The New York Testament: A Story of God in Today's World

By Giovanni D. Ferro

The New York Testament: A Story of God in Todays World is an attempt to project a childlike faith onto the backdrop of a faithless world. Times may change but faith is eternal. We have learned to push back at the foundations of our being but we seem to find that we leave some of the best of ourselves behind in the wake.

Giovanni Ferro attempts to capture the agony of a faithless world and juxtapose it with the beauty of grace and spirit that could sustain us. His methods are the fictional use of characters mixed with religious mainstays. His lifelong love of faith is mixed with the reality of a world that believes it has moved on from faith.

It is time for a different messiah, never before has the time been ripe for new thoughts on old religion; a break from and a cleaving to the faiths of old. Would Jesus be welcomed today; would he even be recognized as a transformational and authoritative figure for our era, or would he be rejected and relegated to bygone times? Race, religion, and intelligent dissent are the opposing forces in this book. Take a ride through the streets of New York and watch the story unfold.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: May 12, 2010
• ISBN: 9781450226882

Giovanni D. Ferro

GIOVANNI FERRO was born the fourth of five kids in Norristown, Pennsylvania, of Italian Catholic immigrant parents. He spent twenty years in the Navy. He has a BS in Management and is working on a Masters in Management. He lives in Pennsylvania and is the father of three wonderful children.

Book preview

Chapter One

At the very core, in a place we all know. The creator, in a shape and form indescribable to us, ponders.

It weighed human history past, present, and future. The time had come for the second sojourn in the land of men, a place the creator always is, of course. This sojourn would be in half human form as before. The creator had felt frailty, affinity, and pain on his last walk among men; as half of the entity which comprised Jesus Christ, the wondrous being of God felt things for the first time.

It would be impossible for me, your narrator, to describe the thought process of God. I don’t know how it works. My mind can’t fathom it anyway. At 6:20 PM Eastern Standard Time on January 12, 1987, the master began the second coming. A virgin was called upon by the angels of the Lord. She was sleeping in her home in the land of America, the state of New Jersey, in the town of Paramus. The woman chosen was Tina, the daughter of José and Graciela Santis. They were simple, good people of Latin American descent.

The angels hovered over the sweet child’s bed and said, Fear you not, Tina. We come from the Wondrous with a message that on the sixth day of June 1987, you will give birth to the Son of God and the savior of men. At this Tina fell upon her knees and was not ashamed of her nudity (for this was how she slept). She said, My prayers have been answered ’cause I have prayed three years for the Lord to test me and give me something to do for him.

The angels were much pleased by the maiden’s response and so was the Lord. In the morning, the news was in the minds of Tina and her earthly parents, planted by unearthly powers. Thus, there was no need for speech; the joy of the family was whole and good. When Tina’s fiancé, Calvin, entered, the expression on his face was indescribable. The news was with him also. Calvin was the son of Nevin and Bertha Jones, descendants of slaves who called themselves African Americans. In this place and with these people the Lord had chosen to undertake the education of the sons of the sons of the descendants of those taught by Jesus Christ, the first.

Chapter Two

At high noon, the babe was born. As in Bethlehem, the star shone indicating the birth of the Christ child. Many of the poor and homeless came to see the child, but because the weather was unseasonably warm, Tina turned many out of the small abode. This child came into the world differently from his brother and predecessor. He needed no ox and lamb to warm him; he was born in the humble home of his foster father in summer. There were no wise men to greet Adan Cristo Jones. Only the desperate souls from the streets were lowly enough, and free enough from self absorption, to pay attention to the sign of the star and the feeling that the Holy Spirit was present. That night the daylight sensors of the street lamps were tricked by the Christ star, and besides the light of the star, there was no illumination for many blocks around the home of Calvin and Tina Jones.

No special notice was aroused by the birth of this small parcel of life and light. The small city went its way. Its inhabitants did their work, chores, commuting, and worldly duties with little thought for their heavenly ones. It is always easiest for men and women to confine their thoughts of God to special and finite times, such as the holidays. Who could do a bad deed on Christmas Day? Only a nonbeliever could. This is one question which crosses the minds of men when the holidays are here, but what thoughts cross their minds on every other day of the year? Do men even look at themselves or ask questions anymore? Are women and children better or worse? There are so many questions. There are many answers in response, but are they right? Only one answer is right for a person, and with so many people, there are almost endless answers to one question. Is there a person who can make an answer for so many questions? No, say the secularists, there is no such person.

It was in a clean and decent kitchen that the following scene took place; some description is necessary here. Calvin and Tina’s kitchen was a place of relaxation, food, and a focal point of life. In the old days it would be like the inglenook or the hearth; a place to nourish the stomach and the soul. The cabinets were old and a little worn but they were clean. The faucet leaked a bit, but it presided over a spotless sink. There were never more than a handful of items in the drain board, but there was a clean washcloth that always kept them company. The lighting was dim, but the glow of love and pride was bright. Tina felt this place was her own and that all who sat in her kitchen chairs were her personal guests. For Calvin the feelings were different and similar at the same time. Calvin always knew the kitchen was Tina’s, but he felt that she made it especially comforting for Adan and him out of deep love and pride. Calvin always sensed welcome in Tina’s room, and he respected her hegemony there. There was always something delicious cooking, and there was always a smile to be had from the cooker. It was in this room that the checkbook was balanced, the discussions had, and the family decisions made. Now back to the story.

Calvin, said Tina, bring me the baby. I gotta give him a bath.

Okay, was his reply, I’ll see a king take a bath for the first time.

He’s gonna be a king someday, but for now he’s just a dirty baby, she said.

Do you think he’ll ever make a difference in this world, Tina? Calvin asked.

I don’t know. I think it depends on what he’s gonna say, how he’s gonna say it, and who he’s gonna say it to, she replied.

I know what you mean. The way everybody runs around in their own directions, it’ll take a miracle for anyone to even bother to take the time to listen to him, let alone believe he’s the Son of God, said Calvin. Make sure the water’s not too hot, he cautioned.

I already dip’ my elbow …, said Tina with a smile Will you get his towel ready?

As the scene within the kitchen unfolded, another took place.

At a conservatory somewhere in New Jersey, astronomers postulated and theorized as to what the bright, starlike body was that shone over parts of the state a few weeks earlier. There were so many theories that emerged. Some seemed likely; others seemed unlikely. One theory that was worthy of attention was one put together by Lawrence Thompkins. Larry thought it looked a lot like the biblical and historical accounts of the Star of David. The snickers and secret smiles of his coworkers were to be expected. After all, Larry was a marked man among them. He was a well-known Christian, and those kind of people are always ready to attribute this kind of thing to something crazy (like God)! they thought.

Hey, Larry, said Jim Henkels, have you been able to prove this theory of yours yet? What if it’s Jupiter?

What theory? Larry asked.

You know, the big heaven thing about that star shining, replied Jim.

Did I say that’s what I thought it was? I’m not trying to prove anything of the kind, Jim! responded Larry in a ruffled, embarrassed sort of tone.

Good, Lar, cause we’re beginning to think you were losin’ it.

Well, all of this upset Larry quite a bit. He was hatching a theory not unlike what Jim was laughing about. It also upset him that people were able to see through him so quickly. After much deliberation, he decided to compile all the data he could on the mysterious star and bring it before his supervisor. His attempts to describe his theory, which he denied to Jim, always fell short of his best efforts. Larry disappointed himself in his desire to be clear and authoritative. For Larry it was like the lyric from the Police song: When the eloquence escapes you, their logic ties you up and wrecks you. This is part of the dialog that took place with his supervisor:

The bright star is not like the Jupiter orbit; it’s not like Venus; and it’s not like any bright planet. It doesn’t fall close to the bright stars like Sirius or the others.

You know, Larry, I spend too much time in this office doing administrative stuff. I haven’t done astronomy in a while, but I wish I could do more stargazing, said a harried George Talworth. Please go on; tell me what’s on your mind.

So you see, Mr. Talworth, said Larry, coming to completion of the presentation of his star theory, this must be a symbol from God!

During the course of his outpourings, Larry became a little excited. He exuded an uncommon amount of sweat and became a little red in the face. These signs and words led George to shift uneasily in his seat; he weighed his words before speaking.

This is interesting information, Larry, but what made you conclude that this is something from God … you did say God?

There is no other explanation; there is nothing in the heavens that can compare to this occurrence …

Mr. Talworth interrupted. Larry, to conclude that that’s the only possibility is pretty unscientific, don’t you think? Do you need a little vacation? George Talworth spoke like any other administrator in his position would; always choosing pragmatism over uncomfortable speculation.

When Larry spoke again his voice seemed pinched and choked. I’ll double-check my findings, and I’ll look at it all again.

To George, this pronouncement was met with relief. No conclusion was reached, no office protocol breeched, and his time would no longer be taken away from administrative duties. He made one other conclusion, but he didn’t act on it; he should recommend that Larry speak to a doctor friend of his. As we said, however, George took no action on that point.

If I were to ask the readers, Who among you would believe that Jesus had come again? is there one among you that would say yes under these circumstances? Who really knows the truth 100 percent of the time? Unfortunately, there are many who believe they know a lot. They think that they are able to see through falsehoods as well as spot true happenings. These people would be wrong; they would overlook the possibility of God; the real God, here, now, enfleshed, and animate.

Chapter Three

At the age of five, young Adan Cristo Jones entered kindergarten. He liked playing with the other children and felt no different from them. At this point, he had no reason to feel different; he didn’t know who he was. Imagine the mental pain he would feel someday when he found out how different he was.

One day the opportunity to see his differences came. Adan was playing in the school yard with all of the other children when the other boys began to play a little rough. The school yard was a smallish one, more long than deep with just the sparsest of amenities for kindergartners to play on. There was an open area, a small set of rocking horses on springs, and there was the boy’s favorite, the igloo. This was not a real igloo; it was more like a Quonset hut without end walls, but it had small footholds built into it so a child could climb to the top of its cement peak.

Adan loved this little playground, and he felt comfortable in it, but he wasn’t quite at home with so many kids. This sort of group free-play was new to him, but he found it funny and watched, as the boys began pushing each other and running through groups of girls who were employed in less rambunctious forms of play. Before long, the rough play became more heated, as the excited boys realized the sense of power they felt and the chaos they could incite by running, screaming, and terrorizing their classmates.

One boy seemed to be the most unwieldy of all; his name was Tony. Tony was a big boy for kindergarten. He knew the most curse words of any child in his class. All the girls liked him, and he liked all of the pretty girls in the class but hated and taunted the not-so-pretty and chubby ones. Tony was the alpha male of this microcosm even though he had no idea what that meant. One day he’d grow to be that, the loudest man in any room that we all try to avoid. This was Tony, and his nature is easy to imagine; me first, my way, and when I’m ready. These would be his catch phrases throughout life, spoken or acted upon. But enough about him and back to our story.

Through the rough play Adan’s eyes darted from trouble spot to trouble spot; he smiled, winced, and grimaced involuntarily throughout his observances. He was standing alone and peaceful. Just then Tony closed in on Adan with impish juggernaut force and a devilish look in his eye, with the sole intention of rattling Adan’s bones. Tony pushed Adan’s head hard with a ball that he was clenching between his hands. The attempt succeeded with enough force to completely disorient our boy, slam his head into the igloo, and make him cry. In an instant, Hilda Lewis, one of the girls, got the teacher’s attention and brought her to the spot where the hurt boy lay crying, and the aggressor stood smiling.

What is going on here? asked the teacher Mrs. Strait as she came upon the scene. What are you doing down there Adan? Are you hurt? One look at Tony told her almost all that she needed to know. But that didn’t stop Hilda from putting her two cents in.

Tony pushed Adan’s head into the igloo!

I can see that, thank you, Hilda … Her voice betrayed annoyance and a bit of discomfort over the declaration that Tony was involved, the teacher was always a little nicer to Tony but more about that later. Adan, I asked you, are you hurt? Can you get up?

Tony, you wait right there, the teacher said, or asked, as she ushered Adan along with Hilda in tow.

As the teacher and student accompanied our boy into the classroom, I, your narrator, will describe the person whose concern helped to end the suffering of our hero.

Hilda Lewis was one of the overweight, white skinned, homely girls who always seemed to invite scorn and insult from peers of comelier visage. Hilda was no pleasure to look at its true, but her heart was capable of great compassion and forgiveness, even toward those who teased and hurt her. In this case, Adan was not one of her most scornful peers, nor was he of any great support when she became the object of open taunting and teasing.

To the great fortune of the aforementioned young man, Hilda was in a greater than usual compassionate state this day. She made him feel good inside; she smiled a true smile for him, stayed inside with him, and allowed him to play with an extra marble she had while retaining one for the purpose of rolling it down his back, arms, and legs in a very distracting and funny way. Soon the pair was in good spirits, and Adan almost forgot he had been crying.

Scoot, scoot, said Hilda as she played a smile back onto Adan’s face. What are you feeling like Adan? Are you okay?

So grateful was he for the comfort and aid rendered him that he carried a great impression with him of this small act for the rest of his life. In future years, Adan was to look on the young misfit child with mute compassion, while her detractors viciously and mercilessly strafed her with jokes and insults. Insults he rarely rebuffed for her, but he wished they would stop as he watched from a safe distance.

But today was still today; the feeling of the marble was on his skin, and he felt great warmth toward Hilda.

Thanks, he said to Hilda as he handed back the marble. I’m okay now, and I want to go outside. It was with sheepish eyes that they then surveyed the sunny playground, creeping back out slowly like a little Adam and Eve in the utopian, but unknown, garden.

Adan began to blossom into a child that excelled in building with blocks and liking people. He found that although the blocks varied in size and weight, there was always a way of bringing the blocks together in a useful and artful manner. He noticed that, although there were many different types of people, all the people had the same corners to compensate for, as did the blocks, and peoples sharp edges were similarly able to fit together when care was exercised.

Later that year, our young Lord had another bad experience with Tony. While Adan stood near the wall outside the classroom, Tony body-blocked him hard enough to knock him to the ground. This brought peals