by Brian Godawa
As storm god, he of course brought fertility and power to Philistia. But as father of Ba’al, the most high god of the Canaanite pantheon, he had a distinguished status coupled with the Philistine hegemony at this moment in history. Ba’al had faded in influence when the Hebrews had originally conquered the Canaanite territory.
Dagon was an amphibious divinity. He had the upper muscular body of a humanoid and the lower body of a fish, an appropriate incarnation for coastal Sea Peoples. But he could manifest humanoid legs as needed. This little golden ark looked like nothing more than a fish bait container for Dagon.
Ittai, however, felt overwhelmed with curiosity about the ark. He couldn’t stand the stench of fish and always considered Dagon to be a rather capricious and conniving deity. But he was Ittai’s deity, so he genuflected and worshipped as required. But something about this golden box drew his curiosity. Was it the understated size and unadorned simplicity? Or was it the beautiful winged sphinxes on the cover? He could not tell.
And what was inside it? The gods? He wanted so badly to open up the mysterious lid with Cherubim on it and peek inside its sacred confines.
Ittai and Lahmi might have differing views about the ark, but both could agree about the expression on the faces of Goliath and Ishbi, as well as all the soldiers, as they passed. It was not the bright look of triumphal, celebrative victors. It was more the gloomy look of defeated, dismayed survivors.
What could cause such consternation? Was this not a long-awaited victory over a foe with whom they had been quarreling for generations? Was this not payback for the tragic destruction of so many innocent loved ones in the temple collapse caused by the Israelite monster Samson? Was this not the capture and humiliation of the god of the Hebrews called Yahweh?
Chapter 7
Goliath and Ishbi sat before the fire warming their hands. The family had finished a meal, the servants had cleaned up. Warati, Lahmi and Ittai sat in rapt attention as the two newly honored gibborim warriors told of their mighty exploit in capturing the magical ark of Israel.
Then a dark pall came over the storytellers.
Goliath said, “When we brought the ark back to Ashdod, we had a feast unlike any we have ever had. But it only served to blind us to what happened next.”
A shiver went through Ittai and Lahmi.
Goliath continued, “The ark was brought into the house of Dagon and placed beside his image.”
Temples were houses of the gods, and the temple of Dagon housed a fifteen foot tall image of the storm god carved out of diorite. Diorite was one of the hardest stones available in Canaan, and the Philistines copied the Mesopotamian technique of carving important artifacts and images out of the dark grey mineral for the sake of everlasting permanence.
Goliath went on. “The lords rightly considered the Hebrew god captive to Dagon.”
Ishbi interjected, “They call their deity ‘Yahweh.’”
“What does it mean?” asked Ittai.
“Perfect existence, or something of the sort,” answered Ishbi.
Goliath said with somber voice, “Since it is our custom to grant defeated deities some amount of vassal-like privilege, the Lord of Ashdod, Mutallu, thought it only gracious to allow this Yahweh an audience in Dagon’s presence. But the next morning when the priests opened the temple, the image of Dagon was on the floor, face down before the Israelite ark.”
Lahmi and Ittai gasped. Warati sighed.
Ishbi said, “That is only the beginning of the pranks that malevolent deity has pulled.”
Goliath said, “They returned Dagon to his position, but the very next morning, he was prostrate before the ark yet again. Only this time, Dagon’s head and hands had been cut off lying on the threshold.”
“Holy father of Ba’al,” whispered Warati. The cutting off of heads and hands of enemy combatants was a peculiar tactic of victory in war. It was a denigration of one’s conquered foes into complete powerlessness.
Warati continued, “It would take great strength to cut through that diorite. No one was seen in or near the temple?”
“It was locked and guarded,” said Goliath. “The guards never even heard the sound of the fall or the breaking.”
Ishbi added, “That abomination was followed by an infestation of rats as well as a plague of boils, tumors, and hemorrhoids.”
Warati winced at the thought of it.
“What are hemorrhoids?” asked Ittai and Lahmi simultaneously.
Warati explained. “They are tumors that hang out of your anus and burn like hell.”
The boys giggled at the image in their minds.
“Hemorrhoids are no laughing matter,” said Warati.
It seemed to Ittai that these strange curses of magic appeared to be a kind of mockery of Dagon’s power and those who worshipped him. But how could this Yahweh be trapped in a little golden box, subjected to Dagon, and yet display such acts of power?
Goliath interrupted Ittai’s thoughts, “The lords of the Philistines conferred and decided to take the ark away and bring it to Gath.”
“Wonderful,” said Warati. “Push the curse off to us. What was going on in the flea-sized mind of Lord Achish to agree to such lunacy?”
“Worse yet,” added Ishbi, “since we were the ones who captured the bastard god and his box, we were told to lead the procession. So everyone is starting to give us the evil eye as if we are to blame.”
Warati said, “You are not the only ones. Imagine the respect that Dagon has to recover. This does not bode well for our god to be one-upped by his own prisoner.”
“Parlor tricks” barked Goliath. “It may even be traitor priests in our midst who faked it all and caused the plague with their own sorcery.”
“But why?” said Warati. “That would only discredit their own office of authority.”
“I do not know,” said Goliath. “But let us keep a wary eye for any sign of the curse following us.”
Goliath did not reveal that he suspected in his heart that this was the reason why it had been so easy for them to capture the damned infernal gold box. That maybe it had been a trap all along, a way for the deity to get inside the enemy camp and engage in such treacherous antics.
• • • • •
That night, as Lahmi fell asleep, he heard scratching in the corner of his sleeping quarters. At first he thought it might be a night demon, like Lamashtu, come to taunt him. But it was only a rat.
Chapter 8
Goliath and Ishbi were in the middle of exercises when they noticed Ittai waving to them just outside the practice area. They ran over to him.
Goliath said, “Ittai, this had better be important.”
“Your brother,” said Ittai. “He has the curse.”
Goliath and Ishbi received a release to go home. As they ran through the streets, they dodged scurrying rats. They heard screams and cries of stricken citizens throughout the city.
When they arrived, they found Warati attending to Lahmi at his bedside. Lahmi was delirious and drenched in sweat.
Warati said, “He has a deadly fever.” He lifted Lahmi’s arm and they saw black boils in his armpits. “They are also around his groin.”
“Yahweh be damned,” grumbled Goliath.
Lahmi groaned.
“What can we do?” said Ishbi.
“Pray,” said Warati.
Ittai blurted out, “To which god?”
They stared at him.
He honestly did not know if they meant to appease the god who had struck their beloved Lahmi or their own god to undo the curse. He wasn’t sure which was greater.
“Dagon, of course,” Goliath shot back. There was no other option for him. His hatred of the Israelites and their deity ran so deep that he would never entertain anything other than defiance to the end against such a malicious being so full of evil.
Glaring at Ittai, Goliath noticed that Ittai was sweating and dizzied. He was about to ask him if he was all right, but Ittai beat him to the question. The youth fell to the
floor in a dead faint.
When he awoke, Ittai discovered he was being carried by Ishbi through the streets.
His head swooned. He could barely understand what was going on.
“Where am I?” Ittai croaked out. “Where is Lahmi?”
“Goliath is carrying him ahead of us,” said Ishbi. “We are taking you to the temple to plead for mercy and healing.”
In his delirium, Ittai’s thoughts were confused about which god was which.
He sputtered, “May Yahweh have mercy on us all,” and he blacked out again.
Ittai came back to consciousness for another moment.
They passed by a long line of Gittites holding and carrying their sick loved ones.
He heard someone call out to them, “Get in line like the rest of us!” And another, “Not fair!”
They arrived at the head of the line. Ittai could see the grand stone pillars and cornice of the temple.
He saw Goliath’s back, carrying Lahmi. He heard him say to a priest, “We are highly decorated gibborim, and if you wish to keep the skin on your body, you will let us pass.”
Ittai saw them pass through the lead pillars and into the darkened interior.
He blacked out again.
Ittai did not awaken the rest of that day. He entered a comatose state, along with his friend Lahmi. Goliath and Ishbi feared they would never awaken.
The temple was of standard Phoenician design, rectangular and made of stone. Priests entered a long walkway lined with pillars on either side, and moved past various side rooms of offerings and storehouses. This was where devotees were sometimes allowed. It was called the outer court.
Behind the curtains at the end of the long hall was the sanctuary or Holy of Holies. Behind that curtain, only the priests were allowed. It was a smaller area, just large enough for a dozen or so priests to congregate. The centerpiece in the sanctuary was the “high place,” an altar raised about eight feet above the floor with ascending steps where the priests would offer sacrifices before a diorite image of Dagon, a replica of the one destroyed at Ashdod.
Here in Gath, the Philistines did not place the ark in this temple as they had at Ashdod. They did not want another embarrassing power encounter to discourage their people. They hid the box in a non-descript home on the outskirts of the city.
Goliath and Ishbi laid the two lads on the altar at the feet of the image.
For the only time in his life, Ishbi saw Goliath weep. He knelt over his brother and let out a guttural growl of anguish.
“Dagon, hear my cries. We captured the Israelite idol. We offered it to you as a sacrifice. We did for you what no other Philistine had the courage to do. We risked our lives for your glory.”
Ishbi was a bit more honest in his understanding. He knew they had done it for their own glory.
“I vow to you that if you heal my brother, I will devote my entire life to you. I will dedicate every ounce of my being to the complete annihilation of the Hebrews and their dog of a god.”
“Dog” was a Semitic derogatory reference to male cult prostitutes. They were considered the weakest of all creatures because they were submissive males in a patriarchal culture. Of course, Goliath and the rest of the males in the society used them to gratify their perverse pleasures, but they did so with contempt.
“I unite with my brother in arms in his vow,” added Ishbi.
Goliath looked over and placed his hand on his companion’s shoulder in solidarity. Ishbi grasped Goliath’s as a warrior would in facing death together.
In their focus on familial love for Lahmi, they had again overlooked the need to plead on behalf of the tagalong runt Ittai. They had brought him to the temple, but they did so as an afterthought, as one would remember to bring a child’s beloved pet.
Suddenly, a wisp of air rushed through the sanctuary. Goliath and Ishbi heard a whisper from the image.
“Goliath.”
They looked up, shocked.
The flickering torchlight made the shadows dance across the stone image giving the illusion of movement. But it was only an illusion. The purpose of images was to be a physical vessel for the earthly presence of the heavenly deity. The devotees would “call down the breath” of the god into the image as a representative of the god. Evidently, that breath now spoke to Goliath.
“Yes, my lord and god. Your servant listens.”
Ishbi’s eyes went wide open in astonishment. The two boys remained prone and unconscious on the altar.
The air went dead. Goliath heard no response. He could only hear his and Ishbi’s anxious breathing. His heart beat heavily in his chest. The smell of fish penetrated his nostrils. Was that the remaining odor of sacrifices?
Perhaps it was just his own delusion, created out of the grief of losing his dear brother. But Ishbi had heard it too, had he not?
Goliath looked at Ishbi. Ishbi did not return his gaze. He stared like a statue frozen in fright at the image of the god.
Goliath followed his gaze.
He saw a shadow glide out from behind the image. It stood eight feet tall. Goliath now knew the aroma was not from sacrifices but from the god who consumed them.
That god now stood before the prone children and kneeling warriors. He was frightening. He did not have his lower fish half like the image did. He was fully humanoid, but clearly not human.
Goliath could see the pale scales of the deity’s greenish-white and slimy skin glitter in the torchlight. He was clad only in loincloth and carried a trident. His musculature was broad and well built. He wore a golden ring to crown his elongated skull. He had deep inset eyes with black lips. And his breath stunk of rotted fish guts.
Goliath felt vomit rise in his throat. He pushed it back and swallowed.
“So, the young and mighty gibborim dedicate their lives to my glory, if I will but heal their precious little boy loves.”
“Yes, my Lord,” blurted Goliath.
Ishbi thought it was strange that the god would misspeak about Lahmi and Ittai. They were not their boy loves. Did the deity not know that Lahmi was a sibling and that Goliath and Ishbi were erotic warrior companions?
Dagon said, “Well, I have heard your prayers, and I must say I am moved. Your ambition has brought you renown. You have caught my interest.”
Another odor drifted into Ishbi’s nostrils. It was the rancid smell of rotting flesh. He brushed away a couple annoying flies buzzing around his head.
Dagon spoke to the both of them, but his attention was more on Goliath than Ishbi. He said, “Goliath, you are of the Rephaim. A descendant of the antediluvian Nephilim. Do you know your heritage?”
“I know only that the Nephilim were the children of gods and men.”
Dagon continued, “You are a demigod. And you carry their royal blood. You are both from a chosen line that goes all the way back to the Serpent.”
Goliath and Ishbi grew more interested with every word. The Serpent was well known and worshipped throughout Canaan. They knew him as the giver of wisdom and eternal life.
“But do you know why the gods chose you?”
“No, my lord,” said Goliath.
“Because as the seed of the Serpent, your kind are the hope of the gods. In the primeval Garden, mankind’s ancestors were enlightened by the wisdom of the Serpent. But Yahweh, a jealous, petty, and wrathful creator, cursed the humans and cast them out of the Garden of eternal life, so that they could not achieve their birthright of godhood. The Nephilim were our attempt to unite heaven and earth in one flesh and reclaim that divinity. But Yahweh declared everlasting enmity between the Seed of the Serpent and the Seed of Eve.”
Goliath now knew in his heart why he hated this god of Israel so. It was in his bones.
“It has been Yahweh’s deliberate intent to conquer and steal this land of yours using his allotted rodents, the Israelites.”
Dagon conveniently avoided explaining the failure of the antediluvian battles of the Nephilim titans in the Titanomachy, Gigantomachy, and the War on
Eden. But he could still spin the rest of the story to his own end.
“Yahweh showed his vindictive and monstrous tyrannical impulse when he tried to wipe us all out with the Great Flood. But he could not. He killed his own creation and violated Mother Earth, but he could not eliminate goodness. He tried to one more time in the Great Fire of the Plains.” This was the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah and the five cities of the Plains with fire and brimstone during the days of King Arba the Great, progenitor of the sons of Anak. Goliath and Ishbi had learned that much.
“Then he sought to exterminate you as if you were vermin, by invading our land and putting every last one of you to the sword; man, woman and infant.”
Despicable, thought Goliath. What kind of a god kills innocent women and infants? His own slaughter of Israelite women and infants was different. They were not innocent.
Dagon crowed, “But again, he failed and now you are the last of the descendants of the giants. You are the last of the Seed of the Serpent.”
There were a few hundred giants interspersed throughout Philistia that he knew of. He thought of them as survivors of a holocaust of hate. An unusually large number of them resided in Gaza. The Rephaim were originally one of several giant clans, including the Anakim, the Emim, the Zuzim and others. But after the Holocaust, Rephaim had become the generic term for all surviving giants.
Ishbi spoke up, “But why have our myths and sacred stories not taught us of this tale? Surely, all of Philistia needs to hear of this travesty.”
“No,” said Dagon. “This is secret knowledge. Reserved exclusively for those most capable and worthy of handling it.”
The implication was obvious. Goliath and Ishbi were being considered capable and worthy of this high honor.
Goliath said, “Capable for what, mighty Dagon?”
“I want you to create a secret order, a cult of warriors devoted to the calling of the Rephaim for the destruction of the Seed of Eve, Israel.”