Rabbi Gabrielle Ignites a Tempest

by Roger Herst

  To avoid confusion, Benoit interrupted. "It is not in Hebrew or Aramaic, but Greek. I have already taken the liberty of making an Italian translation." From his briefcase, he withdrew a manila folder containing a single sheet of cream-colored paper and handed it to Cardinal Fornenti.

  The supreme cardinal lifted both hands in refusal. "No, please read it to all of us, Father."

  Benoit pulled out a pair of reading glasses and studiously hooked them behind his ears, clearing his throat before reading with artificial pauses so that nothing would be lost.

  In the 23rd year of the Emperor Germanicus, son of Caesar Tiberius Augustus, corresponding to 19 Tishri, 3787, SPACE, UNKNOWN CONTENT

  Be it known this decree of Caesar Tiberias, supreme magnate of the Western and Eastern Empire, through the Roman Procurator in the Province of Judea, Pontius Pilate.

  The school located on the eastern escarpment of the peak known as Ein Arugot, Judah, 300 amma from the level of the Salt Sea, west of the oasis at Ein Gedi. Legion commander, Digius Silban, is ordered to take into custody all faculty and students, bringing them to Jerusalem for immediate trial. Digius Silban SPACE, UNKNOWN CONTENT will take twenty Jews currently in custody to help demolish this school. Tents will be torn down and burned. Stone SPACE, UNKNOWN CONTENT foundations must be scattered and any wooden implements also burned. No physical record of this school is to be left for future generations.

  Faculty and students will be shackled until sold for service to the empire in a distant land from which return is impossible. Resisters will be crucified in a well-trafficked place as a warning to other rebellious Jews.

  Records of the school, student rosters, curriculum, scrolls, and any additional items used for teaching purposes must be confiscated and brought to Jerusalem. The Procurator is ordered to publicize this to the Jewish population throughout Judea and Samaria to discourage messianic teachings. If members of this institution have fled, they must be pursued immediately.

  Digius Silban will be held accountable for the execution of this order.

  Under the seal of Pontius Pilot, Procurator of Judea, Idumea and SPACE, UNKNOWN CONTENT Tyre.

  Cardinal Fornenti reached across the table to take from Benoit the paper and confirm what he had just heard. The others waited while he reread, processing the words with great care. Finally, he said, "A school with messianic teachings? Now what do you suppose this refers to?"

  No one ventured a guess.

  Cardinal Fornenti then said, "This is foreign to me. I will see that the Holy Father learns of this immediately. Perhaps the unread fragments will clarify it."

  "They present a great challenge," said Monsignor Nebdal. "Before they can teach us anything, they must be assembled. It will take time, Your Eminence."

  The supreme cardinal adopted a patronizing tone he used when prodding lethargic staff into action. "Time is a luxury we don't possess. We must not allow Professor Matternly to publish his findings before us. I'm certain you understand why."

  Both men nodded that they did, though it was problematic.

  Benoit had purposely waited for the right moment to offer information he knew would be welcomed. "Reverend Fathers. This Greek document speaks of a school in the wilderness. I have plotted it on a map with the approximate location of Ein Arugot. What's important to understand is that, while I have brought with me the original Greek text, Matternly possesses a digital copy. And if I were he, I would do exactly as we have and read it first. I'm convinced he already knows about the school at Ein Arugot and will want to visit the site. It wouldn't be a surprise to learn that he was planning an expedition at this very moment."

  "I'm not following your thinking, Father," interjected the supreme cardinal.

  "Of course," Benoit said. "We may not know where Tim Matternly is right now, but we know where he is certain to go in the near future."

  Cardinal Fornenti was beginning to show his frustration. Impatiently, he asked, "So are you suggesting we mount an expedition first?"

  "I'm suggesting, your Eminence, that if we don't find Matternly in Jerusalem, he'll come to us. The wilderness at Ein Arugot is remote and desolate. Men are known to disappear in such places."

  "That would provide us with more time to decipher what we have," added Erwin Nebdal.

  Benoit was gratified that his fellow churchmen did not pursue his last remark. To move the conversation forward, he said, "Tim Matternly is not, nor ever was, a schooled linguist. His contribution to Fragments from the Dead Sea Scrolls was a software program he wrote to assemble the fragments into readable form. For years, he never shared this with the academic community. But now I possess a copy of his program to expedite our work."

  "How is that possible?" pursued Nebdal.

  "His code was loaded in a laptop computer he left behind at the Monastery of St. George."

  The supreme cardinal again entered the conversation. "The Holy Father wants extraordinary efforts made on these fragments. And this includes DNA analysis to help match the pieces of text. We will provide all the computers and support necessary. Money is no object. Whatever your people need, tell Monsignor Pedro Quintana and he will arrange it. I expect a written report every week and a progress report by phone more frequently. Is that understood?" "Does your Excellency appreciate the complexity of what the Holy Father is asking?" pleaded Monsignor Nebdal.

  "He does," Fornenti thundered. "And He also understands that Professor Matternly is holding the Church hostage. Surely, you're not going to tell me that a single academic is a match for the scholarly resources of the Church."

  "I beg your pardon, Your Grace," Benoit interjected. "Matternly has already performed the definitive work on deciphering original fragments. He knows computers and he knows how to assemble scrambled pieces of parchment. He has a significant head start, regardless of how fast we gather church resources, including our ability to make DNA matching. And that's why I took the initiative and decided not to rely entirely on our own scholarship."

  "Isn't a copy of our fragments circulating in the academic community equally dangerous?" asked Guido Capalliani.

  "Absolutely not," Benoit shot back without hesitation. "Scholars will never accept a mere photocopy that could easily be doctored. Only the original document, confirmed by carbon dating, will affirm the true age. Without scientifically dating an original, no photocopy is worth the paper it's printed on."

  "Most men are persuaded by financial incentives. I'm sure that the Holy See can find funds to make Matternly an attractive offer," the supreme cardinal said.

  "Afraid not, your Excellency" replied Benoit. "Timothy Matternly is not only stubborn, he's proud. We could tempt the world with money, but not him."

  "If we can't entice Matternly, what do you suggest?" asked Fornenti.

  "Father, I have already taken this matter to a higher level."

  "What level precisely?" "Not from my lips," Benoit warned with his hands uplifted over the table. "Throughout my career, I have toiled for the most Holy Father in Bethlehem. Only one man alive knows as much about the Dead Sea scrolls as I do. Today, I am the only servant of the Church who claims to be an heir of the Essenes. But I have only a few productive years left to serve my Father in heaven and my Father on earth. I beg you, Excellency, let me make a final contribution to the church that has so generously allowed me to live and work in Terra Sancta, as close as modern man can get on this planet to our Savior's living presence. Trust me in this matter to defend the holy Church from injury."

  Cardinal Fornenti's surveyed those around the table, then slowly lifted a set of heavy eyelids, dropping his eyes upon the Dominican and saying, almost in a whisper, "Brother Benoit, we need time to contemplate and pray. I intend to bring this matter before the Holy Father later today. Return to your apartment, please. I will send you an answer. You understand that if you do not recover the document, we shall make changes in Bethlehem."

  Benoit bowed his head with deference, saying nothing.

  "It is possible that you'll be
back in the Holy Land by tomorrow."

  ***

  Since it was both available and easy to translate, Tim knew that Father Benoit would turn his attention immediately to the Greek scroll found along with the many fragments of parchment. For the same reason, the moment he booted up his new computer in Rav Schreiber's apartment, he printed a copy of this document from the DVD he had taken from St. George, determined to make it his first priority. His knowledge of Greek, studied as an undergraduate at Berkeley, had grown rusty once his interests were drawn to Hebrew and Aramaic texts. But by contrast, Rav Schreiber's familiarity with classical Greek almost equaled his understanding of the Semitic languages. In a friendly exchange, Tim and Schreiber agreed to prepare separate translations, then refine the inevitable differences between them. Their final draft, concerning the school at Ein Arugot, reflected closely the translation Father Benoit had made for the cardinals at the Vatican.

  A yeshiva in the Judean Desert? One destroyed by the Roman administration? This was something utterly new to Tim. He knew nothing about a school in the remote location called Ein Arugot in the hills somewhere west of Ein Gedi, and didn't think any other scholars did either. Nothing, to his knowledge, had been mentioned in archeological journals; a disclosure of this nature was something he definitely would have remembered. The subject would have instigated heated disputes. Tim's colleagues would have wanted to know what made this yeshiva the target of such Roman contempt. And why, with all the taxing duties facing Rome during the rule of Tiberius, was a remote wilderness school was so important? To these quandaries, Tim added a new one, perhaps more important than the others—what was this imperial decree doing in a Qumran cave, some thirty-five kilometers to the north of Ein Arugot? He could safely assume that a connection existed, but he wouldn't be able to figure it out until the Qumran fragments had been assembled and read.

  "What do you make of this?" he asked of the old man opposite him at the worktable they had set up for their collaboration.

  The rabbi made a whistling sound, as if to say "nothing important."

  Tim tried to engage him in speculation, but with little success. While Rome ruled when much of the Talmudic Mishna and Gemara were compiled, the history of imperial Rome was of little interest to him. With each question raised, Schreiber's eyes grew heavier with indifference, as though this groundbreaking text were little more than a royal order issued in medieval England or a Shiah fatwa in Iran, something wholly outside his sphere of concern.

  Tim put on his archeologist's hat: If he could pinpoint the yeshiva's probable location on a modern topographical map, it might be worth a visit. He would have liked to rent a car and make a preliminary survey of the location, but two thousand years of desert storms were certain to have buried the school's remains in sand and rubble, even if Legion Commander Digius Silban had failed to complete his destructive mission. Tim harbored no illusions about finding archeological artifacts, but just being in the vicinity was bound to stimulate his creative energies. His guess was that Jews hoping to escape the hammer of Roman rule in Jerusalem and Caesarea had attended the school. Perhaps they were religious purists, like the Essenes mentioned in other Dead Sea scrolls, men seeking the perfection of soul through monastic self-sacrifice.

  What Tim learned about this yeshiva at Ein Arugot made him want to work faster, but Schreiber's strength would not permit it. The more he pressed to assemble and decipher the fragments, the more the rabbi required frequent naps to restore his strength. During these intervals, Tim would take short walks to stretch his legs and clear book mold from his lungs.

  To minimize the number of people entering his apartment, Zechariah dismissed his Sephardic housekeeper and relied on Tim to shop for food and prepare their meals. Though Tim was an acknowledged master of many cuisines, none of his prior experience proved useful while preparing kosher meals according to old world traditions. When he was in the kitchen, Zechariah made a habit of hovering nearby to be certain he didn't violate kosher laws. To be supervised so closely was annoying, but Tim avoided hurting the old man's feelings by letting him have his way and producing unnecessarily greasy, over salted dishes.

  Two days after reading the Ein Arugot scroll, Tim sat down at his computer and typed out the address and phone number of his apartment on Ussishkin Street, along with an additional address in Chicago and Gabby's office number at the university. These he intended to give Rav Schreiber, along with the following letter:

  Dear Gabby,

  I have loved you from the day we met. You have brought sunshine into a life that, on its own, would have been dark and gloomy. For that wonderful gift I cherish you.

  By now, you must have sensed that a major change has occurred. I'm currently on a journey from which I cannot return. At the beginning, I was so caught up in discovering something of significance that I gave little thought to how dangerous this quest might become. Soon, you will know exactly where I have been, and you can judge for yourself whether it was worth it.

  Let me introduce you to Rabbi Zechariah Schreiber, who has helped me immeasurably with Fragments from the Dead Sea Scrolls. He deciphered the grammar and syntax that I could not. He is again assisting me on new fragments, recently taken from a cave at Qumran. If I should not survive this journey, please take the material he gives you and see that it is published in a scholarly manner. How this is accomplished will require sound judgment. And for that, you have my complete confidence. Additionally, please turn over all fragments you may find to the Antiquities Authority, to be added to the existing Dead Sea collection in the Shrine of the Book.

  From my assets, other than our Chicago home, see that Rabbi Schreiber receives what he needs to maintain himself and his beloved books for as long as he lives. If the publication of these fragments produces royalties, make certain that he receives no less than 50%, for without his knowledge the compilation of these fragments would not have happened.

  Love you, Timothy

  Tim printed out this note, along with Gabby's contact addresses, then sealed the results in an envelope with Rabbi Zechariah Schreiber's name handwritten on the outside.

  The following morning, after a breakfast of coffee and toast with peach preserves, Tim helped settle the rabbi at the worktable, then prepared himself to begin reading scans made at St. George. Before starting what both anticipated would be a long, laborious task, he passed the envelope with Schreiber's name on it across the table, announcing, "Rabbi, this is for you."

  Schreiber regarded the envelope, but made no attempt to open it.

  "If anything happens to me, here's contact information for my dear friend, Gabrielle Lewyn. She's a Reform rabbi. I know you don't approve of female rabbis, particularly Reform ones, and I won't ask you to change your mind about that. Since I have no standing in this family squabble, it would be audacious of me to intervene. I'm only asking you to please contact Rabbi Lewyn if anything happens to me. Give her everything we've worked on together. She's now completing a doctorate at the University of Chicago and will know what to do with our work."

  "You think something might happen?" the old man said, surprised by the thought.

  Tim enjoyed intellectual candor with Schreiber and replied, "You Jews have come to terms with your past. Christians are still struggling with theirs. Our history consists mostly of myth, not fact. Most Christians would not approve of what I am doing with these fragments because they won't like what they say. We have an old adage: 'When you don't like the message, kill the messenger.'"

  A twinkle lit up the rabbi's eyes as he tilted his head to the side youthfully. "But my dear Timothy, you're with me now. Nothing can hurt you here."

  "In your company, dear Rabbi, I feel in God's keeping. But that can't last. Put this envelope in a safe place, just in case."

  "Are you frightened?" he asked.

  Tim thought of Jesus and the trials he endured before crucifixion. "Yes. But this is the most important thing I've done in my life and I'm not turning back now."

  CHAPTER SIX
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  Security checks to enter the Israeli Knesset were stricter than Gabby had seen for entry into the U.S. Congress. A thorough body search by female guards. Three sets of electronic metal detectors. Everything carried into the building was carefully inspected, then re-inspected by another officer. And all this while she accompanied Major Zabronski, Itamar Arad, and his senior scientific deputy, Dr. Shmuel Navid. The four were escorted along corridors bustling with members of the Knesset in transit from one meeting to another, reminding her of the hallway in an American high school between classes. This was a particularly exasperating afternoon. News of a terrorist bomb on Mount Carmel by a team of suicide terrorists had been broadcast on the midday news. First reports attributed the deaths of nine Jewish and five Israeli Arab citizens to the attackers, a barbaric act that demanded an immediate response by the government. At that very moment, the cabinet was meeting to decide on a course of action. As usual, opposition to the prime minister's conciliatory response threatened to trigger a vote of no confidence in the government.

  Getting Deputy Prime Minister Zebulon Sonnenberg to see them had taken several days, during which Itamar and Zvi Zabronski confronted a series of his staff, insisting that no government official lower than the deputy PM would be suitable for the highly confidential information they needed to convey.

  Zebulon Sonnenberg's office was decorated with modern Swedish furniture. An attractive blond aide in a tight, body-revealing pantsuit told them that the minister was engaged in an important meeting and would join them as soon as possible. Four chairs were arranged in front of his desk. A second female aide, far less attractive than the first, offered them bottled fruit juices.

  Shmuel Navid retrieved from his briefcase a written report about Qumran for presentation to the deputy prime minister.

  While waiting, Zabronski took advantage of his time with Gabby to say, "It doesn't look good for Professor Matternly. We have the capability to trace just about every financial transaction in the country. It's expensive, but feasible. I decided to bite the bullet and spend some of the taxpayers' money to place a tracer request on Matternly's credit cards and, sure enough, we got a hit. Three days ago, your friend made a purchase with his American Express card here in Jerusalem. He bought an HP laptop, along with a printer and server with 1000 gigabytes of memory at ha-Digital, a computer store on Jaffa Road. Looks like he intends to do some heavy-duty computing. My guess, with documents taken from Qumran. I'm looking to you for help in this. What's he up to?"