by Brian Godawa
“That is not good enough.”
Methuselah was about to break completely apart.
The door suddenly burst open. Enoch and the priestess supervisor, a stout woman with a perpetual frown of dissatisfaction stood in the doorway.
Methuselah and Edna froze.
“Edna, I told you to stop this silly interest in sports,” said the priestess. “You have your Sacred Marriage rite tomorrow and we need to test your makeup and try out the new dress!”
Enoch did not need as many words. “Methuselah.”
Methuselah jumped to his feet and followed Enoch down the hallway back to their quarters in the palace.
Chapter 8
As a major city of trade, Sippar sported a hodgepodge of ornamentation. Winding their way through the palace hallways, Methuselah and Enoch passed cedar columns from Aratta, hanging tapestries from the Indus Valley, and stone mason work from the Levant.
Enoch was a holy man who did not even see the craftsmanship and art that saturated their living environment and absorbed Methuselah’s imagination.
They could not be more different. Enoch received visions from the gods. He sought to raise his son with the same sense of piety and obedience. Unfortunately, Methuselah was too lustful for life and this earth. Enoch loved prayer, Methuselah loved reading cuneiform. Enoch barely noticed women, Methuselah burned with desire for every attractive woman he saw. Enoch loved the holy liturgy of worship, Methuselah loved a feast of food and good drink. Enoch spent hours of silence in the temple shrine, Methuselah spent hours worshipping the beauty of creation (and especially the gods’ most beautiful creation, the female body). Enoch was a holy man of heaven, Methuselah felt he was a profane man of earth.
It seemed that the only thing his father loved on this earth was Methuselah’s mother. She was Enoch’s one connection with humanity and both father and son adored her. Nevertheless, Methuselah thought Enoch could not understand his friendship with Edna. His stomach turned with anxiety.
“Are you romantically inclined to this girl?” demanded Enoch.
“No! She is devoted to the gods!” Methuselah barked, reflexively. How could he think that? Methuselah might be quite the romantic lothario in his weakness for women, but he would never violate the sacred order to even consider Edna as a love interest.
“She is like the little sister I never had,” Methuselah claimed. “I do not expect you would understand that.”
Despite what his son may have thought of his holy demeanor, Enoch was not a heartless disembodied spirit. It warmed his heart to see his son care for people, and seek to help them and protect them. And he certainly understood love. He just wanted Methuselah to learn what was most important in life after religion, and that was station. There would be plenty of time and opportunity to choose a wife from the court once Methuselah was established as a bona fide apkallu to royalty.
They arrived at the door to their quarters and entered. Enoch struggled to shake off his usual thoughts of his son’s future.
“Well, I do not expect you to understand the spiritual vision I just received from an enemy god.”
Methuselah’s mouth dropped. He had no idea what in the world Enoch was talking about.
Enoch’s wife greeted him at the door with a kiss and embrace, as she did every day of their marriage. She was a humble woman, unfortunately too often overshadowed by Enoch’s important status and neglected in his royal responsibilities. Yet Methuselah knew that without her, Enoch would be nothing. Enoch knew it as well. She was his strength, his support, his closest counsel and only trusted friend. As passionately zealous as Enoch was, he was also prone to depression. He would often say that in his mountaintops and valleys, his Edna was his steady sea level.
She believed in her husband, happy to support his high and holy calling. Methuselah would sometimes jest what a miracle it was that the gods would create a woman with enough patience for his father.
Methuselah found it ironic that with everything about father and son being so at odds, his best friend had the same name as his mother. Methuselah often wondered why his father, who could see spiritual patterns and signs in just about everything, could not embrace this curiosity with a more positive acceptance.
One thing was certain. The two Ednas were nothing alike. They were as disparate as Methuselah and Enoch. Mother Edna was kind, sweet, supportive, and submissive. Sixteen-year old Edna was spunky, feisty, independent, and stubborn.
Methuselah’s differences with his father haunted him wherever he turned. The living quarters they occupied were humble compared with other palace servants or royalty. According to Enoch, a wisdom sage was not concerned about the things of this world, but about truth, justice, and heaven. Thus, their living space held only a couple bedrooms, and a small eating and lounging area. The whole dwelling space was no bigger than the average servant’s quarters. They had only the most basic of furniture, stark against bare walls. Methuselah felt it a pity that royalty such as they were should live in such aesthetic squalor.
Methuselah had wanted to change the bleak environment for a long time. To him, beauty embodied as much a part of truth as philosophy or ethics. In fact, he thought Enoch’s failure to understand this was his father’s weakness. A spirituality that excluded the body was impoverished. Methuselah sought a more earthy spirituality. Austerity might bring more intellectual satisfaction, but it created emotional emptiness. Did not the gods make this world to be enjoyed? It made no sense to create a rose, or a woman’s body and then say, “Ignore the rose and the woman, and the myriad of sensory experiences that make up your daily existence. Just think about abstract wisdom and the unseen spirit world.” That was madness to him.
“Methuselah, I just had a vision of the unseen spirit world that you will probably think is madness.”
“Try me,” quipped Methuselah, expecting his father to be right. It already sounded crazy and he had not even heard it yet.
The three of them sat down together. Edna brought some fruit and nuts for them to eat.
Enoch said to Methuselah, “Once again, your extracurricular activities drew you away from your responsibility to be with me in the council meeting.”
“Sorry, father.” They might not be able to understand each other, but they did love one another. Apologies and forgiveness came quickly between them.
“You better be sorry or I will tan your hide,” said Enoch. Methuselah cringed at the saying. It was a corny phrase his father liked to use — too often.
Enoch continued, “The first place I looked for you was in the palace garden. You spend too much time in that useless waste of space.”
“It is not useless, father,” said Methuselah. “Beauty is divine transcendence. It connects us to the gods as much as any ritual does.” He shook his head. “You always do that. You miss the forest for the trees.”
“You are wrong, son,” said Edna. “Your father does not care for the forest or the trees.”
It was her way of teasing Enoch without putting him down. A little bit of humor went a long way toward persuasion for Edna. She had to have a lot of humor with this family of stubborn male onagers.
Methuselah continued complaining, “Do you even know that the temple is laden with garden imagery and ornamentation? The gods are worshipped in a garden!”
“Enough, Son,” said Edna. “The point was made. Listen to your father.” She would never abandon her true loyalty to her husband.
Enoch sat expressionless, waiting for Methuselah to finish his venting. He continued as if he had not heard a word Methuselah said. “When I was in the garden in my dream vision, I fell to the floor as a dead man, and when I awoke, two archangels stood over me.”
Enoch knew how to tell a good story, a useful skill for an apkallu sage. Enoch unfolded his experience to his wife and son with such vivid, artistic description that Methuselah felt himself enraptured into the very heaven of heavens, seeing it all with his own eyes. Maybe his father was not all that out of touch.
Chapter 9
“Who are you?” asked Enoch.
The larger, stronger angel spoke first, “We are Gabriel and Uriel, the archangels from the throne of Elohim.”
“Elohim?” Enoch had heard of the name. His tribe descended from the line of Seth that had worshipped this god as the creator of all things. But when the dispersion had occurred and his ancestors had settled in the city, they were visited by the gods of Shinar, and this Elohim faded into obscurity. An abstract blurred memory of a distant unseen deity seemed impotent in the real presence of the pantheon with its Four High Gods, Anu, Enlil, Enki, and Ninhursag, and their mighty signs and wonders.
“Everything you worship is a lie,” said Gabriel.
Uriel looked at Gabriel. “That is a little shocking, Gabriel. Do you not think it would be wiser to ease him into the truth, instead of slamming him over the head with a mace?”
Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Very well.” He turned back to the speechless Enoch.
“You might want to close your mouth,” Uriel added to Enoch who snapped his gaping mouth shut.
“Enoch ben Jared, the living God is calling you to bear witness to the truth that has been suppressed in unrighteousness.” Gabriel looked at Uriel as if to ask, is that good enough for you? Uriel nodded cautiously.
In the fold of archangels, Uriel ranked as a black sheep, one marred with spots as well as an off-color. He always seemed to see things from a different perspective than the others. This caused him to always interrupt discussions and provoke delays. It made him the butt of jokes. He could not help it. He did not seek to stand out of the crowd. Elohim made him that way. Uriel sometimes called it a “curse,” but only in jest. Elohim knew better and had his purposes. In a way, it made Uriel feel special. Perhaps his nature was not all that undesirable.
Uriel stood a bit shorter than most archangels, maybe by half a cubit. His stature became another source of relentless teasing about strength and ability. The mockery nudged Uriel to work harder than all the rest, to prove that he was as good as any of them. The teasing sharpened his wit and words, as if to compensate for his lesser physique.
Enoch’s dumbfounded stare focused on Gabriel, until Uriel spoke.
Uriel said to Enoch, “Elohim is the true and living God, the Creator of the universe. He has chosen you as his representative to proclaim judgment upon the gods and upon their giant progeny, the Nephilim.”
“You call that subtle?” muttered Gabriel under his breath.
“More lyrical than you will ever be,” quipped Uriel. He turned back to Enoch. “Terror is about to break out on all the land, and Elohim has commissioned you to reject the gods of Shinar and become his prophet.”
Enoch could not decide which was more difficult to accept, a confrontation with two archangels or the inane banter that kept distracting them from their message. He shook himself out of his stupor. Nothing he had just heard made sense to him. “Excuse, me, what did you say?” asked Enoch.
Uriel repeated the words like a mother with an unruly child who would not listen, “Elohim wants you to speak for him.”
“Are you crazy?” said Enoch. “I have been a diviner priest for Utu the sun god all my life. The pantheon of gods has been good to me and my family. Now, I am supposed to condemn them all to their faces?”
“And the Nephilim,” Uriel reminded him.
Enoch persisted, “The Nephilim are demigods. They have strength and powers unmatched by humans. The first prophecy I make will be my last. They will execute me on the spot.”
Gabriel ignored Enoch’s protest. “Trust in Elohim. Rahab is coming upon this city.” Rahab was the name of the sea dragon of chaos, the creature of destruction that swam the waters of the Abyss. People invoked her name when they wanted to express foreboding disaster of total annihilation.
“Bring your family and loved ones to the mountains of Aratta in the north. In the volcanic lands of Sahand you will find your distant ancestor, Adam. He will teach you what you need to learn to fulfill Elohim’s calling upon your life.”
Enoch protested again, “How do I know you are telling the truth? I have never heard from Elohim before. How do I know I can trust him?”
The angels knew the question was reasonable. Gabriel had prepared for it. “This very night, your city will be besieged and your king will die. When you, Enoch, son of Jared, are offered the opportunity to be king, know this: If you accept, you and all your family line will be executed to clear way for a new regime.”
Uriel completed the prophecy. “If you choose to escape the city with your family, you will be protected by — well, yours truly.” He could not pass up the opportunity for a touch of wit.
Gabriel thought Uriel’s wit lessened the urgency of their warning. He reiterated, “Do not accept the offer, Enoch. It will be deadly.”
For the first time in his life in the presence of his father, Methuselah sat quiet. He was stunned. Of all the crazy dreams and visions his father had experienced throughout the years, this one was different. It hit Methuselah more like the truth than anything ever had. He thought that was strange, because he was not the mystical type. But this time, he just knew it was true.
Enoch’s voice vibrated with anxiety. “How do I know this is true? I mean, this Elohim has never shown his face to me all these years, and now all of a sudden, I am told to leave everything and follow him? It is bizarre.”
“Are you moonstruck, father?” said Methuselah, a common insult in the city of the sun god. “After all these years of your wild and unbelievable dreams, you question this one — now?”
Enoch retorted, “And you now are the gullible true believer? Or is that just your habit of being contrary and impulsive?”
“I am not being contrary. I cannot explain it. I just know it is true.”
“You cannot explain it,” repeated Enoch. “Well, now you know how I feel, and what I have been trying to tell you all these years.”
Methuselah said, “Have you not often said you would like to meet our forefather Adam? To learn of our history? Here is your opportunity to do so.”
“I was being sentimental, not literal,” snapped Enoch. “I cannot just walk away from Utu. He has been my god all these years. He has provided for us.”
They heard the front door shut. They suddenly noticed that Edna was not with them anymore. She had gotten up and must have left their chambers.
Enoch called out, “Edna?”
No one answered him.
“That is strange,” said Enoch. “She has never done that before.”
Methuselah guessed that his mother believed the prophecy, more than the “sage” who had received it. She was probably making preparations to leave the city, preparations that included Methuselah’s young friend, the other Edna, and her parents. She had discussed the possibility with her son in the past.
“She is warning others,” he surmised.
“What others?” challenged Enoch.
“Edna and her parents?” offered Methuselah.
“How does she know about this girl of yours?”
“She is not my ‘girl,’ father,” said Methuselah. “I have told mother all about her. She knows we are close, and she is going to help them. She will go after Edna’s parents first, to bring them to the palace.”
Methuselah’s mother already knew that young Edna was in love with her son. She had spent long hours talking with the girl. Mother Edna had been a young lower caste girl once and had fallen in love with a young Enoch as a royal apkallu in training. So she did not have the qualms that either of the men had. They always took so much longer to see these things.
Methuselah replied simply, “We should prepare the family to leave. Mother will be back before long.”
“Son, we must have confirmation.”
“What else do you need to be — ” A knock at the door interrupted Methuselah. Enoch opened the door to a servant messenger.
The man was pale and trembling. “My lord, a riot has begun in the city. The Nephilim are on a rampage, destroyin
g everything in sight and capturing citizens.”
Enoch could not believe his ears. “They are taking hostages? What ransom can the palace possibly give them that they have not already extorted out of us?”
“They have been demanding justice. Some say they are taking their anger out on the poor citizens.”
“Holy Utu,” said Enoch. “My Edna is out there.”
Methuselah’s throat went dry. He also knew what other horrors awaited the women. “Where is the city guard? Have they done anything to hold them back?”
“The city guard was the first to be taken out,” the messenger wailed.
Enoch said, “Where are the Rephaim? Enmeduranki?”
The messenger shook his head. “Nowhere to be found.”
That did not make sense to Enoch. They would be the first to coordinate action to protect the citizens. He knew the priest-king truly cared for his people and the Rephaim did not tolerate rebellion.
“The gates of the city have been locked,” said the messenger. “No one can get out. For some reason, the Nephilim have stayed away from the palace area.” The palace and its riches were always the ultimate goal in these revolutions. “Justice” usually meant theft, plunder, and destruction.
Enoch dismissed the messenger. He turned to Methuselah. “I have to get Edna, but I do not know where she is.”
“My Edna will know,” said Methuselah. “She can lead us there.”
Enoch nodded reluctantly. “You go find the servant girl. I will spread the word to the family to gather in the underground passageways and wait for us. I will meet you in the courtyard. Your little friend can lead us to her parents and our Edna.”
They ran out the door.
Chapter 10
Enoch had been accused of being so spiritually minded that he lacked practicality, but it was not true. He had arranged various positions of responsibility in the palace area for his extended family. He had given each a code and procedure to follow should any kind of disaster arise, be it a siege of the city or a revolt from within. This revolt fulfilled the second contingency.
