And inside the temple, built to resemble the Jefferson Memorial in Washington, only much larger, would be the statue. He saw the scene in his mind’s eye: Worshipers were prostrating themselves before it. As Mark gazed into the mists of that enchanted vision, the picture in his mind snapped into focus. The statue was speaking. It was his face, his body, his voice. The statue in the temple to be built in Babylon was—it was him!

“My friend,” he said to the Iraqi leader, “I share your enthusiasm. But if we were to build the center for our Union for Peace here, how long do you estimate it would take?”

“If cost were no object, Mr. President,” he said, “we could easily conscript a hundred thousand or more of the most skilled construction workers from around the world. We could import equipment, materials, and mobilize vast resources from everywhere to complete the project in record time. Giant cranes and earth-moving equipment would be needed. We could hire artisans, engineers, craftsmen—the very finest in the world. I believe that in three years we could erect— here on the place where we now standing—the physical structure for the government of the world.”

Beaulieu turned slowly. Where there was only barren earth and sand, he saw great towers and soaring columns. Where there were coarse, scruffy weeds, a vast city would arise. “In three years, Haddad and I can build the political and economic structure for the greatest government of mankind in all recorded history.” As the two leaders clasped hands, they said in unison, “We will build it together.”

On the flight back to Washington, Haddad and Beaulieu were intoxicated by the prospect of what lay ahead. As they were enjoying a delicious dinner and a bottle of vintage wine, Tauriq Haddad remarked, “It will be a palace fit for the Messiah himself.”

“That’s an interesting expression,” the president replied. “Why do you choose it? And what do you know of the Messiah?”

“Why do you ask?” said Tauriq.

“My mother Rebekah died when I was a small boy. But I remember that she often spoke to me of the Messiah—the one who would come as savior of the nation of Israel and the world. His name, she said, was to be Immanuel—‘God with us.’ She told me that observant Jews were constantly speaking as if the Messiah could return any day—to restore the glory of their nation. Yet, no one ever came.”

Tauriq Haddad looked deep into the eyes of Mark Beaulieu and said softly, “I am glad that you possess this knowledge, my very dear friend. But I suspect you know much more than you are saying. For when you meditated at the feet of Shiva, you received a vision, and you knew, even then, that there was a destiny ahead of you.