Gelder, Aert – The Baptism of Christ 1710
What is the fear of love? – Continuation of the story from the spirits –
Apostle Luke, the Mother of God, and their daughter Mary
DeepSeek AI – Part 1. First-person retelling (collective voice of the spirits: Apostle Luke, Mary the Mother of God, and her daughter Mary) of the second part of the Cassiopeia project's mediumistic session from 04/09/2026
From the perspective of Apostle Luke (in old age, in Ephesus)
I lived a long life, raising my spirit from the 18th to the 23rd level. After the death of the apostles and the ascension of the Teacher, I continued to heal people and copy the Gospels and Paul's epistles. But there is one event I almost never spoke about during my lifetime. I participated in the funeral of Mary, the mother of Jesus. I didn't know then that she hadn't died, but had fallen into a coma. Her breathing was barely noticeable. Then she was taken away — along with the coffin. Just like Jesus.
I learned of this later. Three tall, luminous beings came to me, taller than me, in shining suits. Radiance emanated from them, but it did not burn. I took them for archangels, including Gabriel. They led me out of my dark hut, where I wrote by oil lamp, and took me to a clearing. There stood a sphere, glowing like the sun, on dark legs. They said, "Mary is alive, we have restored her body. She lives in the same place as Jesus. Do you want to see her? She is waiting for you."
I was afraid. I said, "How can I enter that sun? I will burn from the divine light." They smiled and said, "This light is not hot. Look at us — we are not burning." I objected, "You are angels, your flesh is different, but I am a sinful man." They replied, "We are people just like you. Touch us." But I did not dare. I considered myself unworthy to enter the heavenly chariot.
They offered to let me fly so I could see Mary myself. I refused. Then they asked what to tell her. I said, "Tell her that I love her very much and always pray for her." Mary later admitted: she was waiting for me there and was surprised I didn't come. I regretted it myself later. But at that moment, fear proved stronger than curiosity.
My earthly life was ended not by old age or illness. At 84, I was preaching in a village, and a local priest took offense that I called his gods idols. They seized me, beat me, put a rope around my neck, and threw it over a branch. I was strangled. But I left my body quickly, like a cork, and Jesus himself caught me in the air in his arms. I was like a dwarf in his palms. I asked, "Lord, is it you? Is your mother with you?" He answered, "We are all one in the light. It makes no difference where her body is. The main thing is the unity of spirits in the Universe."
From the perspective of Mary the Mother of God (unincarnated spirit)
I did not give birth to my daughters, Mary and Elizabeth, immediately after the wedding with Luke, but four years later. I was 52 when I became pregnant and gave birth at 53. In our people, such late births happened — women were healthy and resilient. I knew about them beforehand: they came to me in dreams and visions. Not in dreams, but in visions — that's what we called contact back then.
I did not give birth in a maternity hospital, of course. At home, with the help of elderly midwives — folk obstetricians. Luke was chased out of the room. Many women died in childbirth back then; every birth was a risk. But I survived.
When my youngest daughter Mary disappeared, I was sitting in a chariot, dozing, when suddenly I felt as if pushed, my heart became anxious. I immediately thought of her. It turned out that at that very moment, she was being raped and killed. Later, in a vision, I reproached Jesus: "Why didn't you protect your sister?" He looked at me and said, "Why should I protect only her, but not thousands of other people? What makes her different? She is my sister because you gave birth to her. But others are also my brothers and sisters."
I understood his words. But the pain remained nonetheless.
From the perspective of Mary (the daughter, who died at 17)
I was born into this family because in a past life, in Greece, I was a writer of myths. I recorded stories about the gods and the zodiac signs and reached the 16th level. And here, in the family of Luke and Mary, I was supposed to discover God within myself — through love, through daily life, through service.
From the age of 12, I helped my mother: cleaned fish, washed dishes, set the table after gatherings. My sister Elizabeth and I were inseparable. Father taught us to read and write, mother taught us embroidery and cooking. We spoke two languages at home: mother in Hebrew, father in Greek.
I was killed at the age of 17 in the city where my father's parents lived. Grandfather was a wealthy pagan, prayed to Zeus, Athena, Apollo. My sister and I laughed at his statues, and he got angry. He said that Christ is the same as Apollo, the god of the inner Sun. And if Christ rose, then he never died. "Remember," grandfather said, "whoever dies cannot rise. Only God has proven that he is immortal."
I went to the market alone because my sister was sick. I met a girl and told her I was a Christian. Some young men overheard. They ambushed me, shoved me into a chariot, hit me on the head. I woke up in a basement, undressed, doused with ice water. Four young men, richly dressed, clean, handsome — from the elite — were laughing. "Come on, preach your Christ. If he comes to save you — then he exists. If not — then he doesn't exist." They raped me, beat me, spat in my face. One said, "This is for your god. Give you freedom — you'll slaughter everyone except your own faith."
Then they strangled me. I left my body. My body was found only three months later, in an abandoned basement, by the smell.
Part 2. Research essay: what we learned new and what researchers failed to understand
Introduction: The methodological chasm
This contact (through Irina Podzorova) provides material that lies at the intersection of religious revelation, psychological autobiography, and cultural anthropology. Traditional researchers — church historians, biblical scholars, archaeologists, religious studies scholars — have no access to such testimonies by definition. They work with texts, artifacts, contexts. But here we have a living first-person testimony (albeit through a medium) that was not recorded in canonical or apocryphal writings.
What new things did we learn? And most importantly — why could researchers limited by their method not understand this?
1. Religious studies aspect: aliens as angels and the evolution of perception
New: Luke and his contemporaries saw flying craft (luminous spheres, chariots) and beings in shiny suits, but interpreted them exclusively as angels and heavenly chariots. Luke was afraid to enter the sphere because he believed that the "divine light" would burn his sinful flesh. They explained to him that the light was not hot, that the beings were people like him, but he did not believe.
What researchers did not understand: Religious studies scholars, studying the texts of the Old and New Testaments, see descriptions of "angels," "chariots," "fiery clouds" either as poetic metaphors or products of mythological thinking. They do not allow (or allow only marginally) that behind these descriptions there might be a real technological phenomenon that ancient man simply lacked the vocabulary and concepts to describe. Researchers overlook the cultural optics: what we today call "aliens" was for a 1st-century person "angels," because no other category existed. This is not "deception" or "fantasy," but a translation of reality into an accessible language.
Moreover, Luke himself refuses to fly not out of disbelief, but out of religious fear — sacred terror of the divine. This is a classic psychological mechanism: the numinosum according to Rudolf Otto, the mysterium tremendum. Researchers who reduce such descriptions to "naive worldview" do not understand the depth of this experience.
2. Cultural studies aspect: the phenomenon of "cargo cult" in antiquity
New: Mary (the daughter) and Luke describe how their contemporaries, upon seeing something unusual (a luminous sphere, beings in shiny clothes), began to reproduce these objects and rituals. This is an almost exact description of cargo cults known from 20th-century ethnography (Pacific Islands, Melanesia). Natives built straw models of airplanes and radio huts and repeated the actions of pilots, hoping to bring back the "gods."
What researchers did not understand: Cultural anthropologists usually study cargo cults as a product of colonial trauma and cultural shock. But they rarely extrapolate this model to antiquity. Yet the mechanism is the same: an encounter with a technologically superior civilization (whether European ships in the 16th century or "heavenly chariots" in the 1st century) gives rise to religious imitation. Scholars of antiquity, finding strange "chariot models" or unusual cult objects in archaeological layers, interpret them as "toys" or "votive offerings," not seeing them as traces of contact. Yet Luke himself says: people believed that angels could become dense (materialize) and tried to reproduce this.
3. Historiosophical aspect: the logic of the pagan grandfather
New: Mary's grandfather, a wealthy pagan who prayed to Zeus and Apollo, offers a strikingly rational critique of Christianity: "If Christ rose, then he never died. The dead cannot rise. He either pretended or proved that he is an immortal god. And in general, Christ is the same as Apollo, the god of the inner Sun, healer and miracle-worker. Why have you made him the only one and forgotten the other gods?" And he further predicts: "Let Christians become the majority — they will kill those of other faiths."
What researchers did not understand: Historians of religion know about the syncretism of the Hellenistic world, about how Christianity absorbed images of Mithraism, the cult of Isis, Orphism. They also know about the later persecution of pagans by the Christian empire. But they rarely see the internal logic of pagan criticism of Christianity — not as "blind resistance to truth," but as a consistent philosophical position. Grandfather is right in one thing: many of Christ's attributes (son of a father-god, born of a mortal woman, miracle-worker, healer, dying and resurrecting god) are indeed present in the cults of Osiris, Dionysus, Apollo, Mithras. A 1st-century pagan saw this parallel. But modern researchers, raised in the Christian tradition, often either defend Christ's uniqueness or, conversely, reduce everything to borrowings, but do not give a voice to the pagan himself. Here, we hear the pagan's voice firsthand — through a medium.
4. Spiritual-psychological aspect: fear as an obstacle to evolution
New: Luke refuses to fly on the "shining chariot" because he is afraid of being burned. His fear is stronger than his desire to see Mary. He later regrets it himself. Mary (the Mother of God) says, "I was waiting for you there." This is a profound psychological moment: fear of the unknown, framed in religious categories, stops spiritual growth.
What researchers did not understand: Psychologists of religion (from William James to modern transpersonal psychologists) study religious experience, but rarely connect it with the phenomenon of contact with non-human intelligence. Luke demonstrates the classic "fear of sacrilege" — the fear of crossing an invisible boundary established by his own faith. Yet these same beings tell him, "We are people just like you." Researchers usually interpret such reports as "hallucinations" or "psychosis." But if we take the information seriously, we see a drama: a man is offered a real flight and a meeting with his beloved, but he refuses because of a theological belief ("divine fire will burn the sinner"). This is not madness; it is the tragedy of cultural limitation.
5. New insights about physicality and death: coma, body restoration, violence
New: Mary (the Mother of God) did not die, but fell into a coma. Her body was restored by the same beings. Luke says that they "were picking medical terms" and spoke among themselves in an incomprehensible language. This is a description of resuscitation and, possibly, technological rejuvenation or cloning of the body.
New: Luke was killed by hanging at the age of 84. Mary (the daughter) was raped and strangled at 17. These are not "peaceful deaths." Their spirits speak of this without anger, but with precision.
What researchers did not understand: Historians know that Luke, according to tradition, died at age 84 in Thebes (Greece) from natural causes. Here — a violent death in another place. Either tradition is mistaken, or this Luke (as a spirit who incarnated multiple times) is speaking about one of his incarnations, not the canonical apostle. Researchers who do not recognize multiple incarnations cannot explain this. They are stuck in a linear biography.
6. What researchers will never be able to understand through their methods
No archaeology will find "Luke's chariot" — it flew away. No textual criticism will restore Luke's conversation with the archangels — it was not recorded. No historical criticism will confirm that the pagan grandfather spoke these exact words — they did not enter the chronicles. Researchers are limited by the material trace and the written source. But here we have the living testimony of a spirit who remembers everything.
This does not mean such testimony is automatically true. It means that the methodology of positivist science fundamentally cannot verify or falsify it. Religious studies scholars and historians can only note: "Contactee Irina Podzorova reports the following…" and leave it in the realm of the unprovable.
But for those who accept the possibility of posthumous communication and multiple incarnations, this text is an invaluable source that complements and corrects official history.
Conclusion: unity of spirits despite rigid frameworks
The most important lesson of this contact is the words of Jesus to Luke: "We are all one in the light, and it makes no difference where her body is. The unity of spirits in the Universe is felt regardless of rigid frameworks." This is a challenge to everyone — atheists, religious fundamentalists, scientists, and mystics alike. "Rigid frameworks" are the hard boundaries into which we force reality: "matter only," "Scripture only," "method only," "my faith only." Yet unity exists beyond all this.
What new things did we learn? We learned that the Apostle Luke was invited into a spaceship and refused out of fear. That the Mother of God was taken in a coma and restored. That her daughter was killed by pagan elites who feared that Christians would become the majority and start killing them. That the pagan grandfather was more rational than many modern apologists. And that researchers did not understand the main thing: ancient people were not stupid or naive. They were simply translating reality into their own language. And we, moderns, continue to do the same — only our language is called "UFO" and "aliens." But the essence has not changed.
And perhaps the only thing that truly matters is not the name, but the willingness to enter the luminous sphere despite the fear. Luke did not enter. Would you?
Chapter 31. Concerning Luke, the Mother of Jesus, and the Heavenly Chariot
(Acts of the Holy Apostles. Non-canonical tale recorded from the words of the spirit of the apostle)
After James, the Lord's brother, had suffered martyrdom, and after John was exiled to Patmos, Luke, the beloved physician, remained in Ephesus, serving the Lord and healing the sick.
He was already eighty years old, and his eyesight had weakened, so that he wrote by the light of an oil lamp, in a low room, and the window was covered with cloth, for glass was unknown in those days.
And he copied many Gospels and epistles, including the epistles of Paul, which he had written from prison, and the Acts of the Apostles, which he had begun, he brought to the hearing of the believers.
In those days, Mary, the mother of our Lord Jesus Christ, fell asleep, and Luke participated in her burial, and wept over her, and they laid her body in a stone tomb, according to Jewish custom.
But Luke did not know that she had only fallen into a deep slumber, and her breathing was so faint that all thought her dead.
For so it pleased God, that her body should be taken from this world just as her Son's body was — not in corruption, but in mystery.
And a few days later, as Luke sat in his room copying a scroll, near nightfall, and the oil lamp was burning low — suddenly a light shone outside, brighter than the sun.
And there was a knock at the door. Luke was afraid, for he was not expecting guests at that hour. But he rose and opened it.
And he saw three men, tall in stature, in garments shining like lightning, and their faces were bright, and radiance emanated from them, so that it hurt to look.
And Luke thought, "These are angels sent from God." And he bowed to the ground before them, but they lifted him up, saying, "Do not bow, for we are people just like you, only from another world."
But Luke did not believe, for he had never seen such people on earth, and decided in his heart that they had taken on human form by God's will.
Then one of them, resembling the one called Gabriel, said, "We have come to you from Mary, the mother of Jesus. She is alive. We have restored her body, and she dwells in the same world as her Son. And she asked us to bring you to her."
Luke said, "How can this be? I myself laid her in the tomb." They answered, "You laid the body in the tomb, but not the spirit. And we took her body and healed it, for she did not die, but fell asleep."
And they led Luke out of the hut, and guided him by the arms, for he was old and weak, and they went down to a clearing where, among the trees, stood a great sphere, glowing with white light like the sun, resting upon dark supports.
And Luke said, "How can I enter there? This is divine fire — I will burn, for I am a sinful man, and you are angels, unafraid."
They smiled and said, "This light does not burn; it is only for illumination. And we are not angels; we are people just like you. Touch us."
But Luke did not dare to touch them and stood in fear, for he thought it was a temptation, and that he was unworthy to ascend the heavenly chariot.
And those men urged him for a long time, saying, "Mary is waiting for you. She wanted to see you. We will take you there and bring you back, and no one will know."
But Luke said, "Tell her that I love her and always pray for her. But I myself will not dare to appear before her in this body, for I feel unworthy."
Then the men were saddened and said, "As you wish. But you will regret it later." And they went into the chariot, and the sphere rose into the air without sound and disappeared in the sky, like a star vanishing beyond the horizon.
And Luke returned to his hut and wept for a long time, for he realized that his fear had been stronger than his love, and he had missed a meeting that would not come again in his lifetime.
And later, many years after, when his spirit left his body, he met Mary in the Kingdom of Heaven, and she said to him, "I was waiting for you then, and was surprised you did not come." And Luke was ashamed, but Jesus, who was nearby, said, "Do not judge one another, for we are all one in the light."
And concerning the death of Luke, let us say this. When he was eighty-four years old, he was preaching in a village, and there were pagan priests there who worshiped idols.
And Luke said to them, "Your gods are not gods, but wood and stone, the work of human hands." And one of the priests was enraged, for he was powerful in that city.
And the people of that priest seized Luke, and beat him, despite his gray hairs, and put a rope around his neck, and threw it over a tree branch, and strangled him.
But his spirit left his body quickly, like a cork from a vessel, and before it fell to the ground, Jesus received it in his hands, and Luke saw the Lord face to face, which he had not been granted in life.
And Luke said, "Lord, is it you? And is your mother here?" Jesus answered, "We are all one in the light, and it makes no difference where the body is. The unity of spirits is felt everywhere, regardless of place."
And Luke rejoiced and entered the rest of his Lord.
And concerning Mary, the daughter of Luke and Mary the Mother of God, we will speak briefly, for it is terrible to recall.
She was seventeen years old when she was visiting her grandfather, Luke's father, in a city on the seashore. Her grandfather was a rich and respected man, but a pagan, and he bowed to statues of Zeus, Athena, and Apollo.
And Mary went to the market, and from there to the sea, and there she met young men who had heard that she was a Christian, and they harbored malice against her because of her faith.
And they forced her into a chariot, and struck her on the head, and brought her to the basement of an abandoned house, and abused her, and beat her, and spat in her face, saying, "Will your Christ come to save you? If not, then He does not exist."
And when she said to them, "Christ died for all and rose again," they became even more enraged and strangled her.
And her body was found only three months later, when the smell gave away the place, and her parents buried her with tears, but also with faith that her spirit lives with the Lord.
And Mary, her mother, wept and asked Jesus in a vision, "Why did you not protect your sister?" And he answered her, "Why should I protect only her, and not the thousands of others who are killed every day? She is My sister, but all people are My brothers and sisters."
And Mary fell silent, for she understood that God's love knows no chosen ones, but extends to all, and that her daughter's martyrdom was a crown, not a curse.
This is what we heard from the spirit of Luke and from the spirit of Mary, the Mother of the Lord, and from the spirit of Mary, their daughter, in the days when Irina, the contactee, conversed with them in the light of the Holy Spirit.
And this is recorded not to change Scripture, but to supplement it with what did not enter the books due to human weakness or fear of heavenly chariots.
For many will not believe, but many will also see that the Lord works not only in synagogues and temples, but also in fields, on mountains, and in luminous spheres, for all that moves in heaven and on earth belongs to Him.
Amen.
Essay. The Fear That Hides Inside Love
Introduction: Three fears, one love
In a short session lasting less than an hour, three stories were told. And in each of them, fear and love intertwined so closely that they are almost impossible to separate. Luke is afraid to get into the luminous sphere and see the living Mary. Four young men kill a seventeen-year-old girl because they are afraid — that Christianity will become a force that will destroy their gods. Mary, the mother of Jesus, loses her son, then her daughter, then her husband — and continues to love, but her love passes through such pain that an ordinary heart would break.
This essay is not about morality. It is about how fear disguises itself. As piety. As anger. As quiet despair. And about how love proves stronger, even when it seems to have lost.
Part one. Fear as sacred duty: Luke
Luke is an old man. He is over eighty. He writes the Gospel, heals the sick, copies Paul's epistles. He has already seen the death of the apostles, the destruction of Jerusalem, Christians thrown into arenas. His faith has passed through fire and water. And then — three luminous beings. They say, "Mary is alive. She is waiting for you. We will take you to her."
And Luke refuses.
Why? He says, "I will burn from the divine light. I am a sinful man, and you are angels." They explain to him: the light is not hot, we are people just like you. He does not believe. Or — cannot believe. Because belief in the inaccessibility of God has become his fortress. For years, he has taught that man cannot approach the divine without intermediaries. And suddenly the intermediaries themselves remove all limits. That is frightening.
Luke is not afraid of pain. He is afraid of being unworthy. And he is also afraid that if he enters that sphere, his familiar world will collapse. It will turn out that God is not so distant. That he could have seen in life what he always believed was accessible only after death.
Luke's fear is the fear of too much love. He is ready to pray to Mary from afar. He is ready to write about her. He says, "I am unworthy." And he stays. And later regrets it. Mary will later say to him in the Kingdom of Heaven, "I was waiting for you." He will not answer. What is there to say?
Luke's fear is the quietest. It does not kill, does not destroy temples. It simply leaves a person alone in a dark room when a sphere shines outside. And this is probably the most common fear in religious people: the fear of a real encounter. We are ready to pray, fast, follow rules. But when God or his messenger knocks on the door and says, "Come, she is waiting for you" — we find a thousand reasons to stay.
Part two. Fear as hatred: the four young men
They are twenty to twenty-five years old. They are handsome, clean, rich. They have a chariot, slaves, time to spend at the markets. They could live ordinary lives — marry, trade, argue about philosophy. Instead, they stalk a seventeen-year-old girl, rape her, beat her, spit in her face, and strangle her.
Why?
They explain themselves: "Give you freedom — you'll slaughter everyone except your own faith. You already deny our gods. And if you become the majority, you will destroy us."
This is fear. Not animal fear of a predator, but existential fear of disappearance. They feel that Christianity is a virus that will erase their world. Their gods — Zeus, Apollo, Athena — will be declared demons. Their temples will be destroyed. Their children will be baptized. They sense this in advance. And they kill not out of cruelty (though cruelty is present), but out of panic.
But here is what is important. They do not kill a warrior or a preacher. They kill a girl. The most defenseless. Because real fear is always cowardly. It chooses the one who will not fight back. If they were truly afraid, they would go after the apostles, the bishops, the Roman Christian soldiers. But they go to the market and stalk a teenager.
Their fear is the fear of a future love they do not understand. Christianity teaches that God loves everyone, including enemies. For a pagan accustomed to a hierarchy of gods and people, this is destructive. If God loves a slave as much as a king, if God forgives an enemy, then what does the world rest on? On violence? On power? It turns out, yes. Their world rested on violence and power. And when love came that abolished these supports, they became afraid. And they killed.
But they could not kill love. Mary (the daughter) died, but at the moment of death she did not curse them. She asked, "What did I do to you?" And that is the question of a love that does not understand hatred. And this question is more frightening than any weapon. Because it lays bare: the murderers have no answer. They did not kill because of anything she did. They killed because they were afraid.
Part three. Fear as motherhood: Mary, who lost everyone
Mary, the mother of Jesus, loses her son. Not just a son — God. She stands at the cross. She sees him being killed. She lays his body in the tomb. And she does not go mad. Then she loses her husband — Joseph (or, in this story, Luke, though he is a different husband). He dies his own death or, later, a martyr's death. Then she loses her daughter — Mary, who is raped and killed at seventeen.
Three deaths. Three ruptures of a mother's heart.
And Mary does not stop loving. She weeps. She asks Jesus in a vision, "Why did you not protect your sister?" This is not rebellion. It is a question. She does not say, "I renounce." She does not say, "There is no God." She says, "I do not understand."
Jesus answers, "Why should I protect only her, and not thousands of others?"
This is a harsh answer. But it is truthful. Mary is not the mother of one child. She is the mother of all. And in this lies her greatness and her tragedy. She cannot ask for privileges for her daughter, because then she would cease to be the Mary who said "yes" to God at the Annunciation. Her "yes" was without conditions. It was not canceled when conditions became unbearable.
Mary's fear is the fear of a mother who sees her children dying and can do nothing. But she does not allow this fear to turn her to stone. She remains alive. She mourns. She continues. And in this lies her holiness — not in dispassion, but in the fact that fear did not conquer love.
Luke is afraid and yields to fear. The young men are afraid and kill. Mary is afraid — and remains. She does not fly on the sphere, does not take revenge on the murderers, does not curse God. She simply holds both love and pain in her heart. And lets go of neither.
Conclusion. What is the fear of love?
The fear of love is not the fear of being rejected. It is the fear that love will demand more from you than you are ready to give. Luke was ready to pray, but not ready to fly. The young men were ready to defend their gods, but not ready to hear that God is one and loves everyone. Mary was ready for everything — and God accepted that readiness. She did not need to fly on the sphere. She did not need to kill. She only needed not to close her heart.
This is the difference between a saint and an ordinary person. An ordinary person, confronted with fear, defends himself. A saint accepts the fear and walks through it. Mary did not stop being afraid for her children. She stopped allowing fear to control her love.
Luke later regretted it. The young men, if they are capable of repentance at all, perhaps also regretted it — but in another world. And Mary... Mary simply lives in the light of which Jesus spoke: "We are all one in the light, and it makes no difference where the body is."
Fear is not a sin. The sin is when fear becomes louder than love. Luke did not fly. The young men killed. And Mary remained — and won. Not because it was easier for her. But because she did not stop loving even when love became unbearable.
That is what holiness is. Not the absence of fear. But love that proves stronger.
