by Katz, Yoram
“I could not believe it was true. I was sure it was an obscene lie of sensation-hungry journalists. I knew my father to be a French patriot who had served in the French Resistance. That was what I had always been told. Well, in those days, everybody claimed to have been in the Resistance…”
He fell silent for a while and suddenly he looked old. “But you see. It turned out that this was not a lie. It was the plain truth and an especially ugly one. My father was arrested and sentenced to many years in prison.”
“What had your father done?” asked Jeanne.
Lambert’s voice broke up. “In July 1942, the SS headquarters in Paris ordered a Jew hunt operation, and delegated its execution to the French Police. Nine thousand French policemen participated in this operation. Within two days, 13,000 detainees were concentrated in the Paris Winter Stadium in the extreme heat of mid-July. They remained there for a few days in appalling conditions, before being sent to their deaths in the concentration camps.
“One of the witnesses in the trial was a social worker, who had visited the stadium and saw the detainees. It was almost twenty-five years after the event, and she was still shocked at what she had seen there. She kept crying on the stand. I will save you the descriptions and, anyway, they pale against those from Auschwitz that were also heard in court.
“Yet, there was one sentence she said which I never forgot. She said: ’There was no German in sight. The cowards left all the dirty work for the French!’ You see, my father was a senior police officer. He took orders from the SS… He did the dirty work for the Germans. He played a major role in this… in this crime.”
His voice broke up again, and he took a deep breath to calm himself. “And it is not like he did not know where those poor victims were going,” he added hoarsely. “This, too, was proven by the prosecution.”
He pulled out a handkerchief, wiped his forehead and replaced it in his pocket. Luria stared at him. The man looked utterly broken.
“At first I could not believe it,” resumed Lambert, “but the evidence was conclusive. My father’s defense was that he had been following orders, and that he was unaware of what was going to happen to these Jews. The trial became a nightmare for me, but I forced myself to sit there and listen to everything; an act of masochism, I guess. They brought in Jewish witnesses who had somehow survived the tempest and came back to point an accusing finger at my father. There was a woman who had lost her husband and two children… and there were many more… it was horrible. I could not stand it… and then I could not stand him. And my mother… she knew all this time… she tried to explain to me that those were different times, that everybody made mistakes and that one should leave the past behind and look forward… that even if he had done what they said he had, he was still my father who loved and needed me…”
He wiped his face with a napkin. “You have no idea what goes through the mind of a boy who has just found out that his parents… the most important people in his life… are monsters and liars. I did not know what to do.” Again, he pulled out the handkerchief and wiped his eyes. “You see what this is doing to me. Even today, after more than forty years, I am still shaken when I think about it…”
“And what did you do?” asked Luria. “How did you cope with it?”
Lambert sighed. “At first I did not know what to do. I left home and severed all ties with my parents. For the first two weeks, I stayed with a friend whose parents were very sympathetic. I was confused… I felt dirty, as if I was to blame for the terrible things my father had done. It was 1967, just after the Six-Day War, and Israel was in the news. A few weeks before, everybody was saying that the Jews were once again under a threat of annihilation, and then it ended with an overwhelming victory, which took the whole world by surprise. This was a life-changing event for me. Suddenly, I realized what I had to do. I decided to come here to know the people, learn their history and help as much as I could. I wanted to atone for what my father had done, so I came to Israel. I spent two years in a kibbutz; I studied at an Ulpan to learn the language and spent another two years as a volunteer helping Holocaust survivors. Then I decided I really wanted to understand this people, for whom my father had been just a small link in a chain of unending suffering. I enrolled as a student in the Department of Jewish Thought at the Hebrew University, where I met Jonathan Bennet.”
He took a sip of wine from his glass.
“Jonathan and I shared a room in the dorms during our first year at the university. We had something in common - we were both foreigners who had arrived here for ideological reasons. Sure, he was a devout Christian American, and I was an atheist Frenchman, but we learned to get along wonderfully. We were like brothers. We hardly parted during that first wonderful year. Then, Professor Orlev singled him out and made him an assistant of his, and next, of course, Ruth stepped in.”
“Ruth?” inquired Luria. “You mean…”
“Ruth Shoham studied with us. She was an outstanding student and a striking beauty.”
He paused and looked at Jeanne. “Actually, my dear, you remind me very much of her.” Jeanne blushed.
“Anyway,” continued Lambert, “Jonathan was a brilliant student, too, and looked like a Greek god. Ruth was a secular Jewess, born to a family of Holocaust survivors. She was very proud to be Jewish but her attitude toward religion was bordering on the cynical. Jonathan was an Evangelical Christian and they both had a passion for Jewish studies. Both were brilliant and beautiful. It took a year for these two to discover each other, but when it happened… it was like a fire. It was the kind of love they write novels about. These two just could not part.”
“Jonathan Bennet, the Evangelical Christian and the Jewish Ruth Shoham…” beamed Jeanne. “It sounds so romantic. A Romeo and Juliet story.”
“This is not a bad analogy,” agreed Lambert. “And like Romeo and Juliet, it ended in tragedy.”
“What happened?” asked Luria.
“These two were a pair of doves, but their love had no future. You see, Ruth had a strong sense of being Jewish. She was the only child of Holocaust survivors, and she told Jonathan that she loved him but that she would marry only a Jew. She said this was a debt of honor she owed her people and her parents. She claimed that anything else would be an act of betrayal to the suffering her parents and her people had endured. Jonathan told me that. It nearly drove him crazy. He could understand her; it actually made her more appealing to him. However, he was a devout Christian, and conversion to Judaism was not a viable option for him. And then, the professor entered the picture.”
“Professor Yeshayahu Orlev?” asked Jeanne.
“Yes. These two were his brightest students and like all his students, they admired him. He was about forty five, twenty years or so older than us. He made both Jonathan and Ruth his assistants and in time, the old bachelor professor started showing a different kind of interest in the gorgeous Ruth. She liked him and patiently tolerated his flirtatious moves, but he was no match for Jonathan.”
“So what happened?” Jeanne wanted to know. “We know that she eventually married the professor.”
“Time went by. I completed my bachelor’s degree and went back to France to go on with my life, yet I did maintain a correspondence with Jonathan. He and Ruth maintained their doomed relationship. They were young and did not want to make tough decisions. They were now both working on their master’s degree.”
Lambert fell silent. Jeanne and Luria waited impatiently for him to continue, but the Frenchman suddenly looked troubled. “I don’t know why I am telling you all this,” he finally said, hesitation and doubt audible in his voice. “I think I have had too much to drink… it happens to me sometimes… I am not sure I should be talking about this at all… especially today, when both our Romeo and Juliet are gone… people may get hurt.”
“Hey, you cannot leave us in such suspense.” Jeanne smiled one of those disarming smiles Luria knew could melt a heart of stone. "And, after all, we are talking about things that happe
ned decades ago…”
Lambert hesitated. “Can I rely upon your discretion in this matter?”
“Of course,” replied both in a chorus.
Lambert was vacillating. He poured himself another glass of wine and drank it slowly. “This is an excellent wine,” he mumbled and closed his eyes, his head slightly drooping. Luria looked at Jeanne, but she signaled him to wait.
Finally, Lambert raised his head and opened his eyes, looking at them as if he had just awakened from a long sleep. “I am sorry,” he said. “I have just arrived in Israel this morning. I have hardly slept, and now I think I have had a few too many…”
He wiped his mouth with a napkin and resumed his story, as if nothing had happened. “Well, what now happened was what often happens in such situations. Ruth got pregnant.” He watched his astounded audience. “She would not abort it, and as I said, marriage was out of the question. Ruth was a practical woman. The professor was always there, and she married him. Jonathan was devastated. He completed his master’s degree, made the necessary arrangements and moved back to the US for his doctorate at Harvard. He never saw Ruth or spoke a word to her again. His connection with me was almost broken as well. Jonathan’s ’joie de vivre’ was lost altogether, and he now focused only on his faith and research. He never married.”
Luria and Jeanne exchanged stunned glances.
“But this was not the end of this tragic affair,” said Lambert. “The delivery went all wrong and Ruth died. I am not sure what happened to the baby.”
“Are you saying,” Luria's voice was strange, “that Ruth’s son is not Orlev’s biological son? That he is Bennet’s? Does the professor know that?”
Lambert gave him a sad smile. “The professor… he was always as naive as a little child. I don’t believe he had any idea of what was going on.” A cloud descended upon his face. “I hope he does not learn about this from you… it could break him.”
“Of course not,” said Jeanne promptly.
Lambert moved uneasily in his chair. “I think I have talked too much,” he said. “And I am not feeling very well. This combination of lack of sleep and drink… I will be much obliged if you take me to my hotel now.”
41. Orlev’s Hypothesis - March 2nd, 2010 (Tuesday)
They were standing next to the bougainvillea, and once again, the door opened to welcome them. It had only been a few weeks since the two of them had met the professor for the first time, but he seemed to have aged perceptibly. He smiled at them and Luria thought it was a sad smile.
A few days before, he called the professor for an appointment. Jeanne was flying back to France and wanted to bid Orlev farewell. The old man willingly agreed to meet them.
Jeanne stepped forward and kissed the professor on both cheeks. “It is so good to see you again, Professor. I wanted to meet you before I return home.”
Luria extended his hand, and Orlev shook it. “I am glad you thought of me,” he said. “These things are important to an old and lonely man, and you two are very close to my heart.” He walked with them to the living room, and the tea ritual commenced once more. Finally, the three of them were sitting on their couches around the table with the aromatic tea glasses steaming in front of them. Luria was very much aware that he was sitting on the same couch on which Commander Arnon sat that woeful afternoon, just a week before.
“Well, my dear, when are you leaving?” Orlev leaned back on his couch.
“I am flying out on Friday,” said Jeanne. “It was important for me to say good-bye to you.”
“And I am grateful for that.” The professor sounded very sincere. “So, how do you summarize your visit to Israel?”
“Well, I came here to solve an old family mystery and to find what it was that Pascal de Charney made such an effort to salvage.” Jeanne’s face was somber. “I have not achieved that, but I did learn a thing or two about my family.” She smiled and looked at Luria, who avoided her gaze. “I met here some incredible people and made new friends, among whom I hope I can count you.”
Orlev nodded. “Of course. And I must thank you both for your support during the tragedy I have endured.” He sipped from his tea and put the glass back on the table. “And, of course, Jeanne dear, you shared with me the story of the de Charney family, which helped me fit in the final pieces of an ancient puzzle I have been working on for many years.”
He could have dropped a bomb in the room for similar effect.
Luria, who was just sipping some tea from his glass, almost choked on it. “You mean to say that you know what the de Charney scrolls are?” he asked as soon he regained his breath.
“First, my friend,” said Orlev. “I would not call them thus. De Charney and the Templars before him had no claim to these documents.” He turned to Jeanne. “My dear, I do not wish to offend you. I know you mean well, but you must understand that these documents belong to the Jewish people. They never belonged to your family.”
Jeanne was startled by the directness of the professor’s words. “Do you know what’s in these scrolls?” she repeated Luria’s question.
“If I had them in my possession, I would have been more confident. However, I do have a theory, and it is based on bits of information I have collected, which fit into a coherent picture.”
“Can you share this theory with us?” asked Jeanne.
“I mean to do just that," said the professor. “You two have been deeply involved in this. You have helped and supported me, and I am grateful. I think it is only fair that I share it with you.”
Jeanne and Luria looked at him in anticipation.
“But you must promise to be discreet,” said Orlev. “One day I may publish an article that will generate a lot of noise. I cannot afford to be prematurely exposed to academic criticism and besides, I would like to keep the element of surprise.” He laughed his strange, cooing laugh and then suddenly his face became solemn. “Can I count on your discretion?” he asked, his eyes going from one to the other.
The two quietly nodded their agreement.
“Remember that this is merely an academic hypothesis. Nevertheless, it has a good explanatory value, and I personally believe it to be true.” The professor scanned his small audience, assuming the lecturer’s stance.
“Well,” he opened, “our story starts somewhere in the first-century AD, with the Jewish population suffering under the Roman occupation. New winds of nationalism and Messianic fervor were starting to blow. The fermentation and agitation which, in due course, would lead to rebellion and to the destruction of the Temple, were already in the air. Self-proclaimed prophets were emerging with all kinds of messages. Some incited against the occupying Romans, while others called the people to repent before the approaching Day of Judgment. Prominent among the latter was an eccentric called Yohanan Ben Zecharia aka John, a son of a priestly, aristocratic family. He roamed the mountains, his diet comprising grasshoppers and wild honey, and called people to repent. Gradually, a group of followers gathered around him. As part of the repentance and purification process, Yohanan baptized his followers in the Jordan River, thus earning himself the nickname ‘The Baptist’. One of the men he baptized was a young relative of his, named Yeshua Ben Yossef aka Jesus. Young Jesus, who had left his parents’ home in search of a new meaning, was deeply influenced by Yohanan.
“In time, Jesus himself became a preacher for a purer way of life. He earned himself a name as a miracle worker and had his own group of followers, mainly around the village of Capernaum on the Sea of Galilee. Out of this crowd, he singled out a few disciples, among whom the closest to him was Judas Iscariot - a young man of about his age.”
Jeanne moved uneasily in her seat.
Orlev gestured emphatically with his hand. “Yes, Judas Iscariot was Jesus’s confidant. I think I already mentioned this in one of our conversations. These two made a complementing pair. The charismatic Jesus constituted the spiritual side of the partnership, while Judas was the pragmatist, handling the day to day business. He was also the
treasurer of the small community, and we know the story of him rebuking Jesus for allowing Mary to anoint him with expensive oil. Christian tradition emphasized the earthy and treacherous nature of Judas, but he was probably the one who took care of the basic existence of Jesus and his followers.”
Jeanne wanted to say something but thought better of it.
“Judas was Jesus’s full partner. Perhaps he was the only one privy to his ideas. Jesus was the visionary, but he needed Judas as a sounding board to refine his ideas. Now, as I have already told you, Jesus’s known ideas were mainly a repetition of the teachings of Yohanan-John and others, with a few minor innovations of his own, all reflecting the mood of his time. Yet, secretly, he was developing some really original ideas, based on Derash interpretations of the Torah. He was coining new terminology and building a novel cosmology, which gave new meanings to the act of Creation. He was inspired by the ideas of the emerging Pharisees of his time to compile a short but significant text, which he kept a secret.”
Orlev thought for a while. “I may have mentioned ’Sefer Yetzira’ – the Book of Creation, in one of our earlier conversations.”
“’Sefer Yetzira’…” Luria recalled Bennet explaining the book to them. “It is considered to be the first Kabbalistic text, isn’t it?”
“Correct!” The professor was delighted.
Luria was overwhelmed. “Are you are implying that Jesus actually…”
“I think you have guessed it, my brilliant friend,” said Orlev jubilantly. “I claim that Jesus compiled ‘Sefer Yetzira’, establishing the basic ideas of what we today call ‘Kabbalah’. Indeed, prominent researchers place the book’s origin somewhere in the first-century AD.”
“Jesus… the first Kabbalist?” Luria sounded incredulous.
“Why not? It makes perfect sense. This was the time when the Pharisee school of thought was on the rise. This Derash-based doctrine saw the Torah as a codebook with hidden meanings awaiting interpretation. Jesus, with his inclination toward the mystical, was influenced by this discipline and used it to develop his own ideas. And these great ideas, which influence Judaism to this day, he shared with his confidant, Judas Iscariot.”
