by Brian Godawa
Moses did not know where this was leading. But by the looks on Joshua and Caleb’s faces, he knew it would not be pleasant.
Joshua continued, “They spoke of their ancestor King Arba and our forefather Abraham.”
Moses interrupted, “Did they know you were sons of Abraham?”
“No,” said Caleb. “They were too busy contemplating whether to eat us or not than to inquire into our true identity.”
Moses said, “What was their sacred story?”
“Well,” said Joshua, “they spoke about how King Arba and his queen had first met Abraham and Sarah, our forebears over four hundred years ago.”
Moses knew about the time Abraham spent in Canaan from the sources he was using to write a history of Israel and Yahweh’s interactions.
“They spoke about how Abraham had moved to the Oaks of Mamre just outside of Kiriath-arba, and that when he first met King Arba, Abraham lusted after Arba’s queen. But when Arba would not give her to Abraham, Abraham raped the queen, and killed her and Arba and the entire tribe—and cannibalized them. But the queen was already pregnant with a child, so when she was buried in the ground, the child burst out of her body like a powerful cedar tree and grew to be the most powerful giant in the land. That child was named Anak. It is a legend of madness full of exaggerations, half-truths, and complete lies.”
Moses mused, “But it is their sacred story. To understand our enemy, we must understand their story.”
It started to become clear to Moses. This was their legend of how their people, the Sons of Anak, had originated: Through the oppression of Abraham. A complete inversion of the truth.
Joshua finished, “Anak had heard that Abraham’s children had gone to Egypt. A sorceress had foretold that the sons of Abraham would return one day, and in that day, the sons of Anak would have their revenge because they would slaughter the sons of Abraham. They also believe that we sons of Abraham worship an invisible mountain demon called El Sheddim, who flooded the earth in ancient days because he was jealous of mankind’s ability to be like god and angry with the Serpent for making man wise. The Anakim now worship Ba’al the storm god of Canaan, and the Serpent.”
It was all too much for Moses. This story, the opposite of what actually happened, was the empowering mythos of the Anakim that drove them to seek out the seed of Abraham in order to wipe them from the face of the earth. It was amazing how just enough small details could have a ring of authenticity around which were built lies of perdition to justify monstrous atrocities.
“So how did you escape?” asked Moses.
Caleb now jumped in. “We were about to be eaten, but an archangel named Mikael aided us. Together we slaughtered the giants and buried their bodies before returning here. Mikael had told us that he was the Prince of Israel, and that he had great plans for Joshua.”
Moses knew Mikael from his encounter with him in Egypt many years ago. He knew that the guardian angel’s presence signaled danger for Israel.
Moses said with somber finality, “So these Anakim are the mightiest inhabitants of the land of Canaan whose sole purpose for living is to wreak vengeance on Israel for their blood feud against Abraham.”
Joshua and Caleb nodded.
Moses wondered what forty years of delay would bring to the claim on their inheritance of Canaan. Would the Anakim find out about them and hunt them down in the wilderness? Would Israel even make it through the forty years? Would they be able to build a force strong enough to overcome the Anakim and the other Seed of the Serpent that now held the land in an iron grip of idol worship?
Forty years was a long time to wait. But hopefully, it was also a long time to prepare.
Chapter 3
Mount Hermon was a cluster of ranges in the southern part of the Sirion Mountains in the northern reaches of Canaan in the land of Bashan. Hermon was legendary for being the sacred site of the assembly of the Watcher gods who came down from heaven in the days before the Flood. From here, they planned and executed the Gigantomachy and the Titanomachy, both giant uprisings that found their apex in the War on Eden. That war was foiled by Yahweh’s forces in the days of Enoch, and Eden was lost forever under layers of volcanic ash.
It was also at Hermon where the gods hatched their plan to corrupt the human race with miscegenation and the violation of the sacred boundaries of creation. Their diabolical schemes led to the violent corruption of all mankind and Yahweh defeated their abominations with the Deluge.
But even after the floodwaters receded, Hermon maintained its identity as the epicenter of spiritual rebellion in the cosmos. One would think Yahweh would send his own forces to besiege that fortress of evil and put an end to it once and for all.
But Yahweh had his own plans that no man was privy to. And he worked out his will in no way subject to ignorant human wishes.
Several miles south of the location of the divine assembly, at the foot of the mountain range was an area called Banias. It was the home of the Seirim, an Edomite tribe of hairy wild born men, distant descendants of Esau. They lived in a city of caves cut from the red rock cliffs to appear as faux architectural homes. These were not unlike the Thamudi fortresses in the Arabian Desert, but with much less sophistication of design. The building caves were like a watch guard over a holy grotto from which the spring waters of the Jordan River came forth.
In the grotto was a shrine to the patron deity, one of the distant ancient ones from primeval days. The Seirim were ruled by an elite priesthood of satyrs, chimeric creatures of upper-half man and lower-half goat.
It was a satyr named Izbaxl that led twelve-year old Arisha of Banias through the forested valley some distance from the village. As firstborn daughter of a humble farmer, Arisha was required to be dedicated to the service of the sacred cult of the Seirim. Though she would not be of age until she was fourteen, Izbaxl had taken a special liking to the young girl and sought to nurture her growth and understanding of the world.
For her part, Arisha was an observant and curious little girl. As they moved through the forest, she would stop at some beautiful flower, pick it, and give it to Izbaxl, who would take it with a smile and sniff it with pleasure before eating it. She liked the hairy goat-man from the small horns on his curly-haired head down to his cloven-hoofed feet. He was so cute. She thought of him as a big cuddly pet with his soft furry legs, bare strong chest, and musty body odor.
But despite this animal—like gruff nakedness, he was so sensitive to the world around him. Satyrs were gods of nature and revelry. He helped her to see, smell, and taste the beauty of her environment like no one else. They would skip through prairies of long grass together, splash in the waters of rivers, play with the curious insects and rodents of the forest, and giggle about silly things.
But he also taught her all about the ways of nature. How to differentiate between poisonous and edible plants and roots. How different animals lived and hunted, how to avoid being prey for the predators and to live in tune with her environment.
Arisha considered Izbaxl to be more of a father to her than her own father, who had no life left in him, working the fields and sleeping the evening away.
Her mother had seemed to distance herself from Arisha, and she did not know why. She would give more attention to Arisha’s two brothers and two sisters than she ever gave to Arisha. It hurt her, but she still loved her family dearly and sought to make her mother happier so that she would love Arisha more.
But her family was so weighed down by the difficulties of life that it seemed almost impossible to make them smile. She promised to herself that one day she would become the highest priestess of the cult so that she could take care of her family and make them happy.
But for now, Izbaxl made her happy as they raced through the trees playing tag as they went, laughing and dodging one another.
They stopped to catch their breath.
“How much farther is it?” asked Arisha.
“Just outside the forest,” he said, “and around the bend.”
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br /> “Tell me more about Gaia,” she said. “Since this is my first time, do I have to do anything?”
“No, silly,” he said. “I told you, this is just your introduction to the mother earth goddess and her guardians. You get to watch and learn.”
They were making her first pilgrimage to Gaia. Everyone in the surrounding area of the Sirion mountain range and Bashan were obligated to make a yearly pilgrimage to pay homage to the earth goddess. But Izbaxl avoided telling her the details of what happened there. She would have to see for herself.
He had only told her that Gaia was the heart and soul of the earth. That all the trees and mountains, the lakes and oceans, and all the animals of the earth, and every living thing were united in Gaia’s heartbeat and breath. He said that when men cut down forests to build their cities, and killed all the animals to eat their flesh, that Mother Earth would bleed and weep. That was why the Seirim carved their homes out of the rock instead of using wood from killing the trees, and it was why they only ate vegetables and deplored the cooking and eating of animals as murder and cannibalism.
Izbaxl stopped near a patch of mushrooms. They were shiny brown and compact. They reminded Arisha of little families with larger and smaller ones congregated together in little groups. Izbaxl plucked one and handed it to her.
“Eat.”
She had never seen this kind before. She knew there were some that were dangerous, but she trusted Izbaxl. He would never hurt her.
“It will not taste good. But it will relax you. It will prepare you for your experience.”
She took a bite. He was right. It was bitter. And quite pungent. The flavor reminded her of the smell of horse excrement. She gagged. Izbaxl chuckled.
“Trust me, little flower.”
She trusted him and swallowed the rest whole so as to avoid the linger of that disgusting flavor.
Within a few minutes she felt lightheaded. A little dizzy. But manageable. Izbaxl smiled at her and waved her along.
He pulled out his pipes to play a joyful song as they skipped and danced their way out of the wood and around the bend of the foothills toward their destination.
Satyrs were masters of music. They would play to shepherd their flocks and to shepherd their people. Every time Izbaxl played his pipes, the music would calm Arisha down. It was like magic. She would abandon herself to the lilting hypnotic notes. She would not have a care in the world. And now, with the benefit of the magic mushrooms, it was like entering a trance of heavenly peace, and it made the time pass without notice.
They traveled through the steep cliffs of a wooded glen. As they neared the other side, Arisha noticed that all the greenery and trees were dying the more they walked on. They finally arrived at a large clearing of a hidden valley. But it was desert like, bounded by the foothills of the mountains on one side and the dry rocky bluffs on the other.
It seemed strange to Arisha. It was like a little pocket of dry desert death in the midst of an otherwise lively area.
And then she stopped, stunned by the sight before her. It was a tree, a huge tree, hundreds of feet around and growing up into the clouds high above. Its roots at the ground level were serpentine, twisted around like a tangled pile of, well, the only thing she could think of was snakes. She wondered if the mushrooms were distorting her vision, but she was not sure.
She was surprised that she had not seen this tree from a distance and wondered why it was the only living thing in this little valley of deadness.
“That, my dear Arisha,” said Izbaxl, “is Gaia, the Mother Earth Goddess. The World Tree. And those are her worshippers.”
Around the tree were hundreds of other pilgrims bowed to the ground before the great timber before them.
She saw others take off their robes or tunics and rub up against crevices in the tree and groan, just like her mother and father sometimes did late at night in the dark while the others slept.
“What are they doing?” she asked.
“They are making love to Mother Earth. The men leave their seed in her folds and the women seek the deposit of the goddess into themselves. It is a ritual of fertility.”
For all the talk of a goddess, this Gaia still seemed to her to just be a very big and gnarly tree. How could such a thing be like a person? She did not dare reveal her curious questioning because it had often gotten her in trouble in the past.
As they approached the tree past the prostrate worshippers, she could hear their soft chanting. It was quite haunting and harmonious.
And then a beautiful woman approached them with two young daughters by her side, about the same age as Arisha.
She was stunning to Arisha. If Izbaxl’s music tranquilized her fears, this woman’s raven black hair; sensuous movement and penetrating eyes sedated her soul.
And her voice was like a mother’s assurance.
“Welcome, Izbaxl,” said the woman. “I see you have brought someone new to the goddess. A virgin. Sedated.”
How did this phantom—like beauty know anything about me? thought Arisha.
“Arisha,” said Izbaxl, “This is Lilith and her daughters Lili and Lilu. They are the guardians of Gaia.”
“Hello, Arisha,” said Lilith.
Lili and Lilu stepped forward and spoke as one with a heightened excitement. “Can we play with her?”
It seemed strange to Arisha. They seemed to be looking at her more like one would at a meal to eat than a companion with which to play. And how were they able to speak simultaneously? How would either of them know what the other was going to say? Did their mouths move when they talked or was it in her head? One of them even seemed more like a boy dressed as a girl.
Izbaxl stepped in front of Arisha and held her with a strong protective arm. “This is her first visit. She is not of age yet.”
The two girls appeared disappointed. But Lilith was affirming.
“Well, then,” said Lilith, “by all means, show her around. Expose her to the beauty of Mother Earth.”
Arisha got a chill down her back. She could swear she saw a split tongue in Lilith’s mouth. Almost like the garter snakes she had played with in the forest. Maybe it was the mushrooms.
She saw three tame looking hyenas sitting off a short distance from Lilith and her children, watching them like loyal dogs—or guardians.
“Let us move on,” said Izbaxl, as he put his arm protectively around Arisha. They walked around the circumference of the tree.
As they walked, Arisha looked up at the gargantuan timber that towered before them. She couldn’t see the top of the tree. But she heard the sound of a large bird somewhere high above in the branches.
But the closer sounds of beasts brought her back down to earth as she saw before them, pens of animals all around: Sheep, donkeys, pigs, goats, deer. Dozens of different animals were braying, baaing, and grunting. But she stepped back in fright at why. She saw dozens of people lined up at the pens waiting their turns. And inside the pens were naked humans rubbing against the animals just like the ones with the tree and just like her parents did at night.
“What are they doing?” she blurted out.
Izbaxl chuckled. “Fret not, little one. We are here to explain to you the ways of love.”
It was so disgusting she didn’t know what to make of it. Dozens of animals and humans rubbing up against each other. This was very different from her affectionate petting of her favorite sheep. It was disturbing to her.
“I know you have seen your mother and father do it, have you not?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that is the most important way that we creatures express our love for one another. We unite our bodies in pleasure.”
“That is pleasure?” she said. “Then why do they groan in pain?”
Izbaxl laughed again. “That is not pain, little titmouse. That is gratification.”
But still it didn’t seem right to her.
Izbaxl said, “Remember how we have talked about loving the earth and all her offspring? About how
humans are no more important than animals? And how we should love all living things with an equal love?”
It still didn’t seem right to her.
He continued, “Well, if we really love all humans, and we really love all the animals, then one of the ways we show that love is through unity. That is why we call it ‘making love.’”
“Why have my parents not told me about this?”
“Because you were not old enough to understand such beautiful things. But now you are.”
It still did not seem right to her.
Though the mushrooms had made her more relaxed, more open to what she was seeing, they did not fully suppress her will.
“Am I going to have to do it?” she asked with shaky voice.
“Not yet,” he said, “There will be time for that when you are older. I am merely your tutor, educating you so that when you are old enough, it will be very natural for you. It will be—beautiful.”
It did not seem beautiful to her. And then she saw another pen area with a large number of naked men and women, maybe fifty or so, writhing around and rubbing up against each other and groaning as well. She backed up against one of the large gnarly roots of the tree behind her.
“Arisha, my little titmouse. Have I not been good to you all these years?” said Izbaxl. “Have I not proven myself trustworthy and wise to you, showing you the wonders and beauties of this world that you knew not?”
“Yes,” she resigned.
“Then trust me in this,” he said. “It is very natural, and very beautiful. You will learn to enjoy it. Coming of age is full of many surprises—of ignorance transformed into enlightenment.”
Something caught her eye in the tree root next to her.
She looked closer.
And then she jumped back in fright. Because she could see that the surface of the tree was not merely wooden bark, but it appeared to be the forms of myriads of humans fused into the bark, melted into the wood. They had become part of the wood themselves. And they were frozen in agonized and painful positions. It was subtle, but she could see it. And it was like the entire tree was made out of these frozen statues of human pain. Was this another hallucinogenic effect of the happy mushrooms?