Light (18 page)

The first thing that Shmueli saw when he
opened his eyes was the variegated green canopy above his head.  It made no
sense and then he realised that he was looking up towards the leafy crown of an
oak tree.  He was lying on something hard, something most uncomfortable.  There
were slats, fixed close together.  That was when he realised what it was: a
bench; a park bench, but why?

He tried to concentrate.  He knew he had
to collect his thoughts.  What could he remember?  That cake.  That horrible
birthday cake.  That’s right, it was his birthday.

No, that was yesterday, but what about
last night?  It was just one great blur.  Some people had been coming to see him. 
That’s right, but who were they?  He could not remember Well, now, wherever he
was, it was daylight.  The sun was shining brightly.  A beautiful day in fact.

And then something interrupted his
thoughts.  A sudden cry, an animal noise that sounded like the bleating of a
goat or the baaing of a sheep.

There was another; a squawk.  Where on
earth was he?  It sounded like a farm or a zoo.

Nothing made sense, and then, as he sat up
and looked about, it clicked.  This was Golders Hill Park; it had to be.  It
was a place he had visited on several occasions when he was younger.  It had
always been renowned for its collection of animals but recently the local
council had gone to great lengths to beautify the place.  They had done a
marvellous job; providing sheltered walks, a magnificent water garden and they
had improved upon the small zoo to make the park a real haven for tired
north-west Londoners.

Which did nothing to explain why he was
here.

Too many strange things had been happening
recently.  Nothing seemed to make sense any more.  Shmueli was just so
confused.  If only Rabbi Tashlich was here to explain things to him.

That’s it.  Rabbi Tashlich.  He would know
what to do.  Of course he would.  He would set off immediately.

When Shmueli finally arrived at the
Rabbi’s home he was disappointed to learn from a strangely nervous Chava
Tashlich that her husband had gone out and that she had no idea when he would
be returning.  She invited him inside but Shmueli had the feeling that she was
glad to see the back of him.  He wondered why.  Anyway, there was no point
going in if the Rabbi was not there.  He would return later.

Feeling thoroughly downhearted Shmueli was
soon plodding along the busy Golders Green Road staring uncomprehendingly at
the rusty tones of the brickwork of buildings as he passed them.  He became
aware purely of colour without form.  Browns, ochres, yellows and reds. 
Nothing seemed to have any meaning as he tried to understand his predicament. 
A whole slice of time had disappeared.  Where had it gone?

‘Shmueli.’

He looked up to see only the golden shine
of a summer’s day.  There was no-one there.

‘Shmueli.  Listen to me.  I can help
you,’
continued the still, small voice, full of warmth.

‘Who are you?  Where are you?’

‘Do not ask questions.  I am a friend.’

Yes, that had to be true.  The glow of
warmth was so comforting.  Could this be an angel?

‘Yes, that’s right.  I am your guardian
spirit.’

His guardian angel.  Rabbi Tashlich had
explained that we all have angels to help us through times of trouble.  What
more natural time for his to appear than now.

‘Can you help me?’

‘Of course I can help you but you must
trust me.  You do trust me?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good.  I will guide you.  Come we must
go somewhere where we can talk undisturbed.’

‘The others are working.  We’ll go to my
home.’

‘Good.’

Soon they were back at the student house. 
As Shmueli had predicted, they would be quite undisturbed.  If only he could
see the spirit.  It felt so strange to be speaking to something that was not
really there.  If anything the voice seemed to come from within him.

‘Do you remember what happened last
night?’

‘No...’

‘But you remember who wanted to see
you.’

‘No.’

‘Think, Shmueli, think.  Who have you
been warned against who wants to speak with you?’

‘I don’t kn...’

‘Think,’
the spirit insisted,
‘He
already met with you once.  You turned him away.’

And then he remembered.  Professor
Benjamin Tiferet.  Was he the one who did this to him?

‘Yes.  He is your enemy.  You must keep
away from him.’

‘Yes, yes, I know.  I understand.’

‘He stole your Kiddush becha; took its
stone.  You must get it back.’

‘Yes.’

‘I will soon tell you what to do.  Tell
no-one.  Not even Rabbi Tashlich.’

‘Not even Rabbi Tashlich?’

‘Trust me.’

‘Yes.’

‘Not even Rabbi Tashlich.  Do you
understand?’

‘I understand.’

‘Then go to your bed and sleep.  I will
call you when I need you.  Go.’

…………………………………………

Rabbi Tashlich for his part was conducting
his own investigations.  He had reached the Linford house where Hester Linford
greeted him.  She seemed ill at ease. 

‘Mrs Linford.  I’m Rabbi Tashlich.  I
wonder if you can help me.’

‘Help you?’ replied the imposing woman but
Tashlich was not one to be intimidated.

‘Yeah.  One of my students has gone
missing.  Your daughter used to know him.’

‘You mean Sam, don’t you?  You’d better
come in.’

He suppressed his surprise.  Did she know
something?  There were things happening that needed careful investigation.

Tashlich found himself ushered into the
opulent lounge and sat on the leather Chesterfield.  The Linfords were not
lacking when it came to the material things in life.

‘May I offer you a coffee?’

‘No, thank you.  (No point explaining
about the laws of
kashrut
that meant that he could eat or drink nothing
without knowing that everything in the house was strictly kosher)  Mrs Linford;
Shmueli…, Sam’s gone missing.’

‘I know.’

‘You know?’

‘Yes, so has my daughter.’

‘But...’

‘Have you heard of a Professor Tiferet?’

The Rabbi had to hold back his temper.  Tiferet,
Tiferet.  There had to be a reason that he wanted Shmueli and this non-Jewish
girl.  What was he up to?  He had to know.

‘So what’s Tiferet doing?’

‘It’s difficult to explain.’

‘Well, tell me from the beginning.’

And Tashlich listened with increasing
incredulity to the story that Hester Linford had to tell.  Kabbalah, mysticism,
they were disciplines that he had studied but he was in no way an expert; far
from it.  One thing, however, was clear.  He had been wrong about Tiferet.  It
seemed that the
apicorus
might well be doing the right thing for a
change.

The Rabbi knew that he needed help.  What
was happening here was far beyond his wisdom and, as he listened, he thought
who might be able to clear up the mystery.  Almost immediately one name came to
mind.  His own Rabbi back in New York.  He would e-mail Rabbi Elston as soon as
he returned home.

‘I think,’ he told Hester, ‘That I might
know someone who can help.  I’ll let you know.’

As the Rabbi drove back he tried to make
sense of what he had learnt.  The Urim and the Tumim.  It was all so
fantastic.  Some terrifying dream-beast.  Where would it end?  And this talk of
other worlds.  It was straight out of Jewish folk-lore.  Could there be any
truth in it?

On arrival he headed straight up the
stairs to his study and sat down before his PC.  He was soon preparing his
e-mail message and was just about to send it when Chava knocked on his door. 
She told him of the earlier visit from Shmueli.

‘And you let him go?’

‘Well, I could hardly keep him prisoner.’

‘But, where is he now?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Didn’t you ask him where he went?’

‘No.  Why should I?’

He grabbed for his mobile phone and keyed
in Shmueli’s number.  It was answered almost immediately and he told Shmueli
that he was going to collect him right away.

Leaving the computer he ran down the
stairs.  He could always send the message when he returned.  If Shmueli was
back, then he would be confused and would need all the help he could get. 
Tashlich just hoped that he would be all right.  If he guessed right Shmueli
had experienced something that was outside the norm and he would be needing
emotional support.  The Almighty alone could know the trauma that young man had
been facing.

Before long he had returned with Shmueli
but there was nothing more he could learn from the boy.  Shmueli hardly had any
memory of what had happened to him.  Just like his flatmates he seemed to have
been hypnotised.  Maybe a hypnotherapist could unlock his memories.

So Tashlich arranged for Shmueli to spend
the night and told his student to make himself comfortable.  Even with five
children the Rabbi still had one spare room and Shmueli could use it.  In the
meantime he still had an e-mail to send.

As he walked into his study he was
immediately aware of how chill the room felt.  If he had been superstitious he
would have called it a presence, but nothing seemed out of place.  Maybe it was
just his nerves, after all that he had learned.  It was enough to give anyone
the shakes.

He sat down before the computer and looked
at the screen-saver pictures of candlesticks and matzos that danced across his
monitor.  He touched the keyboard and waited for the images to vanish.  Then he
could send the message.

There it was.  Tashlich checked the
message.  It was fine.  And then something very curious happened.  One by one
the letters on the screen began to drop down and vanish.

‘No!’

But it was clear what had happened.  A
computer virus.  It had to be.  It could not have chosen a worse time to hit. 
In desperation he began to attack the keys but it was obvious that it was all
in vain.  Nothing worked.  He had fallen victim to some prankster’s joke. 
Still, all was not lost.  He could always telephone Rabbi Elston.  It was well
into the afternoon here which meant that it was about noon in New York.

It was as he pressed the abbreviated dial
button that he realised that the line was dead.  That was crazy.  Computer
viruses could not possibly affect the phone.  Well, he could always use the
mobile.  But no.  It was reading that the network was unavailable.

This did not make sense.  It was almost as
if all lines of communication had been barred to him.  Angrily he stormed
downstairs.

‘Chava,’ he called, ‘I’m going out.  I’ll
be back in a few minutes.’

There was no reply.  Still, there was no
time to waste.  He would go next door.  They wouldn’t mind him borrowing their
phone.  But no.  Their phone was also dead.  It had to be the line.  Well,
there was a box in Golders Green Road.  He would try that one.  Call the
engineers whilst he was at it.

He began to walk...and then a thought rose
unbidden to the surface of his mind.  What if this was all a trick to get him
out of the house?  He was leaving Shmueli alone.  He was being a complete
idiot.

Instantly, he turned about and headed back
the way he had come.  That dream creature Mrs Linford had told him about.  Did
she not say that it could do anything?

A cloud passed overhead, blotting out the
sun.  Strange how grey everything suddenly seemed.

As ridiculous as it was the thought would
not leave.  If Mrs Linford was right then some kind of mystical force had been
released and it might well be annoyed at his interference.  Maybe, he was to be
the victim rather than Shmueli.  He was investigating it after all.

How cold it had become.

It looked like it was going to rain.  The
weather had really changed for the worst.  Rabbi Tashlich began to run.

What was that?

A hint of movement.

He turned his head.

There was nothing there.

Nothing tangible.

He had to curb these attempts by his
imagination to unnerve him.

But what if it wasn’t his imagination?

There it was, his home.  He was standing
before the gate. 
Boruch Hashem
.  Everything was okay.

He walked towards the front door.  It
looked old, unpainted.  A trick of the light.  It had to be.

He inserted his key in the lock.  It
didn’t want to fit.

Come on.  This was just his nerves.

He managed it and gently pushed open the
door.

Drowning.

He had to fight to breathe.

It was as if his lungs were bursting.

Coughing, spluttering.  It was all he
could do.

Water everywhere.  It was within him,
outside him, everywhere.

Gagging, choking, suffocating.  Struggling
to empty his gut of the liquid he retched.  Water rose from his lungs.  He
coughed it out.  Cleared his airways, stretched from the foetal position and
looked about himself.

He was alive.

He was lying on lush grassland under a
clear sky of brilliant sapphire.  Where, he did not know, nor, for that matter,
did he know who he was.  For some strange reason that simple fact did not worry
him.  All that concerned him now was a sheer joie-de-vivre.  Yes, he was alive.

He stood up, feeling tall, proud; a man
with a mission, yet he did not know what that mission was.  Inside he was wound
up like a clockwork spring with every muscle supple and ready for action.  He
had a purpose.  Soon he would learn what that purpose was.

He walked forward across a meadow of high
uncut grass and reached a gravel path.  He revelled in the warmth.  He drew
strength from the ether.  It felt wonderful to be alive, so good, so
rewarding.  Nothing could harm him.  The world was his and every experience he
would face would increase his strength and resolve.  Now all that he could do
was to learn and absorb the knowledge he knew would be imparted to him.

The path wound about itself, meandering
across the countryside and snaked up a hill upon which stood a large stone
structure.  It was a building of some sort and the man knew that this was his
destination.  It was rough, built by a mason without skill, but it was still
functional with two storeys and a green tiled roof.

He approached the door and banged the iron
knocker against the striker plate.

An old and stooped two headed servant
opened the door.

‘Welcome.  We have been expecting you. 
Enter.’

He nodded in greeting knowing that
everything that was happening was part of a greater plan that would have
meaning for him if he had patience.  He followed the old fellow through a
hallway into a large roughly furnished room that seemed to be an auditorium. 
There were two ancient wooden thrones like the seats of some forgotten monarchy
and, between them, a podium and, at the far end of the room, a maroon velvet
hanging curtain.  It was a layout with which the man knew he should have been
familiar but for now that familiarity eluded him.  Somehow that lack of
knowledge did not concern him however.

On one of the chairs sat an old man;
another twin headed person who appeared to have been old even when the world
was young.  His faces were lined and weathered; his beards, long and grey, but
his deep blue eyes twinkled mischievously as he smiled at his visitor.

‘You are welcome here, Man of Heled.  Are
you ready to begin your studies?’

The man nodded, knowing that this was what
he was here to do.

‘Good.  Itzi will find you suitable
attire.  Have you said your prayers today?’

The man shook his head.

‘No, I thought not.  We shall say the
Afternoon Service together, Man of Heled but first we must give you a name.’

The sage paused as he considered and then
he announced his decision.

‘You are Adam.  The first man.  Does that
find favour in your eyes?’

The man assented.  Adam was his name; it
gave him an identity.

‘Well, Adam.  I am the Haham.  You are
here to learn.  You have been purged of all your mortal thoughts and desires by
the waters of forgetfulness.  When you leave me you will know who you truly
are.

‘Are you ready to begin your journey?’

‘I am ready,’ Adam found that he knew
exactly what to say almost as if he had learnt his lines from a script.

‘What is it you wear upon your hand?’

‘A ring.’

‘In that ring is mounted one of the Stones
of Judgement.  You must learn how to utilise that stone.  You must become a
High Priest of the House of Israel.  Are you prepared to accept that role?’

‘I am.’

‘Then, go with Itzi and change into the
garments he provides for you.  When you are appropriately dressed return to me
and we will daven Mincha
^[18]
. 
I will teach you.’

The man called Adam followed the servant,
Itzi, to a small bedroom that was sparsely furnished in an ascetic style. 
There was a mattress on the floor and a wooden chest for his clothes.  By the
mattress was a small cabinet on which sat an oil lamp and a book.  On the bed
was a black silk open robe that tied at the waist and a large skull cap.  He
undressed to his underwear and was about to put on the robe when Itzi
interrupted him.

‘Wait.’

‘Put on the kippa first.’

Adam picked up the skull cap and placed it
on his head.  Then Itzi passed a rectangular linen garment into which a central
hole had been cut and from which a knotted string hung at each corner.  Adam
regarded it with curiosity.

‘Wear this first.’

Adam placed the simple cloth over his head
as instructed and then dressed in the robe.  He tied the sash and followed Itzi
back to the main hall in which the Haham stood at the podium facing the
curtain.  Behind him were seven other young men, all similarly attired. 
Immediately, the Haham began to pray aloud from a leather-bound book.  Taking
his cue from Itzi and the others, Adam responded Amen in the appropriate places
until some half an hour later the service was at an end.

‘Tomorrow, you shall learn to pray
properly.  For now you must begin to study.

‘Itzi, take Adam to the Talmud Torah.  I
will assign him a
chaver
^[19]
.’

Adam followed Itzi to another large room
full of desks, against each of which were two chairs facing each other.

‘Wait there.’

Adam complied.

Soon the other students filed into the
hall led by the Rabbi and one of them was directed to sit opposite Adam.  He
was a small man with a happy, slightly lopsided face on one of his heads.  The
other head had identical features but contoured into a permanent scowl.

‘Shalom Aleichem,’ greeted the smiling
face and Adam replied, ‘Aleichem Shalom,’ without knowing how he knew the
words.  ‘I’m called Heskel,’ continued the student, ‘And this silent fellow is
Meskel.’

Adam nodded in greeting.

‘I’ve been assigned to be your partner,
your
chaver
.  I’ve made a study of your world.  There’s so much I would
ask if you had your memory.  You remember nothing do you?’

Adam shook his head.

‘The Haham insists on it.  He will not
train anyone unless their minds are clear.  He says that he likes to work on a
clean slate.  When he is ready he will return your memory to you.’

‘He can do that?’

‘Of course.  He is the Haham.’

‘But,’ and Adam found it difficult to
choose his words.  The concept he was searching for was hidden deep in the
recesses of his mind.  ‘Is that moral?’

‘The Haham would do nothing immoral.  You
have only just met him but you will soon learn that he is a great man; a saint,
in your language.’

 Adam listened.  He was prepared to accept
this.  The Haham was right.  His mind was a clean slate.  It seemed that he
would believe all that he would be told.  But, if that were so, could he be
capable of thinking these thoughts?  Surely if he was able to analyse himself
then he was capable of doubt and then he could fight his gullibility.

‘You are thinking?’

‘Yes.’

‘You are trying to see whether you still
have faculties of reasoning.  You do.  The waters of forgetfulness in no way
affect those abilities.  You have all the knowledge that you need to survive. 
You are able to recognise falsehood.  In fact you will find that particular
ability heightened.  You will know truth from a lie instantly.  That is why you
accept what is said.  You know that it is truth.  It is not that you have
become gullible.

‘Try this.  My name is Yehoshuah.’

‘No, it isn’t.’

And Adam knew that it was a lie, but there
was an easy explanation for that.

‘You’ve already told me your name.  That’s
how I knew.’

‘All right, try this.’

And Heskel turned to the neighbouring
desk.

‘Excuse me, Dov...’

‘Hold on,’ Adam found himself saying,
‘That’s not his name.’

Heskel smiled, ‘You’re right.  How do you know
that?’

‘I don’t...know.’

‘You see.  Now let’s begin our studies. 
The Haham’s waiting.’

Adam looked at this man whom he had been
told was a saint and knew that he had been told the truth.  Something deep
within his psyche knew that the Haham was the one who could explain to him his
destiny and that was another thing.  His destiny.  He was convinced that he did
have a destiny and that this time with the Haham was an essential part of
understanding it.  Somehow it made no difference that he did not know who he
really was.  That was something he would remember in time.  For now, all he had
to do was learn.

‘Bereishit barah Elokim et Hashamaim
v’et Ha-aretz,’
quickly began the Haham without any preamble, ‘In the
beginning God created the Heavens and the Earth - it says where, Adam?’

Adam was certain that he knew the answer
to that one but how he could not guess.  Why should the waters of forgetfulness
have allowed him to remember something like this?

‘Adam?’

‘The Bible.  It’s the first line of
Genesis.’

The Haham smiled on both his faces.  ‘Is
it?  You are speaking in the language of ancient Greece in Heled.  Bible,
Genesis.  Tell me in the Holy Tongue.  In Hebrew.’

And again Adam found that he knew the
answer.

‘It is from the Book of Bereishit in the
Torah.’

‘Exactly, but did I translate the line
correctly?’

‘No.’

‘Tell me.’

But Adam found that he had to think about
that one and one of the other students made it clear that he was impatient to
answer.

‘Adam.  Think about my question in the
light of what you know.  What did Hashem create?’

‘Heaven and Earth.’

‘But did he?  What is Heaven?  What is
Earth?  Is Heled, Earth, or is it this world, Tevel?  Do you understand?’

‘Hashem made many Heavens and Earths?’

‘Yes and no.  An infinite number were made
but all were rejected.  Then Hashem made the Heavens and the Earths.  Each are
seven.  There are seven levels of Earth and seven levels of Heaven.  Heled, the
world of earthly life, is the seventh level and this is the sixth, the Tevel;
the inhabited world.  It is a matter of layers that are folded together.  If
unfolded they are one.  That is what Hashem created.

‘Now, Adam, tell me of Heled.’

It seemed like a vision opened within his
head.  An instant before he could have sworn that he remembered nothing of
Heled.  Now he could see his world as if it was spread out beneath him.  He saw
buildings, immense buildings; roads filled with vehicles that poured out
poisonous vapours into the atmosphere; craft that flew through the air belching
more poisons.  What he saw was a world gone mad, a world suffering pollution
and prone to global warming and he knew that it was the place that was his
home.  Adam felt shame as he tried to describe the image to the others but
describe it, he did.

‘Thank you, Adam.’

And the Haham walked away as if his lesson
was over but without saying anything.

‘Come on,’ whispered Heskel, ‘We study.’

Adam turned about towards the desk on
which reposed a book.  An identical volume lay open before his companion and he
saw in horror that it was written in a language that seemed like Hebrew.  There
was no way he could read that.

Still he was here to study and he opened
his book to what seemed the same page and stared at the unfamiliar writing.  It
was as if the letters began to twist upon themselves.  With almost a wrench
Adam found that he was able to read after all.  He seemed to have an
instinctive grasp of the writing.  How was that possible?  He knew that he had
never learnt Hebrew before, but then how could he possibly know that.

More enigmas.

He began to read aloud what seemed like a
commentary of the line the Haham had already discussed.  There was so much of
it.  What was just one simple line of Hebrew had provoked so much thought down
the ages.  Rabbis of both his world as well as Tevel had discussed these words
and he soon found himself learning about the mystical aspects of the Creation.

Adam learnt about the nature of the seven
layers of Earth and he understood that he had to cross through the folds
between those layers.  He learnt of the Light of the
Shechinah
that
Hashem had put away for the righteous and he saw that there were rituals to
release that Light into the world of men.  As Adam studied, so things became
clear in his mind.  The Light had been released and was now set free with no
control.  Only one who was a true High Priest of Israel armed with the
Breastplate of Judgement as was worn in the days of the first and second
temples in ancient times would be able to manage the Light and return it to its
place in Heaven.

There was such a man, even that was
written, and he knew that the man was he.

The Haham was smiling down upon him.

‘So Adam, you know your destiny.’

‘Yes,’ he almost shouted in his
enthusiasm, ‘And I am not Adam.’

‘Then, what is your name?’

And the euphoria vanished.  Again here was
something he did not know.

‘You have much to learn.  Now you shall
sleep and tomorrow we shall continue your education.’

‘But, there is no time.’

The Haham smiled.  ‘You have all the time
in the world; all the time in the world.’