The World Beyond (12) Rescue work with Frances Banks, and Harold Sherman.
More that one person has commented to me that if we all survive death, where do we all go? There can’t be room for all of us, and the billions of people who have lived before us, our ancestors, and the whole primitive world. But just take a look at the size of the known physical universe. Astronomers calculate that our galaxy alone is 100,000 light years across, which is 946 quadrillion kilometers, or 588 quadrillion miles [588,000,000,000,000000 miles]. It is difficult for us to comprehend how enormous it is. But then, to think that the universe itself is 156 billion light years across, which would make the distance across it 9.46 trillion x 156 billion km – which would be almost 883 sextillian miles [ 882,960,000,000,000,000,000000 miles].. Then think how much space there is inside an atom. The mind boggles at such arithmetic and such vast distances. But once we start to think of the spirit world, how much vaster and more magnificent still that must be than the physical universe, lying beyond or outside, [and perhaps inside] space. Then, these computations are only made using our earth kilometers or miles. Similarly, time is measured in terms of the local solar system, as is motion. Those calculations, too, can only be approximate. The ancients Vedas tried to measure time and space in terms of cosmic days, and ages, (yugas), but relatively speaking, we have not much more understanding of reality than a frog looking up at the sky from its pond.
Talking of large numbers of people, Harold Sherman the medium and researcher used to visit the spirit worlds in his sleep to do rescue work, just as Lord Dowding did before him. He was able to remember much of his experiences there. Here is a summary of one of his visits where he speaks of the vast numbers of people present.
Harold says that early in the morning of December 6, 196r, he was taken to a vast amphitheatre in the spirit world which could accommodate untold millions of people. Some great event was about to take place and there was an air of great expectation on the part of those assembled. But it was the most unusual assembly of human creatures he had ever seen.
It was made up of the down-and-outs, the misfits, the degenerates, the insane and psychotic, the crazed, the confused, the dazed, the religious fanatics, the hate mongers, the primitives, the embattled, the alcoholics and dope addicts of every race and colour, known and unknown. All were there, held by some strange spell that had been put upon them. Harold saw in each face, however strange, ghastly, carnal or distraught, a look of deep yearning, as though each entity was somehow seeking release from conditions it had either brought upon itself or had had imposed upon it.
Harold was in the company of friends from the other side They told him he had been brought there to observe the event and to meet one person he knew in particular. This turned out to be the well-known vocalist and band and choir director, Harry Barnhart, for whom Harold had once been manager for his “Great American Band.”
Harold saw in front of him a stupendous arena bathed in vari-coloured light, which seemed to billow like a mist. Suddenly, he heard music in the distance, and as it grew in volume, marching figures became visible. The curtain of clouds lifted. A great band was playing, but in advance of this band there was a horde of flag-bearers. There must have been thousands – and each flag was different – flags of nations and rulers long since vanished from this earth. They formed a circle around the edge of the arena, to make way for the tremendous band of musicians playing a variety of instruments, some of which were unknown to Harold. Harry Barnhart accompanied by his Indian guide came forward to conduct, bringing with him a mammoth choir, which led this gigantic community choral concert. Harold found himself talking to this conductor and former friend, who explained that the Native Americans who had played such a part in the earth’s history and spirituality were assisting in the rounding up and assembling of these earthbound souls. The only way many of these souls could be reached was through the vibration of music, which established a new rhythmic tone in their consciousness and helped remove the discords of their previous lifetime’s experiences.
Harold became conscious that there were many experienced helpers and associates working with Harry, the conductor, – great numbers of them – intermingled with the vast assemblage which contained millions who had passed from earth life thousands of years before, but who were represented, in one way or another, by the flags and standard bearers in the arena. The concert began, and Harold watched as the white figure of the conductor with his baton led the millions upon millions present into the opening chorus of praise and adoration, which struck instantly into the heart and soul of everyone present.
The music was too transcendent, too moving in its affect upon all present for Harold to be able to endure it for long, and he awakened back at home, but with the indelible memory of the experience. It remained with him, a vivid experience and as real as any physical event.
Condensed from Chapter 13 of “The Dead Are Alive” by Harold Sherman. Fawcett Gold Medal Paperback. Ballantine/Random House, New York. 1981.
In contrast to this account of dealing with vast numbers of earthbounds at one time, in the style of a Billy Graham Crusade, Frances Banks communicated stories of how she dealt with individual cases in a more personal way.
FRANCES: I have met souls here who had become prisoners of wealth, and have witnessed their difficulties in learning to adjust their lust for possessions to their inner life of the Spirit. The manner in which their earthly successes and slavery to money values has gradually subsided to its true position in the scales of life.
One such story is that of the man who loved money, the multi-millionaire who could not stop drawing more and more wealth into his bank accounts, and into his whole life. He was often ruthless in his bargains which he continued making until his death as an old man. Always he counted and recounted his successes with a secret and all-pervading glorification.
As he grew older he became meaner, hugging his wealth, and fighting even judgments made against him for incomes to be paid to his two wives and the two sons and one daughter who were the issue of these marriages.
It was piteous to watch him when he arrived here, and his first endeavours to understand that a money-less existence was possible.
He rested for what my readers might think was a long period of time. Here, it seemed like a morning gone to us. After his extended sleep he was guided to this Centre where I still carry out some duties [as a spirit rescuer, helper and healer]. And thus we met and talked. There are nurses and teachers there and slowly our poor deluded miser learned that money had no value, except as an instrument of commerce, and here [in the Spirit world] there was no necessity for commerce. This was a sad blow, but he recovered from it. Later came the period acknowledging his debts to humanity and a deep desire to give aid to the poor and struggling still in the earth world.
It was the first step towards future development, so nobody interfered with his desires. Usually, we must take our [own] first steps towards living happily in this World of Thought, and we are never thwarted in the furtherance of our plans. So it came about that the miser rejected the fascination of personal wealth, and concentrated his thoughts on charity.
I did not see our new arrival during several visits. He appeared content, with his mind deep in concentration and planning. One could almost imagine him back in the business world, urged on by the lure of a new concept. [When] I greeted him, he seemed to stare beyond me and I saw what appeared to be tears.
FRANCIS - Sadness, in this lovely garden?
MILLIONAIRE - Failure. I’m a fool, Sister.
[Frances saw a dark cloud about him].
MILLIONAIRE - I was going to do so much and my plan worked – too well. I kept it to myself. I never did tell anyone when I was out for anything big.
F - Like an oil merger?
M - Yes, Sister. Like a take-over, only this time I was GIVING AWAY money. I found a deserving family in the East End of London. A man with little money, no work, and small prospects, a wife and two children. A fine family. They deserved better.
F - Yes.
M - Well, I concentrated all my thought on them. I imagined some of my wealth (and I had so much) going to them. I even prayed that by some miracle it could. I thought about it continually. I imagined them well off, happy in their own home with their children at good schools – all the advantages I had had. It worked. The husband won the [football] pools but the whole thing was an utter failure.
[Frances became aware of a visiting Presence beside them].
VISITOR - They found the money was of no use?
M - They went mad with it, spent the money unwisely – rushed about, invested, gambled, flung the wealth that once had been mine about like maniacs. The husband got into bad company. He began to drink and, being unused to alcohol, the spirit [addictive habit] mastered him. There were quarrels, harsh scenes with his wife. The children were unhappy. Oh…oh…I never would have believed. It was all so dreadful, so degrading. Then they lost a lot of money on a foolish bet – and suddenly, most of it had gone.
VISTOR - So you had been playing God, and….
M - And I had never realised the responsibility….
VISITOR [with great gentleness] - Of course! How could you have realised… But this does show that you still believe in the power of money. You are right, of course, my friend, money has power – for good and for evil.
M - But I had not realised the evil! I was trying only to give back what I had stolen from others.
V - There is no punishment here. You have made your own hell in your mind.
M - But those poor people?
V - Ah, yes. They will learn their lesson, and find a truer way of life. We will send help to open their spiritual eyes to the proper way of living - that of earning one’s living and of treating such gifts in the true way. I fear you brought almost a volcano about yourself, but it cannot destroy you. Only you yourself can do that. You have learned a hard lesson.
VISITOR (speaking aside to Frances) - He needs rest, Sister, and love and understanding. You will take him to his future home? [Frances agrees and the Visitor seemed to dwindle, fade and leave].
FRANCES (to Helen) Later I guided our learner to the hills of beauty and peace. He was silent, apprehensive of what was in store for him. We did not communicate.
The hills were green and quiet, their slopes glowing with the blue of harebells, and the pink of clover. Presently we came upon a lush valley. Nestling in its folds was a little white house, its walls surrounded by gardens of flowers. A woman came from the door to meet us. She was tall and straight, and walked towards us with a quiet grace. The two souls met and looked fully at one another.
MOTHER - My son!
MILLIONAIRE - Mother! Oh, Mother! [They embrace].
MOTHER - Come home, my dear. [She drew him towards the gardens of the house].
I turned away. Yet, as I went, I heard the quiet voice say in the most placid matter-of-fact tones, which must have been like balm upon the unquiet spirit of her son beside her:
MOTHER - You always loved flowers. Come – and see these here…
I left them with the knowledge that the cement of earth had been washed away from our newcomer, the former millionaire, and he was on his way to the discovery of the Spirit of Light.
Reviewed from “The Challenging Light” by Helen Greaves. Neville Spearman, 1984.
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