“The Messiah?” rapt voices interrupted. Further announcements were lost as speculation rose and crystallized into certainty. “Surely he can be no other than he of whom God spoke! He is of us—a Jew! Yet all the world is bowing to his will!”
“God moves in mysterious ways His miracles to perform!” my mother’s voice was soft, yet as she uttered the last words all eyes were turned toward her. They took up her words forming them into a chant,
“God moves in mysterious ways—God moves in mysterious ways—His miracles to perform!”
Naturally to my mother there could be but one answer—God had sent this Prince. But fiercely I clung to my belief in Paul! What of the work he had done in bringing this about—what of the work done by the others? I saw again the strained look in Paul’s eyes and could not believe that it was humility that had moved him. If God were behind this, how could it be a mistake, or, was it his pride that had been the mistake? Surely it was not wrong to feel pride in a task well-done! Simon had been right. We were all tired and the secrets had been too much of a burden. Working long and too close with their brain-children caused the men exhaustion rather than ecstacy.
Field and orchard were neglected the following few days. Only the most necessary routine work was done. There was still a spirit of celebration in remote corners of the world, but gradually all had settled into a quiet attentive listening as we waited around radios for the stories of the ambassadors’ conference. Proudly we had listened as our own delegates were named and lauded briefly for their part in the plan. Paul’s, Simon’s, and Lilah’s names had been called. When Lilah’s came through my heart felt a shock of dismay. I had forgotten her. Other names were called, and some spoke a few words, then the doors had been closed against even the broadcasters; we were left with our speculations. A few programs returned to offer desultory entertainment in the interim between the few scattered bulletins that told little real information. We tried to guess what was happening behind the closed doors. Supposing some refused to sign after all? Or, perhaps the covenant proved only a wild dream which, when brought into the light of clear reasoning, would fall apart and be worthless! Yet, even in the remotest corners of the world the strife was not resumed. The outcome was awaited anxiously by everyone.
Hours crept slowly by, yet actually the time was short for such momentous occurrences. A long breathless silence settled about the radio then came the call:
“Attention, radio listeners! We are in Jerusalem outside the closed doors of the Council Chamber! We have reason to believe that the door will be opened—yes, it is opening now and we are about to enter. Are you following us? we would like to describe this scene, but there are more important things. We are taking the microphones directly to the long Council Table. The last gold pen is about to be handed to the final signer of the most momentous, stupendous, historic of all documents—the Covenant of the first All-World Union! Impossible as it seems, in the light of the ineffective national group movements, there is not a scowl of dissension in any face that we can see. Hold it! The velvet-lined casket is being offered to the man at the head of the table. Pictures are being taken, so let me explain. The casket was filled with pens, one for each ambassador and delegate, now it contains but one. Every pen was taken—not one was refused when it was offered for the signing of the articles of agreement! Pardon me, sir, but can you tell me the name of the very, very pretty girl who is carrying the casket? Yes, the girl who has borne the casket with its treasure of pens is Lilah Goldberg, formerly of the United States, but more recently of Palestine. She is one of the members who prepared the way for this occasion. She is coming now and is offering the gold pen to the head of the table. I can see the parchment as it lies on the table—after each country and state I see the names already written. There seems to be no more spaces—whom is this last man going to sign for? Wait! There is a last blank—it is after the name of the new union. Prince Damon is taking the pen and is about to write his name not as representative for Israel—who signed for Israel, sir? Paul—Paul Hiteman, I believe it is, yes, a Paul Hiteman signed for that country—Prince Damon is signing as your representative and mine, as representative and newly-elected head of a World United. We watch as his hand traces his name across this golden page of history, Prince Damon—and so the scroll is completed!—Stand by—can you hear me?” Wild shouting and clamor broke loose as the tension snapped and bedlam set in. It started in the Council Chamber and set us shouting and screaming with hysterical joy.
The walls and the very floors of reinforced cement seemed to shake with the pulsating tumult of our jubilation. We began some kind of dance that sent us in and out of arms and our faces were wet with our own tears and the tears streaming from the faces of those we embraced. It was an ecstasy, it was a celebration that overpassed any other celebration—it was hysteria but oh, what a glorious hysteria!
I should not have allowed myself to be swept on the tide of emotion. Suddenly I felt weak. I saw an opportunity and slowly extricated myself from the joyous arms that would have held me. I knew that I must find my mother, and instinctively I moved toward the sound of her voice. If I had not recognized the strength and the beauty of it, I could not have failed to recognize the paean of praise ascending on that voice. Others were shouting their applause to the men in Jerusalem; her song was a song of praise to her God for directing them in their way. I seemed to hear Paul saying, “many of our people have learned to disavow God,” “we do not have a religion anymore,” “we refuse to look to Him,” “we have come back to the land with unrepentant hearts, more Jews curse God than praise Him,” “how can God help us if we will not call upon Him?” Hysterically I began to laugh. Well, Mother had prayed, Mother had praised when others had cursed, she had never forgotten God in her sorrow, nor in her joys. She was looking upward to Him now, while others looked toward the men sitting in Jerusalem! Who should say which was right? What mattered it anyway so long as the goal had been reached? I laughed, then burst into tears as my mother’s arms found and held me. She led me away, whispering softly,
“My daughter, my little Tanya, you should not have been mixed in all that excitement. You are flushed and hysterical—”
“Are they not hysterical, too?”
“Of course, my little one. We are all beside ourselves with joy, but I think there is another cause for your color!”
“I think so, too, Mother. Paul—he is not here! I’ve got to wait for him!”
I followed meekly as mother led me outside and across to the hospital rooms. Apparently this was one time when I would not be able to lean on Paul. It was good to have my mother so close again. I had been afraid that I had thrown away her love, but I should have known my mother better.
15
THE TEMPLE
WHAT A WONDERFUL WORLD was ours as the days became weeks, the weeks months and still the glorious pattern of peace lent its beauty to our lives! I was so happy and content and humble for the miracle that had made me Paul’s wife, that had given to us a little son, for my mother who, hiding her pain and her hurt had loved me. Songs rose constantly from the fields, orchards, vineyards, and gardens to be caught and echoed across the narrowing valley from the hills around us. No longer were the gates shut against invasion. No longer were the towers used for sleepless watching. Children climbed the narrow winding stairs and shouted from the small, high windows. We were busy, but with a new carefree busyness.
Paul and Simon had soon returned from Jerusalem. There had been wild acclaim as they were met and literally borne home on the shoulders of the excited and joyous villagers. The music of their praise had drifted in to me as I lay with my baby in my arms. I wanted to be out there, but was glad, too, that I had something to give into Paul’s proud arms. It was good to see his pride shining down at me who had been full of pride in him.
The Prince had spoken over the air, briefly, and I had not heard his words, but often I was told of the strange softness of his authoritative voice. He had thanked the world for listening
and had promised many things. Swiftly across skies, and over waterways, through desert, highway, and to all parts of the earth the ambassadors had returned, each bearing with them the instructions that had been carefully prepared a long time before.
Even the poorest, the humblest country or section had its part in the making of this wonderful New World Union. No longer was one part permitted to selfishly exhaust its natural resources just for its own benefit. Cotton would grow where cotton was meant to grow. Lands that could stand plowing were plowed, but those lands that had never been meant for it were now guarded and nurtured for pasturelands, woodlands, or, for whatever seemed best suited for them. Precious minerals, iron, copper, tin, all the metals were given into every hand that had need for them in return for other products. No single resource anywhere could be hoarded or selfishly exploited.
If crops failed in one place, the black fear of famine could not reach down and wipe out its people; immediately the colossal sky-reaching and underground storehouses were to be opened and, regardless of the lack of trade goods, the suffering people would be fed and clothed until such time as they could again offer their own crops in trade. Marvelously simple, even in all its complexities, seemed the Plan. How blind and selfish the world had been before!
But one thing laid its shadow across my happiness. Paul was full of a nameless brooding unhappiness. I had glimpsed it the Day of the Covenant. It had clung there even when he had returned to bring the glowing report of the Jerusalem Council. It deepened as the golden peace spread. I could not understand it, yet I found it hard to accept Simon’s idea that it was but the natural result, often following man’s hard-won achievements; that in time he would be able to throw off this tension.
Not that he wasn’t happy. There were moments, yes hours spent in delightful play with me and with our beautiful son. Even in those times I seemed to see that the greyness had crept deep inside.
One day as we were finishing some work in the clinic, where Ahmed was fast learning to be a valuable help, the mail was brought. I barely glanced at it because I knew no one outside who might be writing to me, but it was fun to see the important envelopes on Paul’s desk, more and important beyond what anyone else had. There were many letters of commendation and grateful expressions still coming; these he read swiftly to make sure that they did not require attention then, tossed them into the huge wastebasket, then I stealthily retrieved them. Already I had two big scrapbooks filled to prove how wonderful he was!
This day a smaller less imposing envelope arrived. Paul tore it open slowly. I had finished my work and stood waiting for him to return with me to our room. I saw his face flush. He looked up to find my eyes on his. Quickly, as if he would hide it from my startled gaze, he crumpled the letter and thrust it into his pocket. The flush departed as quickly as it had come, but it seemed to me that the bleakness was even more deeply etched in his face.
“Run along, Tanya. I will be along later. I’ve some work to do here—” Puzzled I turned to go. “Oh, by the way, that letter—it was from Lilah.”
With difficulty I held my hands steady as I reached out for the doorknob. I dared not speak.
“Look, maybe you’d better see how my clothes are. I—I may have to go again.”
I had quite forgotten Lilah. She had not returned with Paul and Simon. She had been gone for so long; Paul had been so proud and happy. How blind I had been and how foolish! Of course he would be proud of his own son; he was too kind to be anything but happy, if it made me happy! Notwithstanding his kindness, he had not been able to stem his impatience to be off when she called to him. Perhaps staying at his desk he thought to battle with his inclination to go. I knew that there was no question at all about it! Unconsciously he had admitted the outcome, if battle it could be called, when he had said, “he might have to go again”! Of course he would go!
For the first time I watched him go and hated his kindness! He would go but he would return for he was not given to shirking responsibility. Unhappily I could not even give vent to heated anger. I know that however much Paul might be drawn to Lilah, he would not let himself be drawn too far. He would resist, and in the resisting would add fuel to her determination. She had admitted that it was his power to refuse that made him attractive. She would have tricks in that beautiful head of hers and would not hesitate to use them!
I had almost forgotten that Lilah was Prince Damon’s secretary. Paul had been summoned and he had gone, not to see Lilah, but to answer the Prince. If Paul had guessed the unspoken questions he perhaps would have answered them and spared the momentary return of my old fears. I would not expose my frightened heart by asking even one question about the letter. He was seemingly too bothered and busy to realize that I did not know why he felt it necessary to go. I would never grow up enough to act like an adult! Yet, even when he returned and brought new, almost unbelievable news proving that it was the Prince who had sent for him, I could not forget how he had flushed and had hidden the letter. Lilah had written the letter—need she have confined it entirely to the Prince’s business?
Jubilantly the whole village set about fulfilling the latest order given by Damon, the Prince! Truly he was our Prince and this new order proved it. Centuries had come and gone! The Moslems, the Christians, the Roman Catholics, the Greek Catholics, all had made of our land a Holy Land; yet, our temple had not been rebuilt. In every heart that believed in God there existed the wish to see the temple rebuilt in all its glory. Over the world orthodox Jews had spent of their wealth and their time in making things for the hoped-for temple. Paul brought a copy of the plans for its building. There were pages and pages listing all the parts for its furnishing and erection. These same elaborate plans had been sent out by the Prince to all Jews everywhere. The command invitation was that we would carefully check and send back a report as to what we had already prepared. Then work would actually start on the temple! After the list had been checked and the lacks discovered we were to set about filling those needs. Many things had been checked off the list; many were needed. Willing hands and joyful hearts took up the task and the gifts for the Temple began pouring into Jerusalem. Lovely linens, costly embroideries, fine gold work, inlaid panels, hand-carved and inlaid furnishings, many-colored windows, even framework, hand-polished rails, and the flooring were made and sent exactly cut and fashioned to pattern.
It seemed impossible, but our small son was barely three years old when the temple rose on its hill. So swiftly had it been raised that it needed only its great golden door and a few linens. Every day it seemed to me letters came and went between Paul and Lilah; each one drove him deeper into gloom. Always they were written as from the Prince, but they were never written on official paper. I had come to dread the postman’s coming; it seemed there was always a square pastel envelope from which rose a haunting fragrance. There could be no other reason for their depressing influence on Paul than that they were a constant reminder of the love that was denied him.
There was no more fear, no more hunger, no more strife—it seemed as if, at last, we were coming into our own. We were to have our own temple in the very land God had promised us and set on the very hill of His prophecies. Joy was in every orthodox Jewish heart and even in mind. Others must be returning to God since He had at last turned His face in our direction. Many spoke of the Prince as our Messiah and, indeed, this latest command seemed to dispel any doubts that he might not be. It seemed impossible that one could be unhappy, yet daily I saw Paul’s unhappiness. Knowing its source I could know no personal joy.
I snatched at the brief hours when Paul’s face relaxed and he seemed to delight in my presence. Such times seemed numbered for I knew that he could not withstand indefinitely. While he was here with me perhaps all would be well. He had not been recalled to Jerusalem again. He was indeed much needed in our valley, and since we were fairly close to the railroad, he often was called to visit one of the oil-line pump stations to check on the men, sometimes to go into the Arabian country. It was a big territor
y, but there were not enough doctors so he never refused. Sometimes I went with him leaving the baby since, after all, he was in the care of the nursery most of the time. Gradually Ahmed was taking my place, however. There had been a time when I fretted over Paul’s professional absences but not now. I was glad when he was too busy to be sent to Jerusalem. Each time he returned, took me in his arms and whispered his name for me, “Rebekah,” my heart thrilled anew. At least for that moment, I could be completely happy.
My mother, however, fairly glowed with happiness. Her beautiful embroideries had attracted attention and it was given to her to embellish some of the finest linens. The love of her God shone in her face and flowed out through her fingers to make up the intricate designs. She loved to tell me the meaning for each scroll and pattern. Her knowledge and love of things pertaining to God was a marvel to all of our small village. They came to sit at her feet and listen as her sweet voice extolled the glories of God in Psalm and story. Many an unbeliever was finding belief. Tears filled my eyes that I should ever have hurt her by doubting and letting her see that doubt. The last stitch had been taken in the last scarf which had been given to her for finishing. Then came the long awaited proclamation.
The temple was ready! The day was set! We were bidden to come to Jerusalem to view the miracle set on the high hill. There only remained the golden door and the gathering thousands who should witness its setting on the great day, a great day indeed for the Prince, our Prince! He had proclaimed that on that day he would have a new Covenant for us.
“Oh, God of Israel, of Isaac, yes, and of Rebekah, forgive me for not giving my heart wholly to rejoicing for this day! I rejoice when they say, ‘Let us go up into the House of the Lord,’ but then I remember that she is there! Oh, God of Rebekah, I have returned to thee, turn not away from thy handmaid, but if I am not in the way of Thy planning make Paul glad for the choice he once made!” I knelt at last before God! The day neared, and we prepared to go altogether to Jerusalem to view the glories of the temple, our Temple!
The Lost City Page 14