The Lost City

by Carrie E. Gruhn

  16

  RENEWAL OF THE COVENANT

  LONG BEFORE THE GREAT DAY ARRIVED, Palestine was filled with people from all over the world. The highways and airways were choked with cars, busses, bicycles, scooters, motorbikes, airplanes, small and large, all bearing people drawn by many differing lures toward Jerusalem. Many came out of mere curiosity, but they seemed fewer than might have been imagined. So many sought passports that good reason had to be offered before they could be secured. Therefore, most of those who traveled the roads converging on Jerusalem were Jews. Not every face showed the ecstatic joy that glowed in my mother’s face, however. There were many on whose lips lay the mocking smiles of cynicism in spite of the underlying current of excitement which now and again broke out in praises of our Messiah. The whispering wonder had grown and spread! Today the world would know Prince Damon! Surely the promised Covenant would reveal him for what he was!

  Tears of joy streamed down many faces as they looked stedfastly toward the temple. Could it be that at last, after centuries of persecution, trials, troubles and wanderings, our nation was about to take its rightful place even as the Temple upon yonder hill?

  I reveled in the excitement and the pressing multitudes. Even the past carefree years had not made me quite content with our small village. At first I had been satisfied just to be hidden behind its protecting walls, but as time passed, and there had been a few tastes of outside life brought in by others, I had begun to long for some of it, too. Paul laughed at my insatiable enthusiasm that would not let me stay within the hotel; where fortunately, as one of the Prince’s Council, he had been able to secure rooms for us. I hung out of the windows when necessity made us return. It was such fun to watch the throngs of laughing, singing pilgrims; to toss out gay streamers and confetti so that they would look up to exchange joyous shouts with me and my small wide-eyed son. This time he had come with us. No one had wanted to stay behind in the village to care for the children; only those who had to care for the livestock had been left. Every village throughout the land had been deserted, seemingly, as every Jewish foot turned toward the city.

  Singers passed whose songs of praise, bordering on pure exuberance, drifted back across other less boisterous groups. There were many processions of worshipers bearing their sacrificial gifts, and the smoke from the burnt offerings wafted ever upward above the city. Gifts were still coming in for use in the temple. Each gift was borne aloft in the midst of serious men and women who found it more difficult to forget the too-near past. I felt an impatience for them, for surely their gifts would be as acceptable if they were brought with singing instead of the age-old sad chants that came from their lips!

  Scarcely did one group pass than another filled the streets with tears, laughter, singing, weeping, dancing, posturing, processional, belief, unbelief, ceremony and orgy! Paul was a little anxious lest I wear myself out.

  Paul’s moodiness had seemed somewhat lifted since we had come to the city, or perhaps I had become accustomed to it. We had been in the city for several days and there had been no word from Lilah. Paul had seemed in no hurry to leave me, so I tossed my old fears to the wind.

  It seemed the narrowing streets of the Holy city must burst with the influx of people when at last the day dawned for which we had been so long preparing. The last jeweled curtain had been hung. The rising sun bore its promise of gold as the solemn procession started through the new section with its wider boulevards, on into the old with its narrow, shadowing streets, thence with the massive gold door that alone remained to be placed. Rabbis wearing robes with heavy embroidery and jewels bore the candelabra, the altar cloths, the gold vessels and the many smaller furnishings. Never had so much wealth and color been spread before an adoring people’s eyes! Boys chanted and often we took up their song.

  It seemed to us that we could see the fire of the jewel-encrustations before the great door itself came into view. The smaller, priceless articles had been carried in through the wide portal where the door would soon be hung. Breathlessly we stood on tiptoe to see the high-held seal. The sun suddenly seemed to shed all its rays for it, alone. The door blazed with reflected fire—the jewels, the delicate tracery of carved curve and symbol, lighted the way up the wide stairs to the place of dedication and blessing promised by the man who had made all this possible. A murmuring breath stirred each group after its passing. All hearts were strangely subdued and silenced as the thousands crushed tighter, seeking to follow it to the hill and up to the very temple itself.

  I looked down and saw the pattern of upturned faces, knit already so closely, knotting into tighter weave under the weight of the many who sought to better their positions. Then I, too, turned my face toward the temple. Simon, my mother, Paul and myself, stood very close against the rising steps above which rose the throne-like eminence. I looked up directly into the face of the man who stood there.

  His was a handsome face with a welcoming smile that matched the slender, outstretched hands urging the people closer for blessing. But I looked above the aquiline nose to the eyes and, suddenly, unaccountably, I was afraid! Calculating and cold they reflected arrogance, cunning, pride, deceit, scorn, cruelty! hate!

  I clutched Paul’s sleeve, “Where is the Prince?”

  Paul’s face was etched more deeply with foreboding sorrow again and he seemed unable to give voice to his answer. His nod led my eyes back to the slender, bright figure and I knew that I was looking at our Prince, Prince Damon. I felt Paul’s body stiffen, as if against an expected, yet unavoidable, blow. A chill of premonition swept over me. Lilah was there in the shadows behind the Prince. I could feel my mother stir uneasily, then we were straining to hear the soft, silky voice that with all its quietness carried out over the heads of the crowd without the aid of amplifiers.

  The Prince was offering his Covenant, perhaps a good Covenant, yet even to my ears it had a mocking, hollow sound. It was for our acceptance but it left no room for refusing. It was an ultimatum rather than a covenant. Too quietly, too soothingly, the Prince enumerated the demands which must be filled if we would live!

  We had come to the Temple to worship the Messiah, but the Messiah sent from God surely would not offer this Beast for our adoration! His hand had slowly come to rest on the head of a most hideous creature. The Prince bade us look at the Beast and prepare to give it homage. It raised itself and, like a nightmare to us, surveyed the prospective subjects. How could he, the Messiah, offer another for our worship? Had not God said that we should have no other Gods before Him? Had He not sent down punishment after punishment upon us for disregarding that commandment?

  Now the magnetic, compelling voice hurled other commands into the silence about him. No one would be allowed to buy or to sell except he bear on forehead or right hand the mark of the Beast. Nearby someone was unable to seal his lips against the inward groaning of his spirit. For suddenly we knew that this was not the Messiah.

  Our eyes turned toward the one who moaned. A shot rang out; we turned again to see the Beast falling as blood gushed out from his heart where the bullet had found its mark. The air trembled with the death cries, the Beast quivered and was still. Stunned, I turned my eyes to look up to the face of Prince Damon. His wrath and the anger were awful to see. Then black anger gave way before a smile. It seemed as if the anger had been better to look upon. Coldly his voice cut the silence,

  “Now, indeed, will you not refuse to worship the Beast!”

  He reached out and lifted the corpse without seeming effort and suddenly its eyes opened, its lips snarled back! The Prince held not a corpse but a live and awful creature! Who shall describe it? Before its baleful eyes we quailed and fled!

  Fallen women and men were trampled underfoot. It was impossible to move swiftly through the tightly-packed and frenzied crowd. With difficulty Paul held us back and drew us around the temple to the quieter, less congested back streets. Once there in the comparative freedom we still could not move swiftly for our feet had now become leaden. Silently we mo
ved as if drugged, and we let Paul take us away from the city, scarcely arousing to help in getting our small son and Ahmed who had been caring for him. How different was the exodus from our entrance into the city!

  There was frenzied haste in Paul’s actions which translated itself to our brains, but yet it could not release us from the overpowering hypnosis. On our way, miles sped by before I ventured to look at Paul, then at the others in the shiny station wagon. It was easier for me to adjust to this new happening, for it followed the pattern that, until recently, my cynicism and doubt had foreshadowed. But I could not flaunt my returning doubts, when I saw how completely my mother’s trusting heart had been rent.

  I seemed to feel the chill of her body as she sat so still between her husband and me. Simon held her tightly and in his eyes I saw despair, also something else. Briefly Paul turned his eyes from the road to look back anxiously. I met his glance and in it was desperation mingled with a new unrelated look. A rising determination, even a stubbornness, was settling around his mouth and my heart sank before a new fear borne of the pride that rose again within me. Paul was not like the others; he would not follow stupidly, blindly. I knew that already he had settled on what course to follow.

  There was no inspiration or inclination to talk on that long, exhausting flight from Jerusalem. Now and then I looked back and wondered a little at our panic. Nevertheless, when I remembered other persecutions and regimentations inflicted upon us I ceased to wonder. We would do our pondering, our rationalizing from the comparatively safe distance of our own walled village.

  We stopped at small hostels to make a pretense of eating and to snatch brief rests. The things we heard set us on our way again without lessening our feeling of panic. Over and over we were regaled with the details, as if we had not seen them with our eyes and heard them with our ears. It seemed the ultimatum had not been given to us, alone, but to the whole world! The fear that gripped the hearts of men seemed less fear than certainty. There seemed to be no question, there could be but one outcome—ultimate acceptance of the Covenant offered on the templed hill.

  There was stunned uneasiness everywhere. Fear had set the pendulum swinging away but already it was swinging back toward obedience to the mandate. Men might curse themselves for their blindness, for their folly in giving into one man’s hands the power to give or withhold life from them, but the love of life would help them overlook and accept life on any terms. Thousands upon thousands had steeped themselves so long in unbelief in any God but the God of their own stomachs, sensuality and greed—they would find it easy to worship the Beast so long as it brought food and perhaps gain.

  I looked at my own heart and was surprised at what I saw. In spite of this new catastrophe I shuddered and recoiled from bowing to the decree. Where was my unbelief in God? I had been frightened before, had known hunger and want; but I had tasted, too, a small portion of the bleak loneliness, the awful desolation that chills the soul when cut off from God, after I had flung my disbelief into my mother’s horrified face. I knew at last that though I could not understand, might never understand, nor accept God wholeheartedly, yet I could not turn my back on Him entirely—I could not bow down and pay homage to the Prince nor to his Beast!

  Groups of Arabs moved aside uneasily for our passing and we knew what had been the subject of their discussions. How would they answer when the day of reckoning came? Damon had given the world a brief time for deciding, then the machinery would start moving to classify and mark the peoples of the world into two groups, those who would barter their very souls for food against those who would refuse. I once had thought it humiliating and degrading to be forced to wear the yellow armbands in Europe and then because of the insignia to stand watching as those not wearing it bought food and clothing denied me. How would it be when the lack of this branding mark of the Beast denied food and sustenance to us, not just here but all over the world?

  One bright spot seemed to loom in the darkness. I could not take my hopes off Paul and I knew now why he had been worried and anxious. Now I knew why he had been afraid when the Prince had taken so much power. Now I knew, too, what he had meant when he had asked if the peace was worth the price! He had been prepared enough to remain cool, clear-headed, and with foresight to the point of enabling him to bring us swiftly away from Jerusalem. Surely he had other preparations, other plans made. There must be enough Jews who still clung to God and who would protest this abomination. The Arabs always looked to God though they called Him by another name and listened to other prophets. Surely they would follow if a leader rose to lead them!

  We left the broader more frequented highways for our narrow road into the desert. Paul relaxed at the wheel and at last began to speak. His words painted the final brush-strokes on an already distorted canvas.

  “We went down to Jerusalem today to acclaim the Messiah. We did not find Him because He has already come and gone! We did not know His coming nor His going!”

  17

  ON THE ROAD FROM JERUSALEM

  WHAT STRANGE WORDS were these Paul uttered? When had the Messiah come? Now Paul was talking with breathless haste. Wide-eyed I listened, and Ahmed strained forward to hear above the noise of the car. Simon was still trying vainly to arouse my mother who had sunk deeper and deeper into a sort of open-eyed stupor. Paul’s voice did not carry to him above the rumble of the plunging station wagon on the rough, uneven road.

  “For a long time, now, I have seen the truth but I hoped—I do not know what I hoped, unless it was that I could change the truth to my liking. No one can believe that Damon was sent of God. Today’s demands and ultimatum did not even offer the pretense of coming from God. He is the product of our own making; the product of our stiffnecked pride, our unbelief, our blindness—they gave into his hands the power to command us as he commanded, today.”

  “But Paul—we could not have given him all that power—surely the Beast was dead, and if he was dead, how did the Prince give life to him again?”

  “The Beast was dead. Who or what could lose even half that blood and live. Yet he lived and moved and showed hate above any previously known hate. God did not put new life into his body. The blood that is the very life stream was not replaced—yet, he is alive. The abomination of the Temple we desired to build to God will usher in greater troubles than we have yet known! Before, men’s hands were against us—now, the powers of darkness are unloosed, Jacob’s trouble is on us.”

  “You speak like one who knows,” Ahmed voiced my own thoughts, Ahmed who had proven an exceptional scholar in both the regular school and in the clinic, too. We found it hard to remember sometimes that he was an Arab though he wore their clothes and possessed their irrepressible humor.

  “Then I sound untrue, because I do not know, I am learning,” Paul’s answer was humble. “When Dal was here he tried to show me so much, but it went over my head. I have tried to find many things that he told me of, but there is so much in the Bible which he gave me that I get lost sometimes. It’s easy to see things as they unfold—Dal saw them before they happened. He told me that some day he might be mysteriously taken away, there would be a group of people disappear in that day. Well, it happened.

  “He told me, too, that after that happened a man would arise who would bring peace to the world. Well, that happened, too! Also he warned me that it would be a false peace. It would end in the abomination of the temple—we have seen that! Surely if those things came to pass, then the other things of which he warned me will follow!”

  “Why?” I asked stupidly.

  Ahmed interposed thoughtfully, “You said that you had gone to Jerusalem seeking the Messiah—”

  “And that He had come and gone.” Now I sat up alert at last. “When? Why didn’t we know Him?”

  “Let me ask both of you a question. Who were the people who were taken away, caught up out of the earth?”

  “I don’t know. Well, Dal was an American—a Gentile—he certainly wasn’t a Jew,” I ventured hesitantly.

&nbs
p; “He was a Christian,” Ahmed supplied slowly. Paul nodded to both answers.

  “Of course, I can’t be sure. So many things happened that somehow the disappearances were overshadowed and not too much attention was given to them after the first shock had passed. I did notice one thing about the stories that were told. The men, women, and children who disappeared had one thing in common. It wasn’t nationality, or race, or color—they were all Christians! I believe, in fact I know now, that if I could investigate every disappearance I would find that true in every case!”

  “That only makes it more puzzling,” I answered. “Aren’t there still lots of Christians in the world?—they have churches and organizations everywhere.”

  “My answer to that is to be found in our own people. The world is full of Jews supposedly with one God. That was the reason behind the building of the temple. How many of them do actually believe and put their trust in God? How many did you see going to the temple with true sacrificial worship? A comparative few. How many scoffed or concealed their mockery under very thin veils? How many came to the dedication to worship? Again, I say a few. How many came just to unleash their emotions, or to appease their consciences, or as an excuse for dancing and singing? How many came just for the thrills and the excitement?” I winced at this, for assuredly there had been more of that in my heart, and admittedly there had been more merrymakers than worshipers in the streets.

  “How much of that procession was for God’s pleasure, do you think? How much for show? How much was for praise of God? How much for gratifying conceit? I can tell you the answer to that, for I sat in on some of the preparations. To but very few the temple was built to God—to the majority it was intended from the beginning as proof of what we still could do. It was raised to show the world our wealth and our power—and to add glory to the Prince, who had commanded its building because it gave added prestige to his name and aid to the plans he had for the rest of the world. The temple was built on unbelief, although many like your mother put their heart’s work and worship into it. I think I knew this all the time although I fought against even understanding much less accepting it. There were remarks made at the meetings which I brushed aside as mere attempts at humor; now I know that they were the true expressions of the men who made them. More than one brilliant brain who made this stupendous temple possible made light of it, joked about it. Well, the Beast has been given and many will worship or pretend to worship. Why shouldn’t they? There is no other God in their hearts and no other way to get food.”