Читать книгу Living without Justice - Loren R. Fisher - Страница 9

My mother and father, Keziah and Jonathan, are wonderful parents and thoughtful members of the scribal community. They have lived at the Jerusalem Academy since its beginning just after David conquered Jerusalem. My father’s most important works are: The Royal Epic (Genesis), which he edited with the help of others, and his poem, The Rebel Job (Job 3–26). My mother is also a writer. She has always kept a journal, and she has written The Jerusalem Academy, a book about our early years at the academy, and The Minority Report, a book that describes father’s work on The Rebel Job. Both of her books show how our minds and our lives were shaped during those years.

During the first years of the Jerusalem Academy, we celebrated my grandfather Gad’s seventieth birthday party. At the party, my parents also held a naming ceremony for their infant son in which mother read her poem:

“Naam,” we call forth his name.

He will give us pleasant days;

He will fill them with great songs.

Goodness was ours when he came.

We gave him a hero’s name.

Lives touched by him will be changed.

He will sing of great events;

We will never be the same.

My mother had high hopes for me. In her poem she drew upon every possible meaning of the word na‘am. Though I try to be pleasant and good and can sing, as a mature adult I can assure you that I will probably never be a hero.

It was exciting growing up at The Jerusalem Academy, and my childhood was shaped by intellectuals who were drawn to the school. My family had many interesting friends, and they were all involved in projects that could very well change the direction of our lives and our state. My parents invited people into our home who brought growth, change, and happiness to all who were involved in their adventures. This was the case when my father, along with Elimelech and Elishama, produced the Royal Epic. They worked a long time searching for stories about the beginning of our world, and they gathered songs and stories about our fathers Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. These stories and songs were commonly used in tomb rituals, and it was not an easy task to select the most appropriate stories and songs. They compiled the epic in order to bring unity to the separate states: Israel and Judah. In an epic all the people have to hear the stories and claim them as their stories.

My father, Elimelech, and Elishama were able to complete this epic in time for the dedication of David’s palace. The dedication was a traditional seven-day celebration, and during that time our minstrels performed the entire epic. The people enjoyed this celebration, and it did help to unify them.

Some of the accomplishments of the academy were accompanied by problems and in some cases by dangers. Since the established leaders of both altar and state usually dislike new ideas that are essential to adventure, growth, and happiness, David and the priests did their best to hide my father’s poem, The Rebel Job. Both altar and state went along with The Ancient Story of Job, which stressed the fear of God and obedience as the necessary prerequisites for a good, healthy, and long life. The ancient Job was patient and willing to bow before the creator in repentance for his sins (known or unknown). Thus, he received his reward. But this story was and still is a false illusion. Though threatened by certain priests, father maintained a contrasting opinion: the rebel Job was in touch with the real world and his views were important. The rebel said that the God of the orthodox was not all-powerful and that there was no justice (note God’s hidden testing of the ancient Job). We all suffer in this world regardless of our situation. Father’s Job wanted to build a meaningful life by helping others and blaming no one for life’s difficulties. The Rebel Job, as I have said, is one example of our problems in the academy; it is a powerful example. It is a clear and critical word directed at the idea of retribution by an all-powerful God, and this idea was woven into the fabric of all our traditions: our chronicles, our stories, our laws, our psalms, and even the words of our prophets. But the priests believed that The Rebel Job would create a non-conforming public, and that the public would become impossible to rule. Mother’s book, The Minority Report, deals with this issue in detail, but this is only one example of the kind of tension that existed between some of the scribes at the academy and those entrenched in positions of power in both altar and state. The tensions got better a little later, because Sheva, who was the head of the academy, reversed his rather blind support of altar and state. Also his wife, Sarah, and their daughter, Naomi, helped to convince Sheva to stand with his friends in the academy.

I do not want to give the impression that our life at the academy was always a life of producing great epics or of political tension. We had great times at weddings, parties, celebrations, and at home we always enjoyed our meals around the family table. As children we had great times at school, at play, and in the evenings we would go up on the roof of our house to tell stories. All our friends in The Jerusalem Academy, both adults and children, thought I would become a teacher in the academy. Also they were certain that Rachel, daughter of Elishama and Deborah, and I would be married one day. We grew up together; we went to school together; we helped to care for the other children. Rachel was beautiful and talented, and we sometimes talked about our future life together.

When I was twenty years old, I began to notice just how beautiful Rachel had become, and I was interested in becoming more than Rachel’s good friend. Rachel seemed to be thinking along the same lines. When we were out walking one evening, I stopped and started to kiss her, but Rachel said, “No.” She continued, “Naam, I have to tell you something. I’m in love with Samuel.”

Samuel was a student from the academy, who had gone to Tyre to study with Zadok, a former teacher at The Jerusalem Academy. Samuel had returned recently to Jerusalem to continue his Babylonian studies with Magon, who was a great teacher and came to us from Tyre. I knew that Samuel was a fine student and a wonderful human being, but I was shocked, hurt, and speechless. I was not just angry with Rachel and Samuel; I was angry at everything and everyone. I kicked a large stone in the path and hurt my foot. As we walked back to the academy in total silence, I was limping, and I knew that Rachel was crying softly. I was devastated; I was disappointed and confused.

The next day I talked with mother about all of this. She was always helpful in difficult situations. She reminded me of what I had experienced in Beth-shan a few years earlier. “You told me that you enjoyed meeting Sharmila in Beth-shan,” she said. “You said you felt guilty because you had always been so close to Rachel. But then you said that perhaps you and Rachel were more like a brother and a sister. I wonder. Does Rachel feel the same way?”

“That is possible. I do remember feeling guilty, and I was certainly attracted to Sharmila. She was beautiful, but there was more to it than that. When she came close to serve me some melon, I couldn’t speak until a moment later. That event was not planned.”

“Well, I doubt if Rachel planned ‘her event.’”

“I suppose not. Also I remember when Sharmila came to Jerusalem with her father after our trip to Beth-shan, I had some of the same feelings for her. Even though we wrote a few letters after that, the distance did not allow our friendship to grow. Perhaps I should go up to Beth-shan; I would like to see Sharmila.”

“You should wait a few weeks and see how you feel. Also you should write to her. It is possible, you should know, that she has found a ‘Samuel.’ In any case you need to have a clear head on your shoulders.”

Mother was usually right. It took me several weeks to understand my feelings about all this. I did not talk with Rachel for some time, but I saw Samuel and her at the academy. Rachel did talk with mother and told her that she was sorry about all that had happened. But she said, “I could not help myself; it just happened.” Then she added, “I will always love Naam; he is my brother.”

“You should tell that to Naam,” mother suggested.

That same day Rachel approached me. She took my hands in hers and said, “I will always stand by you. We have had a long history together. You will always be my brother.”

“Thanks, and you tell Samuel that he is a lucky fellow.”

“You can tell him. Let’s go see him.”

“Good idea.”

We found Samuel, just leaving Magon’s office. I said to him, “As you know Rachel and I are like brother and sister, and I want to tell you that you are one lucky fellow. Take good care of her.”

I did write to Sharmila and received a great letter from her in return. She wrote that she would like to see me, and this would be possible, because her father, Abdi-anati, wanted to talk with my father and also with Khety and Magon. She would be coming with her father to Jerusalem in about two weeks. When I read this, I let out a shout for joy. Obviously, Sharmila had not met a “Samuel.” In the letter she said that her father was still the only scribe at Beth-shan. She added, “During the last few years, I have been helping father with his work. I am grateful that father has taught me to read and write, and I like helping him. But there is still too much to do. We will be looking for a scribe who would like to come to Beth-shan.”

There was a part of me that wanted to go to Beth-shan, but that was impossible. I was scheduled to teach some classes here in the academy in about two months. I thought, “If Sharmila and I were to marry, her father might need two scribes.” These were wild thoughts. I would have to wait until Sharmila arrived. I did not know what would happen. But this I knew: it was going to be difficult to wait for two weeks.

I decided that I should do two things. One, I should talk with my father about scribes who might be available, and two, I should get busy and prepare for my classes. It was almost time for lunch, and I headed for home with a definite bounce to my gait. Mother was already preparing lunch, and she expected father anytime. I said, “Mother, let me help you, and I want you to sit down long enough to read this letter from Sharmila.”

“I see now why you have a big smile,” she said. “However, I have a question. How will we put up with you while you are waiting?”

“I will not bother anyone. I will be busy. I want to start preparing for my classes.”

“That is a good idea, but it could be difficult for you to concentrate on your preparations. An image of Sharmila may surround you and cloud your vision.”

“I was about to disagree with you, but, even though you are teasing, you may be right. Either way, I will be occupied.”

Just then father came in the door, saying, “I am glad to hear that you will be ‘occupied.’ But what will you be occupied with?”

“With either class preparations or dreams.”

“Dreams,” father mused. “Perhaps you are dreaming of Sharmila. Correct?”

“Correct. But how did you know?”

“I could carry on this deception, but the fact is that today I received a letter from Abdi-anati. He said that Sharmila had written to you, and that she would be coming with him to Jerusalem.”

“There are no secrets,” mother said.

“So, you also know that they will be looking for a scribe,” I said. “I had planned to tell you about that.”

“Yes. I know, and I will look for some one in the next few days.”

We had a good lunch, and the teasing did not cease.