by Elik Katzav
The young ones disperse.
Is this the guy Conroy wanted me to see? Surely there is some mistake.
One of the rabbi’s young disciples returns with a hamper, out of which he produces sandwiches and a bottle of water. The rabbi grabs one and gestures me to join him.
One of the most bizarre situations I’ve ever experienced. This ‘rabbi’ might give me a lesson on meditation and healing through tarot, for all I know, before he could help me out with anything. What a waste of time. It was such a waste of my time to get here.
“Father Conroy told me about you nearly a year ago.”
- Yeah. I’ve been busy.
“It’s fine. These things do take time. Please feel free to tell me how I can be of help to you.”
Well, he’s not about to have me committed, so what harm could talking to him do?
I share the entire ordeal with him. I tell him the whole story from Nazareth and everything onwards, trying my hardest to skip the period after my discharge and the dire straits I have been in ever since.
At some point, the rabbi reclines over his pillows, takes a deep puff on his weed, and nods here and there as I recount my experience. He stops me and asks questions, and when we get to the point of what happened at the cave, he notes the names and terms of what went down there and provides explanations. He simplifies things, and not only that: he makes sense of this unreasonable and irrational trauma that befell me.
I feel relieved when I am done. I am filled with a sense of release.
Now someone else knows, but he isn’t judging me.
“That’s some story, man! Amazing!”
- Amazing enough to have me put away… Well, almost!
I attempt a laugh.
“You’re stronger than you think. I, who am familiar with the occult, with the world beyond the veil, believe you. Wholeheartedly. I am with you, man.”
The techno music outside the window resumes. He shakes his head in unison with the music and takes another puff from his soon to be finished cigar.
“Those people outside, they do not understand us. They do not know what we know, they’ve never seen what you have seen. You experienced something that should have stripped you of your senses, made you lose your mind, and yet, here you are, not only lucid, but even attempting to contain this, come to terms with what had happened, without any tools to do so.”
I don’t know whether it’s the things he’s saying or the weed smoke that’s making my head lighter, but I find myself bowing my head down, looking at myself. I begin to tear up.
- Thank you, but I don’t think I am coping very well.
He lays his hand on my shoulder. “So far, you’ve handled everything all by yourself, but now you are no longer alone, man. I am here. I can also tell you what I think is about to happen, not only what did happen. Anything you need, man. We’re in this together; it’s us against the whole world.”
I wipe my tears off. It has been quite a few months since Nazareth. I’ve spoken with people who were close to me, people I shared things with, and it’s the first time I am crying.
What a release. And for what? All he did was tell me I wasn’t alone any more. That’s all it took for me to unload all those pent up feelings. I have got to pull myself together. This isn’t me. I do not cry, let alone in front of total strangers.
I still do not dare hold my head high, lest my eyes meet his.
“Never mind how long it took. The important thing is that here you are.”
I get a grip in a second.
- Well, yes and no. Coming here today wasn’t an impulsive decision. Father Conroy had me come to you. He was right there with me. He knows what I’ve gone through. He didn’t send me here to you just on a whim. I trust him.
I take a deep breath. Then, I proceed to tell the rabbi what happened next, beginning with my search for Idan until the museum at Ashkelon and the robbery.
I show Rabbi Datan the photos from the museum. His face turns somber.
“The ‘shell,’ as it is described in the literature, is the remnants of the ‘tools’ that used to contain divine energy. They burst and shattered into countless shards at the moment of creation. I won’t bother you with the details. Suffice it to say certain streams in Kabbalah refer to these ‘shells’ as ‘sparks,’ remainders of divinity, and therefore attribute power to them. Now,” the rabbi points at the photos from the museum, “are you sure this is the same matter, let’s call it ‘entity’ for now, that made a declaration concerning the material at the cave?”
- As far as I can be sure; the description from Doron, the museum curator’s assistant, is perfectly in line with what that entity had said.
Rabbi Datan nods. “This ‘entity’ has six black wings made of smoke. With all that electricity around him, which is a trait I didn’t explain to you before, it would seem he’s a kind of fallen angel, someone who had lost his sanctity, his piety, and was condemned to spend the rest of eternity among us humans.”
- He really did mention he was living among us, but he also said that now, thanks to the shell, he can finally break free.
“Yes. Had he succeeded, had he, well, let’s say, managed to ‘charge’ himself with enough divine energy, he would have been able to muster the full extent of his power.”
- Which is?
I cannot believe I am having this discussion about the so-called “full extent of a demon’s power”. Ludicrous!
“Well, according to Kabballah and additional commentators, he would be capable of anything from time travel to actually returning to heaven.”
- So what happened to him?
“He probably expended more energy than he had ‘charged,’ rendering him in a kind of situation where he lost control over his corporeal body. I cannot really say for certain. No one actually knows. No one has ever been in this situation.”
- How many demons like him exist?
I shudder as I ask him that.
Rabbi Datan takes another deep puff from his joint. “Of his ‘kind?’ Dozens, according to the literature that describes them. How many are actually present in this world? Nobody knows. To begin with, no one knew for certain whether they even truly existed outside the books that mention them, and you proved they do! They are not the stuff of lore, so I think there could be hundreds, thousands even, of various demons with all sorts of traits and abilities.”
I point to the photo of the man lifting Dagon’s statue and carrying it away.
- So this guy here, could he be another kind of entity, yet another form of a ‘fallen angel?’
“I do not believe that is the case. Fallen angels have actually become demons. They possess the greatest power. There are many creatures of malice inferior to them.”
Rabbi Datan rises from his bed of cushions, with great effort, pain and grunting, I must say. He straightens his white robe and walks over, still barefoot, to the pile of books on the floor behind him. He bends over and rummages through them. Eventually, he pulls out a thin book bound in a white cover. He plunges back into his pillows and lays the book open on his thighs. Next, he opens a Torah right beside him, finds a passage in Genesis six—verses one through four—and reads it out to me:
“And it came to pass, when men began to multiply on the face of the earth, and daughters were born unto them, / That the sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were fair; and they took them wives of all which they chose. / And the Lord said, My spirit shall not always strive with man, for that he also is flesh: yet his days shall be an hundred and twenty years. / There were giants in the earth in those days; and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bore children to them, the same became mighty men which were of old, men of renown.”
Rabbi Datan then reaches for the white book, the Book of Enoch, and reads out a similar passage that elaborates on the verses in Genes
is, recounting how those “men of renown” stood so tall and consumed so much game and fowl that the Earth could not support them. He then shuts the book and raises his head towards heaven, after which he turns to me.
- So? The demon is a kind of giant?
“Lore tells us of ‘Nephilim,’ giants, sired by those ‘sons of God.’ They had angels’ blood. Well, they did not all die the same way. Some of them kept procreating. Their line, I believe, has survived to this day. I truly believe there are people among us who possess the same genetic makeup of those angels, aka ‘sons of God.’ I, at least, am of the opinion that it stands to reason that in certain cases, the combined gene pool could produce a person whose potential can be triggered, put into effect. More often than not, this potential is not actualized, so for generations their genetic heritage changes. But, when all the necessary conditions come together, this miracle does come to pass, and this person does live up to his or her potential.”
He takes a breath and continues.
“Certain painters who produced masterpieces, people with extraordinary musical abilities without any prior guidance or training, natural-born leaders who sprang forth out of sheer circumstances, all this and more could be considered part of those abilities that the people with ‘angelic spark’ might possess.”
- But the traits you just described are mental. They have to do with people’s minds, whereas in this case we are witnessing immense physical strength.
“The construction of the pyramids,” the rabbi answers as he leans back on his cushions and stretches his arm to grab another book behind him, “The Israelites toiled and bore hard labor for generations, but despite their conditions, they built entire cities and took part in the construction of the pyramids,” he opens the book he took from the pile behind him and shows me an image of ancient Egypt.
- So what you are saying is that even back then, some people possessed such physical strength they could simply lift these huge slabs and carry them, one after the other, in the process of building the pyramids?
“That is certainly a possibility,” he lays the picture of the man carrying Dagon’s statue on top of the book. “It is quite probable that the physical strength this here thief obviously possesses is akin to the very same strength that the ancient Israelites had when they built the pyramids back then.”
- OK, so who sent him? Who could have possibly known about his abilities and charged him with that robbery? The very fact that this guy had to look up the list of specific artifacts he was told to steal shows he must have been working for someone.
The rabbi leans back again and puffs his cigar for a while before he answers me.
“Well, chances are you are right. You seem to be up against something or someone who not only knows about the shells, but even took the trouble of tracking a giant, one of those ‘Nephilim,’ to steal them from the museum for him. So this person behind all this not only knows about these ‘Nephilim,’ those ‘sons of God,’ he even knows what he’s doing when he makes someone steal the shells from Ashkelon.”
Chapter 25
I leave Rabbi Datan with mixed emotions.
It all sounds so unreal, so out of this world. Had I not experienced it for myself, I would have snickered at these tall tales. Nevertheless, he was on the level. He spoke frankly and set my mind at ease, giving me a sense of clarity, something that makes me feel my experiences do make sense after all, thanks to the things Rabbi Datan believes in, as he laid them out to me.
I don’t know whether it’s the fumes from the weed talking, or whether it was him telling me he knows what I was talking about and sharing those bits of lore with me that made the difference. Well, at least I know I am not alone in this.
Hey, at least there is one other person who wasn’t there and believes me all the same. Besides, at least he didn’t try to have me committed.
Now I need to return to Savyon for another round of questions I have to put to Eldad.
The drive over there passes quickly. The air coming through the car windows clears my head of all that smoke.
I park at a good spot at the end of Hagiv’a Street and walk over to Eldad’s mansion. The gate is locked so I ring the bell.
“Yes?” Meir sounds tough and curt.
- David Maharani to see Eldad. We met yesterday concerning that missing child.
The line goes dead for a while, but then Meir retorts, “Mr. Ben Ya’ar is receiving treatment at the moment. He sends word there is nothing more for him to add.”
- But I do have something to add. I have no problem waiting.
Silence.
“Eldad says there’s nothing new for him to tell you and there is no point to your hanging around. He is flying abroad tomorrow for a series of treatments in France, so he needs to conserve his energy. Once he’s back, you can contact him again and schedule a proper meeting in advance.”
- When is he coming back?
“Within three to six weeks, depending on how successful the treatment might be.”
I do not have three to six weeks. Idan doesn’t have three to six weeks.
- Tell Eldad I know about Dagon. Time to go fishing.
Long pause. They probably still haven’t decided whether to let me in or shoot me.
“Mr. Ben Ya’ar will see you now,” Meir says, not even trying to hide his irritation.
The gate opens and I quickly make my way down the path to the house.
The gardener’s truck is still there. It’s facing the exit. The back is filled with crates. I pass close to it. Yuval is watching me getting closer.
- Good evening. I am here to see Eldad.
“I know what you’re here for,” he looks me over. “You know the protocol. Electronics and weapons,” he produces a black bag and opens it, waiting for me to place my stuff there.
Yuval practically gives me a physical and then motions for me to get in.
“Wait here,” he leaves me at the same hall where I waited last time and goes through the door to Eldad’s study. The room looks different now: a set of three large suitcases by the entrance, complete with a row of crates filled with medical supplies. But I do not succeed in getting closer, since Yuval summarily returns and makes a gesture, signaling for me to follow him.
“I don’t know what it is you’ve told Eldad that got you back in here, but you’ve got five minutes, after which we’ll clear you out. Eldad is on the verge of going away on a critical visit abroad, so he needs his rest.”
I nod in agreement.
- It won’t take more than five minutes.
He opens the door to Eldad’s office and motions for me to get in.
Eldad’s study looks different too: boxes filled with books by the door and the paperwork on his desk all neatly boxed in a small crate by the side of the table.
Eldad is still sitting in that wheelchair of his.
He appears to have been sitting there the whole time since we last met.
This time, too, he gives me a sign to take my seat across from him.
I can see the sun through the window behind him as it sets, painting the entire garden somber red.
“Yes,” he notices my gaze, “I used to hold some of my meetings in that garden. Being surrounded by nature softens people up, helps make them more amenable, makes it easier to reach cordial understandings.
- Lovely garden. Must be a lot of work.
“Well, I’ve got people for all that. But you didn’t come here to discuss my garden. I’m going away to France tomorrow, for another series of treatments that just might give me renewed hope.”
- Right you are, I didn’t come about the garden. I am still looking for that missing boy and I was wondering whether there was anything new you or your staff might be able to tell me.
“No, nothing new. I still haven’t heard anything new. Sad case. Really sad. But you did mention in your conversat
ion with Meir something about Dagon. Is it possible that you might have some information about the robbery of Dagon’s statue from the Khan Museum at Ashkelon? I took the news of that robbery particularly hard, seeing as I sponsored the excavation and made sure all the findings went to the museum.”
- Oh? Yes, you know about the robbery, of course you do.
This caught me off guard.
“I certainly do. I also donated the money to construct a new wing to house the artifacts and display them to the public. Everything that has to do with the history of our country is of immense importance to me.”
- OK, I got you. It’s just that my investigation led me to the museum, where I learned about the robbery. I now notice the statues on your desk here, so I assume there’s a connection.
“I don’t follow: your investigation of a missing child led you to the robbery of the museum? How could the two be related?”
- Well, the boy did search the history of the Khan Museum. Then, I heard about the robbery on the news. The two are not related. The boy must have looked up the museum for some school work.
“I see,” Eldad acquiesces. My answer, hesitant though it is, seems to have set his mind at ease. “So,” he says, “school paper? Sounds reasonable. I only wish it would have gotten you closer to finding the boy. But now, if there’s nothing more, do excuse me, I have a long trip to prepare for, I really must-” he’s breathing heavily.
- Once again, thanks for your time. I sincerely hope the journey will help you.
As I get up, I nearly raise my arm to shake his hand, but I recall that he can’t really shake hands; but then, time seems to freeze as I see, through the window, walking in the garden, amid the dusk that’s just beginning to set in, Eldad’s gardener, wearing a cap, holding a large sack, not on his back, but carrying it in his arms stretched forward, exactly the same way the guy who robbed the museum was holding Dagon’s statue...
- It’s him!
I leap forward, trying to get across the desk, overtake Eldad and make it the window. But I bump into the edge of his chair.
But how could that be? Eldad would have to be very quick to see me coming and push his chair to the window and block me, but how is that be possible? He can barely move?!