Mentori, Planetary Prince.


The writing set out below was an unusual exercise for me. I dislike fiction, because this universe offers us so many wondrous things to report on. However, my Midwayer Friends were by my side on July 5, 2001, and they wanted this. Not until September 22, 2002 did I learn that the Celestial Artisan, Athena, had intuited this writing, and not until some weeks ago did some of the 11:11 receivers learn that new Teachers have arrived on this planet. They call themselves Mentors—without apparently disclosing their individual names.

I suggest this writing might even be seen as a prelude to that arrival. But could there be a time in the distant, shrouded future when a former mortal becomes a Planetary Prince in one of the deep space universes? Nothing seems to be impossible!

A Contentious Issue.
(Or The Bigger Picture for P. P. Mentori).

He is a newly appointed Planetary Prince by the name of Mentori. Almost at the very time of his seemingly overdue arrival on the evolutionary world of his promotion, there arrives to greet him an old Ascended Master, now re-descended into the space/time realms. She is a former mortal, from a small planet in Satania that we on Urantia all know about. Our “Woman on the Job” rightly calls herself, “Urantja.” She is a Paradise Ambassador, and she is of our races.

The Former Mortal.

“The rules are still the same, Brother Mentori. The decrees from on High will always remain unchanged,” speaks the ancient Paradise Citizen by the name of Urantja. “None of the eternal, hard and fast Paradise laws have been altered in the Universe of Time/Space Universes, even before or since I was the offspring of animal parents on the planet I still happily call my treasured home.”

The white-haired Paradise Citizen – a newly appointed Paradise Ambassador and Advisor to the Planetary Prince of this experimental planet number 411 of Outer Universe 1807 – pauses. It seems she needs to draw a deep breath before going on, despite there being no need at all for her to breathe. She seems to sigh, although the heart-breaking traumas of her earthly existence are now far behind her.

She carries on with the conversation, calmly, or seemingly so, but she is deeply stressed and greatly apprehensive. She is here on 411 to complete the most important mission of her eternal life, and she knows it. These are the occult animal fears; long thought to have been dismissed.

“I urge you, my Prince, to reconsider your proposal of fast-tracking the abolition of slavery of the Secondary Sangiks. I submit my presence here may solely be for the purpose of adding my empiric/grasp to the vast amount of create/judiciousness you bring to the office of Planetary Sovereign. But my appointment to your staff may well be to timely/circumvent prospective, and innate evolution-based difficulties.”

“Tell us of your planet,” the Prince responds.

“She is but small, blue, brown, white and green – experimental 606 of a once deeply troubled system in the Seventh Inner Trial Universe that directly skirts Paradise. Her name is Urantia. There was a rebellion in the System. Then, our Planetary Prince was one of many who betrayed their mortal and existential charges. On top of all that, our Adamic pair found themselves in a near-hopeless situation, and they defaulted. But the System Sovereign/Creator made our world the venue for his final bestowal, and thereby we of that blue planet, Brother Mentori, truly were the most honored of all subjects/brothers/sisters of his 10,000,000 worlds.”

“How long ago, Sister Urantja, was your animal life. And, pray tell, what was the cause of the system rebellion? Even more so do I need to know about your world’s betrayal.”

“Pride, Brother Mentori. Pride was the reason for the rebellion in the first place. Impatience was the cause of our Planetary Prince’s betrayal of office, and thus of the mortal and celestial masses. I will now answer your first question. It is a mere fourteen billion years of my planet’s time since Adjuster fusion and further progress made me a Paradise Citizen.”

“And the aftermath of the betrayal…?” Mentori enquires.

“Wholesale retardation for all the planetary programs. Wholesale retardation of intellect, moral values, and spirituality, it was for the animal faith-sons and daughters of those planets troubled by the Planetary Princes’ disloyalties. Their names -- those of the Planetary Princes -- are no longer known. Most lower-ranked Celestials fared a little better, but not by much. Some steadfast personalities are almost venerated today.”

The Eminent Prince.

Mentori shudders. “There were more than ten thousand of my order that applied for the office I now hold,” he answers. I was judged to be the most suited, most knowledgeable, and eloquent, teacher of them all. And here I am, scarcely settled in at my new task, and I sense I quickly meet a better teacher than I may ever be.”

“Favored are the mortals, my dear Brother,” Urantja replied. “We suffered from hunger and poverty, the list goes on, discrimination of all kinds -- even on the Mansion Worlds, still -- but we are so very lucky. We learned a lot on the way. The disasters that befell our little planet, Urantia, have, one could rightly say, paid for themselves many times over in that we have become His most trusted servants.”

“Sister Urantja, in confidence now,” a seemingly troubled Mentori suggests, “be aware of my great appreciation for you and your timely mission, my dear friend. Although I supposedly outclassed ten thousand of my spiritual family, I perceive in you a teacher unequalled in my realm, in my order, among my acquaintances of countless millions of years. You have conveyed to me the message that I have become too proud, but you did not say so. You have informed me I am impatient, but you hurt not my feelings. We of our created order are truly well informed, but we lack almost all space/time experience. I thank you, Urantja, with all my heart, and I would be most honored if you would consider me to be your ever-grateful friend, and be with me this evening in worship.”

Mentori hesitates, but just momentarily, then seems to assure himself the former mortal could be trusted, and explicitly so. “We labor, Urantja, for millennia upon millennia in order to receive our Mother’s supreme mind bestowal. Again, we labor for eons to earn our Paradise Father’s Gift. I was impatient, yes, impatient, I confess, and selfish, and this before all else. I thank you for bringing this great character deficiency I have to my attention.”

“What will you do about the Secondary Sangiks’ plight?” she asks.

“See to it that they are fairly treated,” Mentori answers. “I was so concerned about their being mistreated. Concerned about the best of their races being claimed by the Primary Sangiks, and some others… well… simply being slaughtered.”

“What about abolishing slavery, Mentori?”

“I will let evolution decide. But I shall teach love and mercy.”

“My dear friend,” Urantja answers, “you just gave me your word. And in giving me your word I can now inform you of what is already known on Paradise. Your decision to let evolution run its course, coupled with your decision to not have your name struck of the Paradise register has already made up as much as one-hundredfold for all the difficulties my home planet ever suffered so long, long ago.”

“Urantja, I find that very hard to…”

“Believe? My visit to your shores has been the single, most important task of my entire universe career. The difficulties -- according to calculated Paradise potentials -- stemming from the premature release from slavery of your Secondary Sangiks would have persisted for almost four million years of your planet’s time. I can safely tell you this, for it won’t happen now. You’ll be pleased to know that the records show, that in the remainder of your planetary career, you will not again be tempted to stray from the clearly outlined Paradise curriculum. Mentori, my dear, dear brother, your name has now been entered in Paradise records. You are Mentori the Steadfast, and it is known by all on Paradise that you wavered but once in instigating on this planet the Father’s great universal business plans.”

“I thank you dear Sister for so informing me.”

“It was my task and pleasure, Brother Mentori. The Paradise records show that you will be, that you are, and that you always were, a wise teacher all throughout your lengthy tour of duty on this number 411 of Outer Universe 1807. Records show you received your Mother’s mindal Gift, and fusion with the Father’s Gift was accomplished. I can tell you no more. You must have faith about the timing of these events, Mentori.”


The two now spend an hour in worship and meditation. Mentori learns a great deal about the Urantian betrayal. He is also most eager to learn more about his eternal future. Urantja is also eager about telling him all she knows, but the last word has been spoken on the subject. The Urantia ex-mortal had been briefed in great detail about what could be passed on, and what had to remain a Paradise secret. There would always be the danger of Mentori becoming complacent, and sabotaging himself. She is a rebellion tested, ascended mortal who is entrusted with the important task. Urantja has succeeded in carrying out this task, as her Paradise Superiors already knew she would.

“Tell me about experimental 606 of Satania, my Sister,” Mentori suggests.

“There were great losses on our world. For some, the existence on such a backward planet became too much to bear. Yes, there were many, many losses among the backward mortals.”

For a time the white-haired Urantja falls silent, then she speaks up again. “In those fourteen billion years the majority of our Michael’s 10,000,000 worlds have become veritable showpieces of Light and Life. His bestowal world has become an inter-galactic tourist venue for all imaginable species. But its fused mortal citizens range far and wide in your myriad outer-space universes. Urantians are Ambassadors, Teachers, Planners, and because they have had such a tough start in life, they are valued hard nuts to crack in critical, crucial, and controversial circumstances. Urantians are eminently trusted.”

“I grasped from an early age,” Urantja goes on, “that all of God’s children are each other at their spiritual Root Source. The things one learns the hard way are of value to all. The greatest rewards come to those who trust and believe no matter how tough things become.”

Mentori sighs. “Those of my order could easily become jealous of the great advantages you ex-mortals now enjoy. We don’t have these advantages, but we quite often wish to be in your places of trial and tribulation to enjoy the wondrous Gift of guaranteed eternal life you are so swiftly awarded. Yet, so few of you accept the phenomenal chances you are given, time and again. I just don’t get it.”

“I did accept the chance,” Urantja assures him with a smile.

“How great were the repercussions of the Prince’s betrayal?” Mentori asks. “Perhaps I should rephrase that. How long until the Prince’s mistakes were totally rectified?”

“A mere two million years of our Urantia time. That is only about a million of your time. A mere bagatelle of damage was done, compared to all the good it did, and will still be doing, for untold thousands of universes still to be born. Paradise has already counted up the past and future gains, Mentori.”

“Well? What does it add up to, Urantja?”

“An incomprehensible amount of love, beauty and goodness was unwittingly generated as a by-product of those acts of duplicity . . . incomprehensible, my Brother. Only the Father knows how much. We, on our part – on the part of the ex-mortals – know that the Urantia Planetary Child of the Supreme has, and through our contributions alone, become one of the greatest Contributors in all of the Seven Trial Universes. Such experience! Such knowledge! Such wisdom! Such great ability to forestall, to anticipate and block, future unwanted happenings. And all this is for the betterment of the Trial Universes, and even more so for all the tens of thousands of outlying, organizing universes of your deep space.”

“It was a contentious issue for me,” Mentori sighs, “in that there seemed to have been so little progress on this huge world, and for countless, endless centuries. But I grasp that guided evolution, not forced evolution, must be my way. Tell my Superiors that I shall have faith in the outworkings of the seemly desperate situation on my planet, Sister Urantja.”

“I bid you “fare thee well”, Brother Mentori,” Urantja replies. “I must learn of what, and where, my next project will be.”

© 11:11 Progress Group.
Toujours au Service de Michael.

11:11 Angels