Heart with Loving Heart United #420

 In the old blue hymnal #420 was Heart with Loving heart United. I loved it because it was more about how we should treat each-other, in obedience to God's will than how we should be as human beings, children and the creation fo God.

But there was one verse, "may we all so love each-other and all selfish claims deny. So that each one for the other will not hesitate to die." And I sung it every time putting more space between the all and the so because it wasn't "also" and I thought that was important.

"May we all SO (thusly, to that extent) love each-other.  the same way the verse described the way Christ loved us. 

Whenever I can I write examples of that. But leaving Christ completely out of it. Here are a couple of the better ones.

“May we all SO love each-other. And all selfish claims deny.”

'Will this be our life now? it's better than it was, especially for her. And that's what matters.'. The alien would come, feed us, ask us a few simple questions and then leave. He never did anything more TO me than shove me against a wall or punch me in the chest when I was 'being implacable'. But he actually, well, took care of us. And I was having trouble making heads or tails of him.

“This is...I don't even know how to finish that sentence.”

“Nikita calm down, you'll only exhaust yourself.”

“You're right. It's just our host, for lack of another word confuses me.”

“How do you read him? I mean I know you can, a lot better than most.”

“I'm not a telepath. I can sense someones' motivations and intentions, and any strong feelings. That's about it.”

His motivation is what I'm trying to figure out. For holding us prisoner the past month, he doesn't seem particularly interested in us.”

“He's trying to make sense of us. More specifically, of me.”

“Does he know who you are?”

“That I'm an alien. The rest? He has a nearly accurate picture of things. I'm starting to suspect I'm 15 degrees off of everything I know about him.”

“How do you mean?”

“Either he's extremely a-typical for his race or I got the two confused to begin with. But he would've had longer than I did to learn otherwise.”

Jeremiah looked sad. “I take it by 'to learn otherwise' you mean 'to learn what living on Earth would have taught him'.” Nikita nodded solemnly, her straight auburn hair shaking slightly with the motion. “How long have you had to learn the ways of Earth?”

“I first landed on Earth not too long before you landed on the moon.”

“You do not look that old. Two, how much older do you think he is?”

“My people live about 120 years. He's been here for at least 300 years.”

“Okay how do you know THAT?”

“He's Martian. No matter what else he is, he's a Martian. Which...I hate being so clinical but Mars has been...inhospitable for the last 300 years.”

“Wait, are you saying that depending on which race of Martian he is...”

“Jeremiah, if that man wanted us dead we'd BE dead.”

“Then why the hesitation?”

“I'd rather believe the way he's been talking is a result of living on Earth for the last 300 years and not because I got wrong which race of Martian was which.”

“Okay, you really do need to sit down and vague out.”

“That sounds like a good idea.” Nikita's head dropped as she pulled her feet close to her hips as she entered what he knew to be a meditative state. Her knees were almost as high as her head. She could've been asleep except her eyes were moving. It was a pose she maintained into the next morning.

Jeremiah could sense something was wrong. The man's eyes never left Nikita's face. “Come with me, now.” He said to Nikita. “I'll not ask again.”

Jeremiah stood beside his friend, his attitude protective. “Leave her alone.” J'onn raised his hand as if to backhand Jeremiah. But seemed to think better of it in the last second. “Whatever you have planned for her, take me.”

“If I plan to take her and execute her. Do you still volunteer?”

“I would not. But I know you're going to. Nikita was right, if you wanted either one of us dead we'd BE dead by now. If you wanted us hurt we'd be beaten black and blue. What you want from either of us is answers.”

“And it's about time I get them.” He grabbed Nikita's wrist and began dragging her to the door. Jeremiah put his hand on the man's shoulder and forcefully pulled him away. “Your actions are heroic, if exceedingly unwise.”

'What do you want with her?' Why the sudden interest in her?' 'Leave her alone you animal!' These expressions stretched themselves across Jeremiahs face in about 2 seconds. But he said none of these things. Instead he held out his hands in an emphatically non-threatening posture. “Sir, and I call you that because I have nothing else to call you. I swear on my life if you hurt her, my restraint will go right out the window. I will probably die trying to put you on the floor. But if you let her go, you can do whatever you want to me__in payment of that debt.” This speech did not have quite the effect he'd intended. The green-skinned Martian backed away from his human charge and cast down his eyes. “This surprises you?”

“Yes. What IS she to you? I mean...who is she to you?”

“Someone who has been tortured for years by a man far more blind than I have words to express. A man I served under for years and at one time looked up to. And I would die before I let her come to harm again. If there is one truth of which I need no convincing it is that she is innocent. And that she is precious to me. I can't understand it. But PLEASE, she has been through enough, let her alone.”

“You've learned I'm not Enkaren. And not the threat you feared. You must have thought HE was. Why? More relevant question...Phobos or Deimos?”

“You know the difference?” The Martian was astonished beyond measure.

“I know who they are. I don't know which is which. That was the problem. 'In the early days of Mars there were two brothers, Phobos and Deimos. Their rivalry and bloodshed was the reason for the split of the Green and White Martians.' I learned that from an Enkaren woman I once knew here on Earth. From which I understood that Phobos and Deimos were like Ishmael and Issac from the Bible. Except they split along such divergent paths they became two separate races rather than founding two separate religions. I never learned who was whose progenitor.”

“You never knew if my kind were...Ishmael or Issac?”

“I've never met your kind before in my life. And the White Martian I met was Hank's favorite example of how dangerous aliens could truly be. She'd been in that cell for over a decade when I met her. No one could hold completely to their morals after that.” She spoke with unrestrained bitterness. “Henshaw was a Creech-ta. If not a Chrish-naka Sareth. Until now you seemed equally blinded.”

“And f you had known I belonged to Deimos... you would have...”

“ 'Deimos Pah, Tar-ek Ni-cha.' would have been the first thing out of my mouth when you entered the room.”

Jeremiah raised his hand. “Could someone provide me with a translation, please?”

“What she said was that I've failed or disgraced the name of my progenitor.”

“Deimos?” Jeremiah guessed.

Nikita nodded. “Phobos and Deimos are the two progenitors of the Martian race. White Martians are monsters. I was reasonably certain of that because of my other alien friends. I just never knew who came from whom.”

“How in the name of rational thought are you speaking the Enkaren language so naturally if you are not, yourself Enkaren?!” J'onn exploded with feeling.

“Because it's my native language!” Nikita replied, openly laughing at him.

“But you...you're not...” He rubbed his left forefinger against her temple, as if tracing something that shouldn't be there. “Are you Xavallen?”

“Why should that be of particular interest to you?”

The alien bowed at the waist and backed away from Nikita. “I...my name is... J'onn Jo'nzz. I must humbly beg your pardon.” He walked away without another word.

A couple of hours later, Jeremiah walked up the stairs and into the dining room. Where he saw J'onn sitting thoughtfully. “I'm hoping you can tell me. I don't know any of these people. These races.”

J'onn didn't mind. In fact he seemed rather pleased with the request. “Enkarens and Xavallens are sibling races to each-other. Enkarens are – genetically speaking in trouble – but also far superior to humans in most respects. Apparently, along with the Atraxi, they speak the same native language.”

Realization blanketed Jeremiah's face. “She doesn't make sense for an Enkaren.”

J'onn nodded. “Xavallens are a protected species. Their home world was destoyed 200 years ago. Most of them are nomadic. But some have assimilated, to varying degrees, into other cultures. Jeremiah. Well for one thing may I call you that?”

“Of course.”

“For 16 of the 23 major powers in these galaxies, if I had known what she was, my interrogation of her without cause against her, most especially without defiance sent would have been a crime.”

“Is that why this whole thing came screeching to a halt?”

J'onn looked at him rather oddly. When he spoke, his voice was soft and deliberate. “It came to a halt because I thought she was an Enkaren who you were keeping silent. Because in that moment,” He moved his hands out and apart like Jeremiah had done. “You proved yourself to be a GOOD man. And I realized I never should have laid a finger on you in the first place.”

“J'onn, you talk as if you've been a monster to us. You were nothing of the kind. You've been good, decent, kind, even hospitable to us since we woke up in your house. The rest of it was as much my fault as it was yours. And it's not like I didn't agree to this.”

“Minister, high minister, hear us for justice.” A woman said urgently.

“Show me.” Answered a man with short-cropped hair and a golden chain. He followed the woman. Samuel followed at a distance.

“If the Kaylar are not driven they will not work.” A soldier insisted.

A man restrained by ropes pushed in. “If their work lags it is because they are not fed.”

“You seem strong enough.” The minister countered.

“My work takes strength so they treat me better. Which isn't saying much.”

“You insolent little..” The solider said lifting what might have been a club.

“HOLD!” The Minster called out. He grabbed the weapon from the guards hand and held it loosely, pointing it at the floor to indicate punishment was not intended. “You know it is death to strike one of the Valar?”

“I know it.” The man confirmed.

“Yet you struck him, why?”

“To save the old woman.”

“How does one achieve the other?”

“They wouldn't stop for her. I knew they'd stop to save his so I put him in the way.” He looked the minister in the eyes. “I wanted to save her life.”

“At the cost of your own.” The minister observed. “What is she to you?”

“An old woman.” The man answered simply.

The Master Builder walked up to stand beside the Minister. “Lord Prince, give this man the death he deserves.” He said coolly.

'The minister is also a prince. That explains their reverence for him'. Samuel thought to himself.

“Why? The man has courage. You do not speak like a field Kaylar?”

“He who created us created all of us. We needed no help with the rest.” The man said, as if repeating a mantra. “In other words, God made men, MEN made this world what it is.”

“Of which God do you speak?” The Prince asked earnestly.

“He who made the stars and the planets, the soft winds and the thundering rains. He who created both brilliant and foolish four-legged creatures and the birds of the air. And who created both of us.” He said looking at the prince with intention.

“An all powerful God?”

“Very much so. My people wait for the day when God's messenger will pull the scales off of your eyes and straighten our backs.”

“Lord Prince this man speaks Treason.” the Master Builder said entreatingly.

“I speak of what I honestly believe will be a better day for both your people and mine. How is that treason?” The man insisted, pushing against the ropes that still held him back.

“I could not have answered better myself.” The Prince agreed. He tossed the birch-rod looking-thing to one of the nearby soldiers. Turning to the chief solider, the one who had first objected, ordered simply 'release him'. The soldiers at once began undoing the ropes amid gasps of surprise, some coming from the soldiers. The instant he was free, the man fell to his knees. He reached for the Prince's hand but stopped himself before making contact. “May God in his heaven bless you, Noble Prince. May I be permitted to one day repay you for this kindness.”

“What is your name?”

“Nathaniel.”

“Well, Nathaniel, go home, quickly. And from now on you will be__” Nathaniel visibly tensed, uncomfortable at the thought of being called away from his people, even as a reward. “__under my protections and in my debt.”

“Thank you Exalted one. God protect and defend you against all harm.” Nathaniel exuded. Both the prince and the woman knew he thoroughly meant it.