Hidden Meanings

how it all came together


I have had people ask me concerning how I became involved in all of this.

How and when was my life changed in this direction.

Well I feel it is time to share with you , my background, and how all of this evolved.



The Catholic Church was a very imposing building.

I remember how a door closing would echo against the massive stone architecture

I was young, very young.

I came to church and I sat in awe at the authority that looked down upon me from all sides.

Stained glass windows portrayed rather scary looking people in various modes of religious interaction.

 The home I left behind was populated by two brothers, a sister, a caring, and very strong

willed mother, and a father who was saturated with cheap muscatel wine.

So saturated that the appearance of the Newark police with dad in tow

became a regular occurrence .



I remember the violence.

I remember seeing my mother chase my father up the stairs with a large butcher knife,

and as he slammed the bathroom door to escape her wrath, she buried the knife into the

wood of that door clear up to the handle.


 I remember seeing my brother rolling down the stairs as punches were thrown,

 and blood was splattered throughout the house.

 I remember the police who were summoned by neighbors coming to the house often.


 Mostly they stood at the door, obviously reluctant to get too deeply involved.

 I remember the violence. Mostly the violence.



So as I sat in church, my eyes were drawn to the man who was hanging

from a cross above the altar.


The man was bleeding from his side, as well as from his hands, and feet.

I innocently asked who he was.

I was told it was Jesus, the son of God.


I asked who did this to him.

I was told that his father was the one who did this.


His father tortured his son to death.

His father brutally made a plan that required his son to be tortured to death.

The reason for all of this violence.?


It was explained to me that God required blood to be shed so that

he could forgive me.

So I walked out of that church and within myself I brought to Gods' attention the

fact that what he did was very very wrong.




I was particularly incensed because I saw my own father hurt his kids.

But at least my father was drunk at the time.

It seems that Jesus' father was sober, and very clear on the violence he was

about to carry out against his own son.



At that time our family broke up.


I had 2 brothers and 1 sister.

We couldn't get a place together then so they went to live with their friends and my

mother and I wound up in a very rundown hotel in Newark NJ.


It was called the Hotel Esquire.

It was a place where transients lived and God knows who else.


I remember the first night we were there in the one room with my mother cooking

on a hot plate that there was a gun fight in the hall right outside of our room.

I never found out who got shot but someone did.

I remember the violence.



Well the family finally got back together.


My brothers had been in the service and that qualified us to get a converted army

barracks to live in.

There were 3 small homes in the barracks.


My father had become increasingly violent.

One night he turned the gas on and if my mother had not been awakened and turned it off,

I probably would not be here with you.




Then came the day.


I returned home from school as a very young child.

I opened the door and as I looked toward the bedroom doorway I saw what appeared

to be a lamp or something in the doorway.


As I came closer I saw that it was my father, hanging in the doorway.

I ran out the back door to the unit next door and got my mother.

She and a friend went to see what happened.


I remember peering out the window of the unit next door and I could see on an

angle as the police carried a canvas body bag out of my house.

That was him.

My fathers short life came to an end via suicide at the age of 49 years.


Over the years there have been people who have tried to get me to put that

memory out of my mind.

I would not let them do that. It is part of my life.

It is mine, for better or for worse.




Again I went to church. This time with my mother.

We had the difficult duty of talking with the priest about arranging for

my fathers funeral.


Oh no, said the priest. He cannot be buried in the church. He committed suicide.

It cannot be done here. Sorry.




We left the church.  I felt pretty good.


If this church was so wrong about my father who really was a very sick person,

they might very well be wrong about Jesus' father.

In fact I was sure that they were wrong about Jesus father.


I then set about to prove it.  





How does a little boy take on the system?

Church, tradition, school.


Who will listen to a little boy?

I was kind of discouraged. I knew my father did what he did because he was sick.


When he was sober he was the nicest guy you could ever find.

He just couldn't stay sober that much, and when he was drunk, he became evil.




I went to Elmwood Park which was located close to our home in East Orange NJ.

I was deep in thought. Far deeper then a little boy should be.

I was alone. I sat on a bench at the oval.



There were ball fields in the middle of the oval.

The oval had a gravel path that went all the way around it.


There were kids playing ball, and down at the far end there were teams playing ball,

and they had uniforms.

I just stared ahead at them.



Then suddenly a man sat on my bench.

 I did not see him as he approached.


He had brown shoes with laces, gray pants, and a gray sweater.

He wore a hat. I think it was brown. It was like a fedora.


He didn't look at me. I looked at him out of the comer of my eye.

He was looking straight ahead. Then all of a sudden he spoke.

" I hear that your upset", he said. "I'm not upset", I replied.


"Oh yes you are, he said, and I know why".

"OK, why am I upset, if you know so much", I said.


 He then looked at me with piercing blue eyes.

"Your upset because they said that God hurt his son Jesus, and you don't think that

  really happened.


 Am I right", he said. "Yes, I said, your right".

"But how do you know".

 "I know many things" he said.



I stood up and was getting a little scared.

He said, "stay just a moment. Billy".


I interrupted. "How do you know my name"? 

He replied, "I know everybody's name".


He went on, "Billy, I have heard that you would like to tell everybody the

truth about Jesus.

I understand that you want to tell everybody that God

did not hurt Jesus, is that true?"


I nodded my head yes and then I said, "but I really don't know what to say,

and I'm not sure what happened to Jesus.

Who will listen to me.?"


The man smiled a bit and then said, "suppose I can get you all of the information

that you will need.

Will you tell everybody the truth?"


I said , "sure I will. Let's have it".

He then said, "it will come to you Billy.

It will come to you".





He then got up and began to walk away. I yelled, "hey"!.

But he never turned around.

He walked around the oval quite slowly. I watched him.


I never took my eyes off of him. I wanted to see where he went.

I decided to follow him and see if he went to a house or if he got into a car or

just what happened.


About three quarters of the way around the oval, he turned, he walked up an

embankment and disappeared into a group of trees.  

I jumped off of the bench and ran as fast as I could.

I was going to see where he went.


I ran up the hill into the area where he had disappeared.




There was no one there. Then I heard a sound like a cooing.

I looked up and there on a branch about 3 feet above me was a dove.


Just as a kid would do, I talked to the Dove.

"Did you see a man come in here?"  The bird said coo, and flew away.


I reached down, picked up a twig and walked back down to the oval.


Oh well. Forget about all this, I thought.



I walked back to the park entrance. I took one last look back to the park bench.


There was a bird perched on the back of the bench.



Was that the dove I had seen minutes earlier. I decided not to go any closer.


I just walked home, and thought about the man, the hat, and the dove.







Life went on for me quite normally up until I reached the 6th grade.

At that point something very strange happened.


Of course I had no idea that anyone or anything was moving my life.

I was far too young to consider that.

I had put the idea of telling people about the truth concerning Jesus far out of my mind.

I forgot about it.




 When I was in the sixth grade I suddenly had a deep need to be alone.

 I began to stay away from school. No one knew where I was or where I went.


 I used to roam the streets of Newark New Jersey. I would hide in the woods for hours.

 Yes there were woods in Newark then. In Newark they called the woods, lots.


I would find a place deep in the woods and I would sit on a log and talk with birds,

squirrels ,or anything else that happened to come along. Mostly though I just hid.

For some reason that I did not understand at that time, I had to be totally

cut off from everybody.


Here in the center of Newark, I was totally alone.




I continued to be drawn to the woods on and off for 6 months, until the school

I was going to could not deal with me any longer and I was told to leave. I did.

That was Sacred Heart School in Newark NJ


Actually I was expelled.

Things started to get a little bit normal for me.




I was enrolled into St. Peters Catholic school in Newark where I was taken

under the wing of a wonderful nun.


She had no reservations about my escapades.

She simply encouraged me that I would make it.

She put her arm around me and said, Billy we're going to make it.


She was a great person. I never have forgotten her.

I graduated from St. Peters, and enrolled into St. Charles High School in Newark.




High School was most uneventful except for one thing.

As a teenager I began to have an obsession with classical music.


I would take myself into dark rooms and play the music of Tchaikovsky,

Beethoven, Schumann etc, as loud as I could.

I was carried into great times of pathos, and then lifted sky high in amazing exhilaration.


I could not get enough.

Turn off the lights, turn on the sound and let me soar.


This went on for several years.

Here I was, as a teenager, meditating, yet I had no idea I was doing it.

I can almost see the man on the bench displaying a sheepish grin.


I had spent many hours alone in the woods.

I had spent many hours alone in dark rooms with Mozart.




After High School, I spent four years in the Navy.

That was so important for me.


It let me meet new friends and wash my mind out from

the scary young times.

Those four years helped me a lot.



The next phase was a need on my part to read the Bible.

So I did. I read the Bible through three times.


For the most part I found it boring, brutal, and disgusting.

I started to develop ideas about prophecy, and the priesthood, and religion in general

and for some strange reason (smile), I wanted to share my thoughts.




I met a Baptist minister whose name was Dale McCoy.


He was starting a church in Point Pleasant NJ.

Somehow Dale and I came together in a restaurant, and I asked him if I could share some

thoughts at his church. Dale McCoy agreed.

Here I was folks. Standing at the speakers platform in a Baptist church.

I cannot even recall what I was talking about, but talk I did.

The bug was biting me. I became anxious for a little more excitement.

Joan and I connected with an Assembly of God Church.

On occasion I would speak, but for the most part I listened, read , and listened.



I received a phone call to take over a fundamentalist church in Forked River NJ.

I was excited about the possibility of being a pastor at my own church.

The church was fundamentalist to the core.

Born again, washed in the blood, slain in the spirit.

The whole thing, and I was leading the pack and loving it.

Crowds were good. My teaching was based on the love message of Jesus. All was well.



Then I was sitting on a bench. Not in Elmwood park.

This bench was nowhere that can be pinpointed on a map.

I cannot even remember trees, or gravel, or anything other then the bench.


I sat on the bench and was staring into nothingness.

Then he appeared.

He was wearing brown shoes with laces, gray slacks, a gray sweater,

and that hat.


I stared at him with my mouth open. I could not speak a word.




He turned to me. He looked deep into my eyes. He said, "It's time Bill.

Now is the time for you to do what you said you would do".

I replied, but I'm still not sure. "I have a church now.


I am a Christian. I am born again. Do you realize that."?

He said, "sure Bill I know, but now it's time".


With that, he rose from the bench, and I will never forget this.

He walked about 3 feet to the right of where I was on the bench.

He then turned around. He put his right hand to the front of the brim of his hat.


He tipped his hat to me, smiled, and disappeared.




A most strange and significant thing happened in this drama.

Joan and I were living on Riviera Court in Point Pleasant NJ.


It was dark out and the garbage men would be collecting the garbage the next day.

I took the can out to the curb.


I put it down, and I felt something strange, though I did not hear anything.

I looked up, and there about 500 feet or so above me was a large triangle something or other.


At each point of this very large thing was a green light.

It hovered over me for about 15 seconds. I stood there with my mouth open staring.

Then it began to move slowly in a southerly direction with absolutely no noise.

No engine noise of of any kind.


I went to the TV and there was no report of a UFO being seen.

I went the next day to the newspapers and there was no report.


It was a very strange encounter, but from that time, I began to see things very differently.

I don't know why, I just did.

Something in me changed.




One day soon after that, Joan insisted on going to a frame store to buy picture frames.

 I argued that I was too busy. I did not want to go.


The argument was quite heated as she insisted that I go.

The drive to the store was quiet. I don't think that we talked at all.


In the store, Joan went over to the frame department.

On the other side of the store they had a department where they sold used books.


I wandered over to see what they had.

I was looking for something by Oral Roberts, or Billy Graham.



 I looked down on the floor, and there I saw a book with a green and white cover.

The title of the book was "Man Was Not Born To Cry".

The author was Joel Goldsmith.


I opened the book, and there was Joel Goldsmith standing on the oval in the park,

beckoning to me and saying, come on Bill.


Then I saw Emmit Fox, and he taught me through his books, and Hilton Hotema,

and Mr. Gaskill, who wrote a wonderful metaphysical dictionary, and Helena Blavatsky.


What happened to Billy Graham and Oral Roberts?

Who were these people?




Well I began to tell people in the church about the wonders contained within themselves.

I began to tell them of the wonders contained within nature.


I did not tell them about Jesus. I was afraid.

I began to tell them of meditation. I told those who were still there.


Most of them had left.

There were very few.

No one wanted to listen.


There was no turning back. I knew that my days in the woods as a child,

my days in dark rooms with classical music, my Bible studies, the strange triangular craft,

were all part of something very special.


I know that they were all part of the plan that the man on the bench had sent to me.

With all of what I had received I was now in the position to tell people the truth.

I was now in a position to tell the world the truth.



All but two people of the original group of about 60 who came to the church originally, left.

Then new people began to come. Television opportunities opened locally.


Then one day I spoke clearly and positively, and told those assembled.

I have good news for you.

God did not crucify Jesus.

God did not require that Jesus be crucified.

God does not require bloodshed as a condition for forgiveness.


I explained that the crucifixion of Jesus was a misreading on the part of the system,

of the fact that in  November and December the sun in the sky must pass near the

Southern Cross constellation prior to entering the tomb of the winter solstice

for three days and three nights.


In other words, if the Sun of God does not go through the cross, there

cannot be new life in the spring.


How we have misunderstood the allegory of the cosmos.

We have used middle ages mentality to scare people, and we have allowed

a terrible blasphemy against God.


How sick it is that we teach our children that God cannot forgive unless blood flows.

How sick it is that we teach our children that God would allow his own son to be tortured

to death in order to satisfy his ego.


How terribly sick are our ways.




I think sometimes of the man on the bench. I wonder where he is now?

I wonder what he is doing.


Probably talking to another little boy or girl,  about things to come, wonderful,

beautiful, healing things, to come.




Now let us reason together.


If the traditional religions are wrong about the crucifixion, what else are they wrong about.

If the crucifixion of Jesus is actually the story of the crucifixion of the sun

in the southern hemisphere, possibly the other traditional concepts we have been

forced to receive with unquestioned gratitude, are the same.


I look at all of the old stories, but differently. I look in the light of scientific fact and

common sense, neither of which have any place in Christian fundamentalism.


Let nothing escape the microscope of our inquiry.

Let nothing be so holy that it becomes off  limits to questions.


When we look at the condition of the world, and how so much of it has been damaged

by religion, wouldn't it be well for all of us to reconsider our fundamental beliefs?

Perhaps by doing so we will be able to reach truths that will open the windows of heaven,

and bring us to a new age harmony with nature and with each other.


Wouldn't it be wonderful if all of the people of the world had no reason to be

suspicious  of each other simply because of beliefs.

If we are able to drive a wedge into the very center of religious superstition,

we shall bring down curtains and walls that have separated the worlds peoples.


What a wonderful thing that would be.

I am sure the man on the bench would be pleased.




Try to be open, and in so doing, try to simply allow new ideas to receive

thinking time within your mind.

No one can ask for more then that. I certainly could not.



So what do we do? What is our purpose?

What is my purpose?


First and foremost there is a pledge made to the "man on the bench".

I must tell as many as will listen that there was no crucifixion of Jesus Christ

that was a condition of Gods' forgiveness."


In fact there was no crucifixion of Jesus Christ period.

I must show as many as can see, that this entire myth is built upon the pathway

of the Sun from the southern hemisphere to the right hemisphere in the North.


The second thing I must do is show all who will listen that just as the crucifixion

was a symbol of something else, so are the other scriptures and traditions that we

have made part of the foundation of our culture.


Like Baptism, we have followed a path that was never intended.




If you find Hidden Meanings and this work positive, I hope you will tell others.


But there is one person in particular that I hope you will tell.

If you are in a park  and you find a bench to rest yourself for awhile,

and you sit down to relax.


If a man sits next to you, and if he is wearing brown shoes with laces,

gray slacks, a gray sweater, and a fedora hat.


Please tell him, that Bill said hi. He knows where I am.

I would really appreciate that.


It is possible that you may meet him in a dream, or maybe in your meditation,

or maybe you will physically meet him in a park.


But you will meet him.


We all meet him at one time or another.

I enjoyed this time with you, I hope you enjoy your time with Hidden Meanings.


Bill Donahue




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