straightened himself back up, but did not return to his feet. He couldn't speak for the great joy which had risen within him. The boy then pointed with his tiny finger up into the sky and said, "My abba."
At this, Yosef looked down at the ground, and Mariam made to scoop the boy up and carry him off, but Yosef motioned for her to stop. "It's alright Mariam."
Anandas was confused. "I do not understand. What does 'abba' mean?"
Mariam looked away and did not answer. Yosef looked up, the pain had returned to his eyes though he tried to smile as he said, "It means 'father' in our language."
"But he pointed to the sky, and not to you." Anandas said, still confused.
"Because I'm not the boy's father." Yosef told him, a weary sigh escaping his lips. "I'm sorry friend. It's not something we usually discuss with people openly."
"But the boy pointed to the sky when he said 'my father.'" Anandas said, now understanding the discomfort and pain which the man was experiencing, but he had to know all of it.
"That is a very long story." Yosef responded. "And it's not one my people would have accepted, so we have shared it with no one."
"Please, I do not mean to cause offense or pain to you. But it is very important to us. We must know how this boy was conceived. We will keep your secret if you wish and tell no one here, but it is very important."
"Alright." The man said after a moments deliberation. "Please, come inside and we will talk there." He then motioned for the men to follow him. Mariam picked up Yeshua who was still holding the box of myrrh he had chosen. The monks came and picked up the other gifts and brought them with them inside as well.
Yosef explained as he led them inside. "The religious practices of my people don't usually allow us to touch foreigners or have them come into our homes, but you men have traveled a long ways to see us, and our God commands us to show hospitality to the stranger and the foreigner. You may come into my home and stay for the night if you wish."
"We thank you kindly for your generous hospitality, lord." Anandas told him.
"Mariam, prepare a meal for our guests." Yosef told the young woman, and she obediently went to do so, Yeshua following along behind her. He then motioned for them to join him, reclining at the low sitting table. The other men followed suit. "I wanted to be out of the hearing of ears that do not need to hear the story. You must understand, some people would use what I am about to tell you to have myself and Mariam stoned to death, not to mention the boy."
"I understand." Anandas replied in all seriousness as he sought to understand more about the nature of the child they had found.
"I'm still not even sure I believe it myself." Yosef told them, "But when a messenger, an angel of the Most High God comes to you and tells you, well, you tend to take him at his word."
"I'm sorry, tells you what?" Anandas asked.
"Let me start at the beginning." Yosef said, and then continued. "Three years ago, I was selected by lot by the priests of the temple of our God in Yerushalayim to care for a virgin girl who had been dedicated to our God by her parents. They chose me to care for her because I had lost my wife, my first wife, several years before, and my children were already grown. She could not just come to live with me. Our laws and our culture forbid it. So I had to become betrothed to her so that she would be cared for by me and my sons as a member of our family, but because Mariam was a dedicated virgin there was never any question of consummating the marriage. Do you understand what I am saying?"
"Yes, very much so." Anandas replied, and he did. The customs of this people may be strange, but the logic was not hard to follow.
"Shortly after our betrothal, Mariam received a visit from a messenger of God who called himself Gabriel." Yosef paused in his story.
"Yes, go on." Anandas encouraged.
"The messenger told her that she would become pregnant as a virgin, and that the child she gave birth to would be the son of our God." Yosef said, visibly struggling, it seemed, to get the words out. "I didn't believe her at first, but to openly accuse her of breaking her vows to both God and myself would have gotten her killed, and I didn't want that to happen, so I tried to find a quiet way to send her away and set her free. That's when the same messenger visited me in a dream, told me what happened, and told me to go ahead with the wedding. He also told me to name the boy 'Yeshua.'"
Anandas and his brother monks carefully digested this new information. It was more than they had expected and looked for. Could it really be? "Please, tell me, what does this name mean? Yeshua?" He asked.
"It's a common name, but it means 'savior' in our language." Yosef told him. He then said, "Now let me ask you a question. You called the boy 'Metteya'. What does that mean?"
"It is from the language of our lord and teacher, the Enlightened One, Siddhartha. It means 'lovingkindness.'" Another of the monks spoke up.
"Before he died five hundred years ago," Anandas explained, "our lord and master gave a prophecy to his first disciples. He spoke of another Enlightened One who was to come who would teach a glorious religion of peace and lovingkindness to all men. He called the name of that teacher to come 'Metteya.' We have been looking for him for a very long time."
Yosef seemed to take this information in thoughtfully. "And what about the 'gifts' you offered to the boy. Myrrh is a strange gift for a two year old. Our people use it for embalming the dead among other things."
Anandas smiled and explained, "The gifts were a test. Gold is a gift for a king, and shows an inclination towards material things. If he had chosen the gold, we would have known he was not the one we sought, for an Enlightened One would not distinguish between a pile of gold and a pile of rocks."
Yosef nodded thoughtfully, and then said, "I know frankincense is used by the priests for their sacred oils in the temple."
"Indeed." Anandas responded. "It would have signified perhaps the path of a temple priest."
"So what was the significance of the myrrh?" The old man was curious.
"Myrrh is a powerful medicine among my people. It is used to heal a great many ailments and diseases. Yeshua has come as a great one who will bring healing and compassion to the world as our lord and master foretold." Anandas told him excitedly.
"I see." Yosef said. "And what happens now that you have found this 'Metteya?'"
"We would like for him to return with us, to learn the teachings of our lord Siddartha and through them to reach his full enlightenment to bring his compassion and lovingkindness to the world." Anandas told the old man.
"You would take the boy away from us? From his own people? From the worship and teachings of our God?" Yosef questioned. "I don't know if I'm crazy or not for believing who Yeshua's true father is, but I don't think he would be very happy about that, do you? If it is my responsibility to look after both his son, and the boy's mother for him then I can't let them go like that. Not now at least."
The monks looked at each other with a serious expression. Then Anandas turned to face Yosef again. "We understand. We certainly have no desire to offend the divine father of the boy, and we would never ask you to dishonor your duty to him where the boy and his mother are concerned, and we would never take the boy from his mother. We would invite you all to return with us to Ghandara. You would all be honored guests, and safe from all harm."
"I'm too old to make that kind of a journey if it's as far away as you say, and the boy is too young." Yosef returned. "I don't think either of us would survive it right now."
Anandas considered this as well, but did not know what to say. Had they traveled so far only to return home empty handed?
"Perhaps the boy could come to study at our monastery when he is older, and able to make the journey?" Another, younger monk offered.
"Perhaps." Anandas agreed. "Then it would be his decision to choose the path of enlightenment as his divine father might lead him, and not ours alone."
Yosef said nothing. By the time Yeshua was old enough to make such a journey, he reasoned, he would likely be married and settled down and then all of this would be forgotten anyways. To the men he said, "That's probably for the best then. We'll leave it for the future."
"And you will tell the boy of our visit, and our offer when he is old enough?" Anandas asked.
"I will. I promise." Yosef said, but in his heart he added, "if I live long enough."
Later that night, as Anandas lay in the courtyard of the dwelling, wrapped in his robes and some extra woolen cloaks which Yosef had lent to the monks against the chill of the winter night air, he had a strange dream.
"Anandas!" A muscular man with blond hair came to him. He wore a red tunic with dark black armor. Great black wings projected from the man's back. Anandas found himself standing on a cliff overlooking a great canyon in the desert as the man spoke to him. A golden glow of light surrounded the man. "Anandas!" He called to him again.
"I am here, lord!" Anandas replied, somewhat fearful of the apparition.
"Don't return to King Herod in Hierosolyma!" The winged man warned him. "Instead, go east from here. Follow the Yarden river road north to reach the trade routes."
"The King asked us to tell him where my newborn Lord was, lord. Should I not tell him?" Anandas asked.
"No!" The man replied. "Herod intends to kill the boy, and you and your monks. The Most High God has warned you. Don't return to Hierosolyma!"
"I understand, lord, and we will obey." Anandas replied.
"I myself will keep the king from discovering you Anandas. You have done well." The man said.
"Thank you, lord." Anandas replied. He then asked, "May I know if the boy will accept our offer? I do not think I will live to see what he chooses."
"You will live to see it, and you will be there to welcome him." The messenger reassured him.
"Is he the One, lord? This son of the God of the Judeans?" Anandas asked uncertanly. "Is he the Buddha Metteya which was to come?"
"He is so much more than that, Anandas!" The messenger smiled broadly. "For the Most High God walks among you now as one of you. He will save the world and break the cycle of suffering once and for all for everyone who accepts his Dharma!"
"The boy is an avatar, lord? He is a god made flesh?" Anandas was astonished, and couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"No, Anandas. He is 'the' Avatar. He is the God made flesh." The messenger responded. "You and your fellow monks have done well, and now your part is ended for now. Return home by way of the Yarden river road, and forget about returning to Hierosolyma."
Anandas bowed in respect and obedience to the messenger's command. "I obey the will of the Most High God, lord."
The next day the monks took their leave of Yosef and Mariam. Anandas had not been surprised to learn of a strange dream that Yosef himself had also had, and their sudden plans to move as far from Bethle'em as possible. Before they parted, he presented Yosef with the bag of gold and the box of frankincense saying, "Yeshua had no desire for these things, so we give them to you to use as you see fit. I think you will need them now for your journey far more than we will for ours."
The old man and his wife thanked them for the gifts profusely. "We will offer prayers to our God for you, friends." Yosef responded.
"As will I." Anandas replied, gazing at the boy Mariam was holding as he said it. He then pressed his hands together in front of him and closed his eyes inclining his head towards the boy. "We will meet again, my Lord and teacher. I am certain of it." He said, addressing the boy.
The little boy looked serenly at him, and then pointed to the sky and said, "my abba."
"Indeed." Anandas replied, smiling.