by Katz, Yoram
“This was such a strange experience…” said Jeanne after a while. “I cannot tell the age of this child, but Professor Orlev looks more like his grandfather than his father. And where is the mother? I am sure there is an interesting story behind this. Such a cute, poor thing…”
This was a bit too much for Luria. “You are exactly like Ella,” he snapped, “willing to embrace the whole world no matter what. So what if he looks like a child? This cute, poor thing nearly broke my back. What is it with you, girls?”
Jeanne shot a strange look at him and said nothing.
They then sat quietly for a while, lost in thought. As they were leaving Jerusalem, heading toward Route No. 1, Luria punched the keyboard of his mobile car phone. After a few rings, they heard Aryeh’s voice.
“What’s up, cousin?” he said in Hebrew.
“We have just met Professor Orlev,” Luria answered in English.
“And how is Yeshayahu? Was he helpful?” Aryeh switched to English.
“Well…” answered Luria. “We have learned a lot, but little regarding our specific case. He promised to meet us again, but I doubt if he can help.”
“I see…” Aryeh sounded disappointed.
“And then,” added Luria, “we met Naphtali.”
“Is that so?” Aryeh fell silent for a moment. “Professor Orlev’s son?”
“The very one,” said Luria. “Do you know him?”
“I do.” Aryeh sighed. “It’s a tragedy.”
“Can you tell us his story? Jeanne is very curious and so am I. The boy seemed to have mistaken her for his mother…”
“Listen,” Aryeh interrupted him. “I am a little busy right now. I am in Haifa today anyway, and if it works for you, I can pay you a visit in your office sometime late afternoon.”
“Six o’clock?”
“Six o’clock is fine,” said Aryeh. “See you, Jeanne,” he added before hanging up.
* * *
The office was already closed when Luria and Jeanne arrived. They had hardly entered, when the doorbell rang. Luria let Aryeh in, and the three of them went to the coffee machine for a hot cup of coffee.
“Well,” said Aryeh once they have all settled comfortably in Luria’s office, “you have finally met Professor Yeshayahu Orlev. Impressed?”
“A fountainhead of information,” said Luria, “but he was not of much help to us.”
“Yeshayahu Orlev is the world’s foremost authority on the history of the Second Temple and the history of Kabbalah. If he cannot help, I wonder who can.”
“Please tell us about the child, Naphtali,” said Jeanne.
Aryeh turned somber. “It’s a sad story. I heard it from Yeshayahu, and Professor Bennet filled me in on some more details.”
“Professor Bennet? Are you close to him, too?” Luria was surprised.
“I got to know him through Yeshayahu,” answered Aryeh. “Jonathan specializes in early Christianity. He, too, has a fascinating story.”
Luria was curious. “So first tell us about this Professor Bennet. His name just keeps popping up.”
“Don’t you know who he is?” Now it was Aryeh’s turn to be surprised.
Luria thought for a moment. “I wonder where… Hey, wasn’t he the professor who had infuriated those Haredi fanatics? The guy they arranged the public curse against? It was on TV. Pulsa… something.”
“Pulsa Denura,” said Aryeh. “Yes, he is the one. He published an article about links between Kabbalah and Christianity; an absurdity if you ask me. Nevertheless, some people took him too seriously and made all this fuss. By the way, Professor Orlev earned his fair share of attacks by Haredi circles too, because of his views on Kabbalah."
“Kabbalah and Christianity?” Jeanne wondered. “I thought Kabbalah was a branch of Judaism.”
“And you are perfectly right.” Aryeh was quick to answer. “Professor Bennet is a provocateur, specializing in this kind of statements.”
Luria sensed the hostility in Aryeh’s voice and reminded himself that his cousin was, after all, a Haredi Jew. “Hey, just a moment,” he intervened. “There is no need to go into ideological controversy here. You were telling us about Professor Bennet. Who is he, then?”
“Professor Bennet is an Evangelical Christian American. He first came to Israel in the early 70’s. He enrolled in the department of Jewish Thought at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem.”
“Does he speak Hebrew?” asked Luria.
“He studied Hebrew before he came and spent a year here in an Ulpan - a Hebrew school. His Hebrew is perfect. I wish all native Israelis would speak fluent and correct Hebrew like he does. Anyway, he began his studies at the Hebrew University and immediately stood out from the rest of the crowd. He was quickly noticed by Professor Orlev, who had already made a name for himself.”
“Right,” said Jeanne. “Professor Orlev did mention that Bennet was once his student.”
“Indeed he was,” said Aryeh. “Jonathan Bennet was an outstanding student. There was another notable student in that class. Her name was Ruth Shoham. Professor Orlev was very impressed with both, made them his research assistants and guided them through their master's degree. This trio became very close.” Aryeh paused to sip some coffee from his cup. “In fact, they became so close, that Professor Orlev, a confirmed bachelor, married Ruth. At the time, he was over forty five, and Ruth was about twenty years younger.”
“So what?” said Jeanne defiantly. “Love knows no age.”
“But this story ended in tragedy,” continued Aryeh. “Ruth became pregnant immediately. She was a petite woman, and the baby inside her womb was extremely large. The whole delivery became messy, with the baby getting entangled in its umbilical cord. When the doctors finally decided to operate, it was already too late. Ruth never walked away from the operating table.”
“And the baby?” Jeanne inquired anxiously. “What happened to the baby?”
Aryeh’s face was grave. “At first, the baby looked perfectly healthy, but within a year, it was realized that the trauma had left him disabled.”
Jeanne raised her hand to her mouth. “What a tragedy!”
“Naphtali is over thirty,” Aryeh went on. “But mentally he is hardly five. During the last few years, he has been living most of his time in an institution, coming home mostly on weekends. Yeshayahu is a busy academic and a sought-after lecturer. All his time is spent in research, lectures and conferences.”
“But this… child is very strong. He looks like an athlete and is very physically fit. How is that?” wondered Luria, still haunted by his experience with the giant child.
“Naphtali has two areas of interest. One is watching nature documentaries on TV, and the other is working out. Yeshayahu had a small exercise room installed for him at home. In his way, Yeshayahu is very attached to the boy and would do anything for him. He does not really have friends outside academic circles, he lost all his family in the Holocaust, and Naphtali is probably the only thing in the world he cares about, besides his work. He adored his wife, and this child is all he was left from her. They have a very special relationship.”
“And Bennet?” said Luria. “You told us he was very close to Orlev.”
“A few weeks after the marriage of Ruth and Yeshayahu, Bennet received his master’s degree and returned to the US for a doctorate at Harvard. He came back to the Hebrew University only ten years ago, more than 20 years after Ruth had died. Yeshayahu was jubilant. Jonathan was the closest thing to a family he had besides Naphtali. The two published a few papers together, but then they had an academic dispute which ended their friendship. They have not been on speaking terms ever since.”
“What do you know about Orlev’s wife?” Jeanne was curious.
“Not much,” said Aryeh. “From the way he talks about her, it is obvious that he admired her. He showed me a photo once.”
Jeanne fixed a pair of inquiring eyes on him.
“It was just a picture, but I could see that Ruth Orlev was a very
beautiful woman.” Aryeh smiled. “She was as beautiful as you.”
35. Jonathan Bennet – Jerusalem, February 16th, 2010 (Tuesday)
Jonathan Bennet’s home in Jerusalem’s German Colony was a small building surrounded by a garden, with an ornamental pediment above its entrance. Jeanne and Luria went through the gate and walked the path to the door. Luria pressed the doorbell and the two of them almost jumped in surprise; the sound was strong, deep and clear – the chime of a church bell.
A light was switched on inside and they heard footsteps. Then, the door opened and they were facing Professor Jonathan Bennet of the Institute of Christian Studies of the Hebrew University.
Jeanne and Luria were taken aback. Bennet was a good-looking strong-built man. He looked more like a football player than a professor of Christian Studies. “Jeanne? Yossi?” he had a deep, pleasant voice.
The two nodded and smiled.
“I am Jonathan Bennet.”
“We are very glad to meet you, Professor.” Jeanne was first to come around and shake his hand.
“It is an honor, Professor.” Luria joined too and was rewarded with a mighty handshake.
“Please call me Jonathan,” said Bennet. “I would rather be addressed by my first name. After so many years in this country, I was won over by Israeli informality. I prefer to keep the academic titles for formal occasions. Do come in.”
There was something captivating about the man and even the skeptical Luria liked him at first sight. A few minutes later, the three of them were seated around a coffee table in Bennet’s living room, with cups of hot coffee laid in front of them. “So how can I help you?” asked Bennet, looking at Jeanne.
“I am a student of history at the University of Caen in Normandy," opened Jeanne. “While searching the basement of my family's estate for material for a thesis, I came across a few old letters sent from the Middle East in 1799. Among these was a letter sent by a family member of mine to his father in Normandy.”
Bennet thought a moment. “1799… Napoleon’s invasion and the Acre siege.”
“Yes, indeed,” said Jeanne. “The son informed his father that he had found two old scrolls in the town of Safed. It appears from the letter that this was something his father had asked him to look for before he left France.”
Bennet’s eyes lit up. “Any clue as to what these scrolls might have been?”
“One clue is my family’s Templar history.”
“Is that so?” Bennet was intrigued. “I do not think you have mentioned your family name.”
“We are the de Charneys of Normandy.”
“De Charney!!!” The mention of the name had a dramatic effect on Bennet. “De Charney of Normandy? Are you related to Geoffroi de Charney?”
“Geoffroi de Charney is an ancestor of mine.”
Bennet was thrilled. “Are we talking about the Preceptor of Normandy for the Knights Templar in the beginning of the 14th century?”
Jeanne nodded. “We still have in our estate an old picture of him, though, I regret to say, in a pretty awful condition.”
“Unbelievable,” exclaimed Bennet excitedly. He was looking for words. “I usually tend to look down on people who get excited about celebrities, and here I am, acting like one. I find that talking to a direct descendant of Geoffroi de Charney really thrills me…” he smiled in embarrassment.
“Who was Geoffroi de Charney?” Luria wanted to know.
“Well,” replied Bennet, “Geoffroi de Charney was the Templar leader of Normandy during the first years of the 14th century. He was the only one who stood up to defend Jacques de Molay, the last Templar Grand Master, during their trial by the church. The two, along with two other senior Templar officials, were tortured by inquisitors in the service of the church and of Philippe the Fair, King of France. Philippe perpetrated the demise of the Knights Templar in order to acquire their fortune. The Templar leaders were forced to confess that the Knights Templar was an order of heretics. At the last moment before sentence was formally passed, de Molay changed his mind, denying his forced confession, and de Charney joined him. Consequently, their punishment of life imprisonment was changed to burning on a slow fire, and the two died at the stake later that day, virtually ending the history of the Knights Templar.”
Jeanne nodded her head in confirmation.
“But let us get back to what you said before I interrupted you so rudely,” said Bennet. “You mentioned letters telling of some scrolls found in Safed. May I see these letters?”
Jeanne pulled out the letters and handed them to Bennet.
“These are not the originals, just English translations,” he observed.
“That’s right,” said Jeanne. “This is what I have brought with me here. I can assure you that the translations are true to the originals. This letter here was written by Pascal de Charney and the other by his friend, Gaston. The third is a consolation letter from Napoleon to Pascal’s father. Pascal was killed in the battle of Acre.”
“Very well,” said Bennet. “Now please forgive me while I read these letters.” A few minutes later he raised his head and looked at Jeanne. “This is exciting stuff. I am sure you will have excellent material for your thesis.”
“What do you think?” inquired Jeanne. “What could these scrolls be?”
Bennet smiled. “I assume you know the prevailing popular legends about the Templar secret, the Holy Grail or whatever, which was discovered by Hugues de Payens, the founder of the order, on the Temple Mount around 1120. This has become a trendy theme for lightweight fiction and action movies.”
“So you do not believe in a Templar secret,” observed Luria.
Bennet turned serious. “I did not say that. I am just amused by the number of these popular theories which have sprouted, due to their huge entertainment potential. Even so, the basic idea behind these theories makes some sense. The fact that a negligible order of nine eccentrics became, within ten years, the darling of the Catholic Church and an Empire in its own right, naturally makes one wonder how this could have happened. The explanation that they had acquired some power over the Church is conceivable. Do you have any other clues?”
“Well…,” said Luria. “It seems that around the same time, an important Kabbalistic script went missing in Safed.”
Bennet looked surprised. “A Kabbalistic script? Where did you get this information?”
“I have some sources in the Safedi community.”
Bennet’s face suddenly lit up. “Of course, how could I ignore your surname? Are you related to him in any way? I mean to the Holy Ari?”
“I have a relative who claims that we are descended from this family.”
“You do not appear to be an observant Jew, Mr. Luria.”
“I am not, but most of my relatives are quite religious.”
“Just a moment, are you related to Aryeh Luria?”
“Aryeh is my cousin.”
Bennet grinned. “I know Aryeh. I know he supplies Professor Orlev with some good sources. I met him a few times at history conferences, where he was Professor Orlev’s guest. I assume Aryeh is your link to the Safedi community.”
Luria chose not to comment.
“And what Kabbalistic script is it, according to your source?”
“It was referred to as 'Or Haganuz'.”
“Very interesting.” Bennet stroked his chin and thought for a while. “When you called, you said you had been referred to me by Professor Orlev. Now, Yeshayahu Orlev is an expert in Kabbalah, and I assume you have put the same question to him. What did he say?”
“He was not sure. He could not think of a link between Kabbalah and the Templars. He promised to give it a thought."
“Did Yeshayahu tell you we used to be close colleagues?”
“Yes.” Luria felt he was walking on eggshells. “He told us that you two had done some research together.”
“And did he tell you why we no longer work together?”
Jeanne and Luria looked embarrassed.
> “Yeshayahu is a scholar of Kabbalah, perhaps the most prominent one living. We both have an interest in early Christianity. We have published together a few papers, which are considered, with all modesty, groundbreaking in their field.”
“And what happened?” Jeanne wanted to know. “What drove you apart?”
“Yeshayahu is bright and original, but he has difficulties handling criticism and containing rivaling points of view. Yeshayahu is of the opinion that there is very little, if anything at all, between Jesus’s original preaching and today’s Christianity. He claims that Jesus was an orthodox Jew, who never really said anything novel and that all the ideas expressed in the New Testament had already prevailed before Jesus’s time. Christianity, according to Professor Orlev, is no more than a marketing and public relations gimmick introduced by Paul, and eventually consolidated at the Nicaea convention.
Luria looked a bit lost. “The Nicaea convention?” he wondered. “I don’t think I have heard of it.”
“It was a convention called by the Emperor Constantine in 325 AD after he had decided, mainly for political reasons, to create a state religion for the Roman Empire. They tried to standardize Christianity there. They decided intricate matters like the meaning of the Holy Trinity, God’s father-son relationship with Jesus and many other questions. At the end of this process, Christianity became the formal religion of the Roman Empire and the world's premier religion.”
“And because of his attitude to Christianity, you broke up with the professor?”
Bennet smiled bitterly. “Well, I totally reject his concept of Christianity. I do not think that Yeshayahu, whom I suspect is an atheist at heart, understands the deeper layer of religion, nor can he comprehend who Jesus was. Nevertheless, even when I found his conclusions absurd, I could still appreciate the inner logic of his claims. The real friction started when I confronted him with a theory of mine which he totally resented. The tolerance for new ideas I expected from him was gone, and our dispute became personal.”
