~ ~ ~ | ~ ~ ~
“Hilarious.” “Delicious.” “Howling at the moon insane.” Jen and Kat vie for adjectives on the short ride to Kat’s flat, finally agreeing that jolly best sums up what they both deem to be a rather English experience.
~ ~ ~ | ~ ~ ~
Sarai returns to her flat also buoyed by conviviality, too high to consider sleep. Face reality, she tells herself. This can’t last, won’t last. You haven’t time for frivolity. You must anoint a successor. However, getting stressed won’t help. Relax. She places a fresh sheet of paper on her desk pad and picks up her gold and purple fountain pen. Only when the essence of her thought is committed to paper will she transfer words to her computer. A machine is not a suitable vehicle for the soul …
A Psalm of Sarai — Souls Made Flesh
In the beginning was Sophia,
and Sophia was in the embrace of the Ultimate One …
~ ~ ~ | ~ ~ ~
Jen tries to sound relaxed. “I hope you didn’t mind me phoning you, Sarai?”
“Of course not, Jen. I’m always happy to have a chat. And trust you to suggest one of my favourite streets for a cream tea,” she adds, taking in the charming New Regent Street surrounds. “What is it you want to talk about, Jen?”
“It’s Wilkin … I’m worried about him, Sarai. He’s changed.”
Sarai takes a spoon of strawberry jam from its little china pot and spreads it on her scone. “How has he changed?”
“He’s become distant. I know he has work worries. He won’t share them with me, but it’s more than that.”
“Things are not exactly smooth sailing with the University Council either, but I don’t think that’s what you mean. Remember though, Jen, stress is a cumulative thing, all worries add to the sum.”
“He has become a different person this year. I thought it was because he suddenly decided he wanted a child and expected it to happen immediately. I can understand his disappointment. I’m disappointed too, but I’m still hopeful. But he has given up. I can’t understand it. He’s talking about adoption. I don’t know what to think.”
“Adoption? That isn’t what I would have expected of Wilkin.”
“No, its not. I’ve considered adoption and I’m sure I could love a baby that wasn’t genetically mine, but I didn’t think Wilkin could. You said the bloodline is important to men but now I’m thinking genetics are important to me too.” She falters, looking distressed.
“Motherhood isn’t restricted to birth mothers, Jen. And there are connections as strong as those forged in the womb. Some birth mothers simply can’t keep their babies, for whatever reason. And some women that can’t give birth still can be mothers. But I am surprised your Wilkin is talking of adoption.” A tram load of tourists rumbles past. Jen notices Sarai is making a spiral pattern in the cream she is absent-mindedly layering over her jammed scone. “It doesn’t ring true to my understanding of Wilkin.”
“I’m wondering …” Jen twists a paper serviette between her hands. “He’s stopped wearing his wedding ring. I didn’t notice exactly when he stopped wearing it but he hasn’t worn it for months. I can’t ask why. I feel it could be symbolic. I’m wondering if he doesn’t want to make love to me any more — if he’s gone off me.”
Sarai clasps Jen’s hand across the table. “Oh Jen, my poor dear. I can’t see how that could be. You are a wonderful person. I’m sure you are a wonderful wife. You mustn’t think like that. Business worries do dreadful things to men. Keep on being the loving woman you are. Being patient is a strength not a weakness.”
Jen dabs her eyes with the serviette. Feeling sustained by comfort food and doubts shared, she can face moving to another topic.
“Why is it that you attend Pauline’s Sabbats, but don’t join in?” The question has bothered her for the past three weeks, since the Yule celebration.
“It’s usually Kat who asks the direct questions.” A soft smile sweeps across Sarai’s face, as she holds Jen’s eyes with hers. “I think you two are good for each other. She is helping you penetrate your reserve and you are helping her find depth.”
Jen wonders if Sarai is avoiding her question. “You must have a reason,” she persists.
“Pauline is a very close friend. Did you enjoy the Yule ritual?”
“Well, yes, I think I did, it was nice sharing a ritual with a group of women who care about the seasons. It felt right really, quite spiritual.”
“Yes, there is something very right about honouring nature and feeling the connection with the earthly and the divine. You will remember that I was born in Avebury, in the belly of the serpent — one of the most goddess-sacred places on Earth. From just a tot I felt pulled to understand the ancient symbols. The serpent avenues that enter and exit from Avebury represent a dual symbol, the body being phallus and the open mouth vulva. Avebury village is in the place of conception, the bridal Goddess. The West Kennet Avenue has a pattern of thin stones facing fat stones symbolising the Goddess as virgin and pregnant woman. Silbury is the Harvest Goddess giving birth, and the West Kennet Long Barrow is the Goddess as crone. The equinoctial alignment of Avebury’s holy sites suggests the ancients felt drawn to celebrations of spring and Lammastide.
“Lammastide?”
“Harvest … being Wiccan fitted well with these concepts. But the whole system is flawed. Though Wicca has its roots in the pre-Christian religions of Europe its ultimate origins are undocumented and the subject of debate. Modern Wiccan traditions were largely shaped by Gerald Gardner, who brought the Craft to public notice in the 1950s.”
“A man created the concept of Wicca?”
“But of course.” Sarai’s eyes twinkle with mischief, or possibly irony. “A modern-age Englishman. Wicca may have its origins in witches but it isn’t confined to females, it just has more appeal for women.”
“There’s something rather uncomfortable about a man designing rituals for women.”
“True enough, men are seldom able to escape being exclusively male. The male psyche promotes striving, hierarchy, and control. Such things filtrate even the best-intentioned covens. Control is imposed by either a single high priest/priestess or a paired priest and priestess. Like fundamentalism, for some Wicca has the answers, for others it is a process to be worked through. For the most part I enjoyed the journey but I can no longer be part of it.”
“What do Wiccans actually worship?”
“Wiccans are nature-based and honour many gods. Some orthodox Wiccans name their Ultimate One Prime Mover — terribly male. The feminists prefer Creatrix.”
“So, what is considered sacred?”
“Sacred to Wicca are the four elements: Earth, Fire, Air, and Water. In this Wicca bestows a healthy balance. Air and Fire are seen as masculine, and Earth and Water are perceived as feminine. But the most important fifth element is often forgotten.”
“Well, what is the fifth element?”
“Spirit - the sacred mystery that some Wiccans name Akasha and others Aether. Akasha operates through vibration, harmonising the other elements and is essential to our sense of connectedness and well being. Akasha invades all space, is the spectrum of colours, the very (added) breath of God. Akasha is neither male nor female, Akasha just is.”
Jen and Sarai hold each others gaze with easy intimacy, recognising their sharing is undefended and warm. Sarai continues. “As you know, Christianity has been an important part of my journey, I teach the Bible, for goodness sake! But, I have also enjoyed the Sufi wisdom stream and the Tao, and sampled others. I consider myself blessed by each tradition that embraced me, all have enhanced my life. However, the ways of religion and faith are no longer a home for me. We are nearing a time when I can explain these things to you in fullness, Jen. There are forces that transcend all of this with absolute completeness. I look forward to sharing this knowledge with you.”
~ ~ ~ | ~ ~ ~
22 — Genealogy
Tuesday, 14 July
Kat digs Jen in the ribs. “Sarai is using a walking stick.�
��
“Welcome to Women in Biblical Text part two,” says Sarai, looking around the class. “It’s good to see returning students from part one and it’s always interesting to meet new students. Welcome to you all.”
Faces scan the room, flickers of recognition passing between familiar ones. A new, not young, man sits at the far end of the front row. Triple D is centre front as usual, three older women sit beside her. Rochelle shares their row. Jake and Steve are in the back row with two new girls and a young Filipino couple. Jen is surprised Steve has returned. Why? she wonders. He didn’t seem interested and did minimal work. Iris Wong is missing and so is the Goth. Who else? Hana, and Philippa Tombs. Philippa’s absence is worrying. Has her father insisted she leave because Sarai is an embarrassment to the University Council? Is trouble brewing?
“The New or Second Testament,” Sarai is saying, “is very different to the First Testament. The First Testament is a disparate selection of Hebrew writings covering a time span of hundreds of years. The Second Testament was originally written in Greek, the lingua franca of the day. The writing is confined to a narrow time-span, the second half of the first century BCE, a time when much of the known world was under Roman occupation. Despite having different agendas the Second Testament cannot be appreciated without knowledge of the First.” Sarai pauses and considers the faces new-term attentive. She nods a welcome to the mature students.
Jen follows her gaze. They have 20 or 30 years on me, and look quite comfortable. No fear of them being hassled, not with three of them. Probably been attending leisure lectures for years, a way of enjoying retirement, on an educational kick to keep the little grey cells firing.
“Nowhere is the importance of the Hebrew connection more apparent than in the Gospel of Matthew. The evangelist known to us as Matthew is writing for a Jewish community possibly living outside Palestine. Presumably the congregation has admitted gentiles. Regardless, these Jews need connection with their Jewish roots. His work opens with a genealogy that begins with Abraham, the Father of the Jewish nation, and traces through the generations to Jesus the Christ. Of particular interest is the unusual inclusion of five women. Even more interesting is who Matthew chose to honour in this way and why. Can anyone name the women?”
The class remain still. “Ah,” says Sarai, “even avid Bible readers skip biblical genealogies, considering them boring. Strange really, when these same readers are likely to be very interested in their own family trees. Biblical genealogies can be fascinating.
“Matthew’s Christ genealogy is carefully balanced into groups of twice seven, separating pivotal events, providing, in Jewish understanding, an impeccably holy line. However, only a handful of the names listed match the Christ genealogy recorded, in reverse order, in Luke’s Gospel. You may delve into this mystery at your leisure. For now we turn our attention to the fascinating females recorded in Matthew chapter one. Matthew is keen to show connection to the great patriarchs but none of the women listed are matriarchs.”
She moves to the whiteboard, carefully leans her elegantly carved stick against the marker rack, and writes, Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, Bathsheba. “What do they have in common?’ Sarai waits. Brief murmurs and shrugs are exchanged. The new mature trio consult briefly and look elated. Sarai turns from drawing lines radiating from her list. “Your deductions?”
The delegated spokesperson from the senior huddle rushes her sentence with epiphanous joy. “They all had unusual marital experiences. Their relationships were all … tainted.” A blush creeps round her neck to the lobes of her ears.
“Kill me now,” hisses Kat, eyes rolling.
“You mean none were mainstream, traditional Hebrew matrons,” encourages Sarai. “What was tainted about Bathsheba?”
“She was ill-used by King David,” pipes up the second old duck. “He spied on her bathing and decided he wanted her. He took her, got her pregnant, and saw to it her husband was killed in battle so he could marry her.”
Sarai nods. “Ruth?”
The third old duck is keen to display her knowledge. “Ruth was a Moabitess, an alien in a foreign land. The Israelites hated the Moabites. Respectable Jews wouldn’t marry a Moabitess but kind Boaz didn’t care. He knew Ruth was a God-fearing woman.”
“Kind Boaz! Didn’t Ruth seduce him?” All eyes swivel to the back row. The comment is Steve’s.
So he does take it in, thinks Jen.
“Ruth didn’t lack initiative,” confirms Sarai, “and neither did the others. Ms Finley, can you remind us of Rahab’s occupation?”
“She was a harlot.”
“Contemporary English please?”
“A prostitute,” mumbles Rochelle.
“How do you see the character of this particular prostitute, Mr Paul?”
“She was no dumb blonde — she worked it so her family was spared from Joshua and his tooting, rooting merry men.”
“Mr Jones, can you add anything to this saga?”
“Rahab, the foreign prostitute, married a Hebrew and had his child.”
“Correct. Now, what about Tamar of Genesis, not to be confused with Tamar the raped daughter of David. Anyone?”
“She had twins by her father-in-law, Judah” supplies Rochelle.
“Why?”
“Her husband had died and she had no children, so she tricked him into it.”
“She was cheated,” puts in Darlene, “her father-in-law had promised Tamar that his second son would accept his brotherly responsibilities and give her a child but he …”
“Was a wanker,” supplies Steve.
“Didn’t want to,” continues Darlene firmly. “Judah promised Tamar that his youngest son would marry her when he was old enough but he married another. It was important to be married. Childless women were considered to be of no value in those days.”
“All the women are sinners,” interjects Rochelle.
“A narrow view, Ms Finley,” Sarai writes another name on the board: Mary. “The last female listed in Matthew’s whakapapa. A concept of sin would not aid Matthew’s cause. He was presenting examples of higher righteousness. The women of his genealogy did not act according to the social mores of their times but they were strong individuals who made the most of their situation.”
The class wait expectantly. “Matthew’s theology is delivered through story. He begins at the beginning, as he sees it. To the male, lineage is important. Matthew chooses known ‘historical’ women to question the insidious rumours circulating concerning the birth of Jesus. If sexual impropriety was involved, there were precedents — God uses all kinds of people, including women and non Jews. Matthew is giving recognition to the powerless. As our friends in the front row reminded us none of these women were in traditional marital relationships. But there is more, each of the fascinating females has significant status in Jewish history. Judah was one of the twelve sons of Israel, a founder of a tribe. His name came to define a county, Judah, and a nation, the Jews. Tamar was blessed with twins, indicative of abundant descendants. Rahab played a role in gaining the Promised Land. Ruth was remembered as a founding mother in the House of David and Bathsheba was the mother of Solomon, the nation’s most impressive king. But Matthew’s inclusion does more than connect with Hebrew history. It suggests that the final name on the list, Jesus who is called the Christ, values women and does not require purity of race or role. Matthew indicates permission for females to be leaders in the emerging Christian church.”
Jen and Kat exchange brief, back-to-the-grind pleasantries with Darlene and Rochelle then turn toward Sarai’s office. The three old ducks are in the foyer. “Hello, Jen and Kat,” they ambush. Good God, both ejaculate silently, Wiccans. They are indeed three members of Pauline’s coven, and embarrassingly they cannot put names to any of them.
“Well, hullo, fancy meeting you here,” says Kat.
“Good morning,” Jen says brusquely, “you must excuse us. We have an engagement.” She walks on.
“What’s up your bum, bitchy?” pokes Ka
t, catching her up.
“Well really, why are they here?” snaps Jen.
Sarai expresses delight in welcoming Kat and Jen back to her study for an over-the-tea-cups catch-up. They ask about the stick. She dismisses it as old age, bits wear out, just rheumatism. The jug boils and Jen stands. “Let me do the honours.”
Kat has also risen to her feet.
Sarai’s smile morphs to another expression, her eyes flick from Jen to Kat. “Kat, do you have some news to share?”
Pauline hasn’t told her, Kat thinks with surprise. She caresses the slight curve. “Yes, Sarai, it’s not junk food.”
“How do you feel about this?”
“It wasn’t intended but I’m coping.”
Sarai stays lost in her own thoughts until roused by the mug of tea Jen presents. Her eyes bore into Jen. “You knew, didn’t you, Jen. How do you feel?”
“Unplanned pregnancy is difficult … I wish it was me.”
Sarai lapses into a silence that lasts so long Jen rakes over the lecture in search of a relieving comment. “Sarai, what did you mean when you said the murky circumstances surrounding the birth of Jesus?” For a moment Jen thinks her ploy to engage Sarai is going to fail but Sarai can’t resist a theological question.
Slowly she raises her eyes to Jen’s and says wearily, “Think about it, Jen. Mark, the first Gospel written, includes no birth story. Fact: there is no interest in the birth of an ordinary person unless an ordinary person becomes important. No matter who leads a political cause the opposition search for scandal, and supporters do all they can to conceal any possible scandal. By the time Matthew and Luke were compiling their material unpleasant rumours concerning the origins of Jesus were circulating. Virgin births were two a penny in the mythologies of ancient gods and pharaohs. Anyone really important merited a spectacular birth story … the most widely accepted theory is Mary was raped.”
“Who by?” demands Jen, visibly shocked.
“Possibly a Roman soldier, who knows? Mary chose not to be a victim.”
League of Lilith, The: A thriller with soul Page 27