G. N. M. - 12, 13

- 12 -

That time of year had passed when pilgrims go down to Jerusalem for the annual feast of Passover. The weather and the heat were getting to me. I missed the comfort of a tent.

My first trip to Jerusalem was a disappointment. I had expected something like the acropolis in Athens. Here the great temple was not visible from a distance. It sat somewhere beyond colonnades and ornate decorations on a man made hill that seemed more like a fortress even from a distance. I also learned that a Roman fortress was part of the silhouette of that great hill and part of the temple complex.

I reflected on the annual feast of Passover. It was not held outdoors like Athens did on its annual feast day at the grand temple there. Passover was held indoors in each person’s place of dwelling. Also in this city there were restrictions on where women and foreigners could be in relation to the overly decorated temple of Herod.

From a window of my lodging in the upper city I could see part of the temple. A constant column of smoke rose though I could not see the actual sacrifices or burning of animals. There was smell mixed with different things. Incense was one smell that seemed to permeate everything during the day. The other smell masked by the incense was that smell of meat cooking that makes one think of satisfaction when one is hungry. The smell does not go away and the charring of flesh reminded me of some stables that had been burned to the ground with animals trapped, killed and burned in the structure.

All about the temple area were so many steps and bridges in the approach to the great structure. Above all there was a Roman fortress looking down on the whole sacred area.

This town was not a normal town. Most business done in this place was centered around the business of the temple, inns, money changing, souvenirs, and caravans. Many of the caravans brought tourists from all over the world. People who came were in all sorts of traditional, Roman, Greek, and far eastern clothing. All this was accompanied by a thousand different tongues being the norm on any given day.

I had only planned to stay a few days to see the sights. I had so wanted there to be a ramp up to the temple where the whole town could join in festive celebrations on special days.

The priest class wore immaculate clothing and head dress. They never smiled. The Jewish god was no doubt a somber god. Somber no doubt for the lack of visitors directly into the temple.

Tour guides said this and that. Apparently for all its ornate external decoration, the interior of the building was plain stone and wood on the roof. A large curtain sectioned off a part of the interior temple and this was where the Jewish god was supposed to dwell. Only the high priest would clean the floor of this sacred empty space. Piles of smoke and incense would fill the temple lest the high priest catch an unworthy glance of their god on the annual cleaning day.

I was spending good money to house myself and people. I gave J.D. run of the town during the day. The only condition was that he report in at night to see if there were any errands that he could do. One task I gave him was to set out among the herb sellers to find matches for the drugs depleted in the service of Julius’s wounded comrades.

Other than that I gave J.D. some free time. It was a town with social activities open to foreigners. His room in the basement of this palatial inn was probably not so nice as my own.

I was in the woman’s wing of a gentile inn. In Jerusalem, everything is segregated by sex and religious practice.

I consulted the stars as to what was my next best plans of actions.

Sadly, I had seen these patterned in the celestial bodies before. My life was to stay put where I was. No great changes were expected in my fate or the fate of my son. It was best not to go too far ahead on the charts and second guess the fates. It is always best to consider all options but in the light of present circumstances.

In the charts, there was in one the hidden houses of the gods an element of surprise to be expected.

The close quarters of the inn, even though first rate, were not enough. I did not want to live isolated in the countryside where I could again be harassed by the tax collector. I settled for living in and renting a modest town house in the city.

I say modest because it was merely a very long room above the ground level that served as my bedroom, living area and improvised library.

I settled in comfortably. There was not much to do except wait and be in study with my texts and parchments.

The first floor of the building was I believe atone time part stable and part kitchen. The kitchen remained and J.D. and Rebecca lived amongst my storage items in the rest of the ground floor space.

I would have stayed put but for the demands of many business dealings. I had obtained funds from my sources in Jerusalem. The funds were modest enough. So since I had the time, I thought it best to invest wisely and see my funds grow.

I set up a plan by which my son could move on to Alexandria if that was deemed a desirable next step to take. I sent agents to Egypt to check out properties and property values and places best suited for a religious cult to put down roots and not be harassed by local authorities. In other words, where were the cheapest bribes to be negotiated and distributed.

J.D. was a good linguist. He also had a passion for some vices on a minor scale in drink and gambling. It was a hobby for him to kill time. I paid him a modest salary. No doubt one day he will ask the price of his freedom, pay it, and leave my services forever. Until that day, he would be my right hand and right eye.

Indeed, I had him setting about the task of using street people as sources of local information. It was important to know when and where caravans arrived outside the city walls. One might buy up and horde some commodity in high demand in the city. To trade with the caravan people first meant high profits on some days.

It was also important to keep up communication links via caravans over the eastern end of the Roman empire. Trade and my families private business interests had me setting up a small network of agents to follow through and check on my investments.

There were many educated women in and about Jerusalem. My interface with them grew through my text buying. We met in shops where scribes copied and sold texts. We women were a world unto ourselves and greatly ignored in this male dominated culture. Being invisible has its advantages especially when the men do not see the woman doing the hard trading through her agents. So when summer’s heat came to the city, I gladly accepted invitations to the houses of these educated ladies in the nearby countryside.

It was to the house near Jerusalem of two educated women, Martha and her younger sister Mary, that my tale of a new faith begins.

- 13 -

Martha and Mary were two unmarried woman who fussed over their older brother who was also unmarried. They were religious Jews in the sense that they were scholarly and knew a great deal about Jewish law and culture. In many other outward worldly things they seemed comfortable with the Greco-Roman manners of a wealthy ruling class existence.

While as a guest in their home, Martha and Mary had invited me to a local wedding. We arrived and were shown where we could sit. They being progressive Jews in some things, this was a wedding by the book. Men and women sat in different courtyards around an immense farm house.

The size and flow of the house complex suggested to me that a rich rabbi owned this farm and that his home served as some sort of community center for events such as weddings or funerals.

In any case, I was in the woman’s section. The wedding ceremony could be witnessed at a distance through a doorway. The ceremony took place on a porch and was visible through several doorways connecting courtyards and various exterior areas.

The rabbi placed a cup on the ground and the groom broke it with his foot. The rabbi uttered a loud greeting. Noise from the crowd drowned out everything in excitement.

These wedding festivals lasted several days according to my hosts and guides. We would travel home each night toward sunset. It was better to sleep in the comfort of one’s own bed was a sentiment that I shared with Mary and Martha.

I did not know what the men did on the other side of the wall besides make noise and drink wine.

This wedding feast I thought was little different that many that took place in Persia.

There was one open exterior place that was a sort of mixed area in terms of the separation of men and women. In this area there was no food or wine. Gossip from the male area mixed with the gossip gathered in the women’s area. Mothers could unofficially introduce a son to a perspective bride or more likely be introduced to the parents of a perspective bride. Like I said, the function of this farmhouse was something of a community center, the heart of a local religious community.

In this mixing area a striking young man caught my eye. Almost instantly a young girl in her early teens grabbed this man’s hand and led him away.

I heard the young girl call this man “uncle Manny”.

I remarked to Martha about the young woman touching a man and being so unorthodox.

“Who is that? Who is this young man in his late twenties going off with this young girl?”

“Oh, that is a rabbi from Galilee.”

“Galilee? Is he a relative of the bride or groom?”

Mary giggled. Martha looked at her sister with a smile and then began to explain.

“This is a satellite Essene settlement. There are some very strict Essene settlements. It is a cult. A very orthodox cult, at least some of the older settlements are that way. How do I put it? The most fanatical of these believers are more Jewish than Moses is the expression.

“There are dozens if not hundreds of Jewish cults all over this land.

“Many of the people here grew up in the more orthodox communes.”

“Communes?” I asked.

“Everybody throws in their wealth together, buy or rent land and farm it. Everybody shares in the crops on an equal share.”

The concept was not alien to me. Indeed, in the village where I was born, most people are related and share in the crops or the herding conducted by the village. For most it is a marginal existence.

“These people” Martha continued. “left the hard core religious centers and farms. Children when they are grown, some of them want to get off the farm and get a new start. It is a natural thing to do.

“Here people have something more in common. They all probably have common blood lines.” She said and then sipped some wine from her cup. “These cults or their offspring communities are trying to shut out the world outside. The Roman rule is one thing that they do not accept.”

Mary added her comments.

“In fact, some of these communities are focused on raising a lot of children. They want numbers to farm the land and numbers for potential protection from the outside world. In a way they could be raising future militias or armies.”

“A lot of children?” I asked.

Mary replied.

“There are fewer men than women these days considering the way the Romans kill. Also many women if they are not widows are usually divorced. They can go back to their family. Their family does not want them especially if they have young children. These women join these communes. Their existing children are expected to work. The commune elders marry these women who are usually young and will be fruitful. Since there are so few men, the elders divorce these women using some standard and acceptable time periods such as every three years. Then they divorce these women and marry another. Marriage, children, the commune, the law and little else in the lives of so many unfortunate ones.”

I must have looked bewildered. Martha took my hand.

“It sounds a bit demented or even something very promiscuous like a Persian harem.”

“Oh I agree that some men in the far east do have harems if they can afford it. Many times a man will take a dead brother’s wife as his own in additional to a first wife. I find that all so confusing as well as what you have just described. One father, many wives and many more children is not always a good thing. “

I decided to change the subject a bit and asked about the young rabbi from Galilee.

“The young girl touching her uncle in public. Well I thought it a little too unorthodox. That is how this whole conversation began I think.”

“Uncle?” Mary said not quite understanding my question.

“She called him uncle.” I stated.

Martha replied.

“It is an honorary term that the young use to address those who are older. In fact, the girl might be a half sister or a cousin. There sometimes are so many marriages, divorces and children in some communes, it is probable that those two do not know or understand their exact blood relationship.”

“It does sound a bit muddled.” I said before I took a long sip of wine.

“There is” Martha began, “some consensus amongst the young these days that divorce is an abused function and that it should be totally outlawed. Many are frustrated about looking at many confused relationships. This is one reason why so many have drifted away from original settlement communes. Many probably do not know clearly who their father is. Who would be comfortable in asking your mother who were you married to when I was conceived and who were you married to when I was born?”

The young rabbi passed by. Somebody yelled “Manny!” from behind me in a greeting to him. I caught the corner of his eye.

“Manny?” I thought to myself.

Then the passage from the Hebrew sacred text flashed into my mind/

“And he shall be called Immanuel…”

The young rabbi gave me full eye contact for a brief moment as I was thinking this sacred phrase.

A warm flush covered my whole body. Eye contact was broken and he entered into the male only section of the wedding feast.

For a brief moment, I thought how his eye talk to me was if he heard what I was thinking.