“Are you a Jerusalemite?” asked Elijah, in an attempt to show interest in the other man.
“No,” said Norman, leading him to the seating area. “I am simply quoting the agent who sold this house to the Luzzato Institute, and who demanded an outlandish sum for it. Do take a seat.” Several elegant drinking glasses stood on the table. Norman opened what looked like a small bookcase and Elijah saw that it was actually a concealed refrigerator. He took out cold drinks and placed the bottles before them.
“Before we get down to business,” said Norman, “I have to ask you a question which has bothered me ever since I read your article.”
“Which one?” asked Elijah, impressed no end that someone outside the ivory tower of academe had actually bothered to read one of his papers. Academics are usually well aware that their papers are not written with the aim of being read.
“I’ve read most of them, but I’m referring to your famous article about the point on the Hebrew letter Shin.”
Elijah promptly forgot about the nursery school and his daughters and the fact that he was supposed to be picking them up at midday. He orally summarized his latest article, on the developments in the research regarding the letter Shin from the time his previous article had been published. Norman listened attentively, devouring each word. There and then Elijah decided that he really liked the tall, thin man. Anyone who was so interested in recent research on the development of forms of Hebrew letters had to be a good person.
When Elijah completed his summation Norman sighed, “How brilliant you are, and so erudite,” he said. “I’d love to continue this discussion, but you are no doubt pressed for time. Such is the curse of the modern era; so much we want to do, but the pressures of time never allow us to explore where our hearts would lead us. Meanwhile, has anyone explained to you the nature of the project we are here for?”
“Not exactly. I understood that you would be filling in the details for me.”
“Not exactly,” was a vast understatement. Elijah had absolutely no idea what the project entailed; indeed he had had no idea, when asked to come to the Luzatto Institute, that any kind of project was involved. In fact, his boss, Professor Landau had not even known Norman’s name. “The Luzatto Institute has received a number of copies of an ancient document,” Norman now told him, “and we are interested in a preliminary and fast decipherment of the copies. To tell you the truth, this will not be an easy task, but I believe it will be groundbreaking in its implications. I, personally, am very moved. We have heard that you are the expert in dealing with such manuscripts.”
“I’m sure there are others who are better than I,” protested Elijah weakly. He didn’t understand why Landau had praised him so highly, but couldn’t help feeling flattered.
Norman smiled again. “If you keep hiding your light behind a bushel, people will eventually begin to believe you. I’m sure you are curious about our academic connections. Simply put, the Institute periodically sends research grants to your Department, which, as a result, is nice to us. Sherry or diet cola, Professor Shemtov?”
“Diet cola, please, Doctor… Mister?”
“David will be fine.”
“David, then. My wife Orna tells me that a single calorie is quite enough for me. She believes I’m a bit too chubby.”
The old man got up from his chair, with the clear message that it was time to get down to business. He went over to a large, innocent-looking cardboard box, which sat on the desk behind him and pulled out a large photocopy of what appeared to be a manuscript of some kind. He sat down again.
From then on, Elijah noticed something peculiar about the man’s body language. When he sat back down, he did not sit directly opposite Elijah, but to his side. At first, Elijah thought that Norman had done so in order to enable them both to look at the same document, but then, as they were seated next to each other, he saw that the lenses of Norman’s glasses were very thick and realized that the man must have difficulty reading, which might have been why Norman looked straight ahead rather than at Elijah. Elijah was also forced to talk facing the wall opposite him, rather than directly to Norman. When he, nevertheless, turned toward Norman every so often - which caused him an immediate crick in the neck - he saw the man peering at him owlishly. It was like the weird staging of an avant-garde play, with both characters addressing the wall. Elijah tried to concentrate on Norman’s accent, but was unable to place it as American or British. It was some type of bizarre amalgam, and Elijah could only see in his mind’s eye the surrender by Effendi al-Husseini and his deputy, as they bowed down to the British cooks.
After holding the document at an angle for a while, as if showing it to a man on the wall, Norman finally handed it to Elijah. After giving it no more than a cursory, vaguely disinterested glance, Elijah suddenly realized what it was - and was overwhelmed by what he saw.
“That simply cannot be!” he exclaimed, half to himself and half to Norman. “If this is what I think it is, it is a world-class discovery!”
He looked at Norman and mumbled, “This is unbelievable! If the manuscript is genuine, it will take the world by storm! It’s the first time a text of this kind has been found, a text dating to shortly after the revolt of Bar Kokhba - and possibly only a hundred years later!”
Norman smiled. “It is possibly even from before the time of Bar Kokhba.”
Elijah was engrossed in examining the text. “Indeed, it may be so,” he blurted out. He examined it again. Of course, there were some misspellings, some sections that were smudged or faded, but it was unmistakable: this section showed unquestionably that the Kabbalistic work Sefer Yetzirah[The Book of Creation] was but a small fragment of a much larger work! He examined the photocopy carefully, totally oblivious to Norman, who kept looking back and forth between him and the wall.
“Professor Shemtov, I’m sorry to disturb you,” Norman disturbed him, “but you’ve been examining it for a quarter of an hour, and there are several technical matters we have yet to take care of. You are going to be able to examine it so much that your eyes will hurt.”
Elijah looked up quickly and saw Norman, standing impatiently like someone waiting for a long overdue bus.
“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I didn’t notice the time flying.” Elijah had paid no attention to the time, or to the figure that flitted past the various open doors. It was a quiet figure, almost feline. Elijah had no way of knowing then that this photocopy would change his entire life. He was totally unaware of a whole series of almost imperceptible clues, which pointed to the true reason he had been chosen for this particular assignment.
“May I see the original?” asked Elijah.
“That,” said Norman, as he inched his way slowly to the table, “is the million-dollar question.”
Elijah realized that he had no idea how this photocopy had fallen into Norman’s hands. But in no way did this dampen his ardor. At that moment, Norman appeared to be the one obstacle keeping him from his true purpose in life: to continue to examine the document before him.
“To tell you the truth, Professor Shemtov,” said Norman, “I can understand why the formal arrangements don’t concern you, and that my very existence annoys you.”
“Heaven forbid!” Elijah replied, amazed at Norman’s uncanny ability to read his thoughts.
“I noticed that you did not ask me at all how I received this copy, nor who the owner of the original manuscript is.” Norman smiled, as if sharing a secret.
Elijah didn’t answer. He thought he understood what Norman was getting at. According to the Israeli Antiquities Law, anything produced by anyone prior to the year 1700 was classified as an “antique”. Moreover, every antique discovered after the law was passed automatically belonged to the State, and had to be turned over to the Antiquities Authority. Anyone violating the provisions of this law laid him or herself open to a potential two-year prison sentence and a very large fine. Nor was any person who’d acquired an antique before the implementation of the Antiquities Law immune.
The government had the right to declare any such object “a national treasure” and could then force the owner to sell it to the State. It was thus not surprising that a considerable number of Israeli antiquities had “sprouted wings” and been whisked away to more favorable climes elsewhere in the northern hemisphere. Elijah wondered whether this law was based on a statute dating back to the pre-1917 Ottoman era, and was reminded again of Effendi al-Husseini’s surrender to the British cooks. He could not help but smile.
“The copy you see would, indeed, seem to indicate that Sefer Yetzirah was part of a larger text, which was destroyed,” Norman went on. “According to Sefer Yetzirah the world was created out of the twenty-two letters of the Hebrew alphabet. It is a known fact that words have tremendous power, no less than reality itself. The proof of this is that the world was created out of God’s utterances. God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light. Certain combinations of the Hebrew letters, certain word combinations - a secret code by God – are the formula for our redemption. Legend has it that Rabbi Akiba ordered the Sefer Yetzirah to be destroyed because the Kabbalists feared that any slight error in the formula would bring about the destruction of the world. The risk was too great, and that is why, during the Bar Kokhba revolt, it was decided to have it destroyed.
“However, Nehemiah of Peki’in, a disciple of Rabbi Akiba, was bribed to copy the work, and he produced seven copies on parchment. The bribe he took, incidentally, was a guarantee that Peki’in would not be destroyed, and indeed that town was never demolished and its inhabitants were never exiled from the Holy Land. And it was the youngest son of Rabbi Simon bar Yochai, a famous Kabbalist, who offered the bribe.”
Elijah poured himself another glass of diet cola, trying to process all the data. Norman assumed that he knew much more than was presented by the facts. Elijah dealt with the technical aspects of things. When he studied the dot at the top of the Hebrew letter Shin, he had absolutely no interest in thereby hastening this or that type of salvation. His interest lay in the addition, over the centuries, of this or that curlicue to the left leg of the letter, and the conclusions he reached were purely of an historical nature. Elijah was interested in the Hebrew script, which he studied hour after hour as if in a state of meditation that empties the mind of all other thoughts, and that was also the source of his livelihood. He was also interested in the various conquests of Jerusalem, but the Jewish Kabbalah was of absolutely no interest to him.
“The seven parchment scrolls were hidden away in Jerusalem, but as the city fell to one conquering force after another,” said Norman, “the copies were dispersed to all four corners of the world.”
Elijah was unable to understand how Norman could hone in on every one of the thoughts that passed through his brain. It was becoming increasingly disconcerting by the minute. He tried to blank his mind and think of nothing of his own; he tried only to listen.
Two points which were still unclear to Elijah, but once again Norman anticipated them.
“You may take it for granted that once conclusions on the seven scrolls are published, you will receive full credit for your work. And the second thing you want to know concerns your fee, which I assume you did not dwell upon when you signed the contract. We pay the accepted fee for this type of work.”
The man must be a magician, thought Elijah, and felt a prickling sensation in his chest. Like every true academic, Elijah felt uncomfortable discussing financial matters. He was simply happy to be paid for his work, which made it possible for him to justify his absence to Orna, his wife. He assumed that he would be paid the same kind of money as he received at the university, in other words, starvation wages. It never occurred to him to complain, because he knew full well that this was a project he would happily have done for free, both because it had been assigned to him by Professor Landau and because of the nature of the project itself. When he saw the letter Shin in the document, decorated with a type of “crown” on its left leg, he realized immediately that this was a document that predated the Bar Kokhba revolt. He might even have been willing to pay for the privilege of working on the manuscript. Having such a momentous document published would almost certainly lead him to a “full professorship”.
“How will I be paid?” Elijah asked hesitantly. “With a second job, I shall automatically be docked fifty percent in tax, which would leave me next to nothing. Orna, my wife, constantly complains about my inability to earn a decent living.”
“You have nothing to worry about,” Norman reassured him. “We will follow our standard procedures, and you will receive a net sum, after taxes. We pay 250 dollars per hour.”
“Surely you mean shekels?” said Elijah, not believing his ears and trying hard to conceal his astonishment.
“No, no!” Norman exclaimed, elegantly disregarding the all-too-apparent amazement in Elijah’s voice, as he began rifling through a pile of documents he had removed from a drawer. “I meant dollars. That is the net amount which you will receive per hour. We are not interested in having our scholars getting embroiled in problems with the tax authorities. We employ a law firm to deal with these matters. You will have the amount credited directly to your bank account. I want you to understand that it will be solely on your recommendation whether the Institute does, or does not, purchase the scrolls for hundreds of thousands of dollars. Given your background, I think the Institute will be getting an excellent deal.”
The fee offered was more than satisfactory and Dr. Elijah Shemtov’s motivation increased by the minute, and reached a level that matched Hasidic fervor. He tried to banish the few lingering doubts that continued to flutter through his mind. Of course, a number of unanswered questions remained, such as where would the hundreds of thousands of dollars needed to buy the manuscripts come from? Why buy them and bring them to Israel, when the State would only try to nationalize them? Also, if they were destined to become State property, why not have the government finance it? What had he not been told?
It was true that each manuscript would be worth a fortune, but Norman clearly had no intention of selling them. In terms of content, it should be enough to have just one of them if all were copies of the same original, what would be known as “backups” in modern parlance. All these intense thoughts pounding through Elijah’s brain caused a neuron overload and everything seemed to blur together. What Norman saw were the blue eyes of a harmless dreamer, a person totally detached from reality, peering out from behind the computer. Elijah did not know it, but that was exactly what Norman liked about him. That, and of course his baffling ability to decipher ancient Hebrew texts.
“I’m happy that you’re able to begin. There remain just a few minor technicalities to finalize.”
The ring of a cell phone, playing the opening notes of the Unfinished Symphony, interrupted them. Norman answered impatiently, but almost immediately his tone changed to one of astonishment and apology.
“I’m very sorry. I hadn’t realized that it’s already two thirty. I know I should have been there at two. I’m on my way.”
Norman turned off the phone. “It is important for me to sum up details with you, as I have to leave the country tomorrow,” he commented. Accompanied by the Asian man, Elijah made another tour of the Institute. The man handed him a set of keys to the Institute and explained the order in which the doors must be opened. While the man showed him everything, Norman explained each item, the way a flight attendant would explain the use of life jackets and the location of the emergency exits.
His desk was on the second floor. Near the computer was a fax machine. The demands on Elijah were minimal: He was to go over each manuscript, type in the text in a simple word processing program, print it and e-mail it to an address Norman gave him. To ensure absolute secrecy, Norman told him, the computer would automatically delete whatever Elijah sent out by e-mail. Elijah did not hear the technical details, he was busy thinking once again of General Allenby, whose statue astride a horse has not, to this day, been placed on his monument. He did not
understand how it was possible for the files which he prepared to be sent on without leaving any trace of them on his computer, but was assured that such would be the case. At the end of each workday, he would make use of the fax machine to report the number of hours he had worked. He was forbidden to call anyone outside the Institute or to smoke, and he was not allowed to use a cellular phone.
“It’s the Institute’s policy,” said Norman apologetically.
He showed Elijah how to file a form recording the three hours of his first day of work. Elijah was stunned by how easily he had earned a sizable sum of money in one day.
He turned to leave. Norman picked up the keys Elijah had forgotten on the table and handed them to him.
“Please take down our telephone number,” said Norman, “should your wife need to reach you.” Elijah was confused. For some reason, he seemed to sense that Norman was delighted at his absent-mindedness. It was as if his confusion bore out exactly what Norman had expected.
Everything had happened so fast that Elijah felt himself in a dream, unable to absorb completely what had happened. He had managed to secure for himself a fantastically well-paid summer job, or, more accurately, it had been found for him. It was a job for which many people would have been willing to sell their souls to the devil. Truth be told, he may well have done just that.
But Elijah could think of only one thing and that with a distinctly victorious note: Orna.
The Second Sphere
When Hadrian Conquered Jerusalem
In the year 134 C.E. Jerusalem was conquered by the Roman Legions for a second time, following two years during which the city had been ruled by the forces of Simon Bar Kokhba, the Nasi president of Israel.