Christ in the Americas?

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Christ in the Americas?

Post#1 » Mon Mar 12, 2007 10:55 pm

Christ in the Americas?
Rixon Stewart - Autumn 2001
The notion that Christ was in America is not a bad joke or the idea of some deranged Bible preacher. It is in fact a very real possibility that secular and religious authorities have all but ignored and in some cases deliberately suppressed. After all the idea has the potential to upset quite a few other ideas about history along with notions about the discovery of the Americas and Christianity itself. So it’s hardly surprising that we’ve heard so little about it. Not only have some truly momentous archaeological discoveries been effectively buried but academia has ignored the various oral traditions running across the Americas that speak of just such an occurrence.
Throughout the Americas and indeed right across the Pacific Ocean, in different languages and cultures, the stories abound. With one common theme, they tell of a bearded pale skinned man who walked the Americas; which in itself is unusual enough, beards being unknown amongst Native Americans but what makes it really unusual is that he’s said to have travelled from tribe to tribe healing the sick, raising the dead and teaching a message that was almost identical to Christianity. And what he did, he said, was done in the name of his Father, the Great Spirit, which he pronounced “Yod-hey-vah.”
Known variously amongst different tribes: the Healer, the Pale one, God of the Dawn Light, Wakea or simply the Son of the Great Spirit, he left a deep and abiding impression on all those he met. Teaching the same message to everyone: Love one another and Honour your Father, the Great Spirit.

All of which prompts one to ask: if Christ was indeed in the Americas, how did he get there? To answer that question we need to go across the Pacific to the islands of Polynesian. For amongst the outlying islands of Tahiti an ancient story is still told: of how warriors were once locked in a fierce battle over possession of coastal headland. When suddenly, out of nowhere, there appeared something that froze the fighters in the heat of combat. In the waters around the protruding headland appeared what they first thought were winged monsters; frozen wide eyed they watched what appeared to be men on the monsters, with oars which moved through the waters like a centipede’s legs. And then a man with a beard, pale skin and long flowing robes, stepped out and walked towards them . . . across the waters.

As one the warriors fell down and began an ancient chant for forgiveness for the stranger looked at them in anger. And then awe struck they watched as the stranger went amongst the dead and dying on the battlefield: healing the wounded with his touch and restoring the dead to life. As they watched he turned and signalled toward the great birds; whereupon small boats left them and came toward the shore full of pale men like himself with beards, pale skin and flowing robes.

Wakea, as the islanders came to know the stranger, then bid his companions in the boats farewell. Keeping a respectful distance the islanders watched as Wakea pointed his tearful companions in the direction of the setting sun. After which his companions returned to their boats and the great winged ships sailed back over the horizon, leaving Wakea behind.

In the months that followed Wakea learnt Polynesian with a speed that amazed the islanders. In turn he taught them as he was ferried from island to island meeting the various inhabitants and working miracles of healing with his hands.

Finally, after Wakea had visited all the islands, he began asking about the continent across the ocean to the east; the islanders were not entirely unacquainted with what we know today as South America but they were reluctant to see him go. Nonetheless they were unable to deny him so preparations were made for him in a well- provisioned boat of migration. At his departure he told the islanders, distressed at his leaving, to keep his commandments and love one another. And that one day, he told them, that he would return: “even as I came, through the light of the dawning.”

In many instances the tales told about the Lord of the Dawn Light echo those of Christ in Palestine. And he did more than cure the sick and teach reverence for his Father; as in Palestine he questioned the authorities, stood up against a corrupt priesthood and defied decadent rulers. Thus the story is told of how the Pale One went to a place known as Ek-Balaam in South America, where the priests planned to deceive and then kill him. For their power was built on human sacrifice and as the Pale One had spoken out against sacrifice he had challenged the very basis of their power. To break his power they planned to offer him a human sacrifice; if he accepted, they reasoned, he would be silenced for it went against all his teachings. If on the other hand he refused it, they would declare him but a man, kill him and break his body over their idol.

Rather than wait however the Lord of the Dawn Light went to the priests themselves and, as in Jerusalem, along the way his path was strewn with flowers thrown in homage. Past the markets and business buildings he went, past the great parks and the neatly whitewashed buildings and behind him came a great throng of people; crowds of the sick and the lame who cried out his name and touched his garments, mothers and fathers who held out their children to be blessed.

Only at the jewelled gateway to the great house of sacrifice did he pause briefly, as the crowd behind him held back, for this was the courtyard of the Bloody Tiger and few came out alive. But he paused only a moment before derisively thrusting open the gates and striding onwards and up the steps to the house of sacrifice, with the crowd swirling behind him.

Halfway up the stairway he was met by the blood-spattered robes of the high priest who welcomed him with the offer of a sacrifice in his honour.

Inside the house of sacrifice the priests dragged a chained captive before the Pale One, while outside the crowd held their breath. As the captive knelt before him the Pale One touched his chains saying: “Arise my friend and join the people.” At this his chains fell away as the high priest lifted his knife and moved toward the Healer screaming: “Thou art not a god!...You cannot feed on life-blood! You are but a man with human pity! Die as men die – for the bloody tiger!”

But the Lord of the Dawn Light then raised his hands before the high priest who stood transfixed in an instant; for in each hand was the mark of a large cross torn into his flesh. “Why not strike down with the knife and kill me?” He asked the priest: “Come now – ye cannot? Why do you tremble?”

Then turning toward the people:
“Men of the Kee-chee, I bring to you a message from the God who has no image. He dwells beyond the rainbow. He lives in the lava, moves in the oceans, breathes in the wind storm and made all things from ant to tiger.”

Then whirling round he picked up the bloody knife of sacrifice, now dropped by the priest, and smashed it into the face of the idol.

As he travelled across the Americas word spread amongst the people and in many places the rulers grew uneasy; for He questioned everything not in accordance with the Creators laws and this made the rulers uncertain. After leaving Ek-Balaam the Lord of the Dawn Light is said to have travelled to the Yucatan where the ruler, a woman, grew uncomfortable at His approach. Calling her advisors to council she announced: “If we do not greet this stranger the people may turn at last against us, for they think him divine. On the other hand, if we entertain him and allow him to build a temple, He may change our manner of living, or so devoutly win the people that they will no longer obey us.”

“Then off with his head” suggested one of her advisors.

“No” said the Queen: “it is said that no one can touch Him, for His eyes hold his enemies as if frozen in a trance.”

“We have another weapon that we can use,” she continued: “We shall invite him to the Palace and entertain him at our table as a Prince. Then, when he rises to speak I’ll clap my hands, the guards know it as my signal, and a trapdoor beneath him will be released -- dropping him into a dungeon below from which no-one has ever come out of alive.”

So it was planned even as the Lord of the Dawn Light entered the city to be met by throngs of people and carpets of flowers thrown in adoration. Later that same day he went out to a rooftop to speak to the crowds that had gathered below. As he did so the mountain over the city began to rumble and belch smoke, causing the people to turn and ask: “Why is the Fire God angry? Is it because the Lord of the Dawn Light walks among us?”

The Lord of the Dawn Light then raised his arms and blessed the mountain. He spoke to the people of its beauty, with its hair of ice and blankets of cloud. He told them to fashion their lives in such beauty, so that when they went to the land of shadows there would be no unhappy things to remember.

That night, as planned he went to a banquet given for him by the Queen. The Healer was given the place of honour and while all around him made merry and feasted he spoke little and only played with his food. At last when all had finished eating the Healer stood and stared at the courtiers and guests in silence, from face to face his gaze went until the silence lengthened into an uneasy stillness.

Then two handclaps suddenly broke the silence as the Queen signalled for the opening of the trapdoor, whereupon the floor opened beneath the Healer consigning Him to the dungeons below. It was as the Queen had ordered and it is said that she laughed as it was done, whilst the guests and courtiers eyed each other nervously. And then one by one they too joined in with the Queen’s laughter, so as not to incur her displeasure; the guards, the guests and the courtiers each joined in laughing until a sudden roar silenced all.

Outside, the mountain over the city had exploded in a volcanic tumult, sending cinders and burning ash raining down upon the city. As the fire rained down the earth shook and walls and buildings toppled; and in the Palace itself the laughter was suddenly replaced by screams of terror as beams crashed down on the banquet table and the guests scrambled to escape.

In the streets outside thronged the survivors, carrying children and the injured and gazing in disbelief at the mountain that become a burning red flame in the night. Whilst outside the ruined Palace itself the Pale One himself stood, in a thickening fog of ashes, unscathed by the devastation that had swept through the city and the Palace. Then beckoning the crowds of survivors toward him he is said to have led them away from the ruined city; stopping once to heal the injured, before walking all night and eventually reaching a mighty river where a new city founded.

Many of the tales told of the Pale One tell of how saw the future and how it saddened him. Of how he saw the bloody priesthood rise once again along with a culture of sacrifice which sought to appease the forces of darkness. As a result retribution would come in the form of a bearded, pale man “like unto me”, he told his follower’s. But “Trust him not,” he warned, but with the passage of time the Pale One’s teachings were distorted and his warnings forgotten. So when Corte’s arrived in 1519 obsidian mirrors flashed from hilltop to hilltop signalling the return of the Pale One, or as the Aztecs knew him Quetzalcoatl. Which is why although far superior in numbers the Aztecs laid their weapons aside and greeted Corte’s as the returned Quetzalcoatl. As they were to find out however Corte’s was not the real Quetzalcoatl and his arrival brought with it the end of Aztec Empire in a bloody cycle of violence and degradation.

If these stories are true the implications are enormous. Quite literally they have the power to change two thousand years of history. Just think: the conquistadors arrive in the Americas and burn and butcher in the name of who? Jesus Christ, the Lord of the Dawn Light? Or an invention of Holy Roman Church that they claim to represent but in fact use as a means to spread their own earthly power.

And these are more than just stories. They are substantiated to an extent by archaeological finds such as the Burrows Cave and the Michigan Mounds, both of which contain artefacts that clearly depict a Christ like figure. So maybe Christ came to all men, across the planet, and the Christ of the Judaic Christian traditions is simply one chapter in a never-ending story.

Sources include: Ancient American Magazine issue number 28 and L. Taylor Hansen’s “He Walked The Americas” published by Legend Press, Amherst, Wisconsin. ISBN 0-9644997-0-3

Above an engraved stone from the Burrows Cave collection depicting what looks like the resurrection. Whilst the engraving below depicts the Son of the Right Hand challenging the “Beast” maybe? Discovered in 1982 Burrows Cave (named after its discoverer Russell Burrows) in Illinois is said to contain thousands of similar artefacts, all of which challenge the official version of history. Which is probably why we’ve heard so little about it and why we recently heard that the site itself had been cordoned off and was now under the control of the US military. Which only serves to underline George Orwell’s contention that he “who controls the present controls the past.”

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Last updated 04/10/2004


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