SpiritNetwork Insights
I first saw her in the small, crowded meeting room above the bookstore. A dozen people filled the room, many with well-read copies of A Course in Miracles. My students sat in hard metal chairs or stood and talked in small, intimate groups. As I set up my white board and prepared for class, I noticed her, the new one, the new student, who was perhaps only a visitor. She appeared in her middle twenties, an attractive woman with long blonde hair falling past her shoulders. I noted her designer suit, sensible heels and attaché. The young woman talked cordially with a few of my Monday night regulars. She projected energy and good cheer. She shined. I thought she must be a businesswoman or a young professional.
Before class, I introduced myself. The young woman smiled. As she shook my hand, she said, “Hi, I’m Marianne Smith.”
I learned she was an attorney working for a small group of investors. When I asked if she studied The Course, she opened her attaché and took out an ancient, hard cover text. “This is an original, a first edition.” She said with pride, “It was my mother’s. I’ve been a student for as long as I can remember!”
I started the class with a prayer, read a passage or two from The Course and fielded a variety of questions. Later, I gave a short lecture and illustrated some points on the white board. As usual, class discussion was animated, and at times, passionate. The young woman sat quietly, front and center in studious attention. I expected comment and participation from her but she simply observed. As I lectured, I could see her smiling as she jotted down notes on a pad. I wondered what she was writing. The class was nearly over before she spoke. She stood and asked, “Who wrote A Course in Miracles?”
I paused before answering. It was a question expected from a new student, but not one from a Course devotee. “I thought you had studied the Course,” I said, “You must have drawn your own conclusions.”
“Mr. Ryan, I’m asking for your opinion. Who do you teach is the author?”
I looked at her and stated in a calm voice, “I believe Jesus wrote A Course in Miracles.”
“The Jesus of the Bible? The historical Jesus?”
“Yes, that’s what I teach.”
The young woman folded her arms and her face grew stern. For a moment, she gazed about the room before returning her attention to me. “Mr. Ryan,” she said, “do you realize A Course in Miracles is copyrighted and trademarked? It’s not in the public domain. You can’t teach what you want. It is not a religion nor does it have anything to do with religion. You know very well Helen Schucman wrote The Course. Why would you say differently? After a pause, she asked, “Mr. Ryan, what are you doing here? Are you some kind of tin pot guru, trying to start a cult?”
The woman’s remarks stirred up my students and some became angry. “Sit down!” Said a man, “What are you trying to pull?”
“Yes, sit down,” said another, “We don’t know what you are talking about!”
I quieted the class and, after taking a moment to compose myself, I answered her. “I realize A Course in Miracles is copyrighted and trademarked. I know it’s not in the public domain. I believe the author is Jesus, the historical Jesus because that is who he says he is. That’s what I teach. If you’re from the Foundation, and want to shut down my class, just do it. I don’t need a lecture!”
The young woman looked at me for an instant, then turned and faced the class. “I’m not from the Foundation,” she said, “I’m here to demonstrate how bad things are and how bad things could get.”
Her revelation precipitated a chorus of questions and complaints. I put my hands in my pockets and slowly shook my head. I waited as my students vented their outrage and disbelief. Behind my composure, or what was left of it, I felt relieved she was not the Thought Police. Still, I felt the sting of her clever demonstration. The young woman had made her point.
When the class finally settled down, I said, “The copyright issue is very controversial. I thank you for your comments, but class is nearly over. Its time to meditate and put all these differences aside.”
The young woman smiled and I saw it was a true and genuine smile. In a firm, clear voice filled with child-like innocence, she addressed the class, “Let me just say, that despite all appearances, Our Heavenly Father has not forgotten us. I assure you help is on its way.”
To my amazement, I felt her words spread out and across the room like a balm of peace. Contentment and sanctity descended upon us. People relaxed in their seats and faces smiled. In that moment, all was forgiven, and all resentments seemed far away. The transformation was remarkable. I watched Marianne Smith return to her seat and place the notebook in her attaché.
Someone dimmed the lights, and we moved our chairs into a circle and held hands. I lead the mediation with few words, allowing spirit to fill the vast expanses of silence. With eyes closed, I noticed a quickening that night, a heightened energy. A deep, tranquil peace flowed though our little group. In my mind’s eye, I saw rays of white light, which suddenly expanded until the light encompassed everything. Startled, I opened my eyes. In the near darkness of the room, I saw Marianne. Her face was serene. An aura of golden light surrounded her and passed though either hand as she touched the circle of our joined hands. She shined. I gazed in wonder for long moment before closing my eyes and returning to peace. I felt renewed and healed. A short time later, I thanked Our Heavenly Father, Jesus and the Holy Spirit and closed the meditation.
Afterward there were handshakes and hugs, gentle laughter and smiles. Many commented on the intensity of the meditation. I watched Marianne talked to everyone, and I think everyone gave her a hug. Before long the class dispersed and Marianne and I were left standing in front of the bookstore. It was a beautiful spring night. I offered to buy her a cup of coffee and she accepted. We crossed the street to a small coffee shop. Inside, a few college students lounged with opened books, or typed on laptop computers. We walked to the counter, ordered and found an empty table.
Marianne sipped her coffee and causally brushed a strand of hair from her face. She opened her attaché and removed the hardbound text of A Course in Miracles. She passed it to me to examine. I saw that it was a first edition and so well read it was nearly falling apart. A moment later she spoke. “I’m a Miracles kid,” she said, “My mom was studying the lessons when I was born. I learn to meditate before I could ride a bike.” With a laugh, she added, “When I was a little girl, I thought everyone talked to the Holy Spirit and asked for His help.”
As I perused the book, I heard her continue. “My mom told me about the early days, when study groups were popping everywhere, and people really felt God had sent a miracle to the world. Back then, no one knew what they were doing. There were no real teachers, so they let the Course be their guide. It was a phenomenon, a spontaneous outpouring of spirit! Within in a few years, hundreds of books and articles commented on The Course, teachers immerged and taught; groups matured and new groups formed.”
I looked at this beautiful woman who was young enough to be my daughter and smiled, “Yes, I remember. It was a time full of promise. I wonder what happened?”
Marianne did not answer. She folded her arms and looked detachedly off to the side. I finished my coffee and waited for a response. When it came, I was surprised.
“The Course has powerful friends,” she said, “I work for a group of them. I’m cannot reveal their names, but I assure you, if I did you would recognize many of them. Most have been with The Course since the beginning. They consist of writers and teachers, attorneys and financiers, philosophers and theologians. There is even a politician or two. They share in common a love for A Course in Miracles and a belief that it has and will continue to change the world. They believe that The Course is a gift of God, freely given and it was never meant to be controlled by a small group of people no matter how well intentioned.”
Marianne paused for a second, then continued. “Our people are not pleased with the events of the last few years. The Miracles community is wracked with lawsuits and brotherly in fighting. Books are suppressed and dissident voices are persecuted. Scholarship has all but stopped; The Course Community is in decline and disarray. They asked is this of God or is this of man? That’s how the group was formed. They decided to intervene.”
“Intervene? Wapnick and the Foundation own The Course, or it least the copyright. What can you do?”
The young woman laughed softly. She then said, “Jack, how can a man own A Course in Miracles? Ken and his partners deserve respect and compensation for the work they’ve done, but he is only a steward, a manager of a sacred trust. And right now, he’s doing a terrible job. But lets say you’re right. What can be owned can be bought. And that’s the plan. When the time is right, our group will purchase all copyright, trade and service marks for A Course in Miracles.
For a moment, I considered her words. I then exclaimed, “That would take millions of dollars!”
“Jack, we’re prepared to spend what ever it takes. We’ll purchase it for any price. The problem is Wapnick won’t sell. But he might have to sell or be forced to sell. Its clear he’s on a dangerous path and running on empty. A legal judgment or other financial reverses could easily lead to bankruptcy. Think about it. The rights to A Course in Miracles could fall in the wrong hands. That is why we keep a close eye on the situation and are prepared to act.
“I don’t know, Marianne. I’ve had my fill of self-proclaimed Guardians of The Course. I don’t know who to believe.”
Marianne looked into my eyes. Her voice was firm and yet sincere, “Jack, we are students of The Course. We believe in miracles. We will not attack or condemn another to further our goals. We can only protect the truth and wait patiently until the time is right.”
“And that time might be years away.”
“That’s right. We may have to wait until Dr. Wapnick retires or dies. We think his successor may be amenable to a deal. On the other hand, it could happen tomorrow.
“What then?”
“It’s been decided to relinquish all copyright, trade and service marks. A Course in Miracles will be in the public domain. It will be open for debate and scholarship. It will take its place with the great spiritual masterpieces of the world. When this happens, we expect a renaissance, a revival of interest in its message.”
“It sounds like a plan,” I said with a laugh, “just buy the copyright!”
Marianne closed the book and placed it in her attaché. She then said, “No Jack, you’re wrong. We’re not buying anything. We’re paying a ransom.”
For a moment, her remark hung mysteriously in the air. I think it was some days before I fully realized what she meant.
Afterwards, I walked her to her car. Before she left, she hugged me. She then said, “I’ve been visiting Course groups across the country. I’ve been urging teachers and students to hang in there a little while longer. Help is on its way.”
She started her car and I watched her drive off into the night.
I have no way of knowing if what this young lady told me was true. It seems incredible that people could so love The Course that they would buy it at any price then simply give it away. It was a plan not of this world but for the world; a reversal of thinking that altered time and created that tiny instant where love and brotherhood were again possible. It required letting go of the old idea that The Course needed protection beyond its own freedom to be what it is.
In the following months the Internet news and discussion sites buzzed with sightings of the Shining Stranger. She was seen in Albuquerque, Los Angeles and New Orleans. She reportedly visited groups in Sydney, Australia. Along the way, she stirred great excitement and controversy in the Miracles Community. Many championed her cause but most, I believe, were simply confused.
For my part, I often think of this Shining Stranger who visited for an evening with a message of expectancy and hope. I had no money, nor any power to affect the outcome of such a great undertaking. Still, as a brother in The Course, she wanted me to know the long, dark night would soon be over. And help was on its way.
Read more at The Shining Stranger website http://www.shiningstranger.homestead.com.