by Nathan Erez
I sign with tears,
Your father who loves you,
David ben Joseph Moreno, S.T.”
Again a reference to Gardi! Elijah did not understand most of the contents of the letter, but he noted that certain concepts mentioned in it could also be found in the scrolls, and he had managed to decipher those references. He tried to put together whatever facts he could, so as to understand the letter. He noted that the signature was written out in full, and was not an abridged version of the writer’s name. He noted the “S.T.” added at the end, which the accepted wisdom understands as being an abbreviation for “Sefaradi Tahor” - a pure Sephardic Jew, namely that the family had a genealogical lineage tracing back all the way to the expulsion of the Jews from Spain in 1492. Elijah, though, knew that that attribution was wrong, and that the abbreviation really stood for “Sit Ve Tin”, which in Arabic means “dust and ashes”, thus an indication of the person’s humility, first introduced by great Sephardic rabbis; the type of humility that only a truly great person can allow himself.
Elijah made himself a new list: the water and the marble, the heart and the fountain, the four ways of studying the Torah encapsulated in the Hebrew initials ‘Pardes’, Rabbi Akiba and the scrolls, the age when one may study Kabbalah, the Ma’aseh Merkavah and the “Other Force”, namely Satan. These were all Kabbalistic ideas, which he understood. He also knew the names of the great Kabbalistic sages.
Now he tried to fathom the relationship between the father and the son. He felt the great love, the pain and the reprimand of the father toward his son. While the father’s name was David, his son’s name was Absalom. It was impossible to ignore another father-son combination with those names, the biblical account of King David and his son Absalom. What could he learn from that biblical story? After all, that was one of the more dramatic conquests of Jerusalem... in the revolt of Absalom against his father, there were all the elements of a Greek tragedy: love, hate, jealousy and sex.
Elijah then thought back to the oft-used Modern Hebrew expression that translates as “the advice of Ahithophel”. Indeed Ahithophel’s advice to Absalom was very sound, and if Absalom had but heeded Ahithophel’s second assessment, he would have become king. According to the Bible, “as if a man inquired at the oracle of God; so was all the counsel of Ahithophel”. The people of Jerusalem at the time were able to evaluate Ahithophel’s advice correctly. Historians are puzzled as to why Absalom overlooked the most elementary rule when someone rebels against a monarch. The very first thing to do is to kill the monarch! Absalom’s blindness to this obvious rule is seen as being God’s intervention in history, which prevented him from seeing the writing on the wall. Had Norman also opposed his father? And if so, why?
Elijah ordered another coffee. His throat burned. He had found no direct link between the biblical story and the letter he had just read and realized that he now had to find out whatever he could about David Moreno and his son Absalom. He ran the names through his mind and even wrote them down. Whenever his mind hit a blank wall, he would write down the names as well, an absent-minded habit of his since primary school. He again wrote the name David Moreno, once from right to left and again from left to right. He couldn’t believe what he now saw: in Hebrew, scrambling the letters comprising the name “Moreno", he got “Normo” - Norman! This surely was no mere coincidence. He had to get out in a hurry. Leaving the waitress the cost of the coffee and a huge tip, he rushed out and hailed the first cab he found. He had no doubt that Nissim Toledano, or, as he used to refer to him, “Uncle Nissim”, would be able to answer a few questions.
Nissim greeted him warmly and effusively, in the style of the Middle East: “Distinguished doctor, hello! How are you, Mr. Shemtov? How’re things at the university? How are Orna and the girls? Come, sit with us.” He rose from his chair. “Welcome to our humble abode. Greetings, my friend and honored guest.”
“Thank God, Uncle Nissim, everyone’s fine. How are you?” The two embraced.
“Thank the Lord, we live and breathe, and speak to those of our friends who are still alive. Everything else is unimportant. The only thing that matters is good health.”
Nissim Toledano was a distant relative of Elijah’s mother. He was always immaculately dressed, and even today, at the age of eighty-two and with a serious heart condition, he wore a light-colored suit and tie. He was a tall, dark-skinned man with a perpetual smile and a completely bald head. He was inordinately proud of the fact that an ancestor of his had arrived in the Holy Land immediately after the Spanish Inquisition when the Jews were expelled from Spain, hence the Hebrew surname Toledano, “from Toledo”. As a child, he had been sent to the Christian Terra Sancta School, where he had achieved total mastery of both literary and spoken Arabic. In the army, he had served in an intelligence unit, and after leaving it he had been involved in numerous governmental assignments whose nature could not be divulged. He had been less successful in his personal life. His wife had been a sickly woman who died very young, leaving him with their daughter, whom he had raised single-handedly. His daughter had married, then divorced, and had offered him no joy. At the age of eighty, he had entered a retirement home, where he was a star among the many widows. Elijah had found him in the lobby of the home.
“Uncle Nissim, I bet you knew all the Jerusalem old-timers who spoke Arabic.”
“Of course, doctor!” replied Toledano, falling into Elijah’s trap. “In my days, Jerusalem was a small town, with possibly forty thousand Jews, and I knew them all.” Toledano realized he had gone too far, and backtracked somewhat. “Let’s say that I knew the Sephardi Jews, or at least the vast majority of them. I really did not know the Ashkenazi Jews.”
“Did you know Rabbi Moreno?”
“Which Moreno? There were a number of them. There was one who was a scribe, one who was a rabbi, Moreno the Kabbalist. All of them were members of the same family.”
“What do you know about the Kabbalist?”
“He wasn’t someone I knew well, but all knew of Rabbi David Moreno, head of the Kabbalistic Yeshiva. He was a quiet man, a very learned rabbi, but he had a hard life. During World War I he fled from Turkey so as not to be drafted into the Turkish army, and wound up in Aleppo, Syria. There he married the daughter of a famous Kabbalist. His wife died young, leaving an infant son for him to raise. He never remarried. His son was reputed to be an incredible genius; everyone said he would go very far. This son, though, was a wild one. I don’t remember his name. Rabbi Moreno was loved by all the rabbis of Jerusalem. Guess why.”
“How should I know?” sighed Elijah. “Was it because he was a very great scholar?”
“Not only was he a great scholar, but he knew how to behave. Before he met a great rabbi for the first time, he would find out which works the rabbi had written, and would then proceed to study these works. Rabbi Moreno would come to the rabbi and ask him a basic question about his books. The rabbi would be pleased that he had finally found someone who had read what he had written, and would spend hours talking to Rabbi Moreno. Rabbi Moreno would just sit there and nod his head periodically. The rabbi would then tell everyone how great a scholar Rabbi Moreno was, even though he had not uttered a word...”
Uncle Nissim laughed at the guile. He suddenly stopped talking, as if considering what to say next. When he finally started speaking again, each sentence hit Elijah like a bombshell.
“You, too, are a descendant of a very famous Kabbalist.”
“I am?”
“You, Elijah Shemtov, are one of the descendants of Moses ben Shemtov de Leon.”
“Moses de Leon? The one who brought the Zohar to the attention of the entire world?” Elijah found himself trembling uncontrollably.
“From Acre to Castile, from Provence to Salonika, from Fez to Baghdad, all praised the work of Rabbi Simon Ben Yochai. The fact is, though, that even during de Leon’s lifetime - and he was a bookseller by profession - there were disputes as to the authorship of the Zohar. Rabbi Isaac of Acre, in his mem
oirs, writes that he met de Leon outside his city, and he claimed that he had copies of old letters in his possession. He even promised to show them to Rabbi Isaac when he returned to his home, but de Leon took ill on the way and died before he returned. On the other hand, it was claimed that the wife of Rabbi Joseph de Avila met de Leon’s widow and his daughter, and both claimed that the author was de Leon himself, who attributed the work to Rabbi Simon Ben Yohai... And there is also another secret,” said Uncle Nissim, who seemed to be almost in a dream world.
Elijah was tense as he waited to hear what else the old man had to say.
“Your middle name is Metatron, one of God’s trusted angels.”
Elijah was aware of that embarrassing fact, but had successfully hidden it in all his encounters with others. Here, though, was an opportunity to find out the background of that name.
“Why was I given that name, Uncle Nissim?”
“It was the Kabbalist Moreno who chose that name for you. Your grandmother, Esther, went to him and asked for a blessing for you. He gave her a blessing, and suggested that you be given that middle name at your circumcision ceremony. He suggested that when you were given your name, the middle name should be whispered, so that no one except the one who named you would hear it. Under no circumstances was anyone else to know about it. Only your grandmother, your mother, and the one who named you - I was the one who did so - were aware of it. Even you were not to be told until you turned thirteen. You, too, were not to divulge your name. If you followed these instructions precisely, you would be blessed, would have a good life, and would help many people. You can thus say that Moreno influenced your life.”
“My mother said it was nothing but some old superstition, but she didn’t want to argue with Grandmother Esther, so she went along with it. It really didn’t seem to make a difference anyway, because no one knew about the name. I only found out about it at my Bar Mitzvah, when Grandmother Esther revealed the secret to me. To me, it was indeed terrible. My grandmother always wanted me to become a doctor, because then I could help others. She died ten years ago, and I’m sure that my mother forgot the whole incident. Now only you and I know the truth, and I know that you would never tell anyone. Only now have I begun to understand the significance of the name.”
Elijah remembered how he had always concealed his middle name, even though he was not quite sure why he had done so. Maybe his life had been saved by the fact that he had kept the bargain and never told anyone his name. Sitting in the lounge of the retirement home, Elijah started daydreaming. He did, though, have one last question for Uncle Nissim.
“And what about Rabbi Moreno’s son? Did he indeed go far?”
Nissim sighed. “Even the best of intentions are ruined by reality. After the Arab riots in Palestine in the late 1920s, the child simply disappeared. The Arabs evidently killed him. To this day, no one knows exactly what happened to him. His father never abandoned hope of finding him. Poor man. All the Kabbalists of the Holy Land, of Aleppo, of Babylon, all prayed for him. For the child’s first eleven years his father took care of him, pampered him, taught him - and then he disappeared.”
Elijah was disappointed. Was that the end of his beautiful theory about “Moreno” and “Norman”? He wound up his visit, said goodbye to Uncle Nissim, and went home, where Orna was already waiting for him.
“Eli, I found David Norman’s medical file. He’s scheduled for surgery on the 21st of June. However, he refused to be hospitalized the day before, as is customary, but he promised to fast the day before, and to check in at 5:00 am in preparation for the operation. That’s very strange, especially when the surgeon feels that his condition is critical and that he might lose his eyesight altogether. It might be mere coincidence, but I noticed on the calendar that the 21st of June is the longest day of the year. I think that that day is...”
“For heaven’s sake! Do you know what today is?” Elijah shouted out, his face covered in a cold sweat.
“Yes, I know that’s two days from now. I hope you aren’t upset with me about that fact.”
“No, no. I’m sorry I raised my voice. That is vital information, and it was you who spotted it. I’m really upset at myself because I still don’t quite know how to begin. I don’t have so much as a single starting point from which to move forward.”
“Well, maybe I can give you one. It took me ten days of intense searching, but I finally found Gardi’s file and I know where to find him.”
“Are you serious?”
“He’s in the David Home.”
“But that’s a psychiatric hospital!”
The Tenth Sphere
When the Persians Conquered Jerusalem
In 614 C.E., the Persians took Jerusalem from the Byzantine Empire. At first, they tried to persuade the inhabitants to surrender peacefully, without a battle. Patriarch Zechariah agreed to surrender, but the masses refused point-blank. The Persians chose to besiege the city in the summer, in order not to subject their troops to the rain and cold of the Jerusalem winter. For twenty days the Persian troops made as much commotion as possible, to attract the people’s attention away from the noise they made digging tunnels beneath the city walls. At that point, the wall on the west simply collapsed and Jerusalem fell into their hands like ripe fruit. Having been forced to fight because of the intransigence of the Jerusalem residents, the Persians had no qualms whatsoever in venting their anger on them. For three days they slaughtered everyone they came across and plundered whatever was worth plundering. Special targets of theirs were the Christian monasteries and their monks. The monks were killed and all the valuables in the many religious edifices were taken away, including the Holy Cross, upon which, by Christian tradition, Jesus had been crucified. Even that holy relic was shipped to Persia.
The Jews greeted the Persians joyfully. Ever since the declaration of Cyrus of Persia, which had proclaimed the end of the Babylonian exile, the Jews had regarded the Persians as friends. At this time, the Jews regarded the Persian conquest as God’s redemption of the Jewish people, and large numbers of them joined the Persians. A Jewish force from Galilee attempted to take Tyre on behalf of the Persians, but was unable to do so. However, it did succeed in capturing Acre for the Persians. An attempt was made to restore the sacrificial cult on the Temple Mount.
A short time later, for internal political reasons, the Persians switched their allegiance to the Christians. An official decree forbade Jews from living in Jerusalem. All the various attempts through gifts, bribes, pleading and begging were in vain.
In 630 C.E., the Byzantine King Heracles vanquished the Persians and reconquered the Holy Land. In order to obtain the support of the Jews, he signed a treaty with their leader, Benjamin of Tiberias, gave them a signed deed of protection, and even swore personally to uphold this agreement. Under the influence of the heads of the Church, Heracles violated his solemn agreement. He killed many Jews in Galilee and Jerusalem, and forbade Jews from living in Jerusalem or within a radius of three miles from the city. In order to prevent Heracles from having to suffer for breaking his solemn word, the heads of the Church accepted the punishment themselves. To this day, those who follow the Byzantine Christian tradition, namely the members of the Greek Orthodox Church in Syria and Jordan and the Copts in Egypt, have a special fast day in penance for Heracles’ broken promise.
Elijah jumped out of bed at 6:00 am, June 20th, the day before the longest day of the year. It was not as if he had been sleeping; he had lain awake the whole night. His single, sane lead was to a man in an insane asylum! His life was in danger, he knew, but he had no idea from which direction the peril would come. He felt utterly helpless, but knew that he had to do something.
He drove to the David Home in Ein Kerem and turned off the car engine. The peace and quiet in this pastoral setting, which at other times would have been enthralling, did nothing to still his fears. Ein Kerem is in a valley and is an island of greenery just a few minutes away from the hubbub of the city. The houses are all small and mad
e of stone, and the local residents want nothing more than peace. It could have been a veritable Garden of Eden to Elijah - if he could have just calmed down a little. The main building of the David Home stood right in front of him. The window frames were all painted a sky blue, as if the heavens themselves had invaded the different rooms. Elijah fell in love with the place and, for an instant, thought how pleasant it would be to live here, to forget all his obligations, to wipe from his memory the thousands of letters and words he had processed. Why, of all the people in the world, had Norman selected him? And based on Norman’s computer, was even his selection an error, not having taken his middle name into account? What did Norman want of him? Up to a few weeks ago he had been a nonentity, a minor university lecturer, one who blended into the Jewish landscape and disappeared into it and for all he knew, as of tomorrow, he would be no more than history.
He stood at the door, terrified of entering a world that was so utterly unfamiliar to him. Elijah was a man devoid of the tools necessary for contending with the aberrations of human nature. Accustomed to living his life among the gifted, among doctoral students who aspired to become members of the exclusive club of full professors, he had neither the training nor the background to deal with the insane. In his head dozens of possible scenarios played out dramatically, each more bizarre than the last.
What on earth are you afraid of? He rebuked himself. After all, the building is crawling with armed guards; and if it’s the feeling that your life might be in danger that’s bothering you, well – it’s in danger already, whether or not you decide to enter the building.
He forced himself laboriously out of the car, locked it and double-checked that it was locked so that no one would tamper with it in his absence, made sure he had not parked too far from the curb, and after running out of excuses to delay his entry, squared his shoulders and walked toward the gate.
