Miss Buddha (76 page)

“Yes, your honor. The prosecution calls the
Reverend Blackburn Moses.”

:

The head of the Southern Baptist Convention
stood six foot three and as he rose, his tall and massive frame
seemed to grow like a large, unruly tree from the bench where he
had sat. He sidled his way to the aisle, then lumbered his way to
the witness stand.

Hand on the Bible he repeated the oath in
his characteristic thunder of a voice. Jones had chosen his first
witness very well. No one in the room did not know who he was and
not a single pair of eyes were not resting firmly on the
pastor.

Jones rose and approached.

“For the record,” he began. “What is your
name, sir. And what do you do?”

“My name,” answered the pastor, “is
Blackburn Moses. I am a servant of our Lord and Savior Jesus
Christ.”

“You head up the Southern Baptist
Convention, do you not?”

“I do,” confirmed the pastor.

“Are you at all familiar with the defendant,
Ruth Marten?”

“I can’t say I know her
personally,” he boomed. “But I’m sorry to say I know
of
her.”

“How is that?”

“Her name has come up in many a recent
conversation.”

“Between whom?”

“The conversations?”

“Yes.”

“Between me and my lieutenants, and between
me and my flock.”

“What were these conversations about?”

“We talked about the possible reasons why so
many in our congregations were, and still are, abandoning their
faith.”

“And did you establish some reason?”

“We did.”

“What reason was that?”

“Ruth Marten.”

“The defendant?”

“Yes.”

“How could she be the reason. I mean, why
did you arrive at this conclusion?”

“I spoke to many a member personally, and to
many a parent and grandparent to children who had abandoned the
faith, and with each distraught such person I spoke to, only one
name came up. Ruth Marten’s.”

“Came up, how?”

“Came up as the person who the straying
member had decided to follow instead of our Lord and Savior.”

“Did they give a reason?”

“Yes. It was because of those Internet
lectures. They had seen them and been ensnared by them.”

At this point Judge Moore looked over at
Ruth. Would she not object? Ruth seemed to understand. Shook her
head. Judge Moore nodded. Not in agreement, more in
resignation.

“Did you ever speak to strayed members
themselves, directly?”

“Oh, yes. Many a strayed member of the
flock.”

“And what did they say?”

“They said that Ruth Marten had shown them a
true way to a better life.”

Again, Judge Moore looked over at Ruth, who
again shook her head. The Judge then looked at the witness, “Please
be more specific,” she said.

Moses looked up at the judge. “What do you
mean?”

“They,” said Judge Moore.
“Who were
they
?”

“Several of my flock.”

“And they all said precisely that?”

“Said what?”

“That Ruth Marten had shown them a true way
to a better life?”

“Or words to that effect.”

“We don’t want words to that effect in this
court. Please be specific. Who said what, precisely?”

“I don’t remember precisely.”

“Give it a try.”

“Oh, well. Okay. One young woman, still in
college, told me that Ruth Marten had shown her how to see things
more clearly.”

“Her words?” said Judge Moore.

“Her words.”

“Who else?”

“Sidebar, you honor?” said Otto Jones.

Judge Moore nodded, then looked over at Ruth
Marten and waved her toward the podium. Ruth understood and
approached along with Jones.

“Your honor,” said Jones. “Why are you
examining the witness?”

“Because,” said Moore, “you invite and allow
broad generalities into the record. Miss Marten seem to tolerate
this lack of professionalism on your part, but I don’t.”

Jones swallowed, twice.

“Is that all?” said Moore.

“Yes, your honor.” Foregoing whatever other
point he had wanted to raise with the Judge.

“Can you keep things specific?” said Moore.
“Or do you need me to continue to do that for you?”

“I am quite capable,” began Jones.

“I am glad to hear it,” said Moore.

Ruth returned to her seat, and Jones faced
Blackburn Moses again. “Who else did you speak to, Reverend?” Then
with a brief glance at the Judge, “Specifically?”

“A young man was brought by his mother to
see me. She was despairing about him wanting to meditate rather
than listen to and follow the word of Christ.”

“What did you ask him?”

“I asked him how come he had abandoned his
true faith.”

“What was his reply?”

“He said that he had seen and listened to an
online Ruth Marten lecture, several in fact, he said, and he had
learned how to meditate. He then went on to say that this
meditation was freeing his soul.”

“Those were his words?”

“Yes, sir. Those were his very words.”

“Did you offer advice to the mother and her
son?”

“Yes, I did.”

“What advice did you offer?”

“I told him, and his mother, that things
that temp one away from the word of Christ is the work of the
Devil.”

“Did they agree?”

“The mother did. The son remained defiant,
insisting that meditation worked much better.”

“Worked much better than the word of
Christ?”

“Yes. Yes, that’s what he said. It worked
much better.”

“Do you know what he meant
by
worked much better
?”

“I didn’t ask him.”

“What did you understand it to mean?”

“That the word of Ruth Marten was replacing
the word of Jesus Christ.”

“What did your conversation with your
lieutenants consist of?”

“They each reported to me about drastic
drops in attendance in their various districts of
responsibility.”

“Were any reasons other than Ruth Marten’s
lectures given for this decline?”

“No,” rumbled Moses. “No.”

“So, you have experienced a drastic decline
in attendance, is that what you are telling this court?”

“Throughout the congregations. Yes,” said
Moses.

“Do you have any statistical evidence that
this is the case?” said Jones.

“You know I do,” said Moses.

“Just answer the question, please,” said
Jones.

“Yes. Yes, I do. And I gave copies of it to
you.”

“Thank you.”

Jones then walked over to his desk and was
handed a sheaf of papers by his young male associate. He turned to
Judge Moore, holding up the report. “We’d like to enter the
People’s Exhibit Number One into the record.”

“Have you given a copy to the defendant?”
asked Moore.

“Yes, your honor.”

Judge Moore looked over at Ruth who nodded,
yes, she had a copy. She then held out her hand and received the
report. “So entered,” she said.

“Can you please show the witness the report,
your honor,” said Jones.

Judge Moore obliged, and handed the papers
to Moses.

“Is this the statistical evidence you have
gathered?” asked Jones.

“Yes it is.”

“And when was this data gathered?”

“Two days ago.”

“And what does it show?”

“It shows,” and here Moses looked down to
refresh his memory with the correct figures. “It shows an average
decline in attendance, over the last three months, of forty-two
percent.”

“Is that a lot?” said Jones.

“Is that a lot? What kind of a question is
this? Forty-two percent. That is almost half.”

“Please just answer the question,” said
Jones.

“Yes, it is a lot. It is a catastrophic
lot,” said Moses. “Some districts,” and here he consulted the
summarizing cover page again, “show as much as a sixty-one percent
decline in attendance over the last three months. Tornadoes and
such never caused such a devastation among the flock. Never.”

“And all due to,” began Jones.

“Because of her,” interrupted Moses,
pointing at Ruth.

“Let the record show that the witness is
pointing to the defendant, Ruth Marten,” said Jones, just making
sure. Then he retrieved the report from Moses and handed it back to
the judge, who in turn passed it on to the clerk.

Jones then turned to Ruth. “Your witness,”
he said.

“No questions,” said Ruth.

“Are you sure,” said Judge Moore.

“I am, your honor,” said Ruth.

:

Jones’ next witness was Rabbi Doron Hefter,
another attendee of the New York Faith Summit, and another
religious leader who by now had seen attendance just about halved
by his faithful abandoning the faith for the “Anapasti mumbo-jumbo”
as he insisted on calling Ruth Marten’s message.

After the judicial formalities, Jones asked
him, “What is happening with your church today?”

Asking this question of the volatile rabbi
was akin to lighting a fuse sunk deeply within a brick of
explosives. He looked at Jones, then over at Ruth, then up at the
judge. Then, looking at the jury now, said, “It is dying. Three
thousand years of devotion shattered and scattered by this, this,
renegade,” looking back at Ruth now.

“Have my people not suffered enough?” he
asked of anyone in the room.

“What do you mean?” said Jones.

“I mean that we are never left in peace to
study and worship our God. Our faith is being torn asunder by this
false and heretical prophet.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I say that because this morning I had
fourteen people in my synagogue, fourteen. When I used to have
forty, or fifty, or more. Fourteen. I counted them twice to make
sure.”

“And where were the others? The other
twenty-six, or thirty-six.”

“Listening to this temptress, no doubt,”
said the Rabbi, again looking over at Ruth Marten, his hand
twitching as if it really wanted to point but was conflicted about
it.

“Mister Jones. Would you mind reigning in
your witness a little,” said Judge Moore.

Instead of answering, Jones nodded, then
coughed.

“How do you know that the defendant is
responsible for this falling off of your flock?”

“You mean my congregation?”
apparently objecting to the word
flock.

“Of course.”

“I know this because we have called most of
those who have abandoned us, and each and every one mentioned Ruth
Marten.”

“As having done what?” wondered Jones.

“As having lured them away.”

“Specifics, please,” said Judge Moore.

The Rabbi looked up at her, surprised.

“Lured them away, how?” said Jones.

“By promising them heaven on earth.”

“Specifically?” said Jones.

“Specifically?”

“How did she promise them heaven on
earth?”

“With this Anapasti mumbo-jumbo.”

“What, precisely,” looking up at the Judge
as if to confirm that, yes, he got her message, “are you referring
to?”

“The meditation she preaches.”

“Are you talking about Anapanasati?”

“
Yes, that’s what I’m
talking about.”

“And how is Anapanasati delivering heaven on
earth?” wondered Jones.

“I never said anything about delivering, I
said promising.”

“All right, promising.”

“I think she,” and again he looked over at
Ruth Marten as if to underline the word, “is promising heavenly
bliss by both her beguiling looks and by her seductive words.”

“Words? What words?”

“She talks about the inner stillness, the
inner bliss as if you could just sit down and walk there. As if it
were available to anyone with a few spare minutes on their
hands.

“Never, not even once, has she mentioned
God. No mention of Yahweh, none. Not a single reference to the
Creator of all life. If that is not seditious, I don’t know what
is.”

“And people believe her?”

“People?” said Judge Moore.

“Sorry, your honor.” Then back to the Rabbi,
“And your congregation, those you’ve asked why they no longer
attend service, they believe her?”

“To a man,” said the Rabbi. “It’s if they’ve
been enchanted. It’s as if she can cast spells.”

“How is this inciting to civil unrest and
civil disobedience?” Judge Moore wanted to know, addressing the
Rabbi.

“Well, your honor. Remove, or destroy, a
man’s faith and you’ll destroy the very fabric that holds society
together. The defendant is doing her best to undermine three
thousand years of sacred teachings. In a few months, emptying our
synagogues. That’s how.”

“Fair enough,” said Judge
Moore. Then she gave Jones a
back to
you
look.

“Rabbi Hefter,” said Jones. “You mentioned
in your deposition that this falling off of attendance is not only
occurring in your district, but all over the country.”

“All over the world,” corrected the
Rabbi.

“Could you elaborate on that, please.”

“Gladly. Even in Israel, for Job’s sake.
According to my sources there, attendance, country-wide, has
dropped over thirty percent. This is the homeland of the Jews.
Thirty percent.”

“Do your sources have names? Can we verify
this?”

“I can do better than that, counselor. As
you know, I have a report, received yesterday, and of which you
have a copy.”

“Yes, indeed.” Jones now turned back to his
desk to receive another sheaf of paper from his clerk. Then turned
back to the judge. “We’d like to enter the People’s Exhibit Number
Two into the record.” He handed her the papers.

“The defendant has a copy?”

“Yes, your honor.”

“So entered,” she said and passed them on to
her clerk.

“The report we’ve just entered as evidence,”
said Jones, again addressing his witness. “It is an official
report?”