h
o,’ she said, in a deep voice. ‘Welcome.’
She made a wordless gesture of dismissal at Becca, who left, closing the temple doors quietly behind her.
‘Please, sit down,’ said the woman to Fire Group, indicating benches directly in front of her. When all the recruits had taken their seats, she said,
‘My name is Mazu Wace, but church members call me Mama Mazu. My husband is Jonathan Wace—’
Marion Huxley let out a tiny sigh.
‘—founder of the Universal Humanitarian Church. You have already rendered us service – for which I thank you.’
Mazu pressed her hands together, prayer style, and bowed as they’d just seen Becca do. The crookedly set, shadowed eyes were darting from face to face.
‘I’m about to introduce you to one of the meditation techniques we use here to strengthen the spiritual self, because we cannot fight the ills of the world until we are able to control our false selves, which can be as destructive as anything we may encounter outside.’
Mazu began to pace in front of them, her robes fanning out behind her, glittering in the light from hanging lanterns. Around her neck, on a black cord, she wore a flat mother-of-pearl fish.
‘Who here has sometimes been prey to shame, or guilt?’
Everyone raised their hands.
‘Who here sometimes feels anxious and overwhelmed?’
All put their hands up again.
‘Who sometimes feels hopeless in the face of world issues like climate change, wars and rising inequality?’
The entire group raised their hands for a third time.
‘It’s perfectly natural to feel those things,’ said Mazu, ‘but such emotions hamper our spiritual growth and our ability to effect change.
‘I’m now going to teach you a simple meditation exercise,’ said Mazu. ‘Here in the church, we call it the joyful meditation. I want you all to stand up…’
They did so.
‘Spread out a little – you should be at least an arm’s length apart…’
There was some shuffling.
‘We begin with arms hanging loose by your sides… now, slowly… slowly… raise your arms, and as you do so, take in a deep breath and hold it, while your hands join over your head.’
When everyone had clasped their hands over their heads, Mazu said,
‘And exhale, slowly lowering your arms… and now smile. Massage your jaw as you do so. Feel the muscles’ tightness. Keep smiling!’
A tiny gust of nervous laughter passed through the group.
‘That’s good,’ said Mazu, staring down at them all, and she smiled again, as humourlessly as before. Her skin was so pale, her teeth looked yellow by contrast. ‘And now… I want you to laugh.’
Another ripple of laughter ran through the group.
‘That’s it!’ said Mazu. ‘It doesn’t matter if you’re faking at first. Just laugh. Come on, now!’
A couple of recruits forced faked laughs, which elicited real ones from their companions. Robin could hear her own fake laughter over the apparently sincere giggles of green-haired Penny.
‘Come on now,’ said Mazu, looking down at Robin. ‘Laugh for me.’
Robin laughed more loudly, and catching the eye of a mousey-haired youth who was determinedly, though very insincerely, guffawing, found herself amused and broke into real laughter. The infectious sound made her neighbours join in, and soon, Robin doubted whether there was a single person not genuinely laughing.
‘Keep it up!’ said Mazu, waving her hand around at them, as though conducting an orchestra. ‘Keep laughing!’
For how long the group laughed, Robin didn’t know; perhaps only five minutes, perhaps ten. Every time she found her face aching, and reverted to forced chuckles, she found genuine laughter overtaking her once more.
At last, Mazu raised a single finger to her lips and the laughing stopped. The group stood, slightly breathless, still grinning.
‘You feel that?’ said Mazu. ‘You have control over your own moods and your own state of mind. Grasp that, and you have placed your foot on the path that leads to pure spirit. Once there, you’ll unlock power you never knew you had…
‘And now we kneel.’
The command took everyone by surprise, but all obeyed and instinctively closed their eyes.
‘Blessed Divinity,’ intoned Mazu, ‘we thank you for the wellspring of joy you have placed in all of us, which the materialist world tries so hard to extinguish. As we explore our own power, we honour yours, which lies forever beyond our full understanding. Each of us is spirit before flesh, containing a fragment of the force that animates the universe. We thank you for today’s lesson and for this moment of gladness.
‘And now, rise,’ said Mazu.
Robin got to her feet with the others. Mazu descended from the stage, the train of her robes rippling over the black marble steps, and led them towards the closed temple doors. As she approached them, she pointed a pale finger at the handles. They turned of their own accord and the doors slowly opened. Robin assumed someone else had opened them from outside, but there was nobody there.
27
Thunder comes resounding out of the earth:
The image of ENTHUSIASM.
Thus the ancient kings made music
In order to honour merit,
And offered it with splendour
To the Supreme Deity…
The I Ching or Book of Changes
‘Did you see that?’ breathed Penny in Robin’s ear, as they descended the temple steps. ‘She opened the doors without touching them!’
‘I know,’ said Robin, carefully astonished. ‘What was that?’
She was certain the door opening must have been a trick, using some kind of a hidden mechanism, but the thing had looked unnervingly convincing.
Ahead, in the otherwise deserted courtyard, stood Becca Pirbright. Glancing back, Robin saw that Mazu had retreated inside the temple again.
‘How was the Joyful Meditation?’ Becca asked.
There was a small chorus of ‘it was great’s and ‘amazing’s.
‘Before we go to dinner – ’ thank God, thought Robin, ‘– I’d like to just say a word about another of our spiritual practices at the UHC.
‘This,’ said Becca, gesturing towards the statue in the pool, ‘is the Drowned Prophet, who in life was called Daiyu Wace. I actually had the privilege of knowing her, and I witnessed her performing extraordinary spiritual feats.
‘Each of our prophets, when alive, exemplified a principle of our church. The Drowned Prophet teaches us, firstly, that death may come to any of us, at any time, so we should hold ourselves always in spiritual readiness to rejoin the spirit world. Secondly, her self-sacrifice shows us the importance of obedience to the Blessed Divinity. Thirdly, she proves the reality of life after death, because she continues to move between the earthly and spiritual planes.
‘Whenever we pass her pool, we kneel, anoint ourselves with her water, and acknowledge her teachings by saying, “The Drowned Prophet will bless all who worship her.” By which we do not mean that Daiyu is a goddess. She merely embodies the pure spirit and the higher realm. I invite you now to kneel at the pool and anoint yourselves before dinner.’
Tired and hungry as they were, nobody refused.
‘The Drowned Prophet will bless all who worship her,’ muttered Robin.
‘All right, Fire Group, follow me!’ Becca said, smiling, when all had made the tribute to the Drowned Prophet, and she led them back towards the dining hall, Robin aware of the cool spot of water on her forehead as the breeze hit it.