THE GOSPEL OF TRAVIS - Chapter Twenty One

PLAGUE-LIKE INCONVENIENCES
Weeks passed, and with each new service in the Megagog came a new minor catastrophe. Once a great swarm of black flies flooded in through the doors and laid their eggs all over the sculptures. Another time a cloud of locusts demolished the crops, leaving nothing but sticks. Still another service ended with a stampede of livestock covered in unsightly boils through the halls of the Megagog, slathering the rugs in excretions and generally bringing down the festive mood of the parishioners.

Each time, Travis would finish his sermon. And each time when the assembled would open the doors, another torrent of supernatural mischief would spill in.

Finally, after Travis had just set aside the funerary pillow after an especially fervent homily, he raced to the doors before the rest of his flock. He held his ear to the doors to listen.

“No buzzing, no bleating, no moans of pain or pestilence,” pronounced Travis.

“God willing, I think we’re okay.”

Travis opened the doors and was shocked to see that it was darker even than the dark of night outside, for the sun had been blotted out of the sky.

“That’s not good,” cried out a banker among the flock. “I know that sermon was very long, but we entered through those doors well before noon. There is no way we’ve spent the entire day in here.”

“Quiet,” said Travis. “I must think.”

Later that day, or night for indeed the constant darkness had confused everyone’s experience of time, Travis sequestered himself away in his marble contemplation chamber, where he drew the plush meditation curtains across the windows, sat down upon his gold covered thinking chair, and ruminated.

Travis surmised that some sort of demon had targeted his ministry. But how and for what purpose?

Travis thought hard about possible answers, deeply weighing the pros and cons of each possible course of action, and finally arrived at a solution that he knew would resolve the situation.

He returned to the Megagog, where the entire flock had been waiting out the oppressive darkness, and announced the proper course of action to his followers.

“I’m going to get married again,” declared Travis. “In this way, we will please God and he shall drive away whatever demon has been hounding me. This seems to work for me. So. If anyone knows of any available women, preferably ones who are compliant, then I will be taking meetings. No oldies.”

THE FIFTH WEDDING
Before, the chosen of his flock undertook the necessary preparations and readied the Megagog hall for another matrimonial ceremony for their pastor. By now everyone had much practice and the preparations were as familiar as tying one’s tunic. Many casks of wine, the finest available for purchase in the whole province of Judaea, were rolled into the building in advance of the celebratory toast.

The hall soon became crowded with well-wishers, many of whom had become regulars at this point. Upon the platform stood the young bride’s family, as well as Travis’s four other wives. In the middle stood Travis and the bride-to-be. As there was no other suitable officiant, Travis performed his own rites and provided the bride with his preferred vows for her to recite. Once she had finished repeating after her groom, Travis pronounced:

“What I here have joined together in matrimony, let no man tear asunder. Unless, of course, that man be me, in which case it is allowed for I shall have a good reason for it, I’m sure.”

He turned to his new wife and said, “I promise to provide for you and care for you for so long as it remains convenient to me, and for so long as you submit to me, my lovely... what was it again?”

The bride blinked. “Sarah?”

“Sarah. My sweet Sarah. By my side you shall remain, and my lead you shall follow as like a compliant kid. And by kid, of course, I mean a young goat. Not to say that you are like a goat. I’m just saying, you are beneath me. May it please God.” Travis scratched his beard, then continued, “This has been an excellent wedding ceremony. Let us celebrate.”

The newly married woman shared a look with the other wives, who all beckoned her over to them, while the wealthiest of the flock began to pass around cups of wine, for serving Travis was seen as the greatest privilege of the truest believers.

Once Travis had his goblet, he called out, “Before we toast, let us open the doors to see if we have pleased God enough to drive away the demon.”

The nearest to the doors approached them gingerly, listening for any potential catastrophes or cataclysms awaiting beyond the thresh hold. With much hesitation, they cracked open the doors to peek through the gap. Finally they drew them open, finding nothing but a normal, sunny, locust-free day.

“And so we see that the Lord is pleased. A toast, to me!”

Everyone took a sip from their cups only to immediately spit the contents out onto the floor. For they found that the wine had all turned to blood.

As disconcerting as this was to the people, far worse was it for Travis for indeed all of this bloody spit had completely ruined the Megagog’s rich, plush carpets.

COMMUNITY
For many days following, Travis found it necessary to set himself aside to contemplate his predicament. He neither drank nor ate, excepting of course for two meals a day for the purposes of keeping up his spirits, and attended very little to his wives or his pastoral duties.

In his absence, wickedness grew among his flock. Because of the constant barrage of demonic assaults, some of them began to share their wealth with one another to stave off starvation and to promote the common good. When a great gale destroyed a farmer’s barn, some came together to rebuild it. When another’s food supplies mysteriously rotted, still others hosted them for dinner and provided them with the leftovers so that they may eat on the following day.

Though the wealthiest and the most influential of the flock remained fortified against the growing onslaught of character weakening empathy, hiding behind their battlements of coinage they had accrued so righteously, still the more vulnerable found that by banding together and caring for one another they could better withstand the ebbs and flows of misfortune that seemed to hound the ministry.

Finally, the trusty wine merchant took it upon himself to visit Travis. As he had been among the first to follow his lead when the Tiberias ministry began, Travis treated him as the first among his sheep and so allowed him occasional access to the compound where stood all five of his mansions. Sarah, who as the newest wife was charged with all the work the other wives disliked, showed the merchant to the proper estate.

When the merchant entered the sanctuary, it became clear to him that Travis had not bathed in a long time.

“My old friend,” began the wine merchant, “I’m afraid that if you are absent from the Megagog much longer you may find you’ve lost everything you’ve worked to build.”

“Absence,” stated Travis. “You are exactly right. I think that is the issue. For there is only one of me, but my words must travel everywhere. For wherever the wisdom is absent, there the demons play and there they build their forces against me. We must drive these hellions from this earth, and eradicate the feeble minded bodies that they inhabit.

“If only the word could be everywhere. If only my voice could be in everyone’s ears at all times. If only my teachings could sit in the palm of every hand, for everyone to heed day in and day out. This is the only way to stop this madness.”

”What madness?” asked the Wine Merchant.

“What madness?” responded Travis incredulously. “The madness! The madness of everywhere! So long as there are others elsewhere leading their mad lives, then forever shall we be tempted and the holy and the righteous shall forever be the target of the demonic.

“All others must end,” said Travis, the sincerity of his convictions burning through his eyes.

But the Wine Merchant could not understand the divine inspiration behind Travis’s revelations. Instead, he smiled as politely as he could muster and then slowly and quietly backed out of the room, never more to return to Travis’s ministry.

THE CRUMBLING
The ravages of time bring about the end of all things. The temples must fall, the walls of Jericho must crumble. So too even the ministry in Tiberias had to end.
Without Travis present to lead his flock, the black sheep among them began to see the demonic attacks not for what they were, attempts to undermine the righteous causes of Travis, but instead as proof of God’s disapproval.

“We have seen these plagues before,” proclaimed one such black sheep, “and it did not turn out well for, say, the first born sons of Egypt.”

When Travis heard of this insubordination, he flew into a rage. He stormed back down to the Megagog, raised the funerary pillow high above his head, and rebuked the noncompliant with the worst words imaginable, thoughts so crass and profane, dear Theophilus, that I blush even at the idea of writing them here. Suffice it to say, the damage had already been done and the people began to abandon guaranteed salvation by the side of Travis for the sinful safety of the other Apostolic communities.

This exodus only increased when the city of Tiberias flooded with the sea water of an overfilled Galilee and Travis, fearing for the safety of his statues and his merchandise, refused to open the doors to the refugees. Even Travis’s closest followers conceded, this was not a good look.

Beyond that, the misfortunes continued to mount for Travis. At his compound was held a meeting where all five of the wives informed Travis that they would be divorcing him, something which Travis understood to be illegal, since only a man could initiate a divorce and even then only for reasons of sexual insubordination, and yet because of Roman law there was nothing that he could do about it from a secular standpoint.

Five divorces meant five divorce settlements and alimony payments for seven children, which in turn meant further scrutiny into the Megagog’s finances. This revealed that Travis had indeed spent not only his interest moneys but also much of the tithing that had been earmarked for the Jerusalem mission, which to the less sophisticated tax collectors of Judaea could be misconstrued as embezzlement.
Besieged on all sides, Travis escaped to the sanctuary of a serene garden on a hill above the city. There he wandered the paths, obsessing over the many misfortunes hounding him. Overcome with pity for his predicament, he stopped beneath a great carob tree there to kneel and pray.

“Oh Lord, I have never wanted anything but to follow you, to make your word known to the world, and to profit only a righteous amount from the spread of your glory. And yet here am I, beset by demons and surrounded by idiots who refuse to listen to your divine wisdom. Tell me, why have you forsaken me?”

“Why have you forsaken me?” came back to him, as if whispered by the winds.

Travis waited, for he knew not if he had heard only an echo or if the Lord himself had spoken unto him.

“I’m serious. Don’t you think I deserve to know? I am your faithful servant. Why have you forsaken me?”

And again came back, this time a bit stronger in a voice that felt both familiar and foreign, the words “Why have you forsaken me?”

“Oh great. So you’re repeating my words. Very mature.” Travis crossed his arms and scowled at the beautiful garden before him, waiting for the voice to mock him again. Yet he was greeted only by silence.

“I have done nothing but try to promote you and your nonsensical message of love and peace. I think I am entitled to some sort of answer to my trials and tribulations, or even a miracle to help me out of this disaster in which I find myself now.” At that, he heard no reply but a gentle breeze and the buzzing of some bees. “If what I have heard just now is real, if you really feel as though I’ve forsaken you, oh Lord, then show me some sort of sign.”

Suddenly, a nearby bush spontaneously burst into flames.

Travis jumped back at first, terrified that the licking fire may spread to his expensive designer robes. But soon he found that the destructive power of the fire soothed him. He watched for quite a while, the light from the bush flickering in his eyes. The Lord God had indeed sent a miracle to Travis, a new path to lead him out of his predicament.

The next night, the Megagog burst into flames as well.

Travis’s heart was greatly saddened by the loss, naturally, but felt that the insurance money from the disaster could be better used to get his ministry back on its feet again.

However, the demon had one last trick up its sleeve and the insurer refused to pay out the sum Travis was owed, alleging that the circumstances surrounding the fire were highly suspicious and that Travis belonged in the custody of the Roman authorities.

Travis had seen what justice under the Romans looked like. And so, with little more than the clothes on his back, Travis disappeared into the wilderness, never again to be seen in Tiberias or the Galilee.

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