The Counter Bible
T H E C O U N T E R B I B LE
[This work is a collection of short stories. As
all are
based on Old Testament books, they see light as a
novel]
Copyright © Peter Berger
2016
IN MMORIAM PZZ:
with my thanks for his searching critique,
comments,
tolerance, patience
and the encouragement h had have given
me
And
with sincere thanks to PGH
who perused the final version and
who firmed my decision to go to print by
writing:
“If publish or perish no longer spurs
you to action
then publish and perish.”
INTRODUCTION
The Bible is an object of worship, although –
truth be told – not many of its sagas are plausible. The object of the stories
encompassed in this unorthodox tome is to furnish alternative versions. To
comprehend them, readers ought to start by consulting the original accounts. To
accommodate, each of my stories sets out a reference to the original biblical
version. Let readers decide which tales come closer to the rational truth: the
legends of the Bard or mine.
Most
of my stories are written in first person. In many, the narrator is the
abstract being known to humanity as Satan, the Archfiend, Beelzebub, Asmodeus and
many other uncomplimentary names. In my stories he is a non-interventionist
force with a cynical though quite benevolent perception of humanity.
Occasionally, he sets out to help those he wishes to protect. Further, he is
not seen as an enemy of the Creator but, rather, as a friendly subordinate. He
has acknowledged the Lord’s superior might but, in turn, the Good Lord respects
his Matey’s wits and detached analysis. Their relationship is one of mutual
benevolence and trust.
Yet
another superior being referred to occasionally is Fortuna, the goddess
of luck. True, she does not fit into monotheistic philosophy (or belief). But
is luck not just as powerful as deities worshiped – or hated – by popular
religions? Is it possible that a lucky man, chosen by Fortuna, is also granted
His support?
My
acceptance of this view – as my embracement of other untraditional notions – differ from the view taken by orthodoxy. My
personal approach is partly dictated by my inability to see a difference
between ‘good’ and ‘evil’; and I do sense the effect of luck. On this point –
as in the case of others – I stick to my guns.
I pause to add that
my treatment is based on the realization that, far from being a historical
text, the Bible comprises numerous ideas and – in more than one way – is a
library of collected sources. In other words, this is an exploration – not a
theological rejection. Whilst the stories challenge literal readings of
biblical narratives, they are offered in the spirit of an imaginative inquiry.
They are not an attack on faith, but my personal reflection on the complexity of belief,
morality and storytelling.
HOW MAN CAME TO
WORSHIP THE GOOD LORD
(cf. Genesis, Caps. 1-2)
Once, on a fine day – one of many in the
Golden Age – the Good Lord was walking leisurely in the space (also known as
vacuum) high above
“So it’s you,” He said, holding his hand out to me – another
Super-Being, known as Satan, Asmodeus, Lucifer, Archfiend and
many other names meant to form an unfavourable association.
“Who else?” I replied, shaking the hand proffered to me
and bestowing on my host an affectionate smile. There was, of course, no trace
of animosity left between us because that old contentious business – involving
sulphur fumes and volcanic eruptions (and, so some say, even an atomic device)
– had long been settled amicably.
Over the eons that had elapsed since that fatal hour,
we, the two Super-Beings, had forged a strong, intimate, friendship, characterised
by mutual understanding. As a mark of my tolerance, I, the devil – whose
natural inclination was to converse in Greek, Latin or Sanskrit – agreed that
communications be conducted in His language; and, to underscore the obvious,
God was an Englishman.
“And what gives me the pleasure of this delightful
visit?” asked the Good Lord; “nowadays it is exceedingly difficult to tear you
away from your quarters!”
“To be frank – the aroma of the spectacular red liquid
in the bottle in Your hands. I got a whiff of it when You replaced the cork.
Pray, what is it?”
“It’s fermented grape juice – my latest creation! I call
it wine!”
“I’m sure it’s good to drink!” I coaxed.
“I’m sure it is; but you have to earn your glass of it!”
“How?”
“By solving a problem!”
“It will be my pleasure to give it a try!”
“It’s like this: when we meet, you call me ‘Lord’ and I
just say ‘you’. But this isn’t right. We must find suitable titles. So, why
don’t you apply your mind to it?”
“That’s fine,” I grinned. “Why don’t you call me
‘Matey’?”
“But ‘Matey’ is Australian!” exclaimed the Good Lord;
“and my word-processor is set on British English!” Then, seeing my patent
disappointment, he relented: “But we have learnt to be tolerant – even in
matters of race, class and religion! So, very well, ‘Matey’! Only tell me, why
are you so keen on things Australian. Surely, in that antipodal island – down
in the deep South – everything is and will always be upside down!”
“But this is why I find it so very attractive,” I
explained.
“That figures,” sighed the Good Lord. “But, still, what
are you going to call me? Lord and Matey is undemocratic; and I don’t care for
‘mate’, ‘pal’ or ‘chum’: they are too familiar! ‘Comrade’ sounds right but,
then, it has become associated with that fellow Stalin. So it’s out!”
“I agree. Also we must remain a-political. But how about
‘friend’? A respectable English dictionary defines it as ‘a person known well
to another and regarded with liking, affection and loyalty.’ What do You say?”
The Good Lord approbated: “A noble sentiment! Very well
then: ‘Matey’ and ‘Friend’ it shall be! And you, Matey, have earned your glass
of wine!”
He poured out a
generous glass and held the tray out invitingly. I picked up the glass, held it
to my nose (as befitted a real connoisseur) and raised it with a salute. Then,
just before taking a sip, I checked himself.
“But aren’t You having one with me, Friend? Our College
Steward says that drinking on one’s own is inappropriate, especially when one
is in good company! Please have one!”
“Thanks; but I really don’t feel like it; I am sad,
Matey!”
“But why Friend: the world you have created is lovely;
it’s grand! So why are You gloomy?”
“Man – Matey; Man makes my heart ache!”
I let my surprise
show. From the window of my reading room, I had admired Adam’s suave existence.
I had laughed heartily when Adam taught Rhino to balance an eel on his nose
and, when the efforts were crowned with success, joined him in a folkdance.
Another feat took place when Dov, the bear, came to share with Adam the honey
he had robbed from the bees. The two had got tight when they consumed a strong
brew Adam prepared from a mixture of honey and some white tea leaf. Another
friend, Dumbo the elephant, carried Adam on his back when they went hiking and
Olley, the Orangutan, kept fanning him when he took naps. All in all, Man
enjoyed a splendid style of life.
“But You have every reason to be proud of
“Precisely,” said the Good Lord. “I’ve given him
everything I promised and – perhaps – even more!”
“So why this sadness?”
“Because Man does not keep his part of the bargain! He
promised to worship me; to praise me; to pray to me. But – in his happiness –
he has forgotten me and his promise!”
“I see. But I think – Friend – that the problem is of
some complexity!”
“Isn’t it just sheer ingratitude?”
“Perhaps; but me’thinks we are in the grey area hovering
between two important principles of law! The first, Friend, is that pacta sunt servanda!”
“But that is Latin,” complained the Good Lord; “I forgot
all of it soon after I left school!”
“It means: ‘bargains ought to be performed’!”
“So why can’t they say it in plain English?”
“Because lawyers like to use ‘technical language’ when
they explain the law; if they use plain words, they find it difficult to
present large fee notes to their clients!”
“Oh, very well,” sighed the Good Lord. “I suppose it’s a
case of ‘live and let live’. But then, if bargains must be performed, surely
Adam must worship me!?”
“But now we come to the second principle, ‘known as the clausula rebus sic stantibus!’”
“What a phrase! Sounds like the motto of a new religious
sect or, perhaps, the name of some unmentionable disease!”
“May be,” I agreed. “But it means: when circumstances
change, the bargain is vacated.”
“But why does this apply here? I kept my bargain; so
where is the change?”
“You kept it too well; Adam needs nothing else from You.
So why should he worship You? The basis of the bargain was mutual need: his
need for comfort and Yours of ... being worshipped. But he no longer requires
any benefit! So – if You want him to worship You – we must provide a fresh
reason!”
“Any idea?” asked the Good Lord, who had developed
considerable respect for my versatility and imagination.
“As a matter of fact – I have!”
Matey’s stratagem
was anchored in his acute sense of observation. He sensed that Adam’s carefree
existence – and his ensuing happiness and ease of mind – stemmed largely from a
special privilege which demarcated him from all his contemporaries. His bosom
pal Olley had Olina; Rhino was wedded to Rhina; Dumbo’s formidable Ux went by
the name of Dumbina and Dov kept faith with Duba. At the end of every session
with Adam, each of them felt duty bound to go home, where he had to submit a
report of activities to a curious – even suspicious – spouse. Adam alone had
the luxury of stretching himself on the ground – albeit not under a coconut or
Durian tree – and snooze to his heart’s delight. He was the Master of his
Kingdom! Was it, then, a wonder he did not feel beholden to anyone?
“Well,” prompted the Good Lord.
“You must turn him back to You,” I rubbed in the
obvious. “For instance, You could arrange an accident and trust he’ll beg you
to heal his broken foot or arm!”
“But that would be crude!” complained Friend.
“And, to tell the truth, it could be counter productive;
once Man recuperated, he might turn back to his amusements. We must resort to a
more permanent and – I say – more subtle stratagem!”
“Let’s have it, then!” said the Venerated One, who knew
his Matey in and out.
“Why not create a suitable spouse? A she-man – to be
known as woman – to share Adam’s lot?”
“But all females I have created so far are possessive
and demand attention. Wouldn’t Woman drag Man even further away from me?!”
“That depends on how you programme her! Can I give you a
hand? After all, if you are not satisfied with the product, you can destroy
it!”
“Very well then!”
The Good Lord
removed one of Man’s ribs and configured a good looking woman. He could, of
course, have shaped her of common clay; but he was in such a hurry that he
ignored the risk of providing materials for future tomes by leading Professors
of Anatomy to be entitled “a comparative study of the rib cages of the male and
female homo sapiens”. When the Good Lord’s new creation took form, I – Matey – produced
a small bottle and removed its stopper.
“What is that for?” snapped the Good Lord, blocking his
nostrils.
“Just to put a drop on her tongue.”
“What do you call this stuff?” asked the Good Lord,
looking with alarm as I applied the pungent liquid to the outstretched organ.
“Vitriol! Its main use is in printing; but members of
both sexes occasionally throw it in the faces of rivals! Awful stuff, if you
ask me; but just now a single drop will do. And now you can wake her up; but I
too ought to give her just a whiff of my breath: to liven her up!”
Eve looked around
her critically. Dismissing the two ephemeral figures hovering high above her,
she took stock of her immediate surroundings. She liked the placid scenery of
Eden – although she thought the setting was somewhat dull – but cast a scornful
look at Adam who was dozing on the ground, surrounded by his bosom pals.
“Really!” she muttered in disgust. “That won’t do!”
Turning to Rhino,
who was gazing at her with unconcealed curiosity, she took a step forward and
started to upbraid the giant.
“What an ugly and clumsy brute you are – stupid! Think
your beaked nose is a thing of beauty? Well, let me tell you: it’s as
ridiculous as the rest of you, you bumbling useless half-wit! Take a walk or –
if that’s not plain enough for you – get lost!”
Initially, Rhino
did not believe his ears. Up to that moment his huge bulk, immense speed and
unbeatable charge had gained him the respect of all dwellers of
“Blah, blah blah,” bellowed Rhino as soon as he spotted
his spouse.
“Rhino!” exclaimed Rhina, who had a perfect
understanding of Rhino’s language. “Rhino dear – don’t tell me somebody dared bully
you?”
“Yeah; yeah; and ins; ins,” yelled Rhino.
“And even insulted you?” asked Rhina in sheer disbelief.
“Surely not Man – he loves you?”
“No; no; no Man,” wailed Rhino.
“But Dov and Olley are too sweet; and not Dumbo: he’s a pet!”
“Ve; Ve; Ve – new, new,” complained Rhino.
“A newcomer? Oh, I see; the Good Lord created a Woman
for Man and she shoed you off?”
“Ah; Ah; Ah!” affirmed Rhino, getting calmer.
“But that’s nothing to worry about, Rhino dear. Ladies
don’t like their boys to roam about with their mates; and you are Man’s friend.
It’s only natural she wants to get rid of you. So now you must come more often
back to Rhina; and I’ll make a nice cup of Tibetan tea for you; and then we’ll
have fun – eh Rhino? And never you mind about Adam and Eve!”
At her last words,
Rhino – who like all tough looking males was a shy boy at heart – blushed
scarlet but looked gratified. Getting closer to Rhina, he rubbed shoulders with
her. Somehow, the grave insults hurled at him by the new upstart lost their
barb.
Back at base Eve
had turned on Dov the bear, intending to express her views about loafers who
ferment honey into strong drink. Fortuitously, though, Dov recalled the
bilberry tree at the West of Eden. As he proceeded in its direction without
casting a glance back, he muttered to himself that the female of the species
was more deadly than the male.
Shrugging her shoulders, Eve scrutinised Dumbo. To her own
surprise, she liked what she saw. Bulky and formidable as he looked, the
elephant was smiling at her ingratiatingly.
“Useful utensil,” she opined, stroking his huge trunk.
“I’m sure it’s quite a trumpet!”
Keen to oblige,
Dumbo raised his trunk high above his head, stood up on his hind legs and
performed to his heart’s delight. When he finished his act, and bowed politely.
Eve was full of praise: “Splendid act, really exciting; perhaps not quite up to
Gershwin but every inch as good as Richard Wagner. You Dumbo, my pet, deserve
to be entered in the Guinness Book of Records!”
Gratified, Dumbo – who was somewhat lacking in subtlety
– danced a jig, trying hard to perform a fugue. Eve, in the meantime, continued
to stare with admiration at his trunk.
“And I bet, you could easily pick up a fragile girl like
me and give me a lovely ride on your back!”
Dumbo was about to comply, when Eve’s next words passed a cold shiver
down his immense spine. “But before you do so, my pet, we better saddle you
with a nice silk rug and place a tent above it. When I relax in it, I’ll look
like a real princess from the Arabian nights!”
Dumbo – the free
and wild spirit at heart – was now deeply perturbed. Granting a good looking
girl the privilege of riding his back was one thing. Being harnessed at her
whim was a different matter: it was undemocratic! Seeking to avoid a clash, he
discreetly turned on his heals.
“Well done,” exclaimed Eve; “you do need to take a bath
before I have anything further to do with you. Cleanliness is close to
Godliness!”
Having dismissed Dumbo, she transferred her attention to
Olley the Orangutan, who was tending to the fast asleep Man with a fan made of
ostrich feathers. She was about to vent her rage on him when, with grace and
dignity, he got up and walked away without bestowing a look at her. Mumbling to
himself, he affirmed that Charles Darwin had been brilliant. Who except a
perceptive and objectively minded genius would have realised that “creation”
was a myth and that the world progressed by evolution and sexual choice. All
the same, he concluded Master Charlie lacked wisdom. Otherwise, how could he
have predicated that a species as graceless, as vulgar, as capricious and as
self-centered as Homo Sapiens descended from the charming, polished, reasonable
and kind- hearted Ape?
Eve was now left
alone with Adam, who had continued to snooze happily throughout her
performance. Walking over to him resolutely, she kicked him smartly in his ribs
and, as he opened his eyes and cast a startled look at her, yelled: “What the
hell do you think you are up to, you useless loafer? Sleeping it off in high
daylight, when a Man ought to be busy at work? And look at you: lulling on the
ground and wallowing in the mud like a real pig, you swine!”
“What, what?” stammered Adam, aghast.
“I’ll tell you ‘what’, my fine fellow,” she screeched back
at him. “You better wake up. Go and have a nice shower; shave off that
ludicrous beard and tidy yourself up, you swine. Then take this pail and get
water from the river so that I can cook our meal: who do you think you are –
prince charming?”
For just a moment
Man tried to stand his ground. But, seeing the flares of fury in his spouse’s
eyes, he turned tail and fled in disarray.
“And don’t forget that pail, you louse,” she yelled
triumphantly, brandishing a roller pin at the back of the retreating figure.
For a few minutes
Man kept widening the gap between them. Then, as he approached the bank of the
river Pishon, he sank panting and exhausted on the ground, dropping the pail
beside him. For a while he covered his face with his hands in a pitiful gesture
of dismal despair. He felt relief only when a dim recollection flashed in front
of his bewildered eyes. Grasping at this only hope, he got up, raised his hands
whilst kneeling in deject submission and whispered: “Oh Mighty God – oh Lord –
I’m but a sinner – a poor sinner! I have
failed to worship You and pray to You. In my happiness I closed my heart!
Please forgive me – Oh Lord – please help me now, in my hour of need; in this calamity;
God have mercy on me; please don’t forsake me!”
High up, in the
ozone layer, Friend (the Good Lord) and Matey (the evil one) exchanged glances.
“Well, Friend! So what do you think of my little plan?
How did it work out?”
“Spot on; quite an efficient little stratagem!” conceded
the Almighty.
“So now you will have a glass with me – to celebrate our
brotherhood?!”
“We can do even better than that,” smiled Friend. And,
even as he spoke, a neat cobble-stoned path opened in front of them and a
discreet signpost, reading “Weinstube”,
turned their glance to a charming cottage at its far corner.
“The owner, a fellow called Bacchus, is quite a chap. He has the best wines and liqueurs to be
found anywhere; and he loves to share them with connoisseurs. So shall we pay
him a visit?”
“What a lovely idea!” I assented enthusiastically.
As we proceeded,
placing our arms around one another’s shoulders, both of us were overcome by a
deep sense of harmony and affection; and neither of us was perturbed, or moved,
by Adam’s voice, which kept wailing: “Oh God help me; please God have mercy on
me.”
AND THIS IS HOW MAN CAME TO WORSHIP THE GOOD LORD!
WEST OF
(cf. Genesis,
Caps. 3-4)
Friend – the Good Lord – and I, Satan the Archfiend, were looking
keenly at Eve. She was staring at a beautiful tree with red apples.
“I think she wants
to try one,” I said to Friend.
“But I told her and
Adam that this was the forbidden fruit. They are not allowed to take it. We
discussed the subject meticulously before I issued the edict, Matey. You
approved, didn’t you?”
“I did. But now I
suspect it was a questionable move. Eve is curious. She got that tendency, or
approach, when I breathed on her (with your consent), Friend.”
“Well?” muttered
the Almighty.
“So now she wants
to know why you proscribed it. Adam, of course, could not care less. There are
other lovely fruit in paradise which he enjoys: peaches for instance. And don’t you forget, Friend: Adam likes to
obey orders: he lived long before the Nüremberg Trials and so he did not
realize that his duty is to disobey improper orders!”
Friend gave me an
angry look: “We are not going through this again. My orders must be obeyed because
I am God Almighty and so my orders are
good!”
“Does Eve
appreciate this?”
“Well, why don’t
you tempt her to take an apple. I’m sure she will not dare to rebel!”
Eve looked startled when I made my appearance. “I have
not seen you before. What is your name?”
“I have a few. The Good Lord calls me Matey. Satan and
Archfiend is what my opponents call me; my third name is Mephisto. and a friend
of mine – who is yet to be born – dubbed me Theophil: ‘lover of Philosophy’. I
like the name!”
“You speak in riddles,” she replied. “How can a nonexistent
fellow dub you?”
“But time is flexible, my Dear; and I have a gift known
as ‘prescience’; it allows me to see the future.”
“Oh well; if you say so!” After a short lull she added:
“I’ll call you Mephisto; it’s a cute name. But why have you come to visit me, Mephisto? I
suspect, you want to persuade me to take the forbidden fruit.”
“Why do you call it
a ‘forbidden fruit’?”
“That
distinguished looking fellow, with the long beard, who plays with Adam and me
from time to time, told us not to touch it. He said that the fruit would kill
us.”
“It won’t!”
For a moment Eve hesitated. Then she shrugged her
shoulders, plucked an apple and munched. Instantly her eyes shone with delight.
At the very same moment a good-looking man, in his
twenties, joined us smilingly. “Hello Adam,” she addressed him. “Meet my new
friend, Mephisto.”
As we shook hands,
Adam’s glance fell on the tasty apple Eve kept munching.
“Eve, isn’t this one of the ‘forbidden fruit’?”
“It is, rather; but I am still alive!”
“But how could you disobey the Good Lord?”
“I was curious; and so I had a go. It’s real nice. Here,
come and try a slice. It is good and, of course, harmless. Come, have a go.”
“Oh, very well,” capitulated Adam.
A happy expression
descended on his face. Then, unexpectedly, he exclaimed: “Eve, we are naked!”
“But we have always been,” she told him. “So what’s the
big deal?”
“We are no longer innocent children!”
“Why don’t the two of you go and put on some clothing,”
I proposed.
As soon as they
were gone, the Good Lord, in the form of an aging man with snow white hair and a long beard, emerged from
the cloud he was riding: “So you nudged her successfully, Matey! My
compliments. But how did you know Eve would take the fruit?”
“We endowed her with curiosity and a craving for
independence. And, you know, Friend, she did not need much encouragement.”
“I agree. She kept glancing at the fruit since she was a
little girl; and when you told her the fruit wasn’t lethal, she wanted to try
it.”
“I, Friend, was just the catalyst?”
“I am afraid so; sooner or later her curiosity was going
to get the better of her.”
He was about to add
something, when Adam and Eve – clad in belts made of fig leaves – entered onto
the stage.
“So here you are,” said the Good Lord, trying to appear
severe. “And what made you wear these silly fig leaves.”
“We realised we were naked,” blurted Adam.
“But you were naked all your lives; and you weren’t
bashful about it. You must have eaten that forbidden fruit!” Feigning anger he
added: “How did you dare?”
“The woman you made for me gave me some; and I partook.
It was easier than arguing with her,” Adam’s voice quivered. The Good Lord and I exchanged dark glances.
We had been to a Public School and so we knew that snitching was dishonourable.
“And you Eve?” asked the good Lord. “Did Mephisto talk
you into it?”
“Not really, Lord,” she told him spiritedly. “I coveted
it for years; Mephisto gave me the final push.
It’s really my fault; but then – I took it and am still alive. Still, I
now know that I am a girl and that Adam is a boy. You created us for one
another. And I now understand the difference between ‘good’ and ‘evil’ and I
think both come from the two of you. I am right, am I not? And if I am, Adam
and I must sin from time to time. Otherwise you would find us boring!”
“ ‘For the female
of the species’ is much
brighter than the male,” I
muttered. Turning to the Good Lord, I added: “But Friend, what are you going to
do with them now? They lost their innocence and so
“Mephisto is right,” The Good Lord told the erring
couple. “You’ll have to cultivate and till your own land; and you must adjust
to a new type of life. It won’t be plain sailing!”
“Why not?” ventured Eve.
The Good Lord displayed a television screen, depicting a
black panther. Crouching, its eyes were fixed on a young antelope. “What would
you do if, Eve, you spotted this one”
“What a lovely pussy cat,” Eve smiled happily. “I want
to stroke its mane.”
“Now watch a panther in action,” advised the Good
Lord.
Ready for the kill, the huge cat gave chase to the antelope.
Within a few seconds the predator caught up with the terrified prey, brought it
down by jumping on its back and then looked around victoriously. In no time, it
started to feed.
“Why did the panther kill?” asked Eve, horrified.
“It was hungry; only in
“Would the pussy cat attack me?” Eve asked, still
shaking with fear.
“If she thought you were a tasty morsel! But wild
animals are not the only hazard.”
The screen now
displayed the peak of the
“Can I step out and have a better look?” asked Eve
eagerly.
“Be my guest,” approbated the Good Lord.
Eve was back in
Paradise in less than a minute. Shivering all over, she looked miserable and
frightened. It seemed best to reassure her: “Yes, it is cold out there. So, you
need much warmer clothes.”
“But here it’s always warm and comfy,” she complained,
having been warmed up by a glass of hot tea proffered by the Good Lord.
“This is
“And will this be as comfy as here then?” she said
hopefully.
“Not really. The weather changes all the time. Sometimes
it’s too hot; sometimes chilly and cold.”
“So it is a hostile world,” observed Eve.
“It can be. You
have to adjust. To start with you must look for a weather proof shelter – like
a cave.”
“And how do we get food?” asked Eve.
“Adam will learn to hunt animals; and you, Eve, must
learn how to grow crops and prepare good meals. And you two must live in
harmony.”
“Would you prefer to remain my guests – here in
“Thank you, Lord,” replied Adam for both of them. “But
in the long run, it would be nice to have a place of our own. We’ll learn how
to make the best of it.”
“The hurdles are many and varied,” replied the Good
Lord; “but you’ve made the right decision. To thrive you need ‘free choice’ and
independence!”
“Friend,” I interceded, “shall I help them out for a
while?”
“What a splendid idea,” approbated the Good Lord. “You,
Matey, are a sport; that’s why we get on so famously.”
“And I’ll come back to
“That’s settled, then,” said the Good Lord with
satisfaction.
II.
SETTLING IN CANAAN
As soon as the
three of us arrived in Canaan, I insisted they find a cave. “But it’s such a
lovely day,” said Eve. “Why can’t we sleep
on the ground tonight?”
“See that small black cloud over there? In no time we’ll
have a mighty storm. There is no time to loose.”
The first cave, on
the slope of
“Did you talk to her?” asked Eve.
“Not exactly: but I persuaded her you thought the cave
was unoccupied. We better leave forthwith.”
“Please, Mephisto: ask her to allow me to stroke her
mane; she is so beautiful.”
“Go ahead,” I told her after a second. “But please be
brief. She is still frightened.”
Kneeling beside the
mighty cat, Eve stroked her coat and then tickled her under her chin. To my surprise,
the tigress licked Eve’s face affectionately. Her aggressive demeanour was
gone.
After a while, Adam spotted a
spacious and well ventilated cave. Soon
after they settled in it, the thunder storm descended. When it was over, Eve
expressed concern about her newly made friend, the tigress.
On our arrival, the
tigress came out to greet us. Her puzzled expression vanished, when I explained
Eve had been worried how she and her cubs had braved the storm.
“She says this was not a really bad storm. You must
never leave your cave when a storm is imminent.”
During the next few
weeks I taught Adam how to make a bow and how to utilize stone shavings as
tools. I also taught Eve how to prepare simple dishes.
As yet, Adam and Eve did not have their own means for
lighting a fire. Still, I admired Eve’s attempt to warm herself up by getting
close to a tree struck by lightning.
The subject of fire
came up when, one evening, I went over to
“A cunning little bag full of tricks,” he praised Eve’s
fortitude.
“But, Friend, what to do about the spell of cold
weather? I’ve watched Eve shivering, especially in the evenings!”
“Why don’t you give them fire, Matey? Prometheus paved
the way.”
“You know the reason, Friend. You must have observed
what mankind has been doing with fire.”
The Good Lord
looked with distaste at the two Men of War, exchanging volleys of cannon fire
and at the ensuing carnage on the two decks. I then displayed an Auto-da-Fe on
the screen. Both of us averted our eyes
as a man in religious attire prolonged a tortured witch’s sufferings by
spraying water over her. The executioner’s smile of sadistic delight contrasted
with his pious glance at the heaven above him.
“And they purport to do this in my name,” the Good Lord
let his anger show.
“I know, Friend. But don’t forget that the persecuted
group attributes these horrors to me! Pfui! As if either of us would ever
encourage – let alone command – such cruelties! Well, Friend, so should I give
Adam and Eve fire?”
The Good Lord stared sedately: “But don’t you think that
sooner of later they’ll discover it in any event.”
“They would; but in that case no finger could be pointed
at us!”
“But could we be blamed if we give them something useful
and they turn it to what we have just seen? I’ve given them ‘free choice’; and
you, Matey, approbated. We can’t have our cake and eat it, I fear. Evolution is
now out of our hands!”
In the event, the gift of fire was timely. The fierce
autumn storms brought the temperature well beneath comfort. The Good Lord
smiled benignly when he watched Adam and Eve warming themselves up by a
charming open fire place. To his delight the tigress and her cubs were also
there. Tigress was crouching beside Eve who was stroking her
affectionately.
“Our protégés are doing quite well,” said the Good Lord.
“Aren’t they ever. But Friend, wouldn’t it be nice to
provide a rug for tigress?”
“How can we?
Carpet making is still an art of the future!”
“I know, Friend. But ages are often in chaos. So, we
could make an exception! And in any event, what is wrong with an anachronism.
It is bound to give archaeologists a ‘clue’ and a chance to organise
conferences.”
Adam and Eve
continued to go from strength to strength. Under my guidance, Adam became a
skilled hunter. Eve turned into a reliable and accommodating housewife, keeping
her cave spotlessly clean and well furnished.
Then, one dark
evening, I, Mephisto, had to turn to Friend for help. I must confess that I was
flustered and confused. Eve was going to give birth and it was going to be a
difficult delivery.
“But, Matey,” rebuked the Good Lord, “we have assisted
in lambing and, just a few days ago, watched a cow delivering a calf. So why
this panic? All you’ve got to do is to help pull the baby out.”
“I know; but I’m not up to the task; I just can’t see
myself meddling in such a matter.”
“Aren’t you just being squeamish?” asked his Friend.
“Perhaps I am; but why can’t we get the help of an
experienced midwife? Can’t she time-travel over here?”
“Actually, you are right,” responded the Good Lord. “One
is just about to turn up.”
I stared with
admiration at the middle aged, uniformed, well groomed and efficiently looking
midwife. She was bound to have professional expertise and I trusted her
ability. Then, as I looked around me, I exclaimed: “But where are you Friend?
We always carry out our joint ventures together.”
“Where do you think I am?” grinned the midwife.
“This round goes to you,” I conceded happily. “Thanks
for coming over in person”
The Good Lord
chuckled: “What won’t we do when a mate asks for help? And, Matey, you better
keep Adam out of the way: he paces the ground like a madman! He may need 5 mg
Valium.”
The Good Lord took
his time. He looked worn out when he rejoined me.
“Anything wrong?” I asked.
“The exit was too narrow; and I did not want to use
forceps or perform a Caesarean section.”
“So what did you do?”
“I restructured her. I know: in principle we are opposed
to such intervention. But, the truth be told, I have become very fond of them.
This way, there’ll be no complication in the future.”
“Thanks, Friend; rules are made to be bent when
necessary!”
Tigress, who was
lying on her mat, came over and sniffed the newborn approvingly. Adam, who had silently entered the room, looked with
admiration at his son.
“What do you want to call him?” he asked Eve.
“Cain,” she replied readily; “it’s a cute name.”
“And do you plan to have more babies?” I asked
“Of course,” she told me, “and I’ll call my next boy
Abel. Isn’t it a nice name?”
“It is,” agreed the Good Lord with unease; “but Eve, a
mother must treat all her children equally well. If she likes one better than
the rest, she must hide her feelings!”
On the way back,
the Good Lord and I were lost in thoughts. Neither of us was prepared to
intervene in the course of destiny. Both of us, though, felt depressed.
“Oh well, murder
and mayhem are part and parcel of Mankind’s evolution,” I concluded.
“I’m afraid so,” responded the Good Lord. “You know,
Matey, you can’t make an omelette without breaking the eggs.”
“I know; but if the eggs turn out to be stale, isn’t it,
perhaps, best to throw them away?”
“Do you, then, think I should start all over again?”
“I’m not certain. Your world has its drawbacks but would
your fresh creation be superior? Won’t you use the same concepts and strategy
all over again?”
“I shall, probably” conceded the Good Lord after a
pause.
“In that case, Friend, you might prefer to leave well
alone!”
“But is it ‘well’, Matey? Isn’t my current world Hades
in Masquerade?”
“It isn’t as bad as that,” I concluded with conviction.
“True, there are flaws or setbacks; but – all in all – your world has its
positive aspects. Think of the friendly way in which tigress sniffed Cain; and,
Friend, she has become a member of the family. Friend, I can think of many
events in which Man displayed his strong points, such as loyalty, concern and
compassion.”
“So, the eggs were not really stale?”
“All in all, I believe they weren’t. You see, Friend,
the only way to improve your Creation would be by exercising strict
supervision. In that case you would have
to abandon ‘free choice’! It would have to be a regimented world.”
“I have no taste for that; and your inclination is the
same.”
“Then let your Universe stand as is. Here and there you
might introduce changes when you concluded they were absolutely necessary. But,
unless you abandoned the element of free choice, your next product might not be
more acceptable than the current one.”
III.
CAIN AND ABEL
Under my –
Mephisto’s – tutelage, Adam became an accomplished hunter, cool headed,
confident and observant. In due course, he also learned to raise sheep and to
use dogs to herd them. Eve, in turn, went from strength to strength in her
cooking and in crop raising.
My only moments of concern were triggered by her overt
preference of Abel to Cain. Adam, who favoured Cain, shrugged his shoulders
indifferently. I, in contrast, was alarmed by Abel’s habit of sneering at Cain
from the safety of his mother’s lap. In an attempt to retain his cool, Cain
started to join Adam on his hunting expedition. Further, he established a warm
friendship with tigress, often stroking her mane and tickling her under her
chin. The mighty cat enjoyed every moment of it.
“Friend: why
don’t we have a frank word with Abel?”
“Sorry, Matey. We have agreed not to affect evolution.”
“But aren’t we facing an extreme case; and the danger is
imminent!”
“As you yourself have often said: we must take the rough
with the smooth!”
The ‘rough’ came
one morning when, exasperated by Abel’s demeanour, Cain set on him. Shocked to his fundament, Abel tried to turn
the event into a joke. Regrettably, Cain was out of control. He regained it
only when Abel was prostrated on the ground.
“What on earth have you done, Cain” asked the Good Lord
who appeared from no-where.
“I have killed him,” wailed Cain. “How can I live with
this sin. The guilt is too heavy to bear. What shall I do, Lord?”
“But why couldn’t you control your temper, Cain?”
“I swear to you, I don’t know what spurred me on. I am a cool-headed
hunter, Lord. This is the first time I lost control of it. But why?”
“Envy and insecurity,” I interceded; “two of the worst
dents in human nature.”
“Matey is right, Cain.
And facing your mother won’t be easy. You better go away, Cain.
Presently, you live in
“Can you forgive me, Lord?” persisted Cain.
“We can; of course we can. But can you forgive yourself?
Man is an unforgiving judge of his fellowmen and some are harshest on
themselves! Matey and I – alas – know the truth: man’s nature is flawed but all
in all he is lovable.”
“Will I ever see my parents again?”
“Time will tell”.
Cain was about to reply, when tigress emerged from the
bush surrounding them. She had aged visibly since her first encounter with Eve
but remained lithe and agile. Having sniffed Abel’s body, she pressed herself
against Cain. He, in turn, crouched beside her and stroked her supple mane. His
eyes followed her while she proceeded in the direction of Eve’s cave.
“Please, Lord Mephisto, ask her to comfort my poor
mother.”
“There is no need to ask her; she will. Eve is fortunate
to have such a staunch friend.” Pausing for a few seconds, I added: “We shall
now teleport you to Nod. Once you arrive, you must find your own way.”
“Are there any people there?” Cain let his forebodings
show.
“Some humanoids. If you don’t challenge their ways,
they’ll accept you. Learn to mix with them!”
Back in
“So, the only way to stop mayhem and murder is by direct
intervention,” complained Friend. “But if we resort to that, free choice ceases
to exist.”
“I couldn’t agree more. But, Friend, this was not a
murder case. There was no malice aforethought or planning. Cain lost his cool
under severe provocation; and he didn’t intend to kill Abel.”
“What could we have done, Matey?”
“Held him back or, perhaps, made him grasp where he was
heading before it was too late?”
“Wouldn’t that have been direct intervention changing
the flow of history?”
“It might have been,” I conceded. “Occasionally though
you’ve got to spank a child to make it see light.”
The Good Lord observed keenly the progress made by
“Thanks for stopping that debacle, Friend,” I showed my
relief.
“But I didn’t. Our protégés are learning; and you are an
accomplished tutor.”
IV.
EVE’S DEATH
Adam and Eve
enjoyed an excellent marriage. They were transparent and unguarded in their
dealings with one another. One subject, though, was never mentioned by either of them: Cain’s killing of
Abel. The wound, however, grew scar
tissue when Eve’s later offspring turned out well and became a source of
comfort to their steadily aging parents.
All in all, Adam’s industry and steady efforts to
entrench their standing in the world surrounding them were underscored by Eve’s
shrewd assessment of matters in sight. Tacitly Adam accepted that Eve was
smarter than he. Eve, in turn, accepted Adam’s decisions on most issues. She
knew that a harmonious relationship was more important than specific decisions.
Then, one morning, Eve passed away. When the Good Lord
made his appearance, Adam, by now in his sixties, was hugging Eve’s dead body.
“Please, My Lord,” he beseeched, “do bring her back. I
know I am a sinner: I have disobeyed your orders in
“I do; of course I do; and – yes – I can resurrect her
body. But, my Son, Man is a complex being. Apart from flesh and blood, he has a
spark. It may be a soul; or it may be a spirit. No doubt, both Matey and I can
reactivate the body; but neither of us can promise to revive that special –
individual – spiritual component. Eve’s replacement would look like her; but I
cannot be certain she would be the same woman.”
“Well, Adam,” the
Good Lord broke the silence, “the decision rests with you; but the odds are
poor.” Rolling his dice, He added sadly: “less than 30 per cent!”
“I don’t know what to say,” lamented Adam.
“Look here, Adam,” I counseled, “Eve and you had a
delightful marriage. Your recollections are all positive. So – my friend – why
not leave things as they stand. Remember: your turn too will come one day. How
would Eve – if she were resurrected in full – feel if later on you predeceased
her. Do you want to put her to such a test.”
“I understand,” replied Adam after a brief reflection.
“But – in the very least, Oh my Lords –
please tell me just that I will
rejoin her when my day comes.”
“We can’t tell
until that very day; but having known both of you well for years, I
believe the prognosis is favourable,” I soothed.
During the funeral,
Cain emerged from no-where. Seeing his ageing father, he bowed with respect
but, to his own surprise, found no word to say.
“Good to see you Son,” said Adam. “You left a teenager;
but you are now a powerfully built
middle aged man. Welcome back!”
“I don’t know how I came here. I was plucked from my
home in Nod by a mysterious hand!”
It was time to talk: “I teleported you, Cain. I felt
your presence was appropriate.”
“Mother,” wailed Cain who had at long last understood
what had happened; “so I shall never see you again. I only hope Dad and you
have forgiven me.”
“Eve and I never talked about it,” said Adam, “but I do
know she loved you to the very end. Here, come and meet your brothers.”
As they all shook
his hand, tigress made her appearance. Looking old, beaten and exhausted, she
limped to the site of the grave. When she spotted Cain, she went over to him,
sniffed and pressed affectionately against him. Cain, in turn, crouched beside
her and put his arms around her neck.
“It’s good to see you again, Auntie,” he told her.
In response, she
put her paw on his shoulder and licked his face. Freeing herself gently she
proceeded to the freshly dug grave. For a while she crouched there motionless.
She then wailed bitterly. When she was done, she started to limp away.
“I’ll chaperon her,” volunteered Cain.
“Take her to our home,” said Adam; “she lived with us
for the last few years. When I
discovered Eve’s body, she walked away.”
Tigress walked
beside Cain but, when they reached the end of the narrow path, turned in the
direction of her original – lately deserted – cave. Sympathetically, I told
Cain: “So that’s the end of her story, Cain. She was delighted to see you
again. And how are you keeping?”
“I have a wife of my own; a smart humanoid who keeps
learning. But she isn’t – and will never be – as accomplished as Mother.”
“You have three children, don’t you Cain?”
“We do,” replied Cain. “I only hope they’ll turn out
alright.”
“Of course they will. They too have a segment of the
spirit of the Good Lord and of myself. Rear them well. You, Cain, have
inaugurated a new family of Mankind.”
“Me and my Talia,” affirmed Cain. “And, Lord Mephisto,
thanks for all you have done for us”.
“Here, have a word with Him.”
“I agree with Matey’s summing up,” said the Good Lord.
“And you, Cain, have lived up to the promise you showed as a boy. But now we
better teleport you back to Nod.”
V.
FINALE
I enjoyed the aromatic drink offered by the
Good Lord and, smiling warmly, observed:
“Friend, I used to wonder if the eggs had been stale or unsuitable.”
“I’ve read your thoughts, Matey.”
“My mind is clear now, Friend. No trace of my doubts is
left. As long as you give People free
choice, perfection is unattainable. But, then, who wants a bunch of obedient
robots? Further – as we said before – it
is impossible to tell whether a substituted universe would be better than your
current creation.”
“I have to agree,” conceded Friend.
For a while, we kept
sipping our drinks in harmony. All in all, we were pleased with the outcome.
Then, without any change of mood, I raised the one remaining point.
“The friendship
of tigress and Eve was beautiful. Both had strong and vibrant emotions. Still,
there was a noticeable difference between them. Tigress knew how to enjoy the
warm hearth; but she would never have been able to cultivate or produce fire.”
“Which means that
only Man has our intellect, subject to the limitations imposed by his cranium
and by his life span. Still, Friend, Cain’s experience shows that some
humanoids are compatible with
“The dice permitting,” pointed out the Good Lord.
I agreed: “Chance does play a major role. But the odds
are favourable. So – by and large –
everything is fine.”
NOAH'S
(cf.
Genesis, Caps 5-8)
I.CONTEMPLATING A FRESH START
Friend (commonly known as the Good
Lord) and I Mephisto (also known as Asmodeus and many other derogatory names)
were having a peaceful repast in our own dimension. Initially, all seemed well.
Then to my dismay I noticed that Friend was out of humour. This pained me: we
are fond of one another.
To start with I probed but was unsuccessful. In the end, though, he confided
the reason for his chagrin. Mankind, which he had created (albeit with some
assistance from me), did not worship
him. He deserved better than that!
“Well, what is the
solution?”
“Destroy everything
and start afresh! And I like creating!”
For a while I
mulled the idea. Then I raised my doubts: “I accept that this world is not
perfect. But will a substitute be any better?”
“I get your point,
Matey,” he conceded. “So let us find a better way out.”
The simple way out was to save the 'good' and destroy the 'evil'.
But how do you spot the worthy? We had to concede that most 'worthies' had a
good reason for their display of worship. They wanted something in return for
it. Mankind was possessed by the 'selfish gene'. Some humans sought wealth;
others craved for fame and others still wanted to find their names included in
the List of Philanthropists or in articles in American Magazines. Some humans even
congregated to manifest their devotion. True, all appeared to love God
(regardless of the title given to him) and to respect Him. But they would
willingly and mercilessly cut each other’s throats. In a country called France
they invented the Guillotine; the British had manuals on torture. And a fellow
called Bentham wrote a work in support of it. Further, the less said about the
Huns, the Germans and the Russians the better.
“I didn't know,
Matey, that mankind was so ruthless! And I created them in My Image.”
“But don't forget,
Friend: I breathed, briefly, on Eve. In truth Mankind reflects Me as much as
You.”
“So how can we find
a worthy man?”
For a while I reflected. Then I found the way: “It is
actually simple, Friend. Why don't you transfer yourself to their dimension and
search for such a man at high noon with
a brightly lit lamp?”
“Are you quite
well, Matey?” Looking at me with concern, he added: “They will mock me: just as
they did when I visited them in the 1st century. They crowned me
with thorns. But this time, I won't let them misbehave. Still, don't you
forget, Matey: they made a joke of Diogenes when he used a similar device to
search for an 'honest man'. You, Matey, begin to demonstrate symptoms of absent
mindedness!”
“I disagree,
Friend. Aren't you greater than poor old Diogenes?”
“You know I am.”
“So, who will dare
to question you? I know that Job did; but you silenced him. You told him you
were mightier than he!”
“Still, suppose I
find a fellow worthy of consideration. Would that mean that he was, in reality,
a good man?”
“It would
demonstrate that the Almighty approved of the fellow selected. This way you
would exercise Justice on Earth.”
It was His (the
Good Lord's) turn to reflect. Like me, he was aware that 'might' was also
'right' and consequently 'just'. Actually, he had shared this thought with
Genghis Khan and Ivan the Terrible.
The effect of His
reflections on this point was favourable: he overcame his wish to annihilate
and recreate. “Very well then, Matey, I'll give your idea a try.”
“Good. Still, we
have a problem. When is the cataclysm to take place?”
“Surely,
in the 21st Century? Wall Street Sharks demand my attention. So let
us give them a tidal wave!”
“An appealing
thought. But this means that everything earlier will be lost: including the
writings of Emanuel Kant and of Karl Marx.”
“So what?”
“Then we lose two future
presidents of our Ward of Bores (set in purgatory). And there is another
difficulty: how will you find a man worth saving? The 21st Century
is a horrible period. People love to drink oil and bathe in money.”
We searched and
searched and, in the end, opted for an early period. Abraham, we concluded,
ought to be preserved. In consequence, Friend – God Almighty – decided to
annihilate all evil in an early period. We further decided to save all animals.
Starting a new line of evolution had its risk and, in any event, animals were
neither good nor evil. They did not deserve punishment.
He further
concluded that, in general, marine and amphibian beings need not be affected.
All in all, they lived in a world of their own – in or near to a sea, ocean or
river. It was best to leave them alone but – of course – we had to decide into
which group a given being ought to fall.
II.PROTECTING AN HONEST
MAN
Having thrown dice
we opted for the period of Noach. The Old Testament does not tell you where
Noach resided. Still, from earlier sources it would appear that he lived in
Mesopotamia and was there known as
Noach (or Ut) was a
nice fellow. He was a craftsman, who produced chests ordered by the nobility.
The Old Testament tells us he was a good and righteous man. Some say that this
means that he went regularly to worship. In truth, he was not active on that front.
But he never cheated, never delivered defective goods, did not mislead banking
clients and always paid his debts.
Friend – the Good
Lord – called on Noach as he was walking down a busy street. Noach was in a
gloomy mood and appeared bereft of hope. All the same, he was a curious man. So,
he asked Friend why he was carrying a lit lamp at high noon on a bright day.
“Oh, I just like to
take it with me. But you, Noach, are in a gloomy mood. What bothers you?” asked
Friend.
“Oh, just a
personal matter,” said Noach sadly.
Friend thought
matters over. Switching off the lamp, he said: “Tell me about your troubles,
Noach; perhaps I can help.”
“Naches just chased
me out of our home. Where shall I go?”
“Who is Naches and
why did she do such an unkind act?”
“Naches is my wife
and she is angry because Malcizedek, the Priest to the Supreme God, refuses to
pay for a chest he ordered. He says it’s defective but does not explain.”
“Why don't you sue
him?”
“He is our King and
Superior Judge. When I went to ask for the money, he had me kicked out of his
palace.”
“Let's go and
collect the debt. The man is a swine.”
“He is known for
his piety and he is mighty. One cannot get past his bodyguards!”
“Let's see. Come
on, Noach.”
“My fortune is at
stake but please don’t risk your life for my sake.”
“I shan't,” smiled
Friend.
They walked
together in the direction of the palace. To cheer Noach up, Friend produced one
of his best drinks. Noach relished it, asked for more and proceeded with a lighthearted
expression. He sensed that his new mentor knew what he was doing.
“Put your arms
down,” commanded Friend when Malcizedek's gatekeeper blocked his way.
“Who do you think
you are?” yelled the guard. Then, as Friend flattened him, he begged for mercy.
Still, he had his orders. Without answering, Friend proceeded into the palace,
paralysed the soldiers, and told Malcizedek: “You pay Noach instantly.”
“Why should he?”
asked Malcizedek's concubine.
“Because I order
him to do so! And you keep quiet, you slut.”
Both Malcizedek and
the woman tried to rise in protest but remained frozen in their seats on the
throne. Erecting a new throne – above Malcizedek's – Friend mounted it. Looking
down on the frightened pair, he asked Malcizedek: “Haven't you heard me? I am
ashamed of having had a role in the creation of monsters like you and your
successors. Open your chest instantly.”
“And how shall I
pay for Beauty's clothes and jewellery?”
“Borrow the money
from your Wall Street mates. They'll lend it to you at their modest rate: 20
per cent per month.”
Malcizedek was no
fool. Without further argument he counted out 50 pieces of gold. Noach took 45,
explaining that he had offered Malcizedek a discount of 10 per cent for the
alleged defects in the chest. Nodding his head approvingly, Friend ordered
Malcizedek to pay out another 50 pieces of gold, explaining that these would
settle the contractual penalty for late payment and Friend's own reward as debt
collector, based – again – on the practices of Wall Street and other loan
sharks.
“But
why do you treat me like this, Great Lord?” asked Malcizedek humbly. “I worship
the Superior God, go to pray regularly and bring him offerings? What have I
done?”
“You worship the
wrong God. I – the real Creator – search
a man's heart and do not listen to a glib tongue. Insincere words are of no
meaning to me!”
Naches was
delighted to see the reward. She beamed when Friend added his 50 pieces of gold
to Noach's remuneration. “You are a gent, Sir. Please have a piece of my cheesecake.”
“Delicious,” Friend
smacked his lips. “Well, now I must go. But you, Noach, Naches, and your family
are under my protection. I'll be back if anybody dares to threaten you!”
III.BUILDING THE ARK AND
ADMITTING PASSENGERS
Up in heaven Friend
and I planned the imminent upheaval. What were the best means for destroying
evil humanity and salvaging innocent animals? Further, where was the border
separating 'man' from 'animal'? Was Neanderthal a 'human' or a sort of 'ape'.
Some rare survivors of this creature
were still on the list of 'protected specimen'. Further, the Chimpanzee and
'Homo Sapiens' shared 98 or perhaps even 99 per cent of DNA. So was the
Chimpanzee human?
Friend could easily
arrange a collision of the planet with an asteroid. But the long term
consequences were uncertain. An implosion of the centre of earth fell into the
same class. In the event, He settled on a worldwide flood. To save the animals,
they would be invited to an ark to be constructed by Noach.
Naturally, there
would be special cabins for Noah, Naches and some other worthy humans. Other
animal, including the chimp, would be allocated berths. Sea dwellers, such as
the whales, dolphins and sharks would not be endangered by the flood! Accordingly,
they would have no place in the Ark. Birds would be welcome.
Noach was perplexed
by the
“Then all is well,”
concluded Friend.
I, though, had a
question. “So, they will have quarters. But all animals have calls of
nature. Suppose they exercise them in
the
“Well, what is to
be done?” muttered Friend.
“We'll have to add
suitable bays for each species and insist that 'no fighting in the
Friend nodded his
approval. “And we'll have to add an emergency bay for anyone with diarrhoea .
One will do: a digital device will change the size of the opening when
necessary.”
The remaining
problem was how to feed the animals. Originally, Friend had ordered Noach to
stock food for every species. Poor Noach tried but had to concede he was not up
to the task. He was a craftsman: not a grocer or supermarket owner. Friend
solved the problem by undertaking to produce Manna suitable for all
inhabitants.
“But, Friend, you
gave Manna to the unruly Hebrews when they left
“Animal Manna will
have to be of a special brand: I'm sure they'll love it.”
“How about Noach
and other humans, Friend?”
“Naches will cook
for them. I'll provide the ingredients.
All that was left
to do was to publish the
On the appointed
day, the queue was very long. Noach, who was in charge of admissions, made it
clear that 'fighting', 'pushing' and 'queue jumping' were forbidden. All
joining the queue had to adopt a non-aggressive and orderly manner. The cat,
for instance, had to be nice to the mouse!
When Rhino and
Rhena – the first to apply – went up the gateway, Noach asked Rhino to demonstrate his
suitability for the venture. Rhino asked Noach to produce an eel, which he
would balance on his nose. When Noach explained that eels and some other marine
animals had been excluded, Kobra presented himself and offered to join forces
with Rhino. Initially, Kobra had to find his balance on the slippery nose. Once
he achieved that, the two – the vast mammal and the king of the snakes – danced
happily together,
When the elephant,
who was queuing behind Rhino, manifested jealousy, the White Viper offered to
dance with him. Shortly thereafter Kobra danced with Viper whilst Rhino and
Elephant performed acrobatics. All those lining up for admission clapped their
paws merrily. Rhena, too, joined the enthusiastic applause but told Phantia
(Elephant’s wife): “As long as boys only dance together they are OK. Trouble
starts when they do other things together.”
Responding with a
warm smile Phantia answered: “But many boys are poor at their homework.”
“So is Rhino,” said
Rhena sadly. “But look, the Good Book does not proscribe friendships between
girls. So why don't you come over to my place this evening. I am sure Rhino
will go up the deck to show himself.”
“So will Elephant!
Splendid then, I'll see you at 8.30 pm!”
Other applicants were admitted without fuss. Problems, though, arose
in the case of the crocodile. Was he a sort of water dweller or a reptile? Recalling
that amphibians were be dealt with on a case to case basis, Croc and his wife
were admitted but had to promise not to show their frightful jaws.
The next to present
a problem was Bonobo (a species of Chimpanzees). Asserting that his DNA was
99.5 per cent like a human's, he claimed to be entitled to a place at Noach's
high table. Animal Manna was for pure animals. Even if he was not the 'missing
link', there was much humanity in him. Like humans, his species had developed
what is best known as promiscuity.
“I see; but then
why did you bring Bonia with you?” Noach tried to gain time.
“Because she is my
present girl friend, Sir. And my inclinations are a personal matter: not a
subject for the American Press.”
“There
are no American journalists in my
“I am not sure,” I
decided to intervene. “Many of these journalists are destined for the Ward of
Bores (in Purgatory). But look, Bono: Naches will teach Bonia how to cook for
you. If she learns how to make cheese soufflé, I'll accept you as
a friend.”
Bono was perplexed.
“Why me rather than her? Is this just?”
“Of course it is,”
I told him. “Justice is blind!”
Bono
was about to reply, when Bonia left his side, embraced Naches and cuddled her.
“You will teach me?”
“Of
course,” replied a delighted Naches. Bono beamed.
The last problem
arose when two Wall Street Bankers – Jankel and George – put in their
appearance. They had heard all about this pleasure cruise and wanted to
partake.
Noach declined. “We
already have humans!”
“But we are
super-humans!”
At that very moment
two sharks materialised beside the
“Well spoken,”
agreed Fried. I simply nodded my approval. Crushed, the two New Yorkers
returned to their den. Jankel reported the event to his Schul, where the Rabbi
looked at him sympathetically: “They are anti-Semitic,” the Rabbi ventured. George's pastor was down to earth: “you
cannot expect to be accepted by everybody, especially when you insist on
drafting all contractual terms.”
The last arrival
was a creature with a beautiful hide and somewhat long arms. Despite them, he
walked erect.
“Who are you?”
asked Noach.
“A last century
researcher dubbed me Java Man. Later generations called me Pithecanthropus
Erectus and claimed I had come from Africa! So, you see: I am somebody to be
reckoned with! And I too am God Almighty's creature.”
“But you did not
bring your wife with you. And we don't accept bachelors!”
“Pica decided to
stay in our cave. Later generations will
'discover' her in fossilised form. But I want to enjoy a cruise!”
Again, it was time
for me to step in. “Look, Noach, we need a helmsman; and Picky has the right
long and strong arms.”
“I agree,” summed up
Friend. “So let him in. He too can have a place at Naches' table.”
“And where will he
sleep?” Noach wanted to know.
“In his cabin, next
to the helm. And, you, stop being difficult,” I reprimanded Noach.
The
Smilingly
I told her: “You see, my dear: that happens when you disapprove of Him directly
or indirectly.”
“What are we
supposed to do?”
“Be humble and
trust him, even if your mind or senses are in conflict with his acts.”
IV.THE FLOOD EVENTUATES
Picky settled
comfortably on the deck. It was a sunny day without a cloud in the sky. To his
surprise I appeared on the deck and proffered him oil clothes.
“What are these and
why do you want me to put them on? Tell me also: why do you need a helmsman
when the
“You wait and see,”
I told him. “You will need them when it begins to rain.”
“What is wrong with
my hide? I shake off any water as soon as I get to our cave.”
“A helmsman must
have a firm grip when the storm begins. He is not allowed to run away or go and
hide in a cave or cabin.”
Picky looked at me
dubiously. His eyes cleared when suddenly a horrendous rain poured down. Soon
the
Both Bono and Rhino
rushed over to help Picky. Bono, though, was unable to control the helm and
Rhino could not grip it. To avoid a catastrophe, Friend built a system of gears
for Bono and a pair of pedals for Rhino. To assist them further, he covered
each with a protective shield. Before long the
The Animals' Manna
pleased the inmates. Matters were somewhat complex at Noach's high table. The
first course, an onion soup displayed in a fine tourine, was out of Bono's
reach. His neighbour, Picky, sorted things out by ladling a bowl out to his
friend. Bono’s expression brightened as he tasted the soup. It was great.
The second course
was a cheese soufflé.
Wearing a smart apron, sewn by Shem's wife, Bonia handed a steaming baking dish
to each guest and asked him to cut a
piece. Most guests partook but were satisfied with a small piece. Bono cut for
himself a substantial piece and smiled at Bonia.
“Don't
you take too much,” she warned him. “You could upset yourself!”
“Rubbish,”
he told her and cut a second slice for himself. “I am sure it's excellent.”
“Let's
hope so,” she giggled, “and I am coming up the deck to see you later on! So
don't you dare to be tired.” Smilingly, Bono stroked her thighs. Picky used the
opportunity to carve an extra piece for his friend and added half of his own.
Bono threw himself on the plate. Naches and Shem beamed at him. I alone noticed
that Bono wrapped a piece in his napkin.
As
soon as the splendid meal was over, Bono rushed to the deck and gave a generous
piece to Rhino: “I pinched it for you;
enjoy it. The soufflé is excellent.”
Picky
accompanied Bono on his way to sick bay. “I have eaten too much,” confessed
Bono. On their way back to the deck the two friends encountered Rhino.
“What
the matter with you?” asked Bono with concern.
“Just
going for a stroll. I'll be back on deck soon. In the meantime, elephant is in
charge,” Rhino told them nonchalantly. Still, as soon as they were out of
vision he rushed in the direction from which they had come. “Animal Manna is
good enough for the likes of me,” Rhino muttered sadly.
V.ENTERTAINMENT DURING
DISASTER
“Friend, what are
we going to do with our guests? Surely, we must entertain them. If we don't
many will die from boredom.”
“I agree. But how?”
“Why don't we
invite guests, such as Mozart or Houdini?”
“Anachronisms?”
“Why not? The
meaning of the word was unknown in Noach's time!”
“Very well then,”
agreed Friend. “But first let us enliven things by asking our guests to
perform. I'm sure they'll respond.”
The animals did not
hesitate. Tiger danced with the she-Lamb; the Goat – bowing politely – asked
the Leopardess (a very elegant lady) to do him the honour. Within a few minutes
all assembled joined in happily. Mini-mouse and Tomcat – wearing a fine bow tie
– were a delight to watch. Saint-Saëns – who somehow got a recording – used it
in his Carnival of the Animals.
Roused by the joviality, Bono and Picky rushed down to join the
party. Before long, Rhino balanced Bono on his nose and danced merrily. To
outdo them, Bonia joined forces with Phantia, who elevated her on her trunk.
Instantly, Picky balanced himself on Rhino's nose and raised Bono to new
heights. Bono was about to bypass Bonia, when the two Bonobos clamped their
hands and chanted merrily. Assuming the role of the master of ceremonies, Noach
climbed on a deck erected by me in his honour, raised his right hand (in the
style of the Vienna festival) and shouted: “Alle Tanzen” (All to Dance). The
response was enthusiastic. Up on the deck, the Elephant alone remained in
command of the Ark. But, then, at least one inmate had to keep his cool.
The carnival
continued for the rest of the cruise. The passengers’ own celebrations were
interrupted by visiting guests. Houdini got an enthusiastic welcome and a vote
of thanks. Less recognition was given to Rubens. After his own performance,
Bono mounted the stage and drew the outline of the great artist. Bono then
asked all those present to apply colours to the sketch.
“Don’t tell me all
of them command colour schemes as masterfully as me?” protested the great
artist.
“But did you really
apply the colours to all your paintings? I thought you left such unimportant
tasks to your assistants. Didn’t you?” Bending his head, Rubens disappeared.
A few master
players followed. Paganini was, of course, a success. The next invitee was a
fine pianist from Melbourne. Tiger, who moved the vote of thanks, was close to
tears.
We had less success
with literature. Animal Farm, in
particular, invoked wrath.
“Does this author
really think we would not show resistance to an oppressor?” asked Rhino.
“He tries to be
allegorical,” I explained to them.
“Allegorical: my
foot! In my opinion, he was a gutless writer!” said Bono.
“He wanted to make his point indirectly,” I
tried to save the situation.
“I suppose he goes
from one street in Bloomsbury to its other end via the North and South poles,”
summed up Bonia safely relaxing on Naches’ lap. Grinning impudently, she added:
“I suppose you reach your target even when you take this route.”
Emanuel Kant fared
no better. Most animals managed to remain awake for the first quarter of an
hour. Thereafter, his sonorous voice and dry analysis had their effect.
“I wrote The Critique of Pure Reason going
uphill, on an empty stomach in a fierce storm,” bragged Kant.
“That is the way it
reads,” I agreed.
“Is it then a
failure?”
“Many readers use
it instead of sleeping tablets, Mani. So – all in all – it is a good book, in
my opinion.”
“That was not its
object,” Kant complained.
“Man’s thoughts are
many but the will of God prevails,” I summed up.
VI.THE FLOOD CULMIATES
The water was
receding. The expressions of Picky, Bono and Rhino showed they had to manoeuvre
their course so as to avoid emerging peaks. Noach too sensed that the trip was
coming to its end. To test the ground he sent the Raven out on a mission
flight.
When the Raven
returned without uttering a word Noach drew the wrong conclusion. My
suspicions, though, were roused. To get a clearer picture I confronted the
Raven, who rested willingly on my outstretched arm. Then, before I had chance
to cross-examine, he raised his question.
“Who are you,
respected Sir. I have seen you appearing and disappearing. You are neither animal nor human. Please tell me.”
“Before I answer,
you tell me: who has created and rules this world?”
“God Almighty, of
course. I was taught about him in primary school in Ravenland.”
“Does he have any
enemy or rival?”
“Our teacher said a
lot about a fellow called Satan. But I have never encountered him in the
skies.”
“You are resting on
his arm at present. But let me tell you: Satan is not an enemy of the Good Lord.
He is his Matey, adviser and friend!”
“And you do love
him?” countered the Raven.
“I am the power of
pure reason,” I objected.
“Does that rule out
emotions?” asked Friend – the Good Lord – unexpectedly.
“Actually, they are
reconcilable,” I confessed.
“They are indeed:
you are admitting a point I made eons ago! And so I have scored another round.
The flood, it follows, had at least one meritorious effect,” He observed
victoriously.
As he withdrew, I
turned back to the Raven: “Do you want to go on any other inspection flights?”
“Not really. You
see, Mr Satan, I have a good life here. Food is handed out every day. I don't
have to scout the skies for prey and I don't have to watch out for hawks or eagles.
Here, Mr Satan, Eagla danced with me. Out there she would have to feed me to
her chicks. Why don't we all stay here?”
“I'll have to talk
to Him about this,” I avoided the question.
Friend and I
– God Almighty and Satan – took a respite in our own dimension. After a while,
I told Friend about the Raven's desire to remain in the
“How about You,
Friend?”
“I am the creator
and I love all my creatures, especially when they are happy and content. But,
Matey, remember the object of this horrid flood. We set out to destroy evil and
preserve 'good'. Later on we shall see whether or not we got it right. But the
animals must be dispersed back to their original homes. Evolution has to go on;
it need not start afresh.”
“I agree. But how
about Picky. Homo Sapiens outdid him? He is a relic.”
“Let us then send
him to our special Ward. We love to visit it; and Picky is a suitable
occupant!”
A few days later,
Noach sent the dove on a scouting mission. Raven looked crestfallen. He
realised that his wish to stay put was known to Noach. To comfort him, I
decided to materialise: “Don't you think she too wants to remain here?”
“I doubt it, Mr.
Satan. She is a flirt.”
When the dove returned with an olive branch, Raven told me sadly
that she must have flown quite a distance. “There are no olive trees on our
mountains. She must have got the branch from a new boyfriend she met in Syria.
If he keeps their appointment, she won't come back next time. What a selfish
girl!”
“What are you
complaining about? She is not your spouse or girl friend.”
“True. But I have
the right to express my opinion. Don't we live in a democracy?”
“I doubt it, Raven:
He alone has the real power over life and death, subject to the acts of Fortuna
and occasionally my persuasion. He tolerates democracy because it amuses him.
Others, too, are amused, including the late Chingis Khan.”
“Where is Chingis
Khan now?”
“In the Ward of
Impossible Missions. We have asked him to conquer America. He is still
consulting maps, mostly outdated. And he is getting no help from the American
Press!”
The rest of the story is well known. On her next flight,
the dove decided not to return to the
To avoid accidents
or unexpected attacks, Friend sent each pair back to its homeland. An interval
of ten minutes between each departure facilitated an orderly disembarkation.
Problems arose only when it came to the departure of the two Bonobos. Bonia
complained bitterly that she would miss Naches and her daughters-in-law. She
had become their pet and was happy with them. To avoid a scene, Friend promised
to enable her to visit Naches regularly.
“But how about my
apron. Other Bonias will tear it to pieces out of sheer curiosity. And I love
my outfit.”
“I'll keep it for
you and bring it to you whenever you want it,” I promised. Friend nodded his
approval and beamed when I promised to come over if she or Bono called for assistance.
The last to depart
were the couple of Rhinoceroses. Rhino
looked forlorn. He became used to being the Ganzer Macher (the Heart and
Soul of the party) and did not like the prospects of anonymity.
“I’ll come to visit you whenever you call me,” I told
him.
“Will my race have
a role to play? Please tell me Lord Pan – what is our future like? What will
happen to us?”
“How do you know my
name is Lord Pan??? You know me as Satan?”
“Racial memory. My
ancestor knew you and we realise you have prescience.”
“Man will hunt you for your nose. Man thinks that a
pulverised Rhino nose-powder increases the Male’s sexual ability.”
“Then let Rhino
himself take some of it,” muttered Rhena looking highly amused.
“Not everything Man
believes makes sense. But the American Press or primitive superstitions
reinforce his view. Man's superstition about Rhino nose-powder is nonsense. But
it will cost Rhino’s race dearly.”
“Then we must go
and procreate. And please Lord Pan take care of Picky: he has nowhere to go.”
“You’ll come with
me, Picky. Won’t you?”
“I shall be
honoured,” he said.
VII.POST MORTEM
Up in heaven, in our own dimension, Friend looked
thoughtful. “Everybody has enjoyed the trip, do you agree Matey?”
“Of course: it was
delightful!”
“But what have we
achieved? Behold the 21st Century. Need I say more?
“They would have
been even nastier if there had been no flood. I am sure of this!”
“Shall I then
annihilate them?”
“Don't bother,
Friend. They are doing all they can to destroy the planet. They spill oil on
the seas, cover the earth with filthy cement structures and are a bunch of
rogues. Don't dirty your hands with them, Friend! They are a cursed race!”
“So, one bright day
I shall have to start again,” He responded with satisfaction.
ABRAHAM’S
SACRIFICE
(cf.
Genesis Caps. 12-18, 22)
I.TESTING FAITH
On this occasion
Friend prompted me. We were viewing the world which He created. Things looked
smooth. As yet there were no asphalted
roads, no trains or even steamships. But the land ploughed by man-driven oxen
and the ships propelled by the wind were attractive. So were the colourfully
dressed people. They pleased both of us. Then I, Mephisto, uttered the wrong
words: “You have every reason to be proud of Your world. Could it be any
better?”
“Of course it
could, Matey. Why can’t they say: ‘thank you’?”
“But surely, many
of them worship you. They sacrifice sheep to you: burn them in Your name. Some
even sacrifice their sons to You! Can they show any greater love and devotion?”
“But Matey,” he
replied sadly, “what am I supposed to do with charred bodies? Consume them? And
I hate the smell. Pfui!!!”
“I know. But all
they want to do is to make a supreme sacrifice in your honour. Shouldn’t we
appreciate their gesture? Look at it from their point of view!”
“And how about the
frequent hypocrisy involved. Many second wives want the first wife's son to be
burned. Then their own sons have a better chance of succeeding.”
“I know. And don't
forget that females – all descendants of Eve – have some of my devious spirit.
But even so, Friend, don’t you appreciate the father’s gesture?”
“His object is to
gain favour or to have a wish fulfilled. Do you think any one of them would
make such a sacrifice just to show his gratitude?”
“But isn’t such a
sacrifice a demonstration of love? Isn’t it a clear act of worship and
gratitude?” I persisted, knowing full well I was on the wrong track.
“Don’t you think it
is just an attempt to make a deal?”
“But how can we put
the theory to a test?” I tried to sidestep the issue.
“But, Matey, that’s
what we tried to do with that fellow Job. And where did it lead us?”
“To disagreement on
the outcome,” I had to concede.
The story of Job is too well known to require
repetition. After he had withstood the loss of his fortune and his kin, Job
reacted angrily when, with Friend’s agreement, I destroyed his health. Before
long he denied divine justice and, to a point, the very divine order itself.
His friends – and a young punk called Elihu – argued that Job’s humiliation and
inflictions established his guilt. In their eyes, there could be no smoke
without a fire. Job disagreed and, to the very end, asserted his innocence. In
the event, Friend Himself stepped in and proclaimed God’s omnipotence and
control of the creation. Job then conceded that might was right.
Friend asserted that, in this manner, Job affirmed his
belief. I, Mephisto, disagreed forcefully. Job surrendered to a power superior
to him. But his faith in that power’s perfection remained in issue. To my way
of thinking His reply from a storm did not prove the existence or the nature of
‘Justice and Righteousness’. After many hair-splitting
arguments, Friend and I agreed to disagree: so we were back to square one. But
now our lines of argumentation were, I fear, reversed.
“Well, do you want to have another go?” I asked Friend.
“We need another type of person for our test. You see,
Job was a sophisticated thinker: we need a grass roots man.”
II.
PICKING ABRAHAM
Abram was watching with affection the herds led by his
shepherds. He was a wealthy patriarch, well dressed in customary garb, heavy
set, broad shouldered and, of course, somewhat past middle age. His salt and pepper streaked beard was long
and shaggy. His face was wrinkled. His eyes, though, sparked with a zest of
life.
“Shall we approach him together, Matey?”
“But, then, he’ll believe in two super beings. Don’t you
want him to be a monotheist? Paganism is widespread, Friend.”
“Tut, tut: we’ll introduce you as my archangel,” He
grinned benignly.
Abram looked bewildered when we revealed ourselves to
him. “Who are you?”
“We’ve come to visit you. I am God Almighty and he there
is my archangel. And your name is no longer Abram. It shall be Abraham!”
“What will Sarai say?”
“Don’t be silly,” I told him. “When an Israelite girl is
pleased with her husband, she call him ‘Avi’ or ‘Aavram’. If he annoys her she
says ‘Avramm!’. A three syllables name cannot be used in this way!”
“But, Lord Archangel, Sarai is sure to find a way to
vent her displeasure. She’ll probably turn ‘ham’ to ‘h’m’.”
“He has a point,” conceded Friend. “Still by changing a
man’s name you elevate him. Like when you turn a
Abraham was reflecting when a metallic voice complained
about his rudeness. Why did he fail to introduce his new friends to her, his
wife Sarai? To ease the situation Friend introduced both of us.
Sarai gazed at him in amazement. “But I thought God was
an Englishman.”
“That’s an anachronism – a late Victorian cliché,” I
corrected her. “He is almighty, so he is not bound to a culture or a language.”
“My archangel has explained the position correctly,
Sarai; and from now on your name will be Sarah!”
“Sarah?” she asked bewildered. “Is that an elevation? ‘Sarah’ is singular; ‘Sarai’ is plural. It
means the ‘She-Leader of Many people’. Why must I now be confined to leading
just one group?’
“Because in this
manner I ‘choose’ you. So how? Will you now address your Avram as Abraham?”
“Oh, very well. But then, Good Lord – can you grant a
poor woman’s wish?”
“Well, what is it? Nothing is beyond the Good Lord’s
power,” he assured her.
“I want a son!”
“Why didn’t you pray earlier?”
“I wasn’t sure you would listen.”
Abraham – as renamed – looked around him dubiously. His current
heir, Eliezer of Damascus, was his son by an attractive Canaanite concubine. If
he begot a son with his wedded wife, Eliezer would be ousted. The idea did not
appeal to him. Sarah must have read his thoughts.
“You too wish to
have a son, Abrah’m!”
“Of course,
dearest,” he yielded.
Discreetly, Friend
and I withdrew to another dimension. Under our pact, certain rules of nature
were to be left untouched. One was of concern: Sarah was well past maternity
age. If she were to conceive at this point of time, the rules might have to be
revised. Neither of us liked the idea. Then, as often before, I came up with a
solution. A short back-in-time-trip would revert Abraham and Sarah to their
honeymoon years. A surgical removal of a deformity in her womb could then solve
the problem without a major departure from the order of things.
Friend embraced the idea but, before we embarked on it,
insisted Abraham must accept a pact. Friend would elect Abraham and his
offspring as his chosen people. Abraham and his heirs (the Jews) would, in
turn, be bound to love Him and worship Him.
To seal the pact,
Abraham dissected a poor veal. Abraham and an image of Friend walked solemnly
between the pieces of the severed carcass. I thought it best to give the
ceremony a miss as, indeed, did Sarah.
When the gory
procedure was over, Friend reiterated his choice of Abraham and his offspring.
Prompted by Sarah’s incredulity he told her she would soon embrace her son.
“But, Friend, when the time travelling venture is over,
Isaac would be a middle-aged man. Somehow, this doesn’t sound right.”
“Don’t you worry, Matey: we’ll coordinate his
development. Surely, Sarah does not wish to embrace a newborn baby.”
III.
THESACRIFICE
A few years later, Friend appeared to Abraham and
demanded that he take Isaac with him to
The rest of the story is well known from Biblical
sources. Suffice it to say that the angel sent to stop Abraham was none other
than my good self. And I carried the request out willingly. Abraham was
relieved as, indeed, was the strapped down Isaac. Still, to avoid lashes of
Sarah’s tongue Abraham announced his intention to settle in Tov – the good
country. Happily, Friend and I approbated. Isaac – the non-sacrificial lamb –
was to shuttle between his separated parents. Eliezer volunteered to proceed to
Tov and accompany his illustrious father.
IV.POST
MORTEM
As we withdrew, I told friend I was prepared to concede
the round. To my surprise, Friend insisted that I had won the bet. Abraham knew
full well that Friend would reward him for his sacrifice. So, all in all, it
was a motivated act.
“But surely, Friend, the sacrifice of a son and heir is
an act of worship and, further, an expression of faith in Yourself and Your
judgment.”
“That’s one way of looking at it. But the motive – the
expectation of a trade-in – detracts from the gesture.”
“So now you make the very point I raised in the case of
Job.”
“And you take my position. But then, why can’t we agree.
Must we always agree to disagree?”
His dismay was genuine. In the interest of both of us, I tried to
get to the heart of the matter. He was, of course, the Creator. But when His
work was done, He gave mankind free choice. And I, Mephisto, supported His
stand. This meant that, rationally and emotively, Man was invited to steer his
own course. He could be creative or parasitic. He could obey or disobey. But
did he really have free choice?
“Why do you doubt
Us on this point,” He asked, having read my thoughts.
“When you created
Man did you just form the shape – the flesh and blood – or also his ‘inner
self’: his soul?”
“Both – as you well
know, Matey. And you, Matey, gave Eve a breath of your own intellect. But why
does all this matter to the point at issue?”
“It matters a great
deal. What is the strongest instinct, or emotion, you embedded in him or in his
very soul?”
“What are you
getting at?”
“The central
paradox of Your Creation, Friend. To remain in existence Man had to opt for
self-interest. He gives and he takes. But survival instinct is the core of his
nature. You know what I mean.”
Friend – the Good Lord – reflected for a while. Love was
but a facet of the survival instinct implanted in every species, including
“your conclusion,
Matey, is that love is always for a purpose or a reward?”
“I think so.”
“And pure love,
without a motive or an expectation, is unattainable.”
“I am afraid this
is the position, Friend. Sheer devotion is incompatible with Man’s survival
instinct.”
“But then, both Job
and Abraham loved and worshipped me?”
“They did: within
the parameters ordained by You.”
“So here is the
flaw in my creation?”
“But is it a flaw?
It is the order of things you settled on and, Friend, with my full support. I
believed, still believe, things could not be any better. If free choice had
been denied to Man, you would have settled on a batch of unthinking robots. You
would have hated them; and so would I.”
“Could there have
been a middle way?”
“You opted for it.
You see, You revealed the route – the road leading – to Yourself. The way was
always mapped out for them. But the choice had to be their own. In my opinion
You opted for the best course presented to You when you contemplated the act of
creation and the nature of Your universe.”
“And all in all you
approved, Matey!”
“I did indeed: I
still do.”
“So, in the
ultimate, we are in agreement.”
“Of course, Friend.
And look, even I love you for a motive!”
“Eh?”
“I need your
friendship.”
“You have had it
from the word go.”
THE RED SEA CROSSING
(cf. Exodus, Caps. 10-15)
I.
A BET
“Anything wrong
with this drink? Don’t you like it?” asked Friend, who is usually addressed as
the Good Lord.
“It’s excellent,
and you know this. So why do you ask?”
“Because you,
Matey, look glum. And that’s not like you. Normally, you are cheerful:
especially when I come up with a new concoction!”
It was my turn to
look at Him with concern. From times immemorial Friend and I, Mephisto or Asmodeus,
have enjoyed an excellent relationship. True, at one very remote time, we had a
quarrel. I had to concede defeat and did so happily. No cloud marred our
friendship ever since.
“You are, of
course, right: I am gloomy. You see, Friend, ever since we put this little
dispute of ours behind us, everything has been smooth and easy. A generation
comes and a generation goes. But the trend remains there.”
“What trend?” He asked anxiously. As always, he knew
there was a hidden meaning behind my innocuous words.
“Everything moves in one and the same direction. The
mighty get mightier; the weak get weaker. Prescience is no longer amusing. It’s
dull!”
“Shall we then breathe some life into it?”
“But how? We have agreed not to intervene. That’s the
pact and we have honoured it. In consequence, mankind enjoys its free choice.
We might as well not be there!”
“Well,” he summed up. “Just for once let us show our
hands.”
“And if we change the future of human history?”
“But how can you change something which hasn’t
happened?” He pointed out convincingly.
I looked at him uneasily. For aeons, we had accepted
that gradual progression had been ordained. Naturally, we were aware that
unexpected developments could take place. But they had to materialise without
our intervention. Was it then right to make an exception. And why should the
dawn of Israelite history (which was in the minds of both of us) be the right
moment for an exception. After all, glum had prevailed for ages.
“So, the two of you want to have a battle of wits. Have
you decided to go on with the game
without me?” asked Fortuna. Having appeared
from nowhere, she looked daggers at both of us. “You just forget my very
existence. Very convenient, ah?”
“Why do you say this?” asked the Good Lord with deep
concern. “You are the best friend of both of us. How could we ever forget you
or your role?”
“Very well then,” she regained the friendly expression
for which she was renowned. “You start your little game but I’ll have the right
to step in!”
“But if you step in too often it will become a free for
all. Do you really want this?” I asked prudently.
“Not really. The two of you are good navigators, even if
you play blindfold. So, we’ll set a limit. You go ahead: enjoy your
pantomime. But I have the right to step
in three times!”
We agreed to settle on a friendly encounter, something
like a chess game. Still, neither of us
was prepared to enter the arena in person. Accordingly, we opted for puppets.
His was called Pharaoh. True, the Kingdom of Egypt had seen many Pharaohs
(‘kings’) but, for the sake of convenience we agreed his puppet was to be known
under this generic name.
“So my puppet will
be ‘King’ of ‘Kings’, wouldn’t it, Matey?”
“Precisely. The
absence of a proper name will confuse archaeologists of later times. Each of
them will try to ‘establish’ who was the relevant ‘Pharaoh’. The incomplete
records of Egypt will provide ammunition for their debate. Still, they’ll make
good money from their ‘researches’. So go ahead Friend: let us build up a good
myth.”
“And your puppet?”
“I’ll have to
switch. After all, we don’t intend to cast doubts on the average length of a
human’s life.”
“We might as well
leave this to ‘doctors’ of future times. Well, Matey, choose their names.”
“Joseph, Moses and,
if needed, Balaam.”
“Very well then,
except that, if Balaam steps on stage, I too might need to switch puppets,”
agreed Friend. “But don’t we have a linguistic problem as regards the entire
myth?”
“Actually, you are
right. If the pawns dwelt in an alien land for four hundred years, they would
forget their own tongue. So did the African slaves in America. And, as we all
know, there are very few Egyptian words in the Hebrew language.”
“Again, I can solve
the problem,” Fortuna spoke
maternally. “You, my Lord, make sure
that philologists don’t mix with archaeologists.”
“That’s no
problem,” he grinned. “The two camps are insular and look down on each other.”
II.THE NARATIVVE
The story is known
from the tome called the Bible or The Good Book. A Canaanite fellow called
Jacob begot twelve sons. Eleven of them envied the twelfth, one Joseph. So they
sold him as a slave to Egypt, bribing a caravan to take him there. Joseph, though, did well. He became the
counsellor of the chief vizier of Friend’s puppet, one Potiphar. In addition,
he was making eyes at Potiphar’s wife. When, after a while, she agreed to go
ahead, Fortuna stepped in. To the
amusement of both Friend and myself, she deprived Joseph temporarily of the
capacity to perform. Mrs. Potiphar was furious and so, as told in the source
material, Joseph ended up in prison.
“Well done,” grinned Friend. “But you, Fortuna,
exercised your right once.”
“Under the rules of
our game, I have two further goes!”
The myth is too
well known to require repetition. The Bible relates that the Hebrews spent four
hundred years in
“Why on earth did
you call him Moses?” enquired Friend.
“Why ever not? It
is a fine Egyptian name!”
“That is my very
point. The name is a common Egyptian label. Take Ramose, Tutmose and ‘-mose’ you don’t know what? Couldn’t you have
called him ‘Yahmose’ or ‘Yohmose’?”
“Your puppet would
have taken exception to that. He wants a genuine Egyptian counterparty. And he
is an Anti-Semite!”
“Who isn’t?” wailed
Friend. “I recall a doggerel by Tom Lehrer: ‘All the Catholics hate the
Protestants; and the Protestants hate the Catholics; and the Hindus hate the
Moslems; and everybody hates the Jews!’ Oh, well, you have convinced me of the
wisdom of your nomination! So, you have scored.”
“Shall I be the
score keeper?” offered Fortuna.
“Don’t bully us,” I
scolded her. “Friend and I know how to count from 1 to 10. Still, the zero is
yet to be ‘invented’ by that anonymous Indian mathematician.”
Moses proceeded
towards Pharaoh with trepidation. Naturally, they conversed in the Egyptian
tongue. Moses spoke it well, except when overcome by his stammer. Pharaoh
looked at him sadly. The sight of an Israelite dressed as an Egyptian squire
perturbed him. He was, of course, aware of the story of the reed boat but could
not comprehend why his own daughter had decided to pick up an unwanted child
drifting in the Nile. Was he by chance her own illegitimate son? Still, Pharaoh
thought it best not to enquire about the racial identity of the father. Like
Friend and me, his motto was tolerance (when possible).
“Well, what can I
do for you today, grandson?”
“Let my people go!”
“Eh! Who are ‘your
people’?”
“The offspring of a
lost Aramite. I mean the Hebrews!”
“How very
interesting! But whereto?” Pharaoh was perplexed.
“To
“Who was he?”
“A chap called Jacob the son of Isaac. Jacob’s son,
Joseph, was the Chancellor of the Exchequer of one of your own ancestors.”
“How very strange.
The name Joseph is alien. I have never heard it before. But, be this as it may,
whom do you want me to send on the tour?”
“The builders of
Pitom and Ramses. You treat them like slaves!”
“Rubbish: I feed
them, clothe them and mollycoddle them. They have nice houses, pretty wives and
lovely gardens. And they are not called to serve in my army. Why do you ask me
to chase them out? Goshen is a prime suburb. Do you want it for yourself? And if
I gave my construction workers leave without pay, who would build our cities?
Grow up, my boy.”
To convince his
adoptive grandfather, Moses used a trick taught in the Magicians’ School. He threw
his staff on the ground and turned it into a snake. Two of Pharaoh’s viziers
followed his example. To get rid of the horde of snakes, Moses’ snake swallowed
the others. Pharaoh was not disturbed. His Chinese chef had told him that snake
meat was good eating. Here, then, was his opportunity. Poor old Moses left with
his tail between his legs.
For the next fortnight Moses performed tricks, hoping to
convince Pharaoh to get the Hebrews out of
“Well, that was not so bad,’” Pharaoh said mildly. “But
next time, boy, turn the water into wine.”
“Then they’ll get drunk!”
“What’s wrong with a drunk Spartan?”
“Trouble is they don’t know when to stop. No, Grandpa.
Next time you ask the French and the Britons to partake. And how about the
Russians?”
“They drink only Vodka,” muttered Pharaoh.
Moses then raised frogs from the Nile. Pharaoh’s vizier advocated
that they be sold to France. Initially, Pharaoh was concerned about the ensuing
drop in the price of the delicacy. In the end, he gave way but amended the
terms of the memorandum of understanding. One platter – frog legs with
mayonnaise – was to be re-imported for his daily high table.
Moses’ next trick was an infestation of lice. They
attacked all the inhabitants of
“Actually, God was an Englishman,” explained Moses. “So,
their translation is Godly. So why make such a fuss about it. Even if it was a
slip, it would be immaterial.”
Pharaoh was nonplussed. He knew full well that his
entire kingdom was lousy. A few extra
lice were an unconvincing argument. The same was true about a horde of flies.
How could this silly grandson think that an Egyptian Monarch might be afraid of
flies or lice?
Moses countered by effecting a sudden increase in the
wild animal population. This, too, left Pharaoh cold. To save the Egyptian
population from being downtrodden by wild beasts, he proclaimed a resting day
(on full pay) and urged his hunters to make use of the opportunity.
Regrettably, all the wild animals, as well as precious
cattle, perished in the plague invoked by Moses. But here too there was a sunny
side. The plague, or pest, did not affect the dwellers of Goshen, their
chickens and their lambs. In consequence, there was a sudden rise in black
market prices. Pharaoh did not like this. Still, his belief in supply and
demand and in free markets survived the episode. He concluded all problems
could be sorted out by levying appropriate taxes and levies on profiteers or,
if necessary, by increasing or decreasing interest rates.
Moses’ next step was annoying. To combat the acne (itch) decreed by Moses,
Pharaoh had to license the use of steroid creams. In the end, though, he made a
good profit, settling his debts by selling antiques. But he took strong exception
to Moses’ invocation of the hail. From times immemorial Egypt had experienced a
draught. So it was improper to turn blessed water drops into ice cubes,
especially as Egyptians were not used to cooling their drinks. Moses, he
proclaimed, was to be prosecuted under the new code of good environmental
behaviour.
To protect himself from Pharaoh’s police, Moses brought
down locusts. Pharaoh did not like them but was not overtly
impressed. Eventually, he saw light. The Hebrews were locusts to him. He had to
look after them. So, mused Pharaoh, why not get rid of them? If they wanted to
leave wealthy Goshen, why should he stand in their way?
His resolve was nourished by the spell of darkness
brought about by Moses. The sight of what people did in the dark did not endear
them to Pharaoh’s royal eyes. In particular, he was dismayed when members of
both sexes used darkness as a protective shield. It occurred to him that this
episode threw light on his daughter’s lapse.
Moses followed this up by decreeing a death in each
household outside Goshen. Truth be told, Pharaoh was not opposed to
depopulation. He was convinced that Egypt had too many fools. But he needed the
first-borns for his army. Naturally, he could press Israelite males into it.
But were they any good? He knew that a battle was brewing with the mighty
Hittites. Could he face such a foe in the absence of his future horsemen?
“Oh, very well, grandson: take these Hebrews with you. I
don’t want to see them ever again. But you, Moses, hasten to bring me some good
doctors so as to prevent the death of my future soldiers. My army must not be
decimated. I do need cannon fodder!”
Friend and I watched the Israelite’s departure. Many
were wailing about the loss of the Egyptian fleshpots. Still, they managed to
buy up the best produce of the land against bills of exchange and promissory
notes. I could see trouble brewing, but felt I had to concede that, all in all,
He had scored.
“But, Matey, your puppet got what he asked for. So isn’t
it really your round?”
“Not really, Friend. Moses got more than what he
demanded. Your Pharaoh called his bluff. He did not send the Israelite’s on
no-pay leave. He chased them out once and for all. In effect, my puppet helped
yours to rid the Egyptians of unwanted aliens. So, in all fairness, I have to
concede the round.”
“So now the score is even,” observed Fortuna.
III.THE RED SEA CROSSING
Moses left at the head of the Israelite column. Right
from the start most of them complained. Some Israelite missed their Egyptian
mistresses. Some girls yearned for their chaperons. Indeed, the Hebrews had to
get out in such a hurry that all women left their yeast behind. Instantly,
their husbands wailed about the poorly baked bread; and, of course, there was
no meat.
The Egyptians, too, got wary. What was the value of all
the bills of exchange and promissory notes used by the Israelites to pay for
goods? Were they enforceable in Canaan? Pharaoh, too, became suspicious. Still,
he concluded that, regardless of whether the negotiable instruments were
effective or not, he managed to get rid of an undesirable element of his
population and of an illegitimate stepson who was a thorn in his flesh.
At the same time, Pharaoh feared a rebellion. His
people’s complaints nourished his sense of insecurity. His only hope was to
make his middle-class happy.
To forestall
trouble, Pharaoh summoned his legal viziers. The entire court listened to them
attentively but could not understand a word. One extant document suggests that
they formulated their address in Latin. Another source insisted they spoke
Egyptians but that their message was garbled.
“But you talk
gibberish,” said Pharaoh. “We put to you a simple question: is the paper
enforceable in
“It’s not that
simple,” explained the Chief Legal Vizier. “Do you have any treaty with the
Canaanite rulers?”
“But there are so many local chiefs.”
“Then we must
assume you have no treaty with any.”
“I suppose so,”
sighed Pharaoh.
“Then presumably
the bills and notes are not enforceable, subject to local norms.”
As a matter of
extreme caution, Pharaoh gave chase. He was about to catch up with the
Israelite as they reached the banks of the
Irked by their
unwillingness to negotiate, Pharaoh ordered his slowly moving army to follow
them. Moses was about to lower his staff, when Friend interceded. Calmly but
firmly he pointed out that, under the law of agency, an instruction could not
be countermanded once the delegate had
acted on it.
“But I am not bound
by common law principles,” Fortuna
had her say. As she forced Moses to turn his staff downward, the
Friend and I felt
uneasy. On the one hand, Friend’s puppet got rid of its unwanted guests. On the
other hand, the Hebrews had escaped with their loot. Who won the battle? On
reflection, we agreed with Fortuna,
who claimed it was a draw. In reality, it was her round. Her whimsical
intervention had led to a stalemate.
IV. IN THE DESERT
Friend and I
decided to take stock of the campaign. Friend’s puppet – the unidentified
Pharaoh – had been immersed in the waters of the red sea. If he drowned, the
Egyptian annals would present yet a further puzzle. What was the full name of the
Pharaoh who lost his life in the red sea? To avoid unwanted clues, Friend
restored him to his throne. We do not know what became of him.
My puppet, too, had
served its object. In a manner of speaking, he had proved his point. In
addition, the struggle with his adoptive granddad had turned him into an aging
man. When called upon to act, some assistants had to help him raise his arms
and, further, had to assure he would not let them drop back to his sides. I
concluded it was time to make my last switch. So I turned to Balaam.
Getting rid of
Moses was no problem. I sent him up a mountain where Friend – exercising his
discretion – received him with open arms. To please me – his old Matey – Friend
even agreed to permit Moses to have a glimpse of the country of Canaan and
ordained that Moses, that Schlemiel, was the greatest prophet ever.
To clear the remaining issues, Friend exercised his own right to switch puppets.
Unflinchingly, he told me his choice fell on a chap called ‘Pinchas’.
“But that fellow is
a zealot,” I let my dismay show.
“What is wrong with
zealots? Don’t forget, Matey, they managed to hold on to Masada for three long
years, defying General Silva and his Roman army.”
“I know. But,
Friend, zealots do not have a sense of humour: they are sub-human!”
“Never mind. This
way you’ll get a fore. I feel magnanimous today.”
Only one issue
remained to be settled. According to the
Bible Moses traversed the desert with his people for forty years. But would
any group of people be stupid enough to embark on an anabasis lasting for two
decades?
To our relief, Fortuna came up with a solution. One
single waltz was more enjoyable than eight years of a march without direction.
So, the best way out was to let the Hebrews dance.
“But this is only a
suggestion. I am still entitled to one intervention,” she told us firmly.
Naturally, we agreed.
To facilitate the
dance, we wheeled in a golden calf. I, Mephisto, stepped up to its podium and
sang a tribute to human cupidity and avarice. Friend thought I was realistic. Fortuna disagreed. In her opinion my
baritone was not up to the standard of the Scala or of the Metropolitan Opera.
Still, she conceded that my sing-song oration made sense.
As anticipated, the
Hebrews danced with zest to the tune of a high-fidelity broadcast of waltzes by
Straus and Gounod. Some Hebrew ladies went so far as to kiss the calf, their husbands
shrugging tolerantly. It was – I do admit – a moving performance. When the dance was over, the Hebrews
proceeded to the country of the Moabites.
At that time
As Balaam wanted to purchase an expensive Cretan vase, he
decided to accept the brief. On the very
next morning he took the road to Moab. He looked magnificent: prince Balaam
riding his white she-ass. Friend did not like the development. Seeking to avoid
an argument with Balaam, he sent Pinchas to intercept him.
Donning a suit of
armour, Pinchas confronted Balaam and brandished his sword. Balaam, who
suffered from severe Myopia, did not see him. Trying to save him, the she-ass
dodged, coming near to toppling Balaam over. As Balaam continued to prod her
on, Fortuna decided to intervene. She
opened the she-ass’ mouth, who, in turn, warned Balaam, who thereupon strained his eyes and perceived the imminent danger.
“What do you have
against me?” he asked Pinchas.
“You are making war
on my people. So, I am going to slay you.”
“I am not a
warrior,” protested Balaam.
“Why have you
agreed to accept a brief against us? And you, Ms She-Ass, why on earth have you
warned him. Don’t tell me he is kind to you.”
“I can handle him,”
she answered. “Further, my next owner may be worse: so I don’t want to jump
from the frying pan into the fire!”
“I take your point.
But you, Balaam, what do you have against the Hebrews?”
“Nothing,” Balaam
let his irritation show. “But a barrister-at-law is entitled to accept any
legitimate brief; and then has the duty to do his best for his client.”
“But this is not a
legitimate brief. This is a small Armageddon.”
“Do you want me to
turn it down and ride back to Midian?”
“Not really. Go
ahead but don’t be clever. And don’t you forget: I have a sharp sword; and I am
a good swordsman.”
Balaam’s dealings
with Balak are well known. Suffice it to add that he moved Friend’s heart. In
consequence, Friend confirmed his ‘choice’ of the Hebrews: he nominated them
his holy nation of godly priests. As could be expected, Balak was not pleased. He
sent Balaam packing and refused to pay his honorarium. Shrugging in disgust,
Balaam took the tedious journey back to Midian.
Balak, though, was
not prepared to give up. Fearing a confrontation with a nation mightier than
his, he enlisted some professional ladies from amongst his own people and the Midianites.
Needless to say, they found it easy to seduce the sex starved Hebrews. So
Pinchas waged war on them and, seeing no better way out, stabbed the leader of
the swarm and her Israelite lover. Fortuna
tried to avert the brutality. But when
Friend and I protested, she conceded she had already exercised her right three
times.
V.
POST MORTEM
Friend and I had to
agree that each of us had won one round. The third round ended up with a draw.
We had a dispute about the last round. Friend claimed victory. In his opinion,
his puppet – Pinchas – had scored. In my opinion, Balaam had proved his point.
True, he had not cursed the Hebrews. At the same time, he had firmed Friend’s
resolve to nominate them his own people.
“So?” asked Friend.
“Balaam was rather
successful, wasn’t he?”
“Depends on what he
had subjected them to. As far as I recall, the Hebrews became the subject of
incessant persecutions, exiles and pogroms!”
“But can you blame
Balaam for that? And if you do, then his blessing was a curse. So, he scored in
this way, didn’t he?”
“Unintentionally,
surely?”
“You have a point
there,” I had to concede but added in haste: “And, be this as it may, your
Pinchas achieved nothing!”
“Now, now,”
protested Friend. “He stabbed the sex offenders and formulated the law against
mixed marriages or peccadilloes.”
“But has this law
been observed?”
“I am afraid it
hasn’t. Ezra and Nehemiah lamented the deviations from it; and the less said
about later epochs the better.”
“To sum up: we had
another drawn round?”
We were about to
agree, when Fortuna stepped in. She
claimed that her interventions had a decisive effect on the red-sea crossing
and on the Balaam episode. Her determined acts led to the ultimate outcomes.
Smiling at us patronisingly, she claimed that one round went to Friend another
to me, Mephisto, but she had scored twice.
“Are you then
telling us you are mightier than both of us?”
“I am, rather.
Don’t you agree, Good Lord?”
“I think she is
right, Friend,” I threw in the towel.
“You mean that
chance is mightier than emotions, reason and fine planning? Surely, this is
absurd! It can’t be right!”
“I am afraid it is,
Friend. True, you are the creator and I am your chief counsellor. But
frequently Fortuna pulls the rug from under our feet.”
For a while, Friend
remained lost in thought. Then he regained his benign expression. It would be
best – he opined – to discuss the matter further in Bacchus’s tavern. Leaving
the Moabite desert behind us, the three of us
were soon on our way. In the event, we agreed that regardless of the
score it had all been fun.
S H T U T H
(cf., Book of Ruth)
I. THE BASIC NARRATIVE
Ruth rhymes with
Shtuth, which in Hebrew (Biblical, Rabbinical and modern) means ‘nonsense’.
Friend (the Good Lord) and I (his Matey, also known as ‘Satan’ and ‘Asmodeus’)
agree that Shtuth is a befitting title to this scroll, which purports to deal
with an episode that took time during the period in which the ‘Judges
judged’. The scribe or bard who composed
the Scroll of Shtuth, and who – wisely – chose to remain anonymous, seems to be
somewhat unclear about dates and geography.
At Friend’s request, I express Our views on this Scroll and –
reluctantly – accept that the period had really existed.
To start with, let
me – Matey – try to set the plot in plain language. There was a man called
Elimelech, who lived in a town called Beth-Lechem (meaning the House of Bread).
Elimelech had a wife called Naomi (meaning a ‘pleasant being’, which she might
have been). The Scroll tells us that Elimelech left Beth-Lechem because there
was a famine in the entire land.
There is, of
course, no doubt that
Well, like Judea’s,
In modern, Hebrew
‘Elimelech’ hints that the bearer of the
name is a clumsy fool: the type of person who rushes into a lift whilst the
inmates seek to get out or pours his hot tea (after having scourged his
tongue) over the clothes of the hapless person sitting next to him at the
dinner table. Obviously, Elimelech is a rare specimen unless one subscribes to
the view that (unlike women) all men are idiots (a debatable point).
In the Scroll of
Shtuth our Elimelech, who fled to Moab, forced his charming wife and his two
sons to accompany him. We are then told that Elimelech died. The Rabbis say
that this was Friend’s punishment but, then, why should God Almighty bother
with our Schlemiel? God Almighty (Friend) has more important things to do –
like sending floods to wipe out evil.
When Elimelech gave
up the ghost, his sons decided to get married. Far from going back to
Beth-Lechem, they started to cast eyes on the women available in their new
domain. One of them married a girl named Orpa; the other married Ruth: the
heroine of Shtuth. Regrettably, it is
not clear who married whom but, in a modern world, does this really matter? In
any event, both girls had high expectations of married life. But, alas, before
long the husbands expired and the two lovely girls remained widows.
Naomi too
remained on her own. Fortunately, she heard that Friend (God Almighty) decided
to “give” bread to the hapless people of Beth-Lechem. Naomi was pleased and –
without any hesitation – decided to return to her erstwhile base. Orpa kissed
Naomi goodbye and stayed put. Shtuth does not mention her again.
Ruth decided to follow Naomi and to adopt her
nationality and religion. So, according to the Scroll, conversion is a matter
of self-determination. Strangely, other books of the Old Testament take a
different view of conversion, in particular in the case of Ammonites and
Moabites. But the Rabbis tell us that the strictures applied only to male candidates for conversion. Presumably,
the Rabbis have a point. Still, is it perhaps possible that the authors of
these other books had not had the opportunity to study Shtuth or that the Bard of Shtuth was unfamiliar
with earlier texts? The less said about the contradiction the better. Actually,
not being an interventionist, I – Matey – have nothing to add.
Naomi and Ruth made the long trip to Beth-Lechem on
foot. When they arrived the entire city
met them with turmoil. In all probability, all residents queued up to shake
their hands. Naomi then explained she was unhappy because she was poorer than
when she had left. Bearing in mind that she went to
The Bard then narrates that Naomi and her converted
daughter-in-law arrived in Beth-Lechem at the beginning of the barley harvest.
According to tradition, the deserving poor had the right to glean ears of corn
left behind by the reapers. Ruth exercised this right in a part of the communal
field owned by a fellow called Boaz, who was an acquaintance of Naomi and a
member of Elimelech’s family. According to the Bard, Boaz ordered his reapers
to let Ruth pick up as much barley as she wanted and warned them not to touch
her. Presumably, a warning was needed on account of her good looks.
The next part of Shtuth is hard to follow. Hebrew law
recognises two separate rules. If a man dies without an heir, his brother has
the duty to marry the widow on the understanding that the first born would bear
the deceased’s name. If the surviving brother refuses to marry the widow – for
instance, because she is quarrelsome – the bereaved woman is entitled to spit
in his face: an appropriate demeanor of a woman scorned. The other (and
unrelated) principle concerns land. If the owner sells his property, every member of the family has the right to
“redeem” it or, in plain language, to buy it from any purchaser.
Let me (Matey) tell you that Shtuth confuses the two
doctrines. The Rabbis have reconciling arguments but, the truth be told, the
Bard was just as unfamiliar with the law as his eager listeners. It is, of
course, also feasible that the relevant doctrines were never in use. Again, I –
Matey – exercise my right of silence.
Be this as it may, Ruth told Naomi all about Boaz’s
kindness and asked her to ‘glean’ only in his field. Later on, when the farmers
sowed the seed for the next harvest, Naomi suggested that Ruth put on her best
clothes, anoint herself and then proceed to Boaz’s barn. On her arrival Ruth
found that Boaz was fast asleep. Ruth removed the hay at his feet and
prostrated herself, waiting – in accordance with Naomi’s maternal advice – to
see what would transpire.
The Bard tells us that eventually Boaz turned around,
woke up and was shocked to find that a woman (not a rattle snake) was there.
Eventually, Boaz told Ruth she was known to be a fine woman and, for the rest
of the night, the two read the Book of Psalms.
A well known
Biblical Critic pointed out that, according to tradition, the Psalms
were written by a fellow called King David, who was a descendant of Ruth and
Boaz. How then could Ruth and Boaz read
a text to be composed long after their demise? But the objection is groundless.
Under the general precepts of Rabbinical
learning there is no such thing as early or late in the Bible. Why, then, were
Ruth and Boaz unable to read a book composed some two hundred years after their
encounter? Still, it is possible to reach a compromise: perhaps they read the
Song of Songs, attributed to David’s son, King Solomon. True, this Song is –
supposedly – even later than the Psalms but, being a Love Poem, would it not be
more in point? All I, Matey, have to say is: perish the thought!
When the two completed their immersion in classical
texts, Ruth asked Boaz to “redeem” her, which, contextually, meant to marry
her. Boaz was happy to comply but asserted there was another fellow whose right
of “redemption” took priority over Boaz’s. Again, I (Matey) find this
explanation strange. The duty to marry a
childless widow is confined to the deceased’s brother. Shtuth does not suggest
that Boaz was a sibling of Ruth’s dead husband. Is it possible that Boaz’s lame
explanation was due to his getting cold feet? But, then, Shtuth suggests that
he was a hero?
Before Ruth left Boaz’s barn in the early hours of the
morning to return to Naomi’s dwelling, Boaz gave Ruth six corns of barley. The
Scroll implies that this was a way of sealing a bargain. Regrettably, no other
biblical book refers to such an early law of contract. Is it possible that the
Bard had a fertile imagination?
Still, both modern bible critique and traditional
exigencies deal seriously with the numerical issue. A
modern-critic-cum-mathematical genius explains that Shtuth indicates that a
numerical system applying a “base 6 or 12” would be superior to the current
system of applying “base 5 or 10”. In consequence, this critic blames Friend
(God Almighty) for endowing the Human Race with hands comprising five rather
than six fingers. In confidence, Friend is blamed for so many things!
A well-known Rabbinical sage suggests that the six ears
of barley given by Boaz to Ruth reflect the story of creation. After his hard
six days of work ending with the creation of our wonderful world, Friend (God
Almighty) needed a day of rest. It is not clear what Boaz’s six ears of barley
have to do with the Creation. But, then, everybody has the right to express a
view.
I, or any writer specializing in behavioral sciences,
suggest that ‘six’ was a reflection of Boaz’s capacity. But can you interpret
Shtuth in reliance on modern science? Still, Shtuth explains that the corn was
given so that Ruth would not ‘go empty to her mother in law’. Was it then a
reward for Ruth’s participation in the reading exercise?
II.
REDEMPTION
When Ruth arrived back at her mother-in-law’s house,
Naomi was delighted with the outcome. In Naomi’s opinion, Boaz would not rest
until he completed his business. Like most matchmakers, Naomi was subtle.
Next morning Boaz set out to arrange things. There was,
of course, no real obstacle to his marrying Ruth. Up to the 13th
Century of the ‘common era’, Jewish law sanctioned polygamy. Further, one
Rabbinical source (of the 15th Century) advises that, conveniently,
Boaz’s first wife had died just before he met Ruth.
Well, Boaz started the proceedings by convening the
elders at Beth-Lechem’s gate. By sheer chance (the hand of Fortuna) one
of Boaz’s friends passed by, immersed in reflections on favourable land
transactions. Inviting his friend to join the group, Boaz addressed him as
“Ploni Almoni” (“such and such a one” according to the King James translation,
but, in plain Hebrew, a form of address used to describe a stranger).
“What is the matter with you Boaz? Have you forgotten my
name?” asked Ploni.
“I am very agitated today and that’s why well-known
facts slip my mind. Please forgive me,” stammered Boaz.
“Oh, very well. This time I’ll forgive your lapse. But
what is this all about?”
“Well, would you be interested in a piece of land once
owned by our late kinsman, that fellow Elimelech?”
“Why, I have never heard of it; and I am a land
speculator,” retorted Ploni, who had raised his eyebrows when Elimelech’s name
was uttered.
“Naomi sold it. But you, as redeemer, have the right to
buy it back!”
Here, again, Shtuth is confusing. Under the Jewish Law
of Inheritance (as taught in Jerusalem) real property passes to the deceased’s
eldest son or, if the deceased dies without male issue, the title vests in his
next of kin on the male family line. How then could Naomi sell Boaz’s field (if
he had any) after his death? I (Matey) believe that this is one of the
instances in which the Bard took licence.
Be this as it may, Ploni was interested. For a while
they discussed the price. Boaz talked about charity and fairness; Ploni
lamented rising prices. Each claimed that the other was protesting too much.
The city elders (convened at the gate) watched the negotiations with
unconcealed interest.
In due course Boaz and Ploni agreed on a fair price.
Then Boaz played his trump card, telling Ploni that the purchaser would also
“buy” the deceased’s wife. Supposedly, the Bard meant Ruth but the point is
difficult: Ruth had not been Elimelech’s wife but daughter-in-law. Why then
ought the law of redemption and the duty to resurrect the deceased’s name be
relevant to the land transaction?
In any event, Ploni refused to have Ruth. The narrator
tells us that Ploni was afraid to ‘harm’ his own inheritance. Boaz could not
understand the point. How could a marriage affect Ploni’s own expectations?
“Look here, Boaz,” explained Ploni, “women like to
meddle. And they are curious. It is best to stay clear of risky transactions
involving them.”
Manifesting his disagreement, Boaz exclaimed: “In that
case, I shall redeem Ruth.”
For a while Ploni kept staring at him. Then he took off
his sandal. The Bard tells us that Ploni handed the shoe to Boaz and that, by
performing this gesture, he manifested his consent to the bargain. I (Matey)
ask: “what bargain”? The Bard does not clarify the point. Still, he tells us
that under an ancient tradition bargains were sealed by the handing over of a
shoe. Actually, no record of such a remarkable tradition is to be found in any
other text of the Bible. Further, the alleged tradition makes no sense. Would a
shoe, with its soles dirtied by the dust and filth of the road, be an
appropriate token for entering into a contract?
The real facts were straightforward. Ploni used the
sandal to hit Boaz’s balding head. Peace-loving Boaz was too stunned to react.
The Panel of Elders, too, was perplexed. Eventually, one of them asked: “Why on
earth did you do this, Ploni?”
“I wanted to bring Boaz back to his senses!”
“How could you possibly bring a person back to something
he had never had?”
“You have a point there,” conceded Ploni. Then, turning
to Boaz, he added: “Sorry to have hit you, my friend!”
“But why do you think it makes no sense to marry Ruth?”
“You are well past your prime, Boaz. How will you cope
with a girl who is some thirty years younger than you?”
“The Good Lord will help,” retorted Boaz with
confidence. I – Matey – was glad to note Boaz’s confidence in Friend!
III.
LENEAGE: KING DAVID
The Scroll of Shtuth adds that Boaz did indeed marry
Ruth. Presumably, he also redeemed the field, buying it for a sound price and
making a good profit on its re-sale. After all, like his friend Ploni, Boaz was
a speculator. The narrator then adds that one of the offspring of Boaz and Ruth
was none other than King David. Orthodox Christians trace the lineage onward to
Jesus Christ. Did the narrator wish to tell us that neither David nor Jesus
were of pure Jewish blood? Was this the Bard’s message?
Be this as it may, the Scroll of Shtuth does not refer
to Jesus. Obviously, it was composed long before his time. Still, it ends with
a reference to King David, who must have been revered when Shtuth was reduced
to its present form. Further, King David continues to be held in high esteem by
present day Orthodoxy.
It may be asked: what was the Bard’s real object when he
composed the Scroll of Shtuth. Orthodox believers still claim that Shtuth
narrates historical facts. Jewish liberals and most Christians regard the
Scroll as evidence for the equality (before Friend) of Jews, gentiles and half
castes like King David (whose mother was
a Moabite). Still, is it really
necessary to quote Shtuth for such an obvious conclusion? Why should the
starting point be a belief in Friend’s preference of the Jewish race? Is it
wrong to start with the presumption that all humans are equal in the Good
Lord’s eyes?
Yet another possibility is that the Bard simply wanted
to weave a tale for his audience’s enjoyment. Friend and I agree that this is
the most reasonable conclusion and also
aver that later generations used Shtuth to support their own dogmas. Friend and
I (Matey) take exception to all of them!
D E L I L A H
(cf. Judges, Caps. 13–16)
Delilah – a fine lady notwithstanding her
illiteracy – asked me, Mephisto (also known as Satan and Asmodeus) to write
down her story. The existing version in the Book of Judges was composed by the Biblical Bard who – so
she claims – was a male chauvinist. She
knows that I – Mephisto - am not that; and so she approached me to help her. I
am convinced her account is factual, though possibly a little biased here and
there! Still, I agreed and also offered her a place of honour in one of my
wards. Well, please hearken to Delilah’s
mellow voice!
The first time I
set my eye on Samson was when I spent an evening in the Dagon Tavern in Sorek. My
ex-boyfriend (Achish) – who says I jilted him although, in truth, he took the
initiative – invited me over to ensure we remained friends. I had nothing
better to do that evening, so I went along to humour him.
Achish was
conducting a small band. His lieutenant – Abimelech of Ashkelon – was playing
the percussions and blowing the trumpet, though Achish took over trumpet duty when Abimelech needed
both hands to beat the drums. The other fellows were playing the horns and the
lyre.
Samson was dancing on
the stage, hopping around enthusiastically and turning adroitly on his axis.
When his long hair – which touched his knees – got in the way, he tossed it
behind his head. He was impressive. Then Achish raised his left hand and Samson
started to strip. He took off his
headwear and threw it over to one girl, discarded his shirt and tossed it to
another and then – to my surprise – took off his tunic and danced holding it in
front of him like a veil. That silly garment and his long hair camouflaged nicely
the things some of the curious girls wanted to see. But Samson’s broad shoulders,
huge chest and, h’m, tight buttocks, charmed all in attendance. When the act
was over, Achish switched off the candle and Samson danced off the stage.
Everybody clapped wildly – including me.
After re-lighting
the candle, Achish came over to my table and offered me a glass of wine. I congratulated
him on this new show and asked how he had discovered the star.
“Dagon sent him!” he told me piously.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, we were over in Zoreå, and there was Samson,
being chased by a dog. We came to his
assistance. Afterwards, I took him over to Sorek and gave him a pork goulash.
He loved it and asked for more. Then we
became friends.”
“I thought these Hebrews didn’t take pork,” I let my
surprise show.
“Only because their nobles keep it all for themselves!”
said Achish. “Anyway, one thing led to another and we decided to offer him the dancer’s
job. He was a great success in
“How did you get him back?”
“I promised him a lobster thermidor. Turns out he is a
bit of a gourmand; can’t resist good food.”
“Did you like my act?” asked Samson, who joined us after
he took a bath.
“It was great, but that long hair of yours is a
nuisance!”
“Why?”
“It hides too much!” I told him frankly.
“Ah,” he nodded, “but you know, some things a gentleman
shows only in private!”
Achish grinned and
stood up, leaving Samson and me alone. We got on fine; when the tavern closed, I took him home with
me. Achish smiled from ear to ear when he held the door open for us. You might
have thought he had set us up; but really it was my own decision. Well, a girl
from
To be honest, initially
Samson was a disappointment. You see, when one of our boys – like Achish –
comes home with you he wants to get right on with the job, like he is on fire.
Samson was different. He eyed my bed with glee; said the mattress looked
wonderful, stretched himself out and … fell fast asleep!
I was disgusted and wanted to boot him out; but he was
too heavy. So, I snuggled up against him – to make sure he won’t catch a cold –
and grumbled to myself about the hardship of a working girl! Still, two hours later
Samson awoke and made up for lost time. He was O.K but nothing special. Perhaps
circumcision isn’t all it’s cracked up to be!
Three days later, Samson came over to see me again. Soon
he became a regular caller, always turning up loaded with gifts. One time he
brought me honey; another time a lovely bunch of grapes. On another visit he turned
up with a lamb, which he cooked for us. Then, on my birthday, he brought dates
stuffed with almonds, which his mother bought on her trip to Kadesh Barneå.
Well, Samson was alright and, unlike our own boys, did
not take himself too seriously. But there were two things I hated about him.
To start with, he was a braggart. Once we’d started
going steady, he let drop that he had been conceived after his mother met an
angel. Before that celestial occasion, she was barren. The angel told her she
was a good sort and that – despite being a bit past it – she would conceive and
give birth to a boy.
“I didn’t know a heart-to-heart chat – even with an
angel – could make a woman pregnant,” I said to Samson.
“But the Biblical Bard assures us it happened. My mum
said it too, and she never tells lies.”
Another time, he told me he had fought with a lion and
torn him apart as if it were a lamb. I
asked him: “So how comes a hero like you got chased by a dog until Achish and
his gang bailed you out”.
“But that dog was fierce!”
“Ha! And the lion wasn’t?”
“No. It was a cub; and very sweet.”
“So why did you kill it, you brute?”
“The Biblical Bard told me to!”
After a while, I stopped listening to his fairytales. This way we
managed to avoid having arguments. I
just smiled when he started going off.
But the other trouble – his long hair – was a nightmare.
It always got in the way. In the end, I offered to give him a free haircut, but
he refused. The angel, who had spoken to his mother, told her to dedicate her
son to their tribal God. So, he was a Nazeer!
“So, you are a Nazeer!” I said. “But you eat pork, drink
wine and have girl friends!”
“The angel said nothing about any of that. He just
insisted I must never cut my hair or shave. I suppose he wanted to help Mum cut
down barber expenses!”
“Stop being silly,” I told him. “It’s your own hair. You
should be able to do as you like with it!”
“But if I cut it, I’ll get into trouble with mum. And
what about my act? I need my long hair. And anyway it’s fashionable.”
I brought the
subject up whenever I had a chance but Samson would not budge - the
stubborn boy. So I had to live with the nuisance. I shampooed his silly hair
and then knotted it into pigtails. He was not too happy; but I had the upper
hand!
Going out with
Samson was fun. He was big, gentle and obliging. Everybody loved him. Other
girls turned pink with envy whenever I put his arm around me! So imagine my
surprise when one bright day, when we had a walk near the falls in the botanic
gardens, Achish and his gang approached us with raised clubs.
“What’s the matter, Achish?” asked Samson.
“The soothsayer in Dagon’s temple says we must beat you
up. I told her I couldn’t beat up a friend, but she insisted.”
“Typical,” I told them. “That bitch always tries to
steal other girls’ boyfriends; and if they don’t want her, she plays some dirty
trick on them. But I didn’t think she’d stoop to something like this!”
“But what can we do?” wailed Achish. “Dagon’s commands
must be obeyed!”
“You may be my friend,” Samson said threateningly, “but if
you beat me up, I’ll have to burn your fields in revenge!”
“And how do you think you’ll do this?”
“I’ll get foxy and his friends to carry torches tied to
their tails; don’t you know they are my gang!”
“So why not settle it now,” said Abimelech. “You bend
over, Samson, and Achish will give you ten of the best.”
“No,” growled Samson.
We were standing
there in confusion, wondering what to do next, when a donkey called Chamor
Chamorotayim, who had been grazing next to us, came up with a brilliant idea.
Having listened to the entire tale, he asked if the Dagon priestess had ordered
a severe beating. Achish scratched his head and, after taking Abimelech’s
counsel, affirmed that nothing had been said about the severity of the beating.
“That’s easy,” opined Chamor. “You Samson get a club and
then all of you jump as high as you can and make threatening gestures. Only be
careful not to hit each other. That could be serious!”
“Brilliant, a neat legal – common law – fiction,”
exclaimed Abimelech. “What made you think of this”.
“I have been
watching Cantonese soaps,” he told us.
Achish was only too
happy to follow Chamor’s advice. The only problem was to find a club for
Samson. Keen to overcome the obstacle, Chamor lent Samson his
grand-grandfather’s jawbone, which had become a family relic.
“But how are we going to choose the winner?” I asked
naively. “Highest to kick?”
“No! We are in
It took them a while to hop it out. When everyone except Samson
languished on the ground, Chamor took back the relic, polished it with his tail
and smiled triumphantly. Having raised Samson’s arm in victory, Chamor trotted
away.
Achish and his gang were now fast asleep. Samson
muttered he was thirsty! So we went back home and I made him a nice cup of tea.
Later on, we discussed how to incorporate the hopping in Samson’s act.
Samson and I remained great buddies. All was well,
except for the on-going issue of his long hair. In my desperation I discussed
the matter with Achish. He thought it over and then told me about a well-known
wig maker who might offer to pay 100 shekels for Samson’s hair.
“Why not ask Samson to let you shave his head and then split
the dough?” he asked.
“What an excellent idea,” I answered. “I’ll give it a try.”
Samson, though, would not hear of it. When I nagged him,
he went off in a huff. After a tussle, Achish found a way out. Next time Samson
came over, I slipped him a Mickey Fin. When he was fast asleep – with his head
in my lap – Achish and Abimelech came over and helped me cut Samson’s hair.
Having packed it in a nice box, they delivered it to the happy tradesman.
Samson was
disconsolate. He said we had robbed him. He refused to share the money and
threatened to put out his eyes so that he would not have to look at his bald
head.
“I don’t know what the fuss is about,” sad Achish. “Some
girls love skinheads; and now you’ll have less to tug around!”
“But how about my act?” lamented Samson.
“Will get you a bigger veil,” Achish tried to soothe.
“But I want my hair. I’ll be useless without it.”
In the end we compromised. To save any permanent injury to Samson’s
eyes we agreed to blindfold him and stipulated that he would stay put in my
flat until his hair grew again. We expected it to grow back (at least to a respectable
extent) within two months. For that period, he would be given leave with full
pay and his admirers were to be told he was taking a break in Chazor.
I am confident
everything would have worked out nicely if we had stuck to the plan. But Achish
was greedy. He persuaded Samson to take on manual jobs which he could do
blindfolded, like grinding wheat in the mill.
Gradually, news of
Samson’s whereabouts leaked out and the ladies, who wore wigs made of his hair,
wanted to pay him their respects. They arranged a karaoke evening, during which
Samson was to chant about his foxes. To avoid publicity, they suggested we
convene in a ramshackle old
Achish helped me
get Samson ready. From his experience in horse training, he knew the blindfold
should be removed gradually. He made
Samson take it off for short periods, commencing three days before his
appearance. To start with, Samson was aghast when he looked in the mirror, but
I assured him he looked great with his newly grown short hair and smart beard. Then, as he got used to this image and
started to feel comfortable without the blindfold, he stopped complaining.
His performance on
stage started well. Samson had a fine baritone voice and knew how to perform even
without stripping. All the girls admired him and envied me. Unfortunately, his
success triggered some jealousy among our boys. One of them lost his head and
threw a banana skin onto the stage. Samson tripped on it and tried to steady
himself by clinging to one of the pillars. His weight was too much for the old
structure and, to my horror, the building started to shake.
“We better get out of here,” hissed Achish, who was
sitting next to me at the back entrance.
“But how about Samson?” I let my anguish show.
“We can’t save him and – you know – Samson may wish to
perish with Plishtim; but do you have to perish too?”
Before I could answer the roof started to cave in. I let Achish drag me out. When the avalanche
was over, we went back inside. The falling stones killed Samson, Abimelech and
all other members of the band, as well as many among the audience.
As we stood there,
stricken with grief, Chamor Chamorotayim trotted over to us. His sleep had been
disturbed by the tumult and so he came over to see for himself. On his advice,
we pulled Samson’s body out of the debris and sent it back to his hometown.
A great deal has
happened since then. Without Samson around, Achish and I came together again.
Having lost his orchestra and star, Achish’s business started to fail. On
Chamor’s advice we closed it down and Achish became a stockbroker. Chamor and
many others have invested through him. Some have made a lot of money but other
Chamorim lost their saddles. Achish and I are living comfortably on the modest
commission we make on each deal.
Later in the year,
we tied the knot. True, I miss Samson but – all-in-all – it is
best to marry a fellow countryman: at least you know what to expect, and how to
handle him.
Recently, I got in
the family way. If it is to be a boy, I’ll call him Samson.
Delilah told me,
Mephisto, her story – the story of an oft misunderstood lady of character – without any bitterness. When I told her it was
at variance with the account of the Biblical Bard, she shrugged her shoulders.
You can’t please everybody, she pointed out. She then assured me hers was the
true account; as doubtless it is.
Achish, who sought
fit to join us, told me that I would be wise to trust Delilah’s tale. The
Biblical Bard ought to have learnt from Jacob Grimm and Hans Christian
Andersen. Their fairy tales are more convincing.
“Does anybody
still believe the Biblical version?” asked Delilah.
“Some do,” I
assured her.
“Who are they?”
“They are spiritual
descendents of the Biblical Bard and Chamor” I explained. “They wear black uniforms
all year round, go to a place called Schul and do not work on Shabbat!”
“No work at all?” marvelled
Achish.
“Except hurling
stones at innocent passers bye, who are not members of their clan and who wear
different clothes.”
“But isn’t
throwing stones work?”
“They say it’s not
work but a pleasant pastime!”
“Oh, very well,”
muttered a Delilah; “I suppose it takes all types to make the world.”
“Quite so,” I
assured her; “and letting others do as they wish is what we call freedom; it’s just that not many people
believe in granting it to others. Still, it applies in all my wards!”
We had a glass of wine and then I went back to my other
dimension. To my mind, Delilah’s tale is more plausible than the Biblical
Bard’s. My view is shared by Friend (the Good Lord). However, for reasons not
clear to me he decided to have nothing to do with this story.
“So, that’s that!” I concluded.
D A V I D
(cf.
Samuel I, Caps. 15-end; Smuel II;
King’s I, Caps. 1-2)
I. GOLIATH
Friend, the Good Lord, smiled with
satisfaction as I emptied the cup. He
had brewed the drink for me; and it was
delicious.
“But you are not partaking, Friend,” I complained.
“I am sad, Matey,” he confided.
In response to my further questions, he showed me the battlefield.
The Israelites and the Philistines were getting ready for the onslaught. Both,
though, waited for the outcome of an encounter between the Philistine hero –
one Goliath – and an adversary to be nominated by the Israelites. Defiantly,
Goliath dared them to find a ‘hero’ capable of facing him.
“You cowardly Israelites; you useless sheep. I’ve been
challenging you for days but none of you has the guts to face me. Don’t you
have at least one real man? But whether you find one or not: we’ll slaughter
all of you by the end of the day,” he yelled.
Turning back
to Friend, I sensed his dismay. Still, I
was unable to comprehend. Friend and I – Mephisto – had originated at the
Beginning – the dawn of the universe – and were, practically, timeless. Why
should an encounter between two opposing human camps matter? The outcome had no
bearing on us.
“You are wrong there,” said Friend, who was able to read
my thoughts. “The Israelites worship just one God: me. The Philistines are
pagans.”
“But the Israelites are a divided lot. Each tribe
furthers its own cause. I see no benefit in gaining their worship,” I replied.
“Not instantly. But their faith is bound to spread,
unless they are annihilated.”
“So this is why you don’t want to see them beaten.”
“This campaign might annihilate them and, in the
process, trigger of a fundamental change in human history. The very idea appals
me.”
“In that case, let us find an Israelite champion,” I
suggested.
“I’ve tried. But when they see Goliath: a giant clad in
a fine suit of armour, they lose heart. His barrage of insults underscores that
fear.”
“There is a simple solution. I’ll champion their cause
and beat Goliath. It won’t be difficult and it would be fun to ‘act’!”
“It would be best to fell him but spare his life. I hate
bloodshed. And I hate the hypocrites who perform atrocities and use my name!”
“I
understand. But our main problem will remain Israelite disunity. How can we
overcome it?”
“Care to
try?” he coaxed. “Let’s have a bet. You win if you beat Goliath without killing
him and unite the Israelite. If you fail in either task, you lose!”
“And the
prize?” I grinned at him
“If you win,
I undertake to brew a very special drink.”
“And if I
fail?”
“You’ll be
under an obligation to partake!”
“So ‘heads’ I
win; ‘tails’ you lose? Quite a bet!” Having paused for a few second, I summed
up: “Friend, I’ll do my best but – this time – not in order to win a bet but
out of affection.”
“Thanks,
Matey. I accept – gratefully.”
“I am
gratified. But me’thinks our experiment has a further, underlying, object,” I
reflected.
“It does. We
must find out all about human nature. If the world is ‘unsatisfactory’, it
might be best to start afresh. We’ll decide when the experiment is complete.
Hopefully, a single go will suffice. Otherwise, we’ll have to try again.”
Goliath
– ‘Golly’ to Friend and me – made his appearance shortly after the rise of sun. Viewing him carefully, I concluded he
was not as fit and solid as he appeared. The shield, carried by a sturdy boy, had
become too heavy for the aging giant. Bowed under the weight of his suit of
armour and the lance, it took him an effort to march over to the front. Still, any manifestation of frailty
disappeared as soon as he raised his voice, hurling insults at the Israelite
camp. In no time, he turned himself into a raging bully, using his
psychological skill to scare the enemy.
In
a remote corner of the battlefield King Saul – who reigned over the Israelites
– had a counsel of war with his lieutenants. Their immediate problem was to
find a match for Goliath. They realised that if Goliath won, their own poorly
trained soldiers would break ranks and flee.
Initially,
my offer to face Goliath met with unconcealed amusement. Abner bin Ner – Saul’s
second in command – thought my sling was a ‘joke’. Even if I scored a hit, the
stone would bounce off Goliath’s suit of armour without leaving as much as a
scratch.
“I’ve killed
a lion and a bear with this sling, Your Majesty. I’ll target Goliath’s bloody
eye or filthy mouth.”
“But are you
sure you can hit him?”
To remove any doubt, I shot down a hawk
flying high above us. Duly impressed – and still unable to find another
combatant – Saul commissioned me.
Refusing to don a suit of armour, I got ready to face Goliath in my shirt
sleeves. As I proceeded to the arena, Abner said feelingly: “God be with you!”
“He is!” I
assured my camp.
Goliath took the appearance of an
unarmed combatant as a slight. Gazing at me and my sling with contempt, he let
his fury show:
“Are you out
of mind? How dare you confront the Great Goliath with this silly sling of
yours. I’m going to beat you into a pulp! Let the birds and beasts of prey
devour your remains, you son of a whore!”
“Come off it
Golly,” I told him calmly. “You’ve not met my mother, so don’t you dare talk
about her. And as to the birds and beasts of prey: do you really think I’m such
a tasty morsel? They’ll upset their stomachs if they try to devour me!”
“Who are
you?” he asked when he recovered.
“Your
pantheon has sort of side stepped me. Your Hades and Pan, the mischievous
jester, are of the same lineage as me.”
Without further ado, Goliath marched
forward, aiming his lance at my head. Dancing around him, I aimed my sling at
his helmet. As Goliath continued his march, the missile hit him harder than I
had intended.
Rushing over
to his side, I was relieved to find his pulse. It was weak but steady. Having
peeled off his suit of armour, I started to manipulate his legs and arms,
hoping the blood would flow back to his head.
“Where am I?”
asked Goliath when he opened his eyes.
“We
transferred you to a different dimension after I felled you. Nobody except us
can see you!”
Looking
around, he perceived the Good Lord. “Jupiter!” he exclaimed. “You, yourself,
came to help me?”
He tried to
rise and bow, but lost his balance. Fortunately, I managed to grab him. But,
even so, he looked shattered. Eventually, Goliath managed to rise. Having
thanked both of us, he wanted to know how we came to call him ‘Golly’.
“Well, that’s
what your mother and sister used to call you,” explained Friend.
“Is sis still
alive? I left Samos when she married one of our competitors in the ring. I
didn’t want to risk hurting him and breaking her heart. So, I took a ship to
Jaffa.”
“You can
return to Samos now, Golly” I told him. “Your brother-in-law was killed two
days ago. Jupiter will teleport you
home. You’ll be there is a few seconds. Cheer your sister up, Golly. She has
been thinking of you and missing you for years.”
“Thanks. Will
I see you again, Lord Pan?”
“Sporadically,”
I assured him.
II.THE KING’S MUSICIAN
Back
at the battle scene, the Israelites were re-assembling at their camp. When
Golly was felled, the brave Philistines fled in disarray. The Israelites
slaughtered the slower ones. They were now chanting songs of victory, in which
they – the poor lot – were described as the chosen heroic people; and they
praised the Good Lord – their saviour!
King
Saul embraced me feelingly. He knew that their victory was my doing – mine and
my sling’s. Both he and Abner asked for details concerning my background and
attainments. They were duly impressed to hear I was the youngest son of Yishai
of Beth-Lechem. And they decided to
visit the family.
“But my younger brother left our home
four years ago. Are you really back, David? And why have you turned so
pinkish?” said Eliab, Yishai’s oldest son.
“Don’t forget
our ancestress Ruth was a Moabite and some say she was an Edomite. No wonder
one of us turned pinkish. I’ve been in a far away place. It’s good to see you again.”
“H’m …” he
responded, then added in haste: “Welcome back, David. Dad will be glad to see
you. So now our noble family is blessed with a national hero!”
When
we walked back to the Israelite headquarters, I sensed a change coming over
Saul. His buoyant spirit vaned, and the smile left his face. In a matter of
seconds, he had turned into an introspective and deeply depressed man. Abner’s
anxious expression confirmed that he too saw the clouds gathering.
“Is something
the matter, my Liege?” I asked Saul.
“He gets
these spells from time to time. We try to snap him out of them by playing
music. But sometimes he pays no attention,” explained Abner.
“Let me try
then,” I said.
The
tunes of the solo, performed by a brilliant violinist, brought Saul back to us.
Gone was the depressed expression that had descended on his face. Once again,
he turned into a carefree man ready to cope with the onslaught of life.
“What a
wonderful performance! I’ve not heard anything like it before. And what sort of
an instrument is it?”
“The piece was
composed some two thousand and five hundred years after your time, my
“How, then,
did you get the instrument? And how did you perform the tune?” he asked
bewildered.
“Time does
not pose obstacles to me. I can conjure items from the future.”
“I am not
sure I understand. Still, can you play for me regularly?” he asked.
“Thank you,
Your Majesty” I accepted.
I moved into the palace next morning.
When I arrived, one of Saul’s daughters – Michal – gave me a searching look.
Abner, who guided me to my new quarters, explained Saul had promised his
daughter’s hand to any hero who would fell Goliath. Under Israelite custom, I
was expected to tie the knot with her.
III.MARRYING MICHAL
Abner’s
words caused me anguish. The Good Lord and I – Mephisto –were as old as the
universe and would remain in existence until it ceased. Further, neither of us
had the need to ‘perpetuate the race’ and, hence, did not procreate. Actually,
the sexual drive and the emotive satisfaction associated with it were alien to
my nature. Friend came up with a plain solution. During my spell on earth, I
ought to submit to the sensual impulses of
“Look, Matey,
if you want to have a meaningful experience, you ought to embrace human nature.
If you don’t, we descend again to the realm of speculation.”
“You are
right, Friend. But I’ll retain my superhuman powers. I don’t have the courage
to give them up, even for a short while.”
My
marriage to Michal was an affair of state. When the ceremony was over, Michal
led the way to her rooms in the palace.
“Who are you, really?” she asked when
we were on our own.
“David son of
Yishai,” I prevaricated.
“It’s your
label – I know. But what’s behind it. Who are you?”
“What bothers
you?” I ventured.
“You are a
notch above the rest. Just take your sling. That’s not a human tool!”
“Shall I
unmask myself? Would you be able to take it?”
“Why ever
not?”
Michal did not budge an eyelid as I
metamorphosed into the form so well known in later epochs. She appreciated that
I was not human but was not perturbed by the metaphysical appearance that was
to scare generations of Christians. All in all, she was perplexed but remained
composed.
“Isee, you
are not a Man. I thought so! But who – or what – are you? You sure felled
Goliath. So, you can’t be a mere image.”
“I exist in a
different dimension. Sometimes, though,
I visit earth.”
“Why did you
fell Goliath? Do you care about my people?”
“I don’t. But
a good Friend of mine does. I did him a
favour.”
“A friend –
from your own dimension?”
“You could
say so. Your priests call him Jehovah; and they call me Azazel. But you better
call me David. I sort of adopted the name.”
“So you are
going to stay with us for a while. You better be careful with my Dad. He has
some funny traits,” she told me.
“Thanks for
the warning,” I smiled at her and transformed myself back into David.
For
a while she kept looking me all over. Then her expression mellowed.
“Come on
then,” she told me.
Early next morning I visited Friend.
He was perplexed by my account.
“But you did
find Michal attractive, Matey, didn’t you?”
“I did. But,
you know, if she had not encouraged me, I would have stayed put.”
“That’s what
I can’t understand. Her father ‘bequeathed’ her on you, and you married her in
state. Why, then, did you need her prompting?”
“I’ve no
idea. I thought you would know: you are the creator!”
“But a cook
doesn’t always taste the broth. Is it possible that, without any intervention
or influence on our part, Mankind developed some unwritten principles on sexual
intercourse?”
“I suspect
that’s so. I had the drive to possess her; but not the ‘fine tuning’ they pick
up in their teens.”
“Did you, in
the very least, enjoy the experience?”
“I did,
rather. But – you know – something was remiss.”
“And what was
that?”
“I knew she
would not conceive. I now have the sexual drive but not the wish or need to
procreate.”
Our
ensuing discussion convinced me that my transition to earth was imperfect. Part
of me was still in the dimension occupied by Friend and myself.
“Don’t let
this worry you, Matey. I think you have the attributes needed to keep the
Israelites united. I shall find out more about the human traits you miss when I
go down.”
IV.A PREDICAMENT
A
few days later I started to alleviate Saul’s fits of depression by playing the
violin. The performances, though, were shams. Although my bow appeared to touch
the strings, the sound came from recordings of 20th Century
virtuosi: no wonder Saul was impressed.
Initially,
all seemed as well as could be expected. Then, to my concern, I noticed that my
bench was moved nearer to his throne each day. Then, one morning, he fondled
me. Overcome by a feeling of discomfort, I nevertheless let the music drag on.
The few courtiers present appeared oblivious or, perhaps, indifferent.
Obviously, this was not the first incident of this type.
Friend
was just as puzzled as myself. He was also concerned about my reaction. Why
should a being from our dimension be perturbed by a human deviation which must
have been common? When I explained that I reacted the way David, the principally
heterosexual human, would have responded, Friend came up with a constructive
suggestion. Wouldn’t it, he asked, be best to discuss the matter with Golly? As
a former fighter in the arena, where contenders from all over Greece wrestled
naked, Goliath was bound to know a great deal about human deviations.
Goliath
was glad to see me. He had settled comfortably in his original abode and
enjoyed a harmonious existence in his sister’s establishment. To my amusement,
he had acquired the reputation of a ‘great traveller’. Having changed his name
to Herodotus, he wrote remarkable travel fiction covering beside countries he
had visited many others known to him by reputation rather than by sighting.
“It is good
to see you, Lord Pan. I was hoping you won’t forget your promise to visit me
from time to time.”
“Please call
me Mephisto; and drop this silly ‘Lord’.”
“I prefer to address you as ‘Pan’. ‘Mephisto’
sounds hollow. But why do you object to being addressed as ‘Lord’?”
“Monotheistic
religions claim there can be only one ‘Lord’.
The title ought to be bestowed on my Friend: Jupiter to you, Golly.”
“That’s too theoretical
for me. Here in Greece we have plenty of Lords and also some Ladies – most of
them not … chaste,” reverted Goliath.
“H’m. But, Golly, is vice just licentiousness
with the opposite sex?”
“Surely not.
There are plenty of men keen on other men. There are also quite a few
homosexual women.”
“Don’t they
wish to procreate?” I asked naively.
“They just
want to have fun.”
“How comes
you know so much about all this, Golly?”
“When I
commenced to wrestle in the arena, the supervisor made such advances to me. I
was keen to make a success in my chosen profession. So, I submitted,” he
confided awkwardly.
“Did you
enjoy your experience,” I asked after a pause.
“After a
while I did. This is one of the reasons I never married.”
“I
understand. Only tell me, Golly, how should I tackle the problem?”
“If you don’t
wish to go ahead, ignore his advances. Still, he could become dangerous: you
are rejecting him!”
Friend listened attentively to my account of
this conversation. After some reflection, he commented that, when he created
Mankind, he ensured that sexual intercourse
– the procreative act – would entail enjoyment. It appeared to him that,
during evolution, the element of enjoyment overrode the procreative function of
sex. This, he concluded, provided one explanation for the upsurge of same-sex behaviour.
Up to this
point, I managed to forestall the annihilation of the Israelites by the
Philistines and did so without killing Goliath. But what were my chances of
keeping the Israelites united? To my relief, the Good Lord opined that, if I
installed harmony for some fifty years or so, I should have accomplished our
task. The rest was up to them.
He added
that, when the Israelites demanded a King, the decision to anoint Saul was
politically inspired. Saul’s tribe, Benjamin, straddled between the mighty
factions of the North and the establishment of Judea in the South. If Friend’s
messenger, an old seer called Samuel, had picked a fellow from the ranks of one
of the powerful tribes, the others would have rebelled.
“But my
‘pedigree’ links me to Beth-Lechem, a stronghold of the South,” I observed.
“Sooner or
later one of the leading powers has to take up the leadership!”
“So perhaps I shall be a catalyst for Judean
hegemony?” I muttered.
“We’ll see
before long.”
Saul
was still responding to the music I played for his benefit. All the same, I was
perturbed because his melancholy kept descending on him. I could sense that he
felt slighted by my failure to respond to his manifestations of desire.
Occasionally, he even resented the relief brought to him by the music. Then,
quite unexpectedly, he threw his lance at me. Having dodged it effortlessly, I
feigned ignorance of the incident. So did all others present.
When
the session was over, I visited Michal. Having heard about the incident from a
courtier, her advice was clear. Unless I risked unrest or commotions, I ought
to leave the palace.
“Won’t he let
his wrath out on you?”
“I know how
to handle him.”
Golly,
too, urged me to leave. The safest hideout would be the untamed Judean desert.
Adding that I needed a lieutenant, Golly recommended an old opponent called
Joab, who would be loyal and reliable, especially if I helped him to recover
from the wounds inflicted on him by Golly in their last encounter in Ekron.
“Joab is
known as the son Zeruyah because he is illegitimate. The endless taunts of his
compatriots have turned him into a hard, perhaps even bitter, man. But he is
devoted to those who accept him. And he is a singularly loyal friend,” said
Golly.
When
I called on him, Joab was still recovering from his beating. His eyes were
closed, his face bruised, and his arms were twisted. It soon emerged that, in
addition, one of his knees was dislocated.
“Who sent you
to me?”
“Your friend
Goliath. He asked me to attend to you. And he tells me you will be a loyal and
capable aid-de-camps.”
“He’s a
brute. We are – perhaps ‘were’ – friends. So why did he have to handle me like
that?”
“You better
sort it out with him. In the meantime, let me cure you. Fortunately, all your
wounds are superficial. How is your eyesight?”
“OK. I
suppose I ought to be grateful to him for not tearing my eyes out.”
Joab
looked much better when I finished my job. Obligingly, he walked along a
straight line, did twenty body lifts and then sank comfortably into an armchair
provided by me.
“Who are
you?” he wanted to know.
“David son of
Yishai.”
“The fellow
who fell Goliath! But surely, that’s just a label! I want to know your real
identity. You are not human!”
He
was unimpressed by my alien Mephisto attire. But his eyes opened wide when I
metamorphosed into the biblical version of the lost archangel. For a few
minutes, he remained speechless. When, at long last, he found his voice, he
asked with trepidation: “Azazel?”
“Who else?
But listen: I am not Jehovah’s enemy. I’m his best friend and I am here on an
errand important to both of us. Presently, I have to avoid King Saul. I used to
play music for him but then had to leave.”
“I suspect I
know the reason,” muttered Joab.
“Well, I need
an ally: a real supporter I can trust. This way, I won’t have to invoke my …
special powers. The question is: will you come with me?”
“Very well,” he said and held out his hand.
V.A BRIGAND
Joab,
his brother Abishai and a band assembled by them proved an asset. With them
beside me, I dodged Saul’s soldiers whenever they were sent out to hunt me
down. Saul, though, kept up the chase. He was acting with the fury of a woman
scorned. In the end, I thought it best to offer our services to Achish, the
King of Gat. His territory, in
Achish
was a smart fellow. He used us as a reinforcement of his army in the border
towns adjacent to Moab and Edom. As we were busy fighting the desert people,
Achish engaged the entire Philistine army against the Israelites. The final
battle took place at Mount Gilboa. It ended with Saul’s defeat and the total
annihilation of the Israelite forces.
My
entourage remained behind in a town called Ziklag. We had some skirmishes with
the desert people but, in the end, had no losses.
Satisfied
with his victory, Achish was getting ready to take over the entire Israelite
territory. No army was left to resist him. Despite my unwillingness to
interfere in human affairs, I sensed it was time to act: Friend was in favour of the Israelite’s
survival.
Achish
did not hide his surprise when I arrived with Joab at his headquarters. His
face darkened further when I asked him to lead his army back to Gat.
“Why on earth
should I?” he enquired with wrath.
“Because I am
telling you, my dear Achish!”
“How dare you
talk to me like this?” he yelled.
One
of his guards raised his sword. Instantly, his arm froze and the sword came
cluttering down on the floor. Another soldier took a step forward but was
unable to move.
“Who are
you?” asked Achish in awe.
“I am
unfamiliar with this image,” he stammered when I displayed myself in my
Mephisto attire.
“I
understand. My Mephisto attire was unknown prior to the advent of certain
Christian sects long after your time. Well, how about this?”
“Lord Hades,”
he exclaimed when he found his voice.
“Who else? Unless
you want to call me Pan.”
“I knew all
along you weren’t Yishai’s youngest son. One of my men killed him a few years ago.
But, Lord Pan, why do you tell me to return to Gat.”
“Friend –
‘Jupiter’ to you – desired Saul’s defeat. But he has set his heart on the
Israelites’ survival.”
“Your command
shall be obeyed. But how am I to handle my troops’ wrath? They expect a
reward.”
“Here it is,”
I affirmed, and watched with glee how his eyes widened when a huge tent, filled
with bars of gold, appeared in front of us.
“Twenty bars
for each mercenary and ten for every Philistine soldier” I explained.
“Will it
work?” Achish addressed Joab, whom he had come to know well.
“I can’t
tell. The men expect rewards other than gold. They want to loot and …!
Hopefully, the gold will keep them happy as they march back,” muttered honest
Joab.
“Each of them
can buy at least two slaves with half of his reward. In any event, the homeward
trip will be fast. Jupiter shall teleport your army back to Gat tomorrow
morning.”
Next
morning, Achish’s army re-entered the gates of Gat. The onlookers’ patent
admiration quenched any misgivings the soldiers might have had about their
being denied the right to loot. Achish got a special ovation (from good looking
Philistine maidens) as he brandished his new diamonds studded golden sword –
Friend’s special gift for a job well done.
VI.
THE UNITED KINGDOM
The Northern
tribes championed the cause of the House of Saul. But they were half hearted:
they knew that Saul’s descendants lacked initiative and leadership. Even so the
struggle went on for a few years.
In
the event the opposition threw in the towel. A delegation of the chiefs of the
North asked me to assume the leadership of the United Nation. All they wanted
was a promise of equality of treatment. I was glad to give it and soon
thereafter was proclaimed King of Israel.
My main object was to secure our
borders and to eliminate the ancient pockets of resistance in our midst. Joab
remained my loyal chief-of-staff. He was of particular help when one of my ‘sons’
was used by some ambitious politicians of the North as a tool to overpower me.
Joab quenched the ensuing rebellion and, in sheer disregard of my orders,
executed Absalom. His act did not please me; but it established Joab’s loyalty.
VII. BAT
SHEBA
One
bright morning – or should I say ‘dark morning’ – I stepped onto my balcony and
perceived a woman bathing in the nude. She poured water over herself, smiled
alluringly and kept looking far into a distant void. Did she know I had
observed her?
As I stepped unobtrusively back into
my room, I was overcome by a desire to possess her. The feeling was alien. There was no room for
it in the dimension occupied by Friend and me.
“So now you
know what it means to be a man?” He teased me.
“How awful!
And – as you know – I shan’t procreate! So, what is the meaning of this?”
“Your
unwillingness to procreate does not rule out desire. You have assumed the role
of a man, Matey. And lust is human, isn’t it? Surely, a man does not think of
procreation when he is overcome by the sexual impulse?”
“You are
right, Friend. But what should I do?”
“That’s your
problem,” he chuckled.
I
managed to control my lust for the day. Next morning, though, she was once
again exposing herself. My loyal Joab grinned.
“She’s
Bat-Sheba, the notorious wife of a mercenary. Oh well, you are to be her new
catch!”
“Whom did she
bewitch before?”
“A long list.
Goliath was the only one to resist her!”
“Eh? Where
did she meet him?”
“She knows
where to solicit!” he replied pointedly.
Following
a few hours of reflection, I called on good old Golly, taking Joab with me. To
start with their meeting was marked by coldness on Joab’s part. When Golly
welcomed him warmly, he responded, curtly: “You must be surprised I outlived
the beating you gave me, my fine comrade!”
“Don’t be
childish, Joab. Nobody has friends when he’s in the ring. Actually, I could
have killed you when you were on the ground.”
Goliath
listened attentively to my story. He showed no surprise when I told him I had
been constituted King of Israel. He had anticipated this. My story of Bat-Sheba
appeared banal to him. He knew she was a manipulative woman. But he could not
understand my misgivings. I was the King, which meant I was free to do as I
pleased.
“How about her husband?” I asked in agony.
“You’ll find
ways to deal with him.”
“But how
about the Israelite tribes?” I asked.
“If she were
the wife of a northern nobleman, there could be a problem. But her husband is a
Hittite. What you do with her has no bearing on your relationship with the
north of the kingdom.”
The
rest of the story is known. Michal, whom I had seen regularly all these years,
was amused. “So she got you?” she grinned.
“Didn’t she
ever? Still, you know I won’t give her a child.”
“She’ll still
get pregnant. She wants to make her son King.”
Friend,
the Good Lord, added one important point. I had to prepare the offspring for
his future role. Young Solomon was an eager disciple. Before long, he
appreciated the importance of acting precipitously in the face of obstacles. A
king could not afford to dither, let alone be manipulated. It soon dawned on
him that, in effect, a ruler had no friends. He was, invariably, on his own and
had to act on his own judgment.
The
rest of my spell on earth is a well-known story. The Philistines waged war on
us. Joab’s troops dealt with them effectively. I could have annihilated them.
Still, Friend and I decided against such an extreme course. All the same, we
widened our boundaries by taking some initial border stronghold. Joab’s troops
made further conquests on the remaining borders. By the end of my reign, our
territory exceeded our expectations.
“Avoid wars,” I told my proclaimed successor,
Solomon. “You shall be a great builder and a renowned sage. You’ll be
remembered as such. Only make sure to hold on to the reins and annihilate
anybody who is a threat.”
As is well
known, Solomon did. Joab was but one of his victims. Further, he conferred an
honorary title on his mother but – to guard his rear – confined her to a palace
created for her.
VIII.POST MORTEM
Friend’s
special brew was delicious. Both of us partook. This type of natural –
affectionate – interchange moved both of us deeply. Each of us knew that his own
attainments and aspirations were mirrored in the other’s eye.
“Are you
satisfied with the outcome?” I sought my Friend’s approbation.
“The outcome
is perfect although you became a murderer, a seducer (or seduced) and a tyrant.
All in all, you were a ruthless opportunist. Still, ‘your’ Kingdom will remain
united till the end of Solomon’s reign. He will erect the temple and will turn
Jerusalem into a metropolis. One day it will become a religious centre of the
major monotheistic faiths. And you, Matey, will be remembered for a long time as
‘David, King of Israel, lives, lives and exists.’ Well?”
“How about
the experiment as a whole?” I persevered.
“You
experienced some human emotions but not human sufferings. In more than one way,
you kept aloof. You see, you retained your superhuman powers.”
“I wasn’t prepared to submit to their caprices
and violence!”
“I
understand. This, though, was the shortcoming of the experiment, Matey. You
see, you did not turn yourself into one of them!”
“So?”
“We still
have to experience the sufferings of the outcasts, the weak. Otherwise, the picture remains lopsided. We,
Matey, have argued for eons whether the world I created is to be left alone or be
replaced by a new creation. We can’t resolve the issue without seeing the whole
picture in the correct perspective. One day I shall go down in order to augment
the data we now have.”
J O N A H
(cf.
Book of Jonah)
I.
DEBARE IN HEAVEN
Friend (the Good
Lord) and I (Mephisto) were engaged in a friendly discussion about
predestination. We were getting bored, when Fortuna thought it was time to
intervene.
“The two of you
love to debate, don’t you?”
“So?” I replied
laconically.
“So, you will never
reach any conclusion on anything – let alone predestination and free choice!”
“You do admit there
are issues?” I asked innocently.
“I have heard all
about them – ad nauseam,” she grinned.
“But how can you
feel nauseated in our dimension?” Friend wanted to know.
“Spiritual
aversion; not physical,” she conceded.
As resourceful as
ever, Friend came up with a solution: “Let us then make an experiment. It is
ordained that the Assyrians will destroy
“We’ll concede the
point,” concluded Fortuna. “Still, to me they appear pretty innocent. They like
sexual activity; but then you, Friend, instilled the drive in them. And if they
are corrupt and greedy, who – I ask – taught them the importance of wealth?”
It was time for me
to pacify them: “Let us agree they are evil. Well, let us hear details of His
plan.”
Friend’s plan was
simple. He was going to send a chosen prophet to scold the Assyrians. If they
repented, the predestined order would continue as anticipated. If they didn’t,
a damaging earthquake would raze
“Even the beautiful
girls?” Fortuna wanted to know. “Long ago, you befriended Leda in the form of a
swan. What has happened to you?”
“Age!” replied
Friend resentfully.
“That explains a
lot of things,” muttered Fortuna. “Well, whom do you intend to send?”
“Jonah, of course!”
II.
JONAH’S MISSION
By then Jonah had become an
Octogenarian. He looked frail, indecisive and bowed down. When he perceived us,
his eyes opened wide.
“Not another
hallucination,” he exclaimed.
“Tell me about the
first one,” said Fortuna.
“An old fellow with
a long beard told me to go and urge my mighty King, Jeroboam, to declare war on
the Aramites. Jeroboam was a good warrior. He conquered plenty of land. But
then the scribes dropped him and concentrated on another fellow. So poor
Jeroboam – he treated me so well – must have been a hallucination.”
As expected, Friend
enlightened him: “No, Jonah, Jeroboam was real. The widows and orphans of
“So, it was not a
hallucination. But – worshipful Lord – what can I do for you now? You would not
reveal yourself unless you set me a task.”
“True, Jonah. Well
get up and go to Nineveh – the great city – and tell them I have noted how evil
they are. Unless they repent, I am going
to overturn them in an earthquake!”
“But how can I walk
so far in this condition? I may not even manage to reach the gate of this very
city.”
“Alright, then:
I’ll write off thirty years off your age …”
“ … that’s
interventionist; and you don’t leave him free choice …”
Fortuna looked
daggers at me: “Don’t you start again, Matey. In a moment, the two of you will
be engrossed in an argument and I will get bored stiff.”
“That’s
predestination for you,” I muttered. Then I viewed gleefully a younger version
of Jonah. Still, even as he rose to his feet, I was able to discern his unease.
So did Friend.
“What bothers you
now, Jonah,” He let his chagrin show.
“If I preach to the
people of
“But
“But all the world
is yours. So how can I escape?”
“If you manage to
arrive in one piece in another country, I’ll reverse my order. Matey will help
you pick your route.”
“Just a moment,”
interceded Fortuna. “I claim the right to step in.”
“How many times?” I
wanted to know.
“One will do!”
“Very well,”
concluded Friend.
III.
JONAH’S ESCAPE
Friend and Fortuna
returned to our dimension. I remained behind, hoping to help Jonah to make a
sensible plan. Jonah, alas, was a simpleton. He wanted to escape to
“But what will you
do when you have to take a trip back?”
“Time will tell,”
he stammered. Then, with renewed inspiration, he asked: “Any better plan?”
“Let us go to
“You know I am your
best and closest friend, Sonja.”
“I know all about
that,” replied the younger sullenly.
“What an attractive
girl,” whispered Jonah. “How to make my presence known?”
“Do you want me to
introduce you?”
“But you don’t know
her.”
“Does that matter,”
I let my surprise show. “Surely, it is not difficult to force an introduction.
An Italian …”
“ … a what?”
“A man living in a
country which looks like a boot and is called
“I haven’t heard of
it!”
“They come on to
the scene later: long after your time. Still, if an Italian man wants to draw
the attention of a woman, he standS beneath her window and sings. But this can be risky.” Seeing his startled
expression, I explained: “If she doesn’t like the man’s voice, she pours a
bucket of cold water over on his head. The
modern approach may be better. You simply ask her: ‘How about it, Darling?’
Well Jonah, do you like the idea?”
“Too direct,” he
told me. “In our tradition, I would talk to her brother. He would then talk to
his father and I’d talk to mine. If all is well, they’ll arrange things.”
“Very well, then.”
“But how do I find
her brother?” wailed Jonah. “And suppose she does not have one?”
“She does not,” I
affirmed. “She was ‘adopted’ by the Amazons as a baby girl. Her boss is her
older friend; and I think she would kick you out. So, Jonah, how about the
English approach?”
“ … the what?” he
stammered.
“Surely you ought
to know all about the British. Their great poet, Kipling, said God was an
Englishman. You ought to know who they would be: you are a prophet, aren’t
you?” Taking in his expression, I added:
“So, how about their approach? You walk gently around the girl and when she
drops a handkerchief or something else you pick it up, give it back to her and
introduce yourself?”
“But suppose Sonja
drops her shield on my foot?”
“Oh, very well,” I
yielded. “Let us then try what is called the French approach: you sneak up
behind the lady and smack her. If she likes you, she smiles warmly. If she
gives you a dirty look, you withdraw.”
“But how to smack
when she is so far away?”
“Let me help you
then,” I volunteered.
At that very moment the ship’s master made his appearance. Looking
favourably at the older Amazon, he asked how many passengers were boarding the
ship. As both women turned to him apologetically, I smacked Sonja’s behind.
Turning furiously,
she looked daggers at an innocent loafer who was standing nearby. “I’ll teach
you to how to behave,” she yelled at him, raising her lance and advancing in
his direction. As he fled in the
opposite direction, she said to the older Amazon: “And this chap is one of
“You better stick
to your best friend!”
Feeling it was time to intervene, I stepped in front of Jonah and
told Sonja I was the culprit. Noting her puzzled expression, I explained: “I
used one of these!”
Sonja looked with
amazement at the heap of Etrogim that materialised in front of me. “What are
these?” she wanted to know.
“A type of lemon.
Jews use them as an object of worship once a year and keep them in store in
case anybody comes up with arguments they dislike. They then stone him with
their Etrogim. Here: have some.”
Sonja picked up the
largest Etrog and hurled it at with all her might. Having pulled her missile’s
punch, I let it go through me and so it landed on Jonah’s face. As anticipated,
he fell over.
“You brute,” she
yelled at me.
“That’s an
anachronism, my dear!”
“ … a what???”
“The word ‘brute’
is derived from Marcus Brutus. And he lived five hundred years after your time.
So how can you use the word? And what are you going to do about poor Jonah? You
hit him hard!”
Sonja looked
maternally at the man stretched out in front of her. Then, as Jonah opened his
eyes, she helped him get up.
“It was not meant
for you,” she explained apologetically.
“I know. But you
can touch him only if he lets you. He is Mephisto, something like God but not
so prone to making errors.”
“I have never heard
his name!”
It seemed best to
enlighten her: “In your language I am called Pan.”
“Lord Pan! What an
honour to meet you! Please forgive my throwing the Etrog.”
“Don’t give it a
thought. It was a natural reaction. But now you must look after Jonah. He is in
your charge.”
“To hear is to
obey,” she assured me.
At the very same minute the ship’s master put in another appearance.
Taking in his patent disappointment when he was told no passengers were in
sight, I asked whether he would be prepared to sail to Tarshish. After a few bargaining rounds, I chartered
the ship and Jonah, the two women and I boarded. Within a few minutes the
vessel was on its way and Jonah, accompanied by Sonja, went to the aft, made
himself comfortable and fell asleep.
Soon a hefty storm
descended. Out of control, the ship rocked and rolled. Having jettisoned
everything aboard, all sailors fell on their knees and prayed to their
respective gods. Poseidon, in particular, was the subject of their entreaties.
Jonah alone went on sleeping in peace until the ship’s master woke him up and
ordered him to pray for help from his own god.
“I am the cause of
this storm,” explained Jonah and told all about his escapade.
“You silly bum,”
roared the master. “If your god is powerful, how could you hope to escape from
Him. And now the ship will capsize and all of us will drown. What can we do?”
“You better throw
me overboard: otherwise, all of you will
perish!”
“But I have never
killed a person before. I am a trader: not a pirate. True, I have overcharged
passengers. Who hasn’t? But I have no wish to spill blood.”
Moved by his words, the sailors tried to steer the ship
toward land. The storm, thereupon, gathered momentum. When the ship was about
to sink, the older Amazon cried out:
“Oh, feed him to
the sharks. To start with he makes overtures to my friend. And now he wants to
take all of us with him. Throw him overboard.”
“I am going with
him,” yelled Sonja.
As soon as Jonah
was immersed in the sea, the storm abated. Within a few second, he was
swallowed by a sea monster lurking about. Sonja followed him courageously. I
too sought to follow, when a 20th Century road sign, forbidding
entrance, was displayed in front of me.
“What is wrong with
me? Why don’t you grant me passage?”
“I don’t want to
risk indigestion,” explained Fortuna sweetly.
“But what are you
supposed to be – a whale or a large fish?”
“Depends on whether you preach the Tanach (the
Masoretic Jewish text of the bible) or the Septuagint (its translation into
Greek), Matey.”
IV.
NINVEH REPENTS
After a short while
Fortuna vomited Jonah and Sonja out. To my delight they landed in
“But what should I
do if they started to throw things at me?”
“Matey will protect
you, Jonah,” explained Friend.
“I am not remaining
alone in Trye; I am going with him,” declared Sonja.
“Good girl,” nodded
Fortuna; “but we better send you for a short spell in the 20th Century.”
“Why?” asked Sonja.
“The people of
“Archaeologists
must be very clever,” I interceded.
“A debatable
point,” grinned Friend.
Sonya returned from her trip looking none the wiser
(even if better informed). Still, the poster in her hands displayed a large
town occupied by evil people (depicted as undersize gorillas) in the process of
being destroyed by an earthquake. Without further ado, Friend transported them
to
The loafers of
Enraged, a guard threw his lance at the prophet. Just
before it hit, I turned it into a boomerang which made a turn and chased the
stunned thrower. In the event, I drove the guard back to his post and let the
lance materialize next to him. When he recovered from his shock, the man joined
Jonah’s procession. So did the other onlookers, accompanied by an interpreter
(a wealthy Jewish Trader: ‘WJT’), who spoke Hebrew and some Assyrian Yiddish.
“You needn’t see
the King, respectful Prophet. I’ll be happy to act as your messenger {Angel in
Hebrew}. But you’ll have to pay for my services,” said WJT.
“That’s a lot of
money,” WJT exclaimed as I produced thirty pieces of gold and fifteen Shekels.
“But if you are prepared to pay a fortune, my services are worth it!”
“They are,” agreed
Jonah and both Sonya and he mixed with the crowd.
The King of Nineveh
{whose name is not given in the Tanach and who is to be named KN} granted WJT
an interview. Having listened attentively to WJT’s tirade, KN wanted to know
what sort of evil was being committed. When WJT conceded ignorance, KN decided to
declare a public fast. According to
medical experts, who revealed themselves in a dream, fasting was good for both
humans and animals. KN then asked what he himself should do. He was not
prepared to give up his daily glass of red wine.
“Why not substitute
your French wine with the product of Israeli vineyards? The Good Lord will
approve. For some strange reason, he likes the Jews. Demonstrate your
repentance by wearing a sack.”
“But my skin is
sensitive; if I wore a sack, I’d break into rashes” observed KN. “Still, I’ll
wear it over my beautiful clothes.”
“A measure observed
by many wealthy men of the 21st Century; especially those of my own
people,” agreed WJT.
The rest of the
tale is well known. The people of
V. AFTERMATH
The official story
includes a chapter on Jonah and his Kikayon (a mystical plant). Let me now tell
you what really happened. Friend – as kind as ever – wanted to spare Jonah and
Sonya the experiences connected with the destruction of
The sailors’ trip
was equally smooth. On reaching the shore, they made sacrifices to Friend and
accepted him in their hearts. Their conversion pleased Friend, although the
rituals took place in a place other than
Perhaps the most
interesting part of the tale (suppressed in all sources) concerns the fate of
the Older Amazon. For a while she lamented her loss of Sonya. As could be
expected, she shed tears. Then she accepted the captain’s proposal, discarded
her suit of armour, donned an elegant dress and let her hero lead her to the
altar. Nobody knows where the event took place but the happy couple’s offspring
ended up in the Babylonian exile.
This then is the
end of the story. Does it have a message? I can think of two. First, for some
strange reason Friend favours a certain race. But outsiders can convert to it.
Then they, too, join the chosen nation: they too might be subjected to pogroms.
The second message is equally clear.
If you demonstrate repentance, you are in the clear. And such repentance
is open not only to the scion of Abraham but to all people. Actually, Friend
likes melodramatic demonstrations. So go ahead with yours. And if you decide to
wear a sack, wear fine linen under it.
On further consideration
I can detect yet a third message. If you spot a sea monster, don’t ask whether
it is a whale or a huge fish. Consult the sources if you can discover them.
J E R E M I A H
(cf.
Book of Jeremiah, Kings II, 23:31-end, 24;
Chronicles II, 36-end)
I.
JEREMIAH TELLS HIS STORY
I am Yirmeyahu (Jeremiah)
the son of Ĥilqyyhu, of the priests who were in Anatot in the
To better explain my presence in
Initially I
refused. Still, he promised me his support throughout life: so – reluctantly –
I accepted the vocation. In reality, I had little to lose. I had been born into
a family of destitute priests. We traced our origin to Ebyatar, whom King
Solomon had banished from
Shortly after my
annunciation, King Josiah summoned me to
For the one and only time in my life I felt fulfilled.
The polytheistic faith of my country was to be replaced by the belief in one
God: Jehovah, to whom I have become devoted and whose commands, often whispered
to me, were put into effect. Still,
Josiah’s reforms did not transform the outlook of his people. When alone in
their houses, many continued to worship their old idols. I did my best to
convert them and went on reproaching them for their evil ways. During Josiah’s
reign they had to toe the line: and they had to listen to me.
Alas, my dreams for
a peaceful existence were shattered when noble King Josiah was put to death by
Pharaoh Necho, who was in conflict with the Babylonian Empire, which ruled the
Initially, Jehoiakim was a compliant servant: he took
orders from his respective masters. By
and large, this new King was not a despot. True, he levied heavy taxes on the
population and embarked on expensive building projects (by using forced
labour). But, initially, I (like other prophets) was left alone. I continued to
preach the real faith. Then, on one occasion, Jehovah’s command induced me to
address the pilgrims who went up for a tri-annual festival in
The people gathered in the temple were enraged by my
prophecy and reproaches and the officials arrested me. In the ensuing debate,
my enemies demanded that I be executed. My supporters – those believing in
Josiah’s reforms – came to my defence and saved me.
On another occasion
a temple official, called Pashur, arrested me and locked me overnight in a
narrow and rotating cell. Left on my own, I should in all probability have died
of shock. But before I lost my mind a miracle took place. I was moved to another
dimension, in which an alien provided a comfortable sofa, food and drink.
II.
JEREMIAH MEETS THEOPHIL
Realising that my saviour was not one of the idols I hated, I asked who
he was. To enlighten me, he explained that my brand of Judaism did not refer to
him although a Canaanite deity – known as Azazel – bore some remote resemblance
to him.
“But I have never
heard this name,” I complained.
“It is well known
in Modern Hebrew! If you tell somebody to go to ‘Azazel’, he will probably
punch your nose. Effectively, you have told him to go to hell!”
“What is ‘hell’?” I
asked.
“According to
modern Judaism and Christianity it is a singularly unpleasant place. Nasty
people are sent to it after they die!”
“Then it must be
overcrowded,” I opined. “But you still haven’t me told anything about
yourself!”
“I am Mephisto, the
bosom pal of Friend: Jehovah. And He asked me to look after you. Please call me
Matey.”
“But what does He
want me to do? Out of a compulsive need, I have devoted my life to him! He
instructed me never to marry or have children in this land. Because of his
commands I have become a hated man. Even my own family has abandoned me. You
are not asking me to perpetrate some new foolhardy acts!”
“Of course not,
Jeremy. Jehovah could order you by whispering and you would obey him – just as
before.”
Matey added that my
home – Judea – was just a pawn in the lengthy struggle between
“Do you believe in
your own preaching or are you acting under compulsion?”
“Both,” I conceded.
“Initially, I was just a tool. But now my heart is with him and so I do believe
in what I do.”
Matey nodded. He
then returned me to my own dimension just when Pashur got ready to release
me.
III.
THE SAD END
Despite the danger, I continued to admonish the people
of
My main disciple was Baruch the scribe. Throughout his
life, he wrote down many texts which I dictated to him and which were later on
adopted as historically accurate by the Jewish religion. My harsh words
impressed members of the ruling party to such an extent, that they assumed the
courage to read the scroll out to King Jehoiakim. The latter ignored my words
and burned the scroll.
In reality,
It was a pathetic
reign. Tzidkiyahu had not been groomed to be a king, was a weakling, had no
gift of leadership and lacked common sense. Before long, two parties became
vocal. The first – and I was their spokesman – advocated loyalty to the
Babylonian empire. We did not trust
Initially, Tzidkiyahu
remained loyal to the Babylonians. But eventually he was overcome by a desire to restore independence
and to build up a new purely Levantine empire. So, he rebelled. Some Jewish
exiles migrated back to support him and again Egyptian rulers came up with
their promises. Nebuchadnezzar’s reaction was swift. He sent an army and, in
due course, besieged
False prophets
sought to reassure Tzidkiyahu. In secret, though, he asked for my counsel.
Initially I was imprisoned in the detention centre, then was sent to a ward in prison
and later still was mercilessly thrown into a muddy pit. Before I sank, a rope
was let down and I was pulled out. To my surprise my saviour was non other than
Matey disguised as an African slave. Eventually, the King ordered that I be
taken back to the detention centre.
In the end the
city fell and was destroyed. Tzidkiyahu was captured and blinded. Many
Israelites were exiled or sold as slaves. I was ordered by Nebuchadnezzar’s
general to stay put.
Former anti-Babylonian allied states enjoyed our
downfall and the spoils. I reproached them and prophesied their own downfall!
And I comforted our lost people and prophesied a future.
IV.
THEOPHIL ANALYSES
“To what end?” I,
Matey, asked Jeremy. “Throughout history this landlocked Kingdom constituted a
war zone. Then, in the 20th Century – long after your time – it
declared independence. Is that what you set out to achieve, Jeremy?”
“What a strange
question,” protested Jeremy. “I simply carried out orders.”
“So you are a good
soldier. Oh well, Friend may decide to disclose his design.”
“Why not?” muttered
Friend (the Almighty) who revealed himself. “But – in truth – you know all
about it, Matey. My object was to save a country that I would visit later on.
If it had been demolished altogether, I might have materialized somewhere
else!”
“But the outcome
would have been the same, even if you had descended in, say, Susa. You would
still have spread your own good word! What made you pinpoint Judea?”
“How dare you
forget me?” asked Fortuna (who materialized unexpectedly) in a fierce, even
biting, tone.
“But honestly, what
is your role in this game, Fortuna?” I wanted to know
“You Matey, you and
your good Friend, have big designs. But I chose the place and the moment of
action by whim. He gave me the privilege!”
“My teachings were
based on the faith that the Good Lord – Jehovah – is the source of everything,”
complained Jeremy.
“You are old
fashioned, my dear Jeremy. Newcomers preached that if He was good there was
need for a comparable yardstick – evil. And I – Matey or Azazel – am supposed
to be its epitome. In reality, I am Jehovah’s closest alley and Fortuna
intervenes when whim drives her. She is temperamental!”
“Were my teachings
then in vain? And why did Jehovah prompt me? His demands turned me into an
unhappy, angry and assertive fellow,” complained Jeremy.
“Your teachings and
Fortuna’s whim laid the foundation,” explained Friend. “And your name –
Jeremiah – has remained famous for generations. All in all, you are a winner!”
V.
JEREMIAH ENDS HIS STORY
I, Jeremiah, am
reverting to my own story. As is known, Jehovah sent me on many strange
missions. One of them was to wear a girdle (without washing it for an entire
year) and then bury it in a cave. Naturally, by the time I went back to
retrieve it had rotted.
“But what was this
‘mission’ all about?” I asked Matey.
“It established
that, if Friend so wished, his own people would rot!”
“And did this
really happen”.
“Hard to say,
Jeremy. True, the Israelites were exiled. But in the succeeding centuries they
continued to go from strength to strength. Eventually, they have re-conquered
their own country. And they rule Wall Street. Isn’t this lovely?”
Another experiment
started with Jehovah’s command to visit a potter’s store on the outskirts of
“So that’s what
Jehovah wants to tell me. He can re-shape and destroy nations just as a potter
moulds vessels.”
“But don’t you dare
to forget me,” interjected Fortuna. “I can easily rattle the potter or stop the
wheel. And I do as I like!”
“But the design and
policy are conceived by me alone, albeit often after consulting Matey,” pointed
out Jehovah who unexpectedly appeared in front of my eyes.
Another mission I wish to relate took place during the
Babylonian siege of
All detainees
thought my nephew was joking.
Initially, I was perturbed by the lack of any money and
the scarcity of writing materials. To my relief, Matey materialized and
provided all the requisites. He also raised an issue regarding the price. At
that time all property lost its value. I agreed accordingly to buy the field on
the basis of the price it would have fetched before the mutiny.
Two literate detainees witnessed the deed. Matey then
placed the document in a pottery jar and sealed it carefully. He added that in
some two thousand and five hundred years archaeologists would argue whether the
pottery was Canaanite or Egyptian. The scroll itself would have decomposed. The
dust, though, would be useful for a Carbon 14 test.
“But, Jeremy, what does this episode predict?” asked
Matey.
“That one day the country will be rebuilt and
rehabilitated!”
“But, then, why didn’t you buy property in
VI.JEREMIAH’S DESTINATION
Jeremy’s autobiography was clear. I – Mephisto – admired it but
noted that initially Jeremy had not been
a willing emissary. He had been coerced. Frequently, he wanted to give
up and – on one occasion – went so far as to question the Good Lord’s justice. All the same, he accepted the
Monotheistic doctrine.
“Jeremy,” I told
him, “you know that your appointed day is approaching. And you will expire in
Egypt. Still, you will have a choice. Your soul may wish to join me in my
special ward or decide to move to paradise.”
“Please tell me
about your ward.”
“The occupants of
my ward are a few chosen beings I wanted to befriend. The climate is good and
the view is breathtaking. But you may be lonesome.”
“As I had always been? And what would be my soul’s fate
in paradise?”
“You may be a
member or even a soloist in the heavenly orchestra. Why not play the clarinet.
From time to time you may have solo parts but, by and large, you remain one of
the crowd. You see, the original instrument – the trumpet – was very loud! In
contrast, the clarinet is delightful and melodious.”
Hundred of years
later, Friend (Jehovah), Fortuna and I obtained tickets to a performance in a
place called Carnegie Hall in Paradise. The auditorium was fully booked and the
attendants were, undoubtedly, worthy people. Bankers and lawyers were conspicuous
by their absence.
During the first piece, Jeremy was just a performer. He
became the soloist of a clarinet concerto and then became once again a member of the orchestra. All musicians played
enthusiastically and in harmony. I was satisfied to see that Jeremy’s face
manifested happiness. So he, too, had found peace!
When the concert was over, the audience applauded and
called for an encore. The three of us went with the crowd. Jeremy beamed.
In due course, I asked Friend to explain the effect of this entire Oriental episode on the
history of mankind. Why had he chosen an
obscure place like Judea?
“Why ever not?”
asked Friend. “Surely, even I have free choice? I preferred the Israelites to
the Eskimos!”
“Again, you forget
my contribution,” protested Fortuna.
“It was a
component,” conceded Friend. “But I alone arranged for the return of the
Israelites to their beloved Judea. And I alone helped them to survive and keep
their identity in hostile lands. And as you well know, not many Israelites
returned to Judea. Most of them live in foreign countries.”
“And what will
happen if they help their contemporaries to destroy their very nest? Wouldn’t
it be the end of the world?” I asked.
“But that would be
fine,” explained Friend. “It would give me a good reason to create again. Don’t
you know that I should welcome the opportunity?’
“I only hope you
would do a better job than on any previous occasion,” I, Matey, retorted spontaneously. To my delight,
Fortuna nodded.
N E H E M
I A
[BOOK of NEHEMIA; BOOK of ESRA]
I.IN ANOTHER DIMENSION
Friend (the Good Lord) and I
(Mephisto, “Matey” to Friend) were sitting comfortably in Baccus’ tavern. It
was a pleasant occasion. But I noticed that Friend face manifested concern and
unease.
“What is the
matter?” I asked him.
“Nothing serious,”
he assured me, “but I am concerned about the Judean exiles in Babylon. If they
settle in the Diaspora and mix with other people, I’ll have to manifest myself
in a place other than Palestine.”
“Surely, this is a
non-issue. You are the creator of the entire universe. Does it really matter
where you appear?”
“But I want to
visit Jerusalem when I come down to earth. So, what is to be done?”
“We simply have to
send these exiles back to where they came from! Let me nudge the current ruler
of the Levant.”
“But suppose they
return to base and then mingle with the people driven to that tiny country by
the Babylonians?”
For a while both of us sat quietly, seeking lugubriously to come up
with a solution. Both of us were aware that in epochs in which Juda and its inhabitants were self-ruled,
mixing with members of other nations did not pose a problem. Samson was, by no
means, the only Hebrew nobleman to have married out. Actually, Philistine girls
were good looking, worldly and always in search of dependable husbands. And they knew that most Hebrew men would meet
the test. We also recalled that King David was partially of Moabite origin and
that King Solomon’s mother was a Hittite. We were still pondering, when
unexpectedly the door of the discreet establishment flew open and our friend
and colleague – Fortune – made her appearance.
“So, the two of you
are having a nightcap, aren’t you? And, pray, why didn’t you ask me to come and
partake?”
“We thought that
pubs were out of bounds for unchaperoned ladies,” I replied defensively.
“I thought such
pettiness was confined to a certain country down on earth. And this attitude is
discriminatory and hence illegal and outdated! Women and men are equal before
heavenly law. You should be ashamed of yourselves! Well, who is buying me a
drink?”
Contritely, both of us hurried to summon Bacchus. Smilingly, he came
over with a bottle with bubbling liquid.
“Have it on the
house,” he said with a warm smile.
His gesture cleared the air. Before long, Friend opened up and told
her all about our predicament. For a while, she too sat quietly and
reflectively. Then, a benevolent grin descended on her face.
“You two tend to
overlook simple answers. You like to complicate things. In consequence, when a
problem becomes insurmountable, you wait for my spontaneous solution. Oh well,
I have one: instruct the exiles to practice segregation.”
“But how to do it?
The chap to whom they listen is a fellow called Ezekiel. But he may not like to
see me again. In our previous encounter, I instructed him to eat shit; and he
did, although he preferred animals’ excretion to humanity’s.”
“Everybody to his
taste,” I replied when both Fortuna and I recovered from our shock, adding:
“Well, in the circumstances it may be best of I nudge him.”
“I may have to show
my hand later on,” observed Fortuna, “but it may be for the best if you,
Mephisto, start the ball rolling.”
II.A CHAT WITH EZEKIEL
Stretched out on his side,
Ezekiel looked at me lugubriously. He was startled but not altogether
perplexed. His encounters with Friend had prepared him for unexpected
situations.
“And what can I do
you for your, respected Sir. I don’t recall meeting you.”
“You haven’t,
Hezzy,” I bestowed a nickname on him. “I am Mephisto (also known as Asmodeus)
but my friends, and I hope you will become one of them, call me Matey.”
“Your name sounds
alien!”
“I keep forgetting.
I remained obscure until the Persian theologians felt the need for an evil
force – contrasting with His goodness. They called me Ahriman; they call him
Hurmuz – meaning, the Good One.”
“But why do the
Persians matter? Aren’t the Babylonians in power?”
“They are; but not
for long. A fellow called Cyrus will soon defeat them! And he will allow your
people – the exiles – to return home.”
“Surely, once they
go home, they will remain apart,” opined Hezzy.
“Not unless they
are prodded. You see, your prophetic predecessors did not preach segregation. A
chap called Isiah predicted that all nations would join the Jewish faith. And Jeremiah – Jeremy to me – complained about
many things, such as oppression, slavery and idolatry. But he never scolded his
people for mixing with others.”
“But how do I come
in, Respected Sir – I mean Matey? Isn’t it enough that he dubbed me ‘son of
man’, as if I didn’t have a mother. And he ordered me to eat … rubbish. Surely, you are not going to persuade me to
perform another – h’m – difficult task, like standing on my head?”
“Far from it. And
look here: by calling you ‘son of man’, he appointed you a messenger to
mankind. All I want you to do is to act
as such an envoy and preach segregation.”
“But this is hard.
The sexual drive directs some men from amongst my people to gentile women.”
“Nobody is going to
proscribe peccadillos. But your people should not marry their conquests or
seducers. The race ought to be kept apart. Tell them that they are a nation of
holy priests.”
“Need I tell them
that explicitly? I am unpopular enough as is!”
“Just imply it, for
instance when you talk about the resurrection of the dead. Indicate that only
‘pure’ ones will be deemed worthy of such revival. They’ll get the idea. And
I’ll ask the Deuteronomistic compiler, to
put words about segregation in the mouth of Balaam.”
“Oh, very well, and I can also talk about purity and
exclusiveness when I talk about the building of a second temple.”
“Precisely,” I agreed.
The set was now established. Ezekiel preached segregation and
purity. Another notable prophet of the period, known as the Dutro-Isaiah to
Bible Critics, uttered prophecies to the
same effect. Slowly but surely the notion of keeping intact and alienated from
the other populations became a fundamental tenet of Judaism.
III.RETURN TO JEHUD
Friend and I watched the fall of Babylon. Cyrus the Great was a fine tactician. He had
his ideas and I nudged him, gently, when he conceived the strategy of using the
water supply chain as an attack route of the town.
Once Cyrus was in
charge, I persuaded Friend to anoint him his Messiah – as indeed was noted by
the Dutro-Isiah (cap. 45) – and to persuade him to enable Jews living in the
exile to return to the erstwhile home. In doing so, Cyrus reversed the policy
of the Assyrian and Babylonian Empires, which believed that exiling conquered
nations would lead to the mixing of populations throughout the Levant, with the
hope of the entire region becoming a
homogeneous entity.
The two figures who
led the first group on its way back to Palestine were Zerubbabel (a descendant
of King David’s family) and Jeshua ben Jozadak, the High Priest. They laid the
foundation of the Second Temple and sought
to induce the Jewish settlement to keep apart from the local population.
Indeed, when these offered to assist in the erection of the temple, they were
rejected.
Sad to say, the
erection of the Second Temple was delayed during the next twenty years. The
local population, irked by the its scornful dismissal, did their best to
interfere with the work. Two prophets, Hagai and Zecharia, remonstrated with
the Jews but to a limited effect. I recall one occasion in which they were
summoned to explain their attitude to Friends. Jeshua attended the session
whilst wearing soiled clothes. When I pointed this out to Friend, he scolded me
for my directness. Still, he gave Jeshua new clothes and persuaded him to
persevere in his demand that the temple be completed. Finally, this was
achieved in the sixth year of Darius I.
Some historians
claim that this eventuated exactly seventy years after the destruction of
Jerusalem by Nebuchadnezzar, as prophecised by Jeremiah. As I had my doubts
about these figures, Friend summoned Jermiah to a meeting in our special
dimension.
Initially, Jeremy
manifested plain annoyance. He had been appointed Chief Clarinetist in Paradise
and was practising his solo in Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue.
“Why can’t you let
me be,” he complained bitterly. Addressing Friend, he added: “I did your
biddings when I was on earth. I earned
my place in heaven. Can’t you find some other yokel, to carry out your next
instructions.”
“Don’t get so
agitated,” I soothed him. “You said something about seventy years. How should
this period be calculated? Where is the starting point and when does it
culminate?”
“I did not mean
this literally. I said “seventy years” just to indicate a lengthy period. I
used ‘seventy’ because ‘forty’ was used previously and on quite a number of
occasions. Can I go now?”
“Of course,” said
Friend. “All we wanted to do was to clarify the issue.”
Segregation, alas,
was not attained during this period. The Jews, who returned from the Babylonian
exile, mixed with the local population. Inter marriages became common. Further,
there is no evidence supporting any view indicating that they observed the legal
principles and tenets ordained by Friends. In particular, many married out,
betrothed their daughters to the non-Jewish inhabitants of Judea, which, under
Persian rule, became known as Jehud.
In an attempt to
attain segregation, Friend prompted Artaxerxes – King Of Persia – to send over a priest called Ezra, a
scribe well versed in Mosaic law. In reality, this attainment should not be
altogether surprising because Ezra and his disciples copy-edited, viz. revised,
the Old Testament so as to exclude heresies and orthodox passages. Ezra
preached segregation and, to a point, excluded all half castes from amongst the
priesthood. The population as whole, though, kept paying lip service to his
promptings but continued to follow the old ways. Jerusalem remained an under-populated
town with many of its inhabitants sticking to their old ways. In truth, this is
not surprising. Did Ezra really expect all members of his congregation to
divorce or abandon their loyal but non-Jewish wives?
IV. SENDING NEHEMIA
Up in another dimension, Friend and
I (Mephisto) kept fretting. Our design was clear. But our attempt to attain
segregation had failed. We were considering what to, when Fortuna displayed
her hand.
“Ezra,” she pointed
out, “may be a scholar. But he is a weakling. What we need is a tough
character, bent on having his way!”
“But where will you
find such a person?” asked Friend in a sad and despairing tone.
“Just leave it to
me,” she countered.
Down on earth, King
Artaxerxes was seeking to relax in his choice chambers. He was no longer the
youngster, who had ascended the throne in his mid-thirties. He had put on
weight, looked middle-aged but had not lost his lust for life. This was
evidenced by the appreciating looks he bestowed on a recently acquired
concubine. He craved to be left alone with her, but his cup bearer, one
Nehemiah, kept filling his glass.
“Why are you
looking so glum,” the King asked Nehemia.
“How can I look
happy when I think about the sad state of my people’s erstwhile hometown –
Jerusalem?”
“Well, what can be
done about this?”
“Please send me
over there. I’ll put things right.”
Initially, Artaxerxes felt dubious. Nehemiah – a trusty and reliable
servant who knew how to please the King – was not easily replaceable. The king,
though, wanted to be left alone with his consort. Pressed by Fortuna, his
desire became unsurmountable. Accordingly, he asked Nehemiah to get ready for
the trip and leave the palace.
The rest of the
story is well known. Nehemia carried out his task. Under his firm and
uncompromising hand. The Jewish residents of Jehud became segregated. He also
insisted that they observe the Shabbat and chased away foreign peddlers, who
tried to sell their wares during the rest day.
Nehemia claims to
have repaired and reinstated the city’s fortification. However, a modern
Israeli archaeologist claims that this was carried out later on, during the
period of the Hasmonaim. Be this as it may, Nehemiah ruled Jehud with an iron
fist. It has been argued that his being a eunuch was instrumental. He set out
to show that despite this handicap, he had developed into a firm and resolute
leader.
V. POST MORTEM
Up in our own
dimension, Friend, Fortuna and I analyzed the outcome over a pleasant drink in
Bacchus’ Tavern. We had to agree that our object was attained not by careful
planning on the part of Friend and myself but by the timely intervention of
Fortuna.
“But was this
entire design appropriate?” I asked with trepidation.
“Well, why are you
concerned?” Friends wanted to know.
“On the positive
side, we induced the Hebrews to segregate. They now consider themselves a holly
nation chosen by your good self.”
“What is wrong with
that?”
“But when you come
down to their dimension, you will preach that God shows mercy to all humanity.
In a sense, you will echo the view against segregation expressed by some
dissenter, like the author of the Book of Jonah. Further, going down there is
complete only if you experience sufferings.”
“Have you
experienced that, Matey?”
“I haven’t. I
became a mighty conqueror and, according to Jewish orthodoxy, I became the
greatest ruler of all times.”
“I intend to
experience both,” observed Friend. “I only wish I could also experience human
passions.”
“But surely, these
you have already experienced. Don’t tell me that, when you visited Leda in the
form of a Swan, you confined yourself to reading poetry with her,” interjected
Fortuna with a knowing smile.
“Oh well,” replied
Friend, “so I need not to experience that again.”
“Some well-meaning
ladies may take a different view,” she grinned.
“Let this be as is,”
I stepped in adroitly. “After all, tolerance is godly.”
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