Authors: Nathan Erez
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 memoirs, 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 21
st
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 21
st
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!”
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 20
th
, 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 made 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.
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 remember. 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.