Will Thomas - Some Danger Involved

"If the civilized countries were to close their borders, they would have no choice but to return to the oriental countries from whence they came, and through hardship, privation, and war, gradually reduce the seething mass to a more manageable size."

"That would certainly decrease the population," Barker said. "But what of the Jews that have been here for hundreds of years?"

"It was a mistake of Cromwell's to let them return in the first place. London is the center of Christendom. No doubt the nobility was seduced by the prosperous Jewish merchant families and their millions of pounds. Now they are marrying into English families, even into the aristocracy. I can only hope that succeeding generations shall water down this strain until the dominant Teutonic blood overwhelms it."

"But what of Jesus, sir?" I blurted out. "Wasn't he a Jew?"

The fellow smiled condescendingly. "Not really, Mr., er, Llewelyn, was it? He was the 'New Man.' Can you picture him as a hook-nosed, kinky-haired, furtive little fellow? Of course not! He was a big, bluff carpenter, a robust leader of men, a man's man. He was the perfect specimen of manhood, and in all ways we should aspire to be like him. Gentlemen, I don't like turning away a group of hungry and desperate wretches any more than you. It does not seem Christian, I know. But sometimes, one must do the hard thing, when one knows it to be right."

He sounded so logical, so convincing, that it seemed impossible that he was talking about the deaths by slow starvation and exposure of tens of thousands.

"Bravo!" Barker said, clapping the fellow on the shoulder. "Thank you, sir, for your time and your learned opinions. Look for an article in tomorrow's Dispatch."

"Certainly, gentlemen," the Reverend Painsley said, flashing us a set of perfect teeth. "Thank you."

Barker led me back through the aisles to the entrance. Once outside, he turned immediately to his left and punched the brick three times, until his knuckles were red. The sound was drowned out by the hammering inside. He grimaced, and his teeth looked as ferocious as an angry lion's.

"Such a pathetic mixture of half-truths, twisted logic, and outright lies I have never heard in all my born days. Of all the creatures in the garden, the serpent was the most subtle. Hook-nosed? Kinky-haired? Mongol hordes? Natural avarice? It's a wonder I didn't seize the fellow by the limbs and toss him the length of the sanctuary. I'm going to keep an eye on that man. He wants to make Christ over in his likeness, not the other way round."

"He's not alone there," I noted. "How often have you seen pictures of a flaxen-haired, blue-eyed Christ?"

"More times than I can stomach at the moment. Jesus was a Jew from the line of David. Those paintings make him look like Siegfried from a Wagnerian opera. New Man, indeed! They look upon Christ as the first of a super race, the Aryan race, who must watch over their 'inferiors' and exterminate them, if necessary. Have you ever heard such distorted history? He makes it sound like the Jews sit in their ghettoes, plotting the domination of the world."

"Do you think he actually believes this nonsense?" I asked.

Barker nodded. "You know, I wondered that myself. He got himself appointed to an old church, and now, through preaching vitriol against the Jews, he's revitalized it. He could have a new church in the West End a year from now. He may go far, and I have nothing to fight him with, legally. He's riding a lie to achieve power. And he's just the first on the list. Damn and blast!"

"Who's next?" I asked, hoping to assuage his sudden temper.

"A fellow in Chelsea. That's too far. Here's one in Camden. Ah, yes. Mr. Brunhoff, the Anglo-Israelite. I haven't crossed swords with him for several months. Capital, provided we can find a cab or omnibus to take us there."

We did indeed find an omnibus heading east as fast as a pair of draft horses could pull us. After Racket's fleet vehicle, the pace seemed maddeningly slow, but it allowed us to talk.

"Now, if I've got this right, an Anglo-Israelite is a Jewish person who was born in this country."

"No, lad," Barker corrected, "That's an Anglo-Jew. An Anglo-Israelite is something utterly different. Are you familiar with your Old Testament?"

"Tolerably, sir," I said. "I've studied the book as a schoolboy."

"You know that God set aside the Jews as a 'peculiar people,' a race chosen to have a special relationship with Him, and with whom He made an eternal blood covenant. The Anglo-Israelites believe that this 'mantle' of being the chosen race has fallen on the shoulders of the Aryan races, notably the British, and to a lesser extent the Germans and Americans."

"Why do they believe that?" I asked. "What makes them think the English and Americans are the new chosen people?"

"Remember the old legend about Joseph of Arimathea coming to England?"

"You mean the 'Stone of Scone' and all that?"

"Correct. The story goes that after Christ's death, Joseph brought the holy relic, the rock upon which old Jacob lay his head, to England, where it now sits under the coronation chair. As proof of the transfer of grace, God sent King Arthur and his Round Table after the Holy Grail, the chalice Jesus drank from at the Last Supper."

"If so," I said, with a smile, "then it never reached the English at all. Arthur was a Welshman at Tintagel. It's the Welsh that are the chosen people, not this Anglo-Saxon lot."

"Ha!" I'd actually made Barker laugh. "Don't be cheeky, lad. Actually, you've shown the problem in microcosm. The entire thing is all about nationalism, and you know how that is sweeping across Europe. Being 'chosen' gives people license to do just about anything they like, from expanding into other countries' territory, to wiping out undesirable people within one's own borders. And the more a country prospers, the more they feel that God is on their side, and the more arrogant they become. In America, they call it 'Manifest Destiny,' this idea that all they do is ordained by God."

"So the Jews are still the chosen people?" I asked, somewhat doubtfully.

"If you are a Christian, you must believe it so, because the Bible never contradicts it. A blood covenant is eternal. God never changes. I know it's more congenial to think we are the chosen people, but one can't build a strong biblical case for it."

"Then how can these Anglo-Israelites go around preaching it?"

"My dear Llewelyn, you have a naive side, if I may say it. People don't read their Bibles. They hire pastors to preach to them. And some pastors will preach total nonsense if it will tickle the congregations' ears enough to open their purses. There are some very rich and very gullible people in the Reverend Mr. Brunhoff's church. And they'll defend the delusions he's indoctrinated in them to the death."

We got off the omnibus and traveled a block or two before coming up to another church. It still seemed strange to me, looking for a group of killers among a church congregation. I would characterize this as a neither-nor church: neither rich nor poor, neither old nor new, neither high church nor low. The name, the Universal Church of the New Jerusalem, was one of those nonconformist titles that make Church of England people uncomfortable, only one can't say exactly why. Barker plunged into the building, going up one hallway and down another, while I bobbed along in his wake. Eventually, he found the church office and the Reverend Brunhoff.

"Not one more step, Mr. Barker!" the preacher thundered, rising from his desk at the first sight of my employer. "Get out of my church!"

"It is good to see you again, Mr. Brunhoff," Barker said politely, as if the man had invited him in for tea. "Have you been doing well since last we spoke?"

"Do you mean, since you last accused me in front of Scotland Yard?" Brunhoff was a stocky bulldog of a fellow, with a Prussian haircut and heavy jowls. He wore a plain black suit with the cleric's badge of office, a white tie.