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‘Then don’t perform the ceremony.’

‘I have to.  If I don’t, the En Sof is
free and it will tear this world apart using its powers of illusion.  One way
or another this ends today.  Do not interfere.’

‘No!’

And Mitch was again brandishing the gun. 
He seemed to gain strength from the thing.

‘Don’t be a fool.  Let me do what I must. 
Whatever the risks it is the only way.’

‘But.’

Mitch lowered the gun and backed away. 
Jake wondered what was going on in the man’s head.  Presumably he still felt
slighted and now he would blame everyone.  In a way Jake felt quite sorry for
him.  Of them all he was the true loser.  He had obviously thought that the En
Sof would give him what he wanted and, at the end, even that entity had let him
down.  Some people would be feeling depressed by now, suicidal even, but not
Mitch.  If there was one thing you could say about him he was resilient.  He
would always bounce back.

Jake would try to reassure him but he had
to do so without giving away the one ace he had to play.

‘Mitch, I am not the man I was when I
first entered the Tevel.  Through the use of forces I barely comprehend I was
transformed.  I have spent a lifetime learning the ancient mysteries.  Now I
know far more than Professor Tiferet and Alexander Lapski together.  If there
is a chance of defeating the En Sof it rests in me.  You must let me try.’

‘He is right,’ Ben agreed, ‘Leave this
hall and await us in the Temple’s outer courtyard.  You will know if Jake
succeeds.’

‘I don’t know...’

‘My God, Mitch.  You can’t be here when
the Light appears.  There’s no way that I can protect you.  Outside, you stand
a chance.  I will do all I can to bring this to an end, you must believe me. 
Please, whatever you may think, I bear you no malice.  The past is gone.  We
can start again if I succeed.  Now go.  You must.  If you stay you will surely
die.’

That seemed to do it and before long Jake
found himself alone with Ben and Shmueli.  Lapski remained unconscious at his
feet.  

‘Fine words, Jake, but do you really think
he can be trusted?’

‘What do you think?  For now I just wanted
him out of the way.  When we call on Hashem I don’t want to have to worry about
what he might do.

‘Now I must get ready.  You must look
after Shmueli.  I told Mitch the truth.  I have changed and I may be able to
call upon God to help us but I do not know whether my prayers will be
answered.  I am unworthy.’

‘No, you must not say that.’

‘But it is true.  I have committed great
sins in my lifetime and Hashem may reject me as his
shaliach
.  If that
happens, another must stand in my stead.  Shmueli, like me is a descendent of
Cordozo.  If I am rejected he will have to continue.’

‘No, but I’m not a Cohen,’ Shmueli
objected from his fear.  Normally he would be right.  The priestly descent was
patrilineal but here Jake knew different.

‘I’m sorry, but that is irrelevant. 
You’re a Priest on your mother’s side and that’s all that counts.  You are the
only one.  That is why you are here.  Be brave.  If God is with you, you will
survive.’

‘But, God?  I don’t know.  Is there a
God?  How can something as evil as the En Sof exist if there is a God?’

‘There is a God, Shmueli.  God is not
something that you can recognise in a physical way.  God is beyond human values
but God is good, that is something I believe, and being good it is God from
whom we must gain our strength.

‘Now, we are ready.  Ben.  Instruct the
boy in the proper responses.  I will prepare myself to enter the Holy of
Holies.

‘I must concentrate.’

‘But, Jake...I am unworthy.’

‘You are scared but you are not unworthy. 
You have done nothing to be ashamed of.’

‘I wanted to kill...’

‘But your mind was not your own.  Your
mind is pure I can sense it.

‘Now I will meditate and if my prayers are
acceptable I will conduct the ceremony.’

Jake turned his back on his two companions
and closed his eyes.  He knew that everything now rested upon his shoulders. 
He just hoped that his plan would work, that his subterfuge would remain
undetected.

‘Adonai,’ he began, ‘Lord.  Open my lips
and let my mouth sing your praise.’

He felt cold, he felt a gentle chill that
began at his shoulders, spreading down his arms and also to his spine like a
liquid gas circulating through his system.  Gradually it reached every part of
him.  His head felt light, almost as if it was no longer part of him.  Jake
knew that he could just float away, a feather on the breeze, to waft up to God
and leave this earthly form.

As his fingers tingled Jake knew he was
ready.

With eyes still shut he entered the Holy
of Holies.

Silence descended.

A total absence of sound and Jake
commenced his prayers.

‘Shema Yisrael,’ he called in perfect
tones, his voice ringing out like a clarion call to the angels, ‘Adonai
Eloheinu, Adonai Ehad.’

It was the first line of the Shema
prayer.  The prayer which lay upon the lips of the holy martyrs as they died at
the hands of their persecutors; Rome, the Inquisition, Nazis.  Outside, Ben and
Shmueli repeated the words.

Then he blessed the name of the Lord in
the thrice repeated blessing.

‘Baruch Shem K’vod Malchuto L’olam Va’ed.

‘Baruch Shem K’vod Malchuto L’olam Va’ed.

‘Baruch Shem K’vod Malchuto L’olam Va’ed.’

And again he heard his words echoed by his
companions beyond.  And finally the declaration of the Prophet Elijah once he
had defeated the Priests of Baal on Mount Carmel, that the Lord, He is God.

‘Adonai Hu Ha’elohim,

‘Adonai Hu Ha’elohim,

‘Adonai Hu Ha’elohim,

‘Adonai Hu Ha’elohim,

‘Adonai Hu Ha’elohim,

‘Adonai Hu Ha’elohim,

‘Adonai Hu Ha’elohim.’

Once more the mantra was repeated by Ben
and Shmueli.

Now all Jake could do was wait.  If his
call was answered then Abulafia’s ceremony could begin.

There was calm.  A stillness that belied
the tension he felt.  And then it came, barely audible, a still small voice
that only he could hear.  It did not speak in any language, it did not make any
kind of sense but Jake knew that here in the Holy of Holies of God’s holy
temple he was in the presence of The Almighty.

Now he could begin what he came to do.

SARA.

Unbidden the memory surfaces.  His
murdered sister lying there broken at the bottom of the stairs.  And he, the
murderer, was daring to call upon the Lord in the holiest of places.  How could
he even contemplate such a thing?

Jake’s heart raced, his heart beat
faster.  He could feel himself panicking.

He had to get out of there.

Slowly, he stepped towards the door...

and knew that he was turning his back on
the Almighty.

He had to fight the chest pains, the
constriction in his arteries.  He was in the presence of his maker.

If he was a murderer why should God be listening
to him?

He was a sinner.  He had committed the
most basic sin possible.  He had killed his sister.

‘Turn about.’

The voice was gentle, quiet, in his head. 
It seemed to tinkle as if it were comprised of glass...and, full of wonder,
Jake turned back to the altar.

He was alone.  Did he seriously think that
he would be able to see the face of the Almighty?  Not even Moses, the greatest
of all the prophets, had done that.  All that he had seen was a vague shadowy
thing; the back of God’s neck according to the Torah.

It was then that the air shimmered.  The
walls faded away and Jake felt himself lifted into the air as if by a lock of
his hair.  The great rushing told him that once more the Merkavah was making a
voyage but this time he saw no sign of the celestial chariot, but only felt its
motion through time and space and cosmic realities.

He closed his eyes.  He had to understand.

And suddenly he was there again.  Back to
his childhood.  The day of Sara’s death...but everything was different.

…………………………………

‘What’s all this about, Jake?’ his
father said.  His face stern but there was still a characteristic hint of
amusement in his eyes.

‘It’s Sara.  In my room.’

‘Oh, Jake, this is annoying me.  She’s
your sister, she doesn’t understand.  Come on, I’ll speak to her.’

They opened the bedroom door.  Simon le
Bon stared down on them in a parody of his old new-romantic image.  Inside was
Sara.  She was sitting there on his unmade bed happily holding her Sooty bear. 
Why couldn’t she play in her own room?

‘Look Daddy.’

His father sighed.

‘What is it with you?  She’s not
causing any problem.’

‘But my trainset...’ as if that
explained everything and to Jake’s young mind it probably did.

The large double oval of track
encircled the floor alongside the bed.  Jake had spent the morning setting it
up, interlocking the track, connecting the power.  He had laid it over a sheet
of green baize and there were model houses that he and his father had built out
of plastic construction kits.

It was, he thought, a wonderful
achievement and he did not want his two year old sister with the deceptively
angelic face to destroy it.  Why couldn’t Daddy understand?

‘But Daddy...’

‘No, listen to me, Jake.  I’ve already
told you.  Mummy’s had to go out and I’m seeing a business contact.  You’re a
big boy now.  So please, I’m relying on you.  Look after your sister for me.’

‘But...’

‘No.  Stop it.  I don’t have time for
this.  A lot rests on this meeting.  So, you do what you’re told.  I don’t want
to say it again.  All right?’

He looked down on Jake and Jake felt
small.

‘Well, Jake...?’

‘No, please, Daddy?’

His father stared at him with annoyance
written all over his face.  Jake stared back, looking wretched.  It was the
adult who broke the silence.

‘That’s it.  I’ve had enough.  Do what
you’re told...or...’

But he was so exasperated and lost for
a suitable punishment that words failed him.  Jake well knew the mood.  So he
watched as his father stormed off in his anger.  Jake meekly followed him from
the room and watched him release the child-proof gate at the top of the stairs
and pass through it.  To Jake’s surprise, however, his father did not close the
gate behind him.  He had clearly forgotten to do so in the heat of the moment.

Jake was about to call out when there
came the sound of a crash from his bedroom quickly followed by a small cry.

Sara!

And all thought of the danger to his
sister vanished from his child’s mind.  Now he was dominated by one thought. 
Sara.  She w
a
s playing with his toys.  He could hear the train and Jake
panicked as only an eight and a half year old boy can when he realises that his
train-set is in trouble.

Wildly, he crashed through the door and
saw what Sara had done.  She had crashed two engines in a head on collision and
something deep inside Jake snapped.

Without control Jake screamed his anger
and lashed out.  A swift punch to her arm.

‘I hate you,’ was all that he managed
to say as she burst into tears.

‘No, Cake.’

‘I hate you,’ and again he punched her
arm.

Sara screamed and, in a desperate
effort to avoid her brother’s anger, ran across the rest of the railway,
tripping over the lovingly built scale model houses and smashing them flat.

Jake chased.  So livid, mad with anger,
and pursued her to the top of the staircase where lay the still open gate and
it was then he realised her danger.

‘Sara,’ he shouted but it was too late.

‘Daddy,’ she screamed as she launched
herself at the stairs.

As young as she was she knew the gate
was always there, she knew that it would stop her falling...but it was not in
place and, in horror, Jake watched as his sister, Sara, whom he loved, plunged
to her death.

It was his fault, all of it.

…………………………………………………………………….

But of course it was not entirely his
fault.  He was only eight years old.  A child.  If the gate had been properly
secured, as it should have been, then Sara would still be alive.

That was when Jake understood.

He had blamed himself and so had Dad who
had refused to admit responsibility.  He should have been in control.  He
should never have left his son to look after Sara.  It had been Dad’s fault
that the gate had been left open but, even so, it was a mistake, a tragic
accident.

But after it happened Dad had shouted at
Jake, he had screamed at him, had called him every name under the sun but none
of them would bring his daughter back.  From that moment on their relationship
deteriorated.  It was an internal safety mechanism that had cause Jake to blot
the whole episode from his mind but even so there had always been a
subconscious part of him that knew the truth and that could never forgive his
father for blaming him.

To think that his whole life had been
shaped by that one incident.  Why had they never spoken about it?  If he had
Dad and he could have reached an understanding.  Jake need not have spent his time
doing his best to oppose Dad’s wishes.  Oh, Dad and now he understood his sin.

The Torah was clear, the duty to honour
one’s father and mother was one of the paramount obligations of the law and he
had broken that prime commandment.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered to his father
and was amazed to hear a response.

‘It is you who should forgive me.’

‘Oh, Dad.  Of course I forgive you.’