I want to take a moment to sincerely apologize for a mean-spirited tweet I directed at you in the past. It was not fair, and I regret letting my frustration get the better of me.
When I was a teenager, playing SimCity, I dreamed of being a mayor—of building a city that worked for everyone, where no one was left behind. That dream stayed with me into adulthood, which is why I cared so much about the promises made to our most vulnerable—our homeless, our Aboriginal communities, and our veterans. When I saw those promises fall short, it hit me hard. Maybe too hard.
Another deep frustration I carried was the unbearable noise of the SkyTrain outside my home. I wished our city had the resources to transition to a maglev system, something quieter, something future-focused. The constant noise has been difficult for my family, and as much as I try to endure it, I can’t deny how much it’s impacted us.
I also want to acknowledge something personal. I am not mentally ill, but I do live with PTSD from my time in the former Yugoslavia during the war. The stress, the memories, and the feeling of helplessness in the face of things beyond my control sometimes bubble up in ways I don’t intend. That doesn’t excuse my words, but I hope it explains where they came from.
I respect the work you’ve done for our city, even if I haven’t always agreed with everything. I know leadership is not easy, and I recognize that you’ve had to make difficult decisions. Once again, I truly apologize for my harsh words. I wish you all the best.
Title:The False Messiah Written by: Joseph C. Jukic
Act 1: The Rise of Sabbatai Zvi
Opening Scene: 1666, Salonica (modern Thessaloniki). The bustling streets are alive with the chatter of merchants, the clinking of coins, and the hum of prayer. The camera pans to Sabbatai Zvi, a striking figure with piercing eyes and a commanding presence, addressing a crowd of Jewish followers in the marketplace.
Sabbatai Zvi (to the crowd): “The time has come! The Messiah walks among you, and I am He. Together, we shall return to Zion, to reclaim the Promised Land.”
Narration (Voiceover): “Sabbatai Zvi’s proclamation electrified the Jewish world. But beneath his charisma lay a dangerous undercurrent of ambition and secrecy.”
Cut to: A shadowy meeting in a dimly lit room. Emmanuel Carraso, a member of the Salonika Lodge, listens intently to a group of influential figures.
Carraso: “This man, Zvi, is stirring the hearts of the people. But his delusions of grandeur could destabilize the region. We must observe him closely.”
Young Turk Leader 1: “And what of our own plans? The Ottoman Empire is weak. The time to act is near.”
Carraso: “Patience. The Messiah’s rise may serve as a useful distraction.”
Act 2: The Young Turks and the Armenian Question
Scene: The Salonika Lodge 1908. The camera reveals a secret meeting of the Young Turks, including figures like Talaat Pasha, Enver Pasha, and Djemal Pasha. Carraso, now an elder statesman, addresses the group.
Carraso: “Gentlemen, the empire is crumbling. The Armenians, with their aspirations for independence, are a threat to our unity. If we are to build a modern Turkey, sacrifices must be made.”
Talaat Pasha: “Sacrifices? You mean eradication.”
Carraso (hesitant): “Call it what you will. The end justifies the means.”
Enver Pasha: “And the Jews of Salonica? Will they support us?”
Carraso: “They will, so long as their businesses and lives remain untouched. Focus on the Armenians.”
Act 3: The Messiah and the Massacre
Scene: A Parallel Timeline The story intercuts between Sabbatai Zvi’s rise in the 17th century and the horrors of the Armenian Genocide in the early 20th century. Zvi’s followers celebrate his declaration as the Messiah, while Armenians flee their homes, chased by Ottoman soldiers.
Narration (Voiceover): “The Young Turks, inspired by their vision of a modern, secular Turkey, unleashed a campaign of terror. Meanwhile, the false Messiah’s promises unraveled, as Zvi was forced to convert to Islam under threat of death.”
Cut to: Emmanuel Carraso, in his final days, reflecting on his role in history.
Carraso (to himself): “I thought I could control the tides of history. But we were all swept away—by ambition, by fear, by the blood we spilled.”
Act 4: A Reckoning
Scene: A Modern-Day Reflection The camera shifts to present-day Salonica, where a historian uncovers Carraso’s hidden diaries. The pages reveal his secrets: his involvement in the Young Turks, his complicity in the Armenian Genocide, and his observations of Sabbatai Zvi.
Historian (reading aloud): “The Messiah was a man, flawed and fallible, just like the rest of us. And we, the so-called architects of a new world, were no better.”
Closing Scene: The camera pans over the ruins of an Armenian church, the bustling streets of modern Istanbul, and the remnants of Zvi’s synagogue in Salonica. A voiceover concludes:
Narration (Voiceover): “History is written by the victors, but the truth lingers in the shadows, waiting to be uncovered.”
Fade to Black. Title Card:“Dedicated to the victims of false prophets and human ambition.”
The year was 1984, and Vancouver’s BC Place was alive with a kind of energy young Joe had never felt before. At ten years old, he didn’t fully understand why his parents had insisted on dragging him to see Pope John Paul II, but he could sense that this was something important. The stadium was packed, the air buzzing with excitement as the crowd awaited the Pope’s arrival.
Joe sat on the edge of his seat, watching the choir perform on the large stage. The music echoed through the arena, but then something caught his attention—one voice stood out, clear and radiant.
It was a girl, probably around his age, singing with the choir. Her voice was pure and confident, rising above the others like sunlight breaking through clouds. Joe didn’t know her name, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
A Message That Stayed
When Pope John Paul II finally appeared, the applause thundered through the stadium. Joe’s parents stood, cheering, while he sat back, still thinking about the girl’s voice.
The Pope began to speak, his deep, resonant voice filling every corner of the arena. He talked about God’s love, His mercy, and His authority—not as something oppressive but as a guiding light.
“God is the only true authority,” the Pope said. “Not because He demands control, but because He offers freedom. When you trust in His love, you are free from fear, free from pride, free from anything that holds you back from who you are meant to be.”
Joe didn’t entirely understand, but something about those words stuck. They reminded him of the girl’s song—a kind of freedom he couldn’t explain, but he felt it all the same.
Five Years Later
It was 1989, and Joe was now fifteen, awkward and tall, standing nervously at the edge of the gym during the school dance. The lights were dim, the music loud, and kids were clustering into groups, laughing and swaying to the beat. Joe felt out of place, unsure of why he had even come.
Then he heard it again—a voice, clear and radiant, cutting through the noise.
The band playing on stage had paused, and someone had taken the microphone. It was a girl, her voice soaring as she sang an impromptu ballad. The sound silenced the room, and Joe froze. He knew that voice.
After the song ended, the room erupted into cheers. Joe made his way toward the stage, heart pounding.
“Hey,” he said nervously when he reached her. “That was amazing.”
The girl turned, her brown eyes sparkling. “Thanks. I’m Nelly.”
Joe smiled. “I think I’ve heard you sing before. At BC Place? When the Pope came to Vancouver?”
Nelly tilted her head, surprised. “You were there?”
“Yeah,” Joe said. “I didn’t know who you were then, but… I never forgot your voice.”
Nelly smiled, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Well, I didn’t know anyone was listening back then. Guess you proved me wrong.”
For the rest of the night, they talked about everything—music, faith, and how strange it was to feel connected to something bigger than themselves. For Joe, meeting Nelly felt like the final note of a song he’d been humming for years, a melody that began when he first heard her voice echo in a crowded stadium.
And though they didn’t realize it yet, that moment marked the beginning of something neither of them could have planned—a bond that would grow, rooted in the idea that perhaps God’s authority wasn’t about control, but about the freedom to discover who they were meant to be.
