by Shlomo Kalo
And Azariah went on to tell of the profound impression made by the interpretation of the King of Babylon’s dream, and of people on the streets of Jerusalem saying: “See, a true prophet has arisen for us, and the Lord has visited His people and has sent His prophet to deliver us from the hands of strangers and from the yoke of the Chaldeans.” And in the same breath, with the praise and the approbation, come the rage and the resentment – people of Jerusalem and Judah asking one another why is he, Daniel the Jew, fraternising with the Chaldean King, “the wicked King” as they call him, or “the heathen” and other such derogatory epithets. Why, they say, is this chosen son of our holy nation, our proud race that is set apart from all others, working in the service of an alien king, rather than serving us and our Jewish king? And to the question – how is this to be done, the startling answer is:
“He must threaten that King with ruin and destruction, if he does not lift his yoke from our necks!”
If they hear the answer to the other question – that it’s his duty to preach the word of God before the King and before anyone else to whom God sends him, and this message that they want to convey to the King of Babylon is not from God! – they are incensed, those milling crowds of Jews, and they insist that every word spoken by a man such as this is the word of the living God, and if he has any interest in delivering his people from the Chaldean yoke, then he will not hesitate or prevaricate, but hasten to the enemy’s lair and say what he has to say, and the tyrant will take fright, and he will restore the freedom of Jerusalem, and cancel his taxes, and never again dare to raise his hand against Judah. “Such are the words of the ignorant populace,” Azariah concluded his account.
He did not reply to Azariah for better or for worse, but instead raised the subject of the weddings and asked him to discuss it with Mishael and Hananiah and let him know which day was acceptable to them for the raising of the canopy. With Azariah’s approval, he would consult with Nehemiah, the priest of the community, to decide the order of service, and moreover he would choose a site and invite guests.
Azariah left his office and two days later returned to him with two dates that were acceptable to all three of them. He picked one of them and preparations for the wedding ceremonies, due to take place three weeks hence, began in earnest.
Four Weddings
Long before the appointed time the Jews, members of the old community of Babylon, began streaming towards the maidan behind the wall, where the four wedding ceremonies were to take place. They left behind their daily labours, their curiosity urging them to come and feast their eyes on that prophet in whom the spirit of the Lord moved, who not only interpreted the dream of the dreadful King, as they called Nebuchadnezzar among themselves, but also saw in his mind’s eye the same dream, an apparently impossible feat which had never been matched, which was beyond the ability of diviners and soothsayers the whole world over. It was certainly the grace of God that was revealed through this Jewish youth, known as Daniel in his homeland and here, in Babylon, as Belteshazzar, and the pagan King had the wisdom to acknowledge the miracle and to glorify Daniel, promoting him above all his other clerks and appointing him his viceroy, like the righteous Joseph in his time, to whom Pharaoh gave charge of the whole land of Egypt, wielding the power of life and death as he saw fit.
The wide open space, green and luxuriant, was crammed with bearded folk, wearing robes of all fabrics and colours known to man – ranging from the coarse and the dark, tending towards black or brown at best, the symbol of the meaner members of society – to the royal blue and the gleaming purple of fine linens and silks, embellished with all kinds of ornaments, from nuggets of silver and gold to precious stones of all kinds and colours. Almost all wore on their heads turbans of the same fabric as their robes, and broad sashes around their waists. Most wore shoes of leather or cloth, but a minority from among the less well-to-do proposed to attend the weddings barefoot, somewhat to the annoyance of their well-shod counterparts:
“They should be ashamed of themselves! If they had asked, we would have given them shoes as an act of charity. The truth is they’re just lazy, it’s in their blood, and it’s a disgrace!”
And there were those who heard the indignant words of the complainers and declared explicitly that it was not up to the barefooted to come and ask for charity from the elders and the burghers of the community; the elders and the burghers of the community were supposed to know how poverty-stricken these people were, and supply them with whatever they needed. In any case, the bare feet of the barefooted was not necessarily evidence of laziness, but pointed, among other things, to the stinginess of the gentry, occasionally employing these barefooted workers and paying them virtually nothing.
One way or the other, they were all here, men, women and children, and everywhere there was jubilation, bridging the gaps between social classes and blurring divisions, the old and the new, the severe and the trivial.
Faces shone with cheerful radiance and even Simeon, father of Hanna, the destined bride of Hananiah, smiled into the rising sun and greeted his neighbour Baruch, Deborah’s father, with a light bow and a firm shake, and a blessing of “So, to life!” that was almost free of any kind of resentment.
Also among the guests were Gabriel and Uziel, wearing the brown robes of minor officials. Adoniah had sent a message, regretting that he was unable to attend and exchange handshakes and good wishes with his old friends, as he had been sent on an urgent mission to the lands of the East, to repair trade links that had been disrupted by a series of obstacles and misunderstandings.
Nashdernach was present as the King’s official representative. The four grooms for their part had invited Denur-Shag, and he arrived in a carriage drawn by six magnificent horses, hired at his own expense from the royal mews.
“At last, I shall see a Jewish wedding!” he exclaimed in typically jovial style, and tried to jump down from the carriage, and were it not for the grooms, who were standing there in line waiting to greet him, and who stepped forward and caught him just in time, he would have fallen flat on his face, treading on the tails of his elegant cloak, too big for him – as always.
Denur-Shag laughed heartily and after expressing warm words of gratitude he turned to them and said:
“I was testing your alertness! From now on it will be up to you to do everything you can, and more, to keep your wits sharp! This is one of the relatively few blessings that marriage confers on a healthy young man – it forces him to stay alert, and he has to learn how to put the remedy before the injury!”
Or-Nego was among the guests too, and with him Adelain. They met before the ceremony began. Or-Nego was wearing his parade uniform of blue shirt and white satin breeches, both embroidered in gold. On his broad blue sash, also with gold embroidery, hung a thin-bladed sword with gold hilt and a pommel of silver encrusted with pearls. The buckle of his sash showed a gold engraving of the three royal recumbent lions. His shoes were as white as his breeches.
Adelain wore a pink robe, hemmed in white. On the buckle of her sash was the engraving of a fig-tree on a background of cast gold. When he asked her what it represented she told him:
“It’s the emblem of novice-priestesses in the shrine of Bel!” and gave him a long look. Behind the enforced gaiety, there was a deep sense of despair.
The two young women studied one another briefly, shook hands and exchanged greetings which sounded sincere. Then they were separated by the press of the crowd.
At his suggestion all four of them wore the same costume – white shirt and breeches, broad purple sash, white turban and shoes, all trimmed in gold. Belt and shoe-buckles were gold, the collars of the shirts embroidered in gold and on every turban was a blue jewel on a gold background. The brides on the other hand were dressed in various colours – blue, purple, white and violet, with matching belts studded with jewels of varying quality, size and colour.
The gigantic canopy was set up in the heart of the maidan, on a low stage, a slender wooden pole at each of its f
our corners supporting an awning of blue. In accordance with the custom of the place all the men, young and old, wrapped themselves in white and blue shawls, and the women covered their heads with kerchiefs. At the edge of the maidan stood the four couples, in line, while Nehemiah, resplendent in his priestly robes, took his place at the head of the procession and set off towards the canopy, as a young man walked at his right hand swinging the incense burner and the crowd made way for them. And the priest began in a guttural voice “Blessed is the man” – and the congregation gave the response, chanting with him “who does not sit among the scornful”. And the couples advanced steadily towards the canopy and reached it to the swelling strains of the chorus, mounted the low stage and entered beneath the canopy.
The priest recited the nuptial contracts in that same guttural, well-lubricated voice, accustomed to recitation, and after the contracts came the blessings, and after each blessing the packed assembly replied “Amen!” as one man, and when the blessings were done the priest cried out in an awesome voice:
“If I forget you Jerusalem, may my right hand forget!” and he raised his arm aloft, and all the mighty crowd replied in the same tone and with the same gesture – “If I forget you Jerusalem, may my right hand forget!” – until the air itself was shaken by the force of the vibration, and then all at once there was silence, and the priest repeated his energetic gesture and cried:
“Next year in Jerusalem!”
And the crowd repeated the same words with the same gesture as before and in the same awesome tone:
“Next year in Jerusalem!”
And when the moment came, and each groom sanctified his bride with the words “You are sanctified to me,” the congregation ripped the void apart with cries of “Sanctified! Sanctified! Sanctified!”
And before the happy couples left the canopy, Nashdernach was invited to stand and to speak, to bless those who had just been united in the name of the King and of his Council.
The oration was brief, but was marked by a degree of vehemence which was clearly felt and which struck fear into the hearts of some members of his audience and embarrassed others, while there were some who were simply enraged by what they heard him say.
After congratulating the newly-weds in the traditional manner, and passing on to them the best wishes of the King and of the Court, and his own, and announcing the gifts that the King in his generosity was giving to them – lavish sums of money – he spoke briefly in praise of the community of Babylon, which according to him, had always demonstrated commitment and their loyalty to the Crown. And here he made the comment that as among the Babylonians themselves, among the Jews of Babylon too there existed a small and insignificant minority, promoting seditious ideas and trying to spread them among the members of the community at large. This effort was clearly doomed to failure, he assured them; after all, was there any group more fortunate than the Jews of Babylon, any benefiting more than they from the affluence and the freedom and the equality that the wise and valiant monarch, His Majesty King Nebuchadnezzar, had conferred upon all the nations and people under his sway, and he was confident that the decisive majority of the Jews of Babylon would take control of that insignificant minority and restore it to the ways of understanding and healthy reason, lest it invite disaster upon itself and upon the whole community.
Nashdernach concluded his clear and unequivocal speech with the exclamation:
“All praise to the King, the valiant and the wise, conqueror of the world, Nebuchadnezzar, His Majesty!” and he added to this “Long live the King!” The response to this was not the deafening chorus that might have been expected, but something more muted – and far from unanimous. Children and old men and some of the women took up the cry at full volume, as did a minority of the men. Among adult males some muttered the words reluctantly, others were silent, and tried to disguise their silence by turning to right and left and talking with their friends, others were ostentatiously silent, grim-faced and defiant.
Or-Nego pronounced a blessing too. He extolled the unique qualities of the Jewish people, a people distinct from all other races and nations, for better and decidedly not for worse, an asset of lasting value to the Chaldean kingdom in particular and to all races and nations in general. And here Or-Nego saw fit to stress that he had come to this conclusion through his close contact with the four bridegrooms and in particular with Belteshazzar, their leader, and to this very day – he went to say in his powerful, well-modulated voice, he was experiencing anew and reliving still the deep impressions made on him by that direct and dramatic first encounter. And he thanked God repeatedly for the privilege he had gained, and he was sure beyond any doubt, there was no people closer to God than the Jewish people, closer to the living God, and the salvation of the world and of all humanity depended on this people. And here his oration was interrupted by loud cries of “Hurrah!” and “Bravo!”, accompanied by hand-clapping and foot-stamping, roars and whistles. And when the crowd had been hushed by the elders and dignitaries of the community, and the silence was broken only by a distant whistle or a faint cry of “Hurrah!”, Or-Nego concluded his speech with the statement that all he really wanted to do was thank the grooms and their brides and the congregation for the honour of being allowed to attend the ceremony, and pass on special wishes for health and happiness from his daughter to Belteshazzar and his lovely wife.
Or-Nego stepped down from the stage, and the crowd resumed its chorus of cheering, hand-clapping and foot-stamping, which continued for a long time after he had disappeared from sight. Next to leave the stage were Nehemiah the priest and the newly-married couples.
Refreshments were served, and the foodstuffs were many and varied. Mostly meat dishes and all in abundance, with the wine flowing freely.
Denur-Shag approached him, a full goblet of wine in his hand and asked him:
“What’s the meaning of those incantations, If I forget you Jerusalem, may my right hand forget! and Next year in Jerusalem?”
He admitted to Denur-Shag that he was no less puzzled himself. But then Baruch, Mishael’s father-in-law, who was standing close by and overheard what was said, turned to them and explained:
“Those incantations have been part of the ritual of the Jews of Babylon since the community was founded, hundreds of years ago. They express the desire that will never fade for the return to Zion. And this will be fulfilled one day, and the Jews and all Israel shall return to their homes and dwell in Jerusalem the Holy, and worship God there until the end of all generations.”
“Indeed, indeed!” Denur-Shag muttered, in genuine amazement, and commented: “Your people is indeed a stiff-necked people, but one with a vision! It seems that in the end this vision will be realised, even above and beyond what is hoped for!”
“So be it!” Baruch replied, and turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Oshrich, his office slave, who was now employed in his household as well, approached him and after offering warm congratulations, told him that some of the worthies of the community were asking his master to spare them a little of his time. They were sure he would not disappoint them, and they were waiting for him at the house of Simeon, Hananiah’s father-in-law.
He did not deny their request, and leaving Nejeen in the company of her fellow-brides, he went with Oshrich to Simeon’s house.
In a large and gloomy room sat about a dozen elderly men, wearing festive garb and prayer-shawls, who rose as soon as he entered and blessed him and wished him well. He was offered a seat, and when he had sat down, the hosts returned to their seats.
For a moment there was silence.
Simeon cleared his throat and began:
“We are very proud to welcome among us the King’s viceroy, the wearer of the gold chain. We are grateful for the honour that he has conferred upon us and we congratulate him on his recent marriage, wishing every happiness to him and to his spouse!” And without any apparent connection to what had gone before he added: “The business of seeing the dream that the K
ing saw and interpreting it, cannot but remind us of the saintly Joseph, who interpreted the dream of Pharaoh, King of Egypt, and rose to high office and when the time came – helped his brothers and his kinsmen and delivered them from the scourge of hunger.”
And at this point somebody called out from the corner:
“The case of the saintly Joseph is not the same as the case of Daniel the man of God – a difference in favour of the latter!”
“What do you mean, Benjamin?” demanded Simeon, his thick brows knotting in menace.
Benjamin smiled awkwardly – a middle-aged man with light complexion and soft brown eyes, hair and beard in neat ringlets, clad in a robe of deep blue girded by a grey belt, and over his robe, like all the others present in the room, wearing a white shawl with gold embroidery:
“I mean,” he replied, “that the saintly Joseph was required only to interpret the dream, whereas this man of ours, whom we are delighted to be entertaining in our midst, was required to reveal exactly what it was that the King dreamed, as the King himself had forgotten it, and only after revealing it – to interpret it. An important distinction!” the speaker added in an attempt to regain some of the self-confidence that Simeon’s scowl had shaken.
“Both of them alike have served as glorious instruments in the hands of our God, Blessed be He, creator of Heaven and Earth!” Simeon declared, as if asking not to be interrupted again, or distracted from the main issue
Benjamin clearly had something to add, perhaps even points that he wanted to score over Simeon, but he kept his silence and seemed to shrink into his corner.
Simeon turned to him and asked him:
“Does your opinion differ from mine?”
“Not at all!”
“You are both glorious instruments in the hands of God?”
“And I am the lesser!”
Something resembling a smile twisted Simeon’s heavy, dead lips.