A Man Named Yeshua
Once upon a time many years ago, there was a man named Yeshua. Some time after his birth, he was visited by Persian Zoroastrian holy men because he had been born of the proper lineage (from a great king) to become a messiah. You see, his people had been hopefully expecting a messiah to come and save them from their oppressors.
Once he was old enough, his parents shipped him off to India to learn from the great Buddhist masters, rather than study the local religion. As a result, he became an extremely enlightened person and eventually returned to his homeland. Upon his return, he found himself in direct conflict with the religious leaders who he thought were leading the people astray. His message of hope, love and redemption would largely fall on deaf ears. Even his closest followers would admit that they did not understand his teachings and some of them said that there were great mysteries surrounding those teachings and that the truth was only disclosed to a privileged few.
Because of his opposition to the religious authorities, he would be labeled as a troublemaker and, eventually, his enemies would conspire against him with the result that his life would be cut short. In the end, he was never considered to be a hero even in his own hometown. Neither was he ever thought of by his own people to be a messiah. Nevertheless, his legend lived on in the minds and hearts of those that had known him best and they would form a movement in his honor. Oddly enough, though, he would eventually become a savior in the minds of people who had but heard of his legend.
So goodbye, sweet Yeshua. I wish that I could have known you better; I wish that I could have called you friend. Now, I can only listen to all the stories that people still tell about your greatness and wonder what it might have been like if you had only lived longer…and wonder if the truth of your teachings will ever be disclosed.