I breathe deeply, for the mountain is getting higher and the altitude is presenting problems. I begin to feel dizzy.
“Rest a few minutes, my friend. You’re not used to this.”
“What are we doing here, Magdiel? Can’t you just tell me where Maya is?”
Magdiel places his arm around me, smiling like a contented peacock after a meal. “It’s a way for all of us to have a spiritual relationship with God,” Magdiel says, taking a big swig of water from his canteen. After all, the mountain is steep and treacherous, not to mention duplicitous.
God himself—do you see a problem here? I hate to sound like a sniveling kid, but I’m tired, the mountain holds secrets, and Magdiel is getting on my nerves.
“When are we going to arrive?”
Magdiel cackles “It’s not when we arrive, my friend. It’s who we’re trying to find that worries me.”
“Why? I don’t get it,” I say anxiously, wiping the sweat from my forehead.
“You haven’t been listening?” Magdiel slumps to his knees, raising his hands toward the heavens, chanting. He looks like a crazed medieval prophet from the dark ages uttering strange, mystical noises. All of a sudden it is quiet—dead quiet, like the aborted sounds that the Dead Sea makes when it greets its visitors.
“Where has your mind been, my friend?” Magdiel smacks his lips, peering toward the mystical magic of the blackening sky. “You should be praying for the unity of sefirot… The harmonious flow of energy from Ein Sof.” Magdiel pours some of his water on his hands and then his face.
“What are you doing?” I exclaim.
It’s not a matter of just finding her,” he says in a very low voice, as if paying homage to God. “It’s proving yourself worthy, my friend; have you forgotten the pathway to her soul?”
Pathway to her soul? Can there be such a thing? The only image I have in my head is a laser beam shattering Bone’s head, and Maya’s disappearance. I wasn’t searching for ascension. I just wanted to look upon Maya’s face one more time.
Magdiel hands me the canteen and watches me ravenously swallow the final sips of pure water. Amused, he proclaims, “Dorshtik? You are drinking like a pack donkey in the desert.”
Interesting image, I think, but why are we stopping?
Magdiel points. “Here we are! Elijah’s cave!” Magdiel smiles, bobbing his head up and down like an ancient bobblehead.
“We’ll stop here first, before we get all the way to the top of the mountain.”
“Why not.”
Have you ever walked into a shit storm while going commando? Well, that was me!
I hear people shouting, chanting, and bobbing. Seemingly random noises are filling the air. What’s going on?
“I keep trying to tell you,” Magdiel pleads. He’s perspiring like a man inside a steam engine. Magdiel wipes the sweat from his beard. “The Ball Shem Tov speaks.”
“Where is she? Where is the Carmelite sister? Where is Maya?”
I hear the words “There is nothing so whole as a broken heart!” ringing in my head. Either God is talking to me or Magdiel is sending subliminal messages into my shredded brain.
I tug at Magdiel’s sleeves. “Who are these people?”
“These are the thirty-six righteous men!” Magdiel proclaims, attempting to make his way up to the front, where the pulpit stands like a spiritual overlord.
“Magdiel! What are you doing?”
He tugs at my hands, dragging me through the crowd, toward the front of Elijah’s cave. “The people of the world are atoning for our sins! The sitra achra are searching for the din—judgment! We need to find the Carmelite nun! She is our savior!”
Magdiel nearly pushes me to the podium.
When we reach the rostrum, Magdiel screams out the word “Chashmal.”
“Chash” means “silence,” and “mal” means speak. Have you ever wanted to just clock someone right in the face?
I shake my head in utter confusion. “As Maya’s suitor, the forlorn one, they want you to speak to them!”
Magdiel leans in, whispering into my ear, “Maya’s pain is well known throughout the region … and now she is gone!”
“Gone!” I whisper. My tears begin to flow. Suddenly everyone is quiet. “I know your pain,” I begin. I peer over to Magdiel for support.
He nods. “You’re doing fine.” He waves his hands. “Continue.”
“I’ve been in love with Maya, the Carmelite nun,” I choke out, “for many years now.” I witness all thirty-six righteous men bowing their heads in silence. Damn, these guys scare me, I muse. “I know how important it is for all of you to have Maya return safely to the village. I know you all believe in the secret teaching.” I glare obtusely at Magdiel. His head is immersed inside a three-pronged yarmulke perched atop his unruly hair, giving him the appearance of a sultry, light brown, ancient Bob Dylan, chanting shrilly. Magdiel hopes to sound holy, not like a tortured cat scratching and scraping at his water bowl.
“Torat a Sod,” the men proclaim in unison. The thirty-six look like rhythmic clones, bobbing their darkened covered heads as they chant and pray to the heavens. To tell the truth, I have no idea what they’re saying. Their long hair, long sideburns, and black hats quiver up and down, bobbing like buoys in the water.
“I know how meshuga it’s been since the disappearance of Maya,” I whisper.
I lean over toward Mags. “How am I doing?”
Magdiel winces but continues to bob his head.
“I appreciate your support, and I will make it my lifelong goal to find her.”
The thirty-six raise their heads. One man, who identifies himself as Seth, utters the words “Let the Eins Sof be with you!”
Magdiel pats me on the shoulder. “Let the infinite God be with you, Michael. God knows you need it!”
The thirty-six part like the Red Sea as Magdiel and I walk slowly through the middle of the righteous rabbinic men. Each of them touches me with a prayer book saying, “Gut Shabbes and shalom!”
I’m fucked, I think.
“I heard that,” Magdiel whispers. “C’mon, Michael, let’s get out of this cave.” He pats me on the rear.
I smile suspiciously. “What was that?”
Magdiel nods slowly. “You’re a mensch,” he snickers. We continue on our way toward the peak of the mountain where the Carmelite nuns reside.
“We must be careful the rest of the way.”
“Why’s that?” I say, wondering what else could befall us on the path to righteousness.
“We have to be very careful that the Lachams don’t attack us,” Magdiel says nervously, his eyes canvassing the area like a cunning periscope.
“Who are they?”
“They’re terrorists that live in the cavernous grottos all around here. They’re people who went underground a century ago.”
“Are they religious people—some sort of cult?”
“No, Michael, they’re atheists who went underground when we were attacked by the Syrians over a hundred years ago. They rarely see the light of day. But they do come up for food. Trust me, we need to be careful. They’re very crafty!”
“What kind of food, Magdiel?”
“They mainly live on crops that they try to grow down below. But they frequently don’t have enough. They’re heathens, Michael, and they hate anyone who believes in G_d. They hate our spirituality, and they hate our strong beliefs.”
“Well, what do they hunt, then?”
“People, Michael; they’re cannibals.”
I swallow hard. “What did you say?”
CHAPTER 45
November 3, 2393
9:44 a.m.
Magdiel and I continued our tedious walk, ascending the steep and intrepid mountain. Magdiel pauses, pointing toward the top. “That, my friend, is har-hi Karmel,” he asserts rever
ently. “Look over there.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a memorial to all of those that died here over fifty years ago.”
“I see,” I say, wondering if any of the cannibalistic Lachams are lurking. Magdiel walks briskly toward the memorial.
“Yes, I know about it. The terrorists destroyed many of the small villages on this mountain,” I affirm. “It must have been extremely difficult for you.”
Magdiel closes his eyes. I know he is praying, but of course I don’t exactly know why.
“My father and my brothers were killed in this raid.”
“I’m so sorry, Magdiel. I’m sure that had to be so difficult for you.”
“Please, let’s sit for a moment,” Magdiel says softly. “There are things about this area and about Maya that you don’t know.”
“Really?”
Magdiel wipes away a tear. He softly touches my hand. “You have to understand that to people around here, whether they study Kabbalah or are Carmelite nuns, the people who live on this holy soil have a different relationship with God. They believe in mystics, saints, and prophets.
“I can see that.” I feel a deep sense of spirituality entering my heart, as if the land itself and the people’s long and arduous history are compelling me to understand.
“This is a place where our citizens died for their beliefs, and it has happened over and over again for thousands of years. A traditional Kabbalist in my tribe is called a Mekubbai. Such a person defines the nature of existence through his own personal quest of God. These people must interpret the inner meaning of the Bible, decoding the concealed dimensions affecting their lives.”
“There must be a lot of room for interpretation.”
Magdiel pats me on my shoulder. “My father and my brothers were Mekubbai. They went to their deaths holding copies of the Old Testament. Did you know that the Carmelite nuns on this mountain study the Old Testament as well?”
Magdiel takes out his pipe and fills it once again. “Have you wondered why Maya left you, Michael?” he asks cagily.
I smile. “Seriously, that’s all I wonder about.”
Magdiel inhales, puffing slowly on his well-crafted curved pipe. “You know, Michael, I’ve stopped here many times on the way to the mountain; and when I do, I think about my father. I contemplate about my brothers, and I try to convey to God how much I cherish his existence.”
I clear my throat. “Ya know, Magdiel, I’m beginning to figure out why my buddy Zeke sent you. I envy you. You’re the most real person I’ve ever met.”
“No, Michael, the most mystical and beautiful person you’ll ever meet is Maya. She’s dedicated her entire life to the children of this mountain. If you find her—hopefully when you find her—realize that she has suffered tremendously. She’s sacrificed for those children and their families. But perhaps most importantly, know that she has thought about you every day since the time you saw her last.”
Tears begin streaming down my cheeks. Magdiel reaches out, placing his hands on my shoulders. Then he smothers my tears with his fingertips.
As we reach the town of Isfaya, Magdiel and I stop for a moment to pray. We are at the summit of the mountain, 1,791 feet above sea level. Magdiel and I have reached the small village of Isfaya. It is also called the Vineyard. More than anything else, I can feel the magnificence of faith rippling through my veins. It is something that has been sadly lacking in my life. Yet, strangely, I can feel fear and tortured anticipation as well.
Upon arriving, I began hearing an odd whisper-like chanting. Magdiel and I approach cautiously, trying to find the source of the sound, which mimics a soft wind speaking its mind, chanting some sort of fleeting truth.
“Over there!” Magdiel states.
“There they are! A dozen Carmelite nuns, along with the thirty-six righteous ones, chanting and kneeling. Dare I ask why?”
Magdiel stares deeply into my eyes. He places his hand on my shoulders. “I will tell you one day, but for now we must leave at once. We must let them pray in peace.”
“Where can we go?”
Magdiel points toward Beatissimae Virginis de Carmelo.
“It’s the Order of the Blessed Virgin,” Magdiel says softly.
“We must speak to the priest; his name is Elias.”
“What can he do?”
“Father Elias knows everyone in the town. I’m sure that he would know Maya.
“What’s he like?”
Magdiel gestures. “There he is!”
As we approach the statuesque man with the long, flowing beard, Magdiel lowers slowly to his knees before him. He beckons to me to do the same. “Father, we have come for Maya. The man next to me is Michael, the one whom Maya has prayed for so long to see.”
Elias stands firmly, not answering us, just staring forward as if he is praying to God. “The Lord has answered my prayers,” he says softly. “But she is gone.”
“How can we find her then?” I ask.
Elias hesitates. “There’s a cabin that is hidden behind the Carmelite gardens toward the bottom of the mountain facing the Dead Sea. There is also an unmarked cave that hides the secrets of the Dead Sea Scrolls. If the stars are bright enough and the moon is full, she will see you, for she will be strolling through the mountains at night.”
Elias touches both of our shoulders, motioning for us to get up. Then he closes his eyes, softly reciting a short prayer. “I will wish you luck, young man. Maya means so much to everyone in this village.”
“Including you?”
Elias’s eyes sparkle like glittering shooting stars. “Of course—especially me. I believe that Maya is an angel from heaven, sent down to save us.”
“Elias, can I ask you a question?”
“Of course, my son.”
“Is she ill?”
CHAPTER 46
November 4, 2393
5:59:59 p.m.
Our trip to find my love started the next evening. Magdiel felt it was important that we prayed first before we started our journey. I knew she was alive, and more important, I knew she was near.
Have you ever felt that you were on the cusp of finding your life?
My heart is racing with joy. Yet I am still at the mercy of my newfound mentor. So what is the connection between Magdiel and Ezekial? Only God knows.
Suddenly Magdiel plops down on the ground. We see the hanging bridge off in the distance. My eyes scan the area like a beacon trying to cut through the fog.
“It’s not too much farther,” Magdiel says softly. I take a swig from our canteen.
“What the hell are all these birds doing here?” I say incredulously.
“They’ve been coming to the Black Sea for tens of thousands of years, Michael. “Look over there!” Magdiel takes a drink from our well-worn decanter and rubs the back of his hand against his lips. “Ah!” he exclaims joyously. “You’ll see everything here—thousands of black and white storks, black kites, steppe and spotted eagles, and even honey buzzards! Birds are the one type of animal that prefers the aura of ancient history!”
“Well, it sure is ancient. I have to hand ’em that!”
“Think about it, Michael: no drones, no teleportation, no virtual reality. Nothing around here has changed for thousands of years.”
“That’s it! I exclaim. That is why Maya likes it here. It’s a true escape, isn’t it?”
Magdiel smiles cagily. “Sure. It’s a place of ancient history mixed with tales of God and lore.
“Let’s go! I know she’s here! I feel it!”
Magdiel pauses. “There’s something else you need to know, Michael,” Mags says, taking his pipe out of his bag. “It is a magical place.” Magdiel’s eyes sparkle. “It’s something the scientists and the spiritualists have known for years.” Magdiel inhales deeply, taking a long puff of smoke, watching it
wind into the air like a genie. “Ley lines!” Magdiel exclaims, appearing like a new age swami.
“Yes, I’m well aware of ley lines,” I assert. “The British used them to find their way.”
Magdiel curls his tongue, sending three enigmatic streams of smoke into the air. “Actually, Michael, there are ley lines that date back to antiquity—mystical sources of energy circling Earth.”
“Yes, I remember Solly talking about that to my father.”
Magdiel grins curiously. The strange man’s expression is a cross between wonderment and pure sorcery. “Do you know where all of these magnificent lines originate? Where they all converge into one magical source of energy?”
I shake my head, shrugging. “No.”
“Right here, Michael. Right under this hanging bridge.”
“Excuse me,” I say softly, as I stare at the ancient bridge hanging in the distance, looming over the raging river like a sphinx. I imagine Maya taking her journey over that bridge, heading toward the cabin.
“I can feel her presence,” I say. “She’s walked directly over this bridge hasn’t she? Hasn’t she?” I’m nearly screaming at Magdiel.
“What are you going to do when you see her?” Magdiel queries. His eyes are beaming like twinkling stars.
Have you ever seen cartoon comedies where the heroes literally have little stars emanating forth from their eyes? I’m beginning to wonder if Magdiel is just another one of Copernicus’s creations.
I can’t stop staring at the bridge.
We don’t find the cabin until twilight that evening. I drop my backpack, searching for the key. Yet even when I find it, the door jams, sticking, as if no one has actually entered for a long time. Upon entering, Magdiel and I smell something rank. Magdiel sniffs at the air as if something is very wrong. He walks around the cabin like a nervous chicken, looking for some evidence of another human being’s habitation in the dwelling.
Watching Magdiel play detective is humorous in itself. Magdiel is waving his hands slowly all over the cabin, sort of like he is some sort of spiritual metal detector. I throw my bag and walking stick on an old circular rug that is covered in dust and soot. Turning around, I see Magdiel repetitively sniffing at the air like a Middle Eastern bloodhound.
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