by Nathan Erez
At the reception desk, he asked to speak to Mr. Gardi. The nurse on duty asked him to wait, and disappeared into the interior of the building. A man dressed in pajamas came over and tried to take off his shirt. “Are you new here? Are you the new guy? Here, we all wear pajamas. Let me help you. You’re new here. Yes, I can tell you’re new. Tell me that you’re new here. Would you like to sleep in my room, on my bed? I won’t mind. Come and sleep in my bed with me.” Elijah remained glued to the spot, as if someone had nailed his feet to the ground. He felt totally powerless. The man in pajamas kept tugging at his sleeve, until a male nurse came and led him away. Elijah felt his blood pressure rising to a level that made a heart attack imminent. The nurse finally returned.
“Are you the guy who’s looking for Judah Gardi?”
“Yes.”
“He’s in the dining room, but I would really appreciate if you could please wait outside. It’s treatment and breakfast time right now and we don’t usually entertain visitors at 6:45 am.”
“It’s an emergency.”
“What do you mean by ‘an emergency’? The man has been here for the past forty-five years and will remain here until the day he dies. So what’s so urgent? Please wait outside until I call you.”
Elijah went outside and sat on the edge of a bench, trying to imagine that this was just another day in his rather dull life. Had he been a patient here, he would probably have gone outside to sit in the garden, too. A group of men dressed in green passed him. They were all speaking Arabic and laughing about something.
Elijah walked over to them. “Do any of you know Gardi?”
“I’m his attendant. What do you want to know?”
“May I speak to you for a few minutes?”
“Why not?” said the man, as he moved away from the rest.
“I’m pleased to meet you. I’m Professor Nash.”
“Likewise. I’m Naeel Suleiman.”
“Are you from Jerusalem?”
“Actually, I’m from Nazareth, but I obtained my nursing degree at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem. For the past four years I’ve been Gardi’s attendant.”
“Only for the last four years... I’d very much like to ask you a few questions. Please take this envelope. I believe it will be fair compensation for the time you spend here with me.” The nurse took the envelope and Elijah felt encouraged.
“Who was his attendant before you?”
“Someone named Mualem was with him for forty years.”
“And what happened to him?” Elijah was afraid to hear the answer. “Did he die?”
“He did, actually, he died three years ago.”
“From what?” asked Elijah, almost shouting.
“Look, Mualem cared for him until Mualem turned seventy. He was pensioned off, and died of old age.”
“Do all patients have a personal attendant?”
“No way. There is a special trust fund abroad for Gardi. He gets royal treatment here, unlike the other patients. He has his own private room and a private attendant throughout the day. At night, too, there’s a special attendant on duty. Actually, I thought you must be from the Foundation.”
Elijah caught on immediately. “Well, not exactly. Unless, yes, you could call me that. I’m not an official representative; I’m here unofficially. The person funding the Foundation is a relative of my wife. She asked me to come and see how Gardi is treated. Between you and me, she asked me to come incognito, so that no one should know about my ties to the Foundation. That way I can see how things really are, without anyone trying to put on a show just for my benefit. I was also asked to find out if any other relatives come to visit.”
“Almost no one comes,” said Naeel. “He used to have a cousin who came every few months, but the man died. I have a feeling the other relatives are delighted that he’s out of their hair. Mualem, who took care of him for so many years, told me that a certain American comes every so often to visit him, and he’s overjoyed when the man arrives. However, after every such visit, it takes Gardi months before he returns to normal.”
“Why? What happens when the American comes?” Elijah was very perturbed.
“He starts telling all kinds of stories.”
“Well, telling stories hardly seems so unusual.”
“You don’t understand. His stories relate to what is known as the ‘messiah syndrome’.”
“I don’t understand what you mean. I wonder if you could tell me what it’s all about. Does he say anything about the American?”
Naeel suddenly became very suspicious of Elijah’s behavior, his body language, his demanding tone. “I don’t know if I’m allowed to say anything. We’re not permitted to reveal any information about our patients. Maybe you should check with the department head. He also deals with Gardi on an individual basis.”
Elijah decided that he should calm down and improvise something that would put Naeel on his side.
“The American you referred to was the husband of that relative of my wife’s. He was Gardi’s benefactor, but he died about a year and a half ago. His widow is still considering whether she should continue to send money. I have to report to her about how things are and whether she should continue with her support.”
Naeel’s manner changed immediately. “I’m sorry to hear that. I didn’t know he’d died.”
“OK. Could you tell me what you meant by the ‘messiah syndrome’?”
Naeel was happy to oblige. “In France, a large number of insane people are convinced they are Napoleon. In England, they think they are the king, while in Italy they think they are the Pope, or at the least Michelangelo. In Israel, it’s the messiah. Pregnant women claim that the baby in their womb is the messiah, while men are convinced that God is about revealing Himself to them, while others tell us that they have been entrusted with saving the Jewish people.”
“Does Judah Gardi claim to be the messiah?”
“He says he’s able to perform miracles just by his utterances, and that he knows word combinations that can bring about miracles. He claims he’s the one who suppressed the 1929 riots with his words. These are his exact claims, and he also claims that as soon as he recovers from his illness, he will bring the messiah. For the first few years after he was admitted here he refused to take any medication. He kept repeating over and over again that none of us here was normal and that only he was normal. But that, of course, is what all patients here believe. He’s already over seventy and has basically stopped speaking to anyone. Each night at sunset he tells his story to the trees and the rocks.”
“I’d like to ask you to bring him out here to me. I’ve never been to this place before, and I daresay you appreciate my reservations. Once you enter the building, you are no longer master of your own fate.”
Naeel nodded his agreement and a few seconds later he entered the building. After what seemed like hours, but was actually only about fifteen minutes on the clock, he came back pushing an old man in a wheelchair. The man had a dark complexion and white hair. His head was bent forward, almost touching his chest.
Naeel stopped the wheelchair and said, “You have a visitor. You stay here for a while and I’ll be back soon to take you inside again.”
The old man seemed totally engrossed in himself, as if he saw and heard nothing of the outside world. Elijah moved a little closer, and when he saw no reaction he got up and effectively blocked off the sun, which had been shining on Gardi. The old man realized that there was something blocking the sun. He looked up, saw Elijah, and seemed to look right through him.
Gardi was wrapped in a tallit, a Jewish prayer shawl, and murmured words or parts of words. From time to time he looked in the book of Psalms that he had in his lap. Naeel sat a few yards away, reading a newspaper.
Elijah said, “David Norman sends his regards.”
Gardi stared at him, but made no comment.
“David Norman - of the Luzzato Institute? Don’t you remember him? He’s the only one who comes to visit you here. Try to re
member. It’s very important. You just have to remember him... David Norman, the American. Don’t you remember?”
Not a sound, not a gesture. Nothing. Elijah plucked a leaf from a nearby lemon tree, and sat down. He played with the leaf, but was at a loss as to what to do next. If Gardi did not speak, all was lost. Maybe he should just sit and listen to the man’s meaningless mumbling. Maybe that was the answer...
Minutes passed, and nothing changed.
“Judah Gardi!” Elijah cried out in desperation, a cry that caused both Gardi and Naeel to sit up. Gardi was seized by a coughing spell that shook his frail body. His face turned red, and Naeel hurried over.
“I have to take him in and give him an inhalation.”
“But please bring him back.”
“We’ll see.”
“You have to!”
Naeel gave him a stern look.
Elijah had to appease Naeel after his outburst. “I’m sorry. It is really vital. I won’t raise my voice any more. I just thought maybe that way I could stir him up and get through to him.”
Naeel had already brought the wheelchair to the edge of the path. He turned around and repeated, “We’ll see.”
Elijah felt as if a giant steamroller had just run over him. He was utterly crushed. How could he have blown the only opportunity he would have of approaching Gardi? How does one talk to a person who has been certified as insane? Things were, finally, coming to a climax in a few hours, and the world turned around as usual; everything at its own tempo. Elijah persuaded himself that he absolutely had to calm down. He had to match his tempo to that of the asylum and to try to figure out how things operated here. Otherwise, he was lost.
He tried to empty his mind of all thoughts, as if meditating, but he was unable to do so. His head was burning up.
Think of one of the conquests. Which conquest did you like best? Concentrate on the conquering of Jerusalem. Maybe then you will be able to calm down. Elijah, choose a conquest. How about that of Titus? No way! OK, so which conquest was the most significant in your eyes? He asked himself. Let’s see. A number of the conquests were heroic, but which was the most significant? I know: the conquest by Persia.
‘Very few people will agree with you, Elijah.’
No, but I can prove it.
‘Prove it.’
Mentally, Elijah began to lecture his audience – which consisted this time only of himself. The only others present were the trees and rocks. No one was in the garden. If Gardi can talk to the trees and the rocks, so can I, he thought to himself.
At first, the Persians tried to persuade the inhabitants to surrender peacefully, without a battle. The masses refused point-blank.
Elijah was unable to concentrate. It was already noontime and the sun beat down on him mercilessly. He forced himself to think about the conquest.
All the valuables in the many religious edifices had been taken away, including the Holy Cross, upon which, by Christian tradition, Jesus had been crucified. Even that holy relic had been shipped to Persia. OK, how does that help me now? For the first time in his life, Elijah thought that his obsession with the different conquests had been nothing but a waste of time. That’s a strange way to show your patriotism. Maybe I’m crazy. He decided to stop thinking along these lines, but all the different conquests that he had thought about so often simply refused to let him go.
Some people think the conquests by Babylon and Rome were the worst, because in both cases the Temple was destroyed. Elijah, on the other hand, believed that the worst of all of Jerusalem’s conquests was that of the Persians. Ever since the Persian conquest, for all practical purposes the Jews had abandoned any further hope of a natural redemption based on reclaiming the land acre by acre. And with it, all hope of reconstituting an independent Jewish state had crumbled. In fact, from that time on, until the beginning of the 20th century, there were no further Jewish attempts to rule the Holy Land, or even just the holy city of Jerusalem. That, to Elijah, was the worst consequence of the Persian conquest.
In reality, the situation then in a way very much parallels the situation today, thought Elijah. Then, too, there was constant friction with our neighbors.
One of the other consequences of the loss of all hope in reconstituting a Jewish state by natural means was the opening of the field to every type of messianic idea, no matter how wild. This included all those who believed that the only possible avenue of redemption was through miraculous means, outside the normal realm of the historical process; for redemption could not come through natural means. On the other hand, there were those who objected - and many that object to this day - to any human intervention in the Divine plan.
Throughout his life, Elijah had developed a theory that Jewish mysticism had only begun after the Persian conquest. Only one who really understands the different conquests of Jerusalem can appreciate the originality of this theory. If there were any mystical elements present before that time, Elijah believed, they were only marginal. He found support for his theory in the large number of works in this area, which appeared after the Persian conquest. He thought of the classic case of Shabbetai Zevi, who arose at a time when the Jews seemed to have lost all hope of being rescued from their terrible fate by natural means.
Suddenly, at the insane asylum, Elijah realized that for the past two weeks he had been assembling all types of facts that contradicted his theory, but that had not been enough to totally demolish it. Sefer Yetzirah had clearly been written centuries before the Persian conquest. The Bar Kokhba revolt took place in 135 C.E., and even by that date Sefer Yetzirah - the oldest Kabbalistic text we are aware of - was already in existence. Already at that time, Rabbi Akiba had ordered all copies to be burned, and, in fact, the vast majority of copies of that work were destroyed. All that we have is a short section of it, totaling about 1500 words. What Norman had found was that Nehemiah had only pretended to burn the copies, as the son of Rabbi Simon Ben Yohai had bribed him to make seven copies.
Gardi’s claim had evidently been that he was able to save the world simply with words. Could Gardi have known the verses of these scrolls? Elijah was convinced that it was Norman who financed Gardi’s hospital care, and that he was the “American” who visited Gardi from time to time. Indeed, something to that effect had been on Norman’s to-do list: visit Gardi in the hospital. Maybe Norman was indeed the son of Rabbi Moreno, and maybe both Gardi and Norman had learned the appropriate verses from Norman’s father. And maybe the Kabbalists were right in claiming that by such verses they could change the world! This was in total contradiction of what Elijah had always believed. And maybe Norman made a point of visiting Gardi because he knew that it was Gardi’s study of the Kabbalah that had driven him to insanity, just as it had Ben Zoma.
In the end, Elijah decided he had no choice but to enter the building. Casting all his reservations and hesitations aside, he walked in, making a conscious effort, difficult though it was, to appear nonchalant, hoping to be inconspicuous, to avoid attracting any untoward attention. That, he believed, was the only possible way to gain access to Gardi. He believed he now knew how to accomplish this. Of course, Gardi would not know the man as “Norman”. Norman was a name he had adopted much later.
Peeping into each doorway, he finally saw Gardi sitting in a chair near his window.
“Absalom Moreno, the son of Rabbi David Moreno, sent me to see how you are and how you feel.”
This time it worked. That was the name by which Gardi knew him! Gardi perked up immediately and asked, “Where is he? Why hasn’t he come?”
“He’s not feeling well,” apologized Elijah. By now, lying was second nature to him in all matters concerning Luzzato.
“They all ran away and I cried. Absalom said to me, ‘Come with me and I will protect you.’ We ran from the so-called Lifta gate in the wall around Me’ah Shearim, to the gates facing the Old City. All the Jews were running, but Absalom and I ran in the opposite direction. We stood and saw them running toward us. The Arabs were screamin
g ‘Death to all the Jews!’ Absalom told me what words to recite, and we said them together.”
Gardi started breathing more heavily. He began to talk louder. “Then the Arabs all ran away. The Heavens fought on our behalf. There had never been anything like it since ancient times.” Naeel looked in and stood at a distance.
Elijah was familiar with the story of the Lifta gate. In 1929, an Arab mob, inflamed by rabble-rousers, had left the Old City by the Nablus Gate. At its head were the rabble-rousers themselves, carrying a variety of objects to use as weapons against the Jews - swords and bayonets. Some of them had ancient hunting guns, with bandoliers full of ammunition. Their cries and gestures made their intentions very clear when they came across any Jews. Soon they approached the wall that surrounded the Jewish neighborhood of Me'ah Shearim.
“I believe you,” said Elijah. “Absalom himself told me about it.”
“He himself?” said the old man. Suddenly, he became very suspicious. “It was supposed to be a big secret.”
“I’ve been busy helping him to find the scrolls. He showed them all to me.”
“Including the one he stole from the Yeshiva?” said Gardi, doubtfully. “And including the one that old Rabbi Moreno was given by the old woman from China?”
“All of them, including the one which speaks about the longest day.” By now, Elijah felt no reason not to gamble. He had to check out the details which Orna had found in Norman’s medical file.
“None of the people here believe me. Mualem and all the doctors here are complete ignoramuses.”
“They’re weaklings,” Elijah reassured him. “When the redemption comes, they will all come to you on their knees to beg for your forgiveness.”
“Amen,” said Gardi. He appeared to doze off, but was suddenly wide awake. “Where do you live? With Rabbi Moreno?”
Elijah remained silent.
