Origin (14 page)

“Working on the memoirs?”

“Pathetic, no? There sits my life, never to be read by anyone under penalty of government execution.”

“Time passes, Rabbi, whether we want it to or not. At least you have something to show for it.”

“True. My legacy. How preferable it is to a wife and child.”

Thrist’s long face became longer. “Have you ever heard from Reba?”

“Not once since I granted her the get, the divorce. And why should I? Ha-shem told the Jews to be fruitful and multiply, and I… I have no lead in my pencil. Between the sterility and the alcohol, it is no wonder she grew to hate me.”

“You could have adopted.”

Shotzen smiled. “I could have stopped drinking as well. I’d still have it all; her, my synagogue, my congregation—perhaps even my father would still be alive. He died of shame, you know, when I showed up at Temple and read from the Torah drunk as drunk can be.”

“We all have our crosses to bear.”

“I so dislike that expression,” Shotzen frowned. “But what of you, Father? No desire for children? Women? Adonai made you a man, He cannot then deny you a man’s needs.”

“God can bless the beasts and the children, because I never cared much for either,” Thrist said with the barest of smiles. “And sex?” “I was created to serve God. Perhaps that is why he denied me any charisma whatsoever.”

Shotzen laughed, “I’m happy that you’re able to find your sense of humor, after this afternoon. If I were the devil, I would have done the same thing to test your faith.”

Thrist nodded. “So you agree it is a possibility that Bub is the devil?”

“No. No more than I agree that Jesus was the moshiach. But when something has the appearance of Satan it would make sense for it to also imitate the demeanor.”

Thrist absorbed this. “And if Bub indeed knew Christ?”

“The beauty of faith, Michael, is that there is no need for proof. Belief in a feeling is more powerful than belief in a fact. Ha-shem could surely appear to the world at any time and squelch all doubts. But Adonai prefers faith.”

“But what if Bub is a sign from God? Think of it, Rabbi. Nothing happens by accident. The Lord preordains all. Bub was sent here, by God, as proof of His existence. I agree with the power of faith, but Christ also taught us the power of proof.”

“Familiar argument. Christ was not the son of Adonai. Ha-shem can not be man. None of the prophesies were fulfilled.”

“They were all fulfilled.”

Shotzen reached for his glass and finished the schnapps. He was halfway to the nightstand when he remembered the bottle was empty.

“Let’s stick with the current argument,” Shotzen said. He sat on his bed, facing Father Thrist. “What do we know of ha-satan?”

“The Adversary. First mentioned in Job 1:6. Taken to mean the opponent of God.”

Shotzen nodded, his double chin jiggling. “But before that was Ma’lak, the shadow side of Ha-Shem, turned to humanity because Adonai was too bright to be seen by mortals. Later, In Jubilees, it had become a separate entity. Mastema, the Accusing angel.”

“Dualism,” Thrist added, “probably taken from Zoroaster. Ahriman the Lord of Darkness. Zarathrustra’s concept of good and evil as opposing forces.”

“Zoroaster’s era is highly debated; he could have lived anywhere from the 18th century B.C. up until the 7th… five hundred years after Moses. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, he may have taken his ideas of deities from the Egyptians, Set and Ra, and prior to them, the Mesopotamians with Ereshkigal. The Queen of the Underworld. The first recorded mention of hell.”

Thrist nodded. “Mmm-hmm. Predating Judaism. But none of these would be an accurate description of our Bub, so let’s move ahead.”

“Agreed. In Enoch, Lucifer, the Bearer of Light, was cast out of heaven because of lust. Or pride, in Enoch’s second chronicle, or free will according to Origen of Alexandria, or disobedience, or a war in heaven…”

“He has many names and many incarnations. Satan-el. Abbaddon. Astarot. Rahab. Rofacale. Moloch. Leviathan. Baal-beryth. Metatron…”

“Metatron is an archangel.”

“He is referred to in Exodus, interpreted as the lessor Yahweh, ordering atrocities upon his chosen people. He could indeed be the first devil, the shadow side of God.”

“You are misguided, as usual, but let’s go on. There’s Beliel, the prince of Sheol. Also Baal-zebub. Azazel. Mastema. Mammon. Belphegor. Kakabel. Lahash. Sammael…”

“Tartaruchus,” Thrist continued. “Zophiel. Xaphan. Baresches. Biqa. Salmael…”

“I said Salmael.”

“You said Sammael, not Salmael.”

“They aren’t the same?”

“Sammael is the Angel of Poison, Sumerian in origin. Salmael is a Duke of Hell, who each year calls for the annihilation of the chosen tribes of Israel.”

“Ah! How could I have forgotten that one? So which of these nasty beings do you believe Bub to be?”

Thrist touched his chin. “I’m not sure. He may not be any of them. He may be all of them. Our current conceptions of Satan and hell began after Rome fell. The hysterical visions of Pope Gregory the Great in the 6th century. Bede’s Ecclesiastical History of England in the year 731. The Vision of Tundal in 1149 offers a detailed look at the tortures of Hell.”

Shotzen was familiar with them all. “Much more influential was Dante,” the Rabbi added. “He gave us the description of the circles of hell and its demons in 1306. William Blake, Bosch, Breughel, Giotto, Memlinc—all famous religious painters who gave modern man images of a bat-winged, cloven-hooved, horned angel from hell.”

“Martin Luther, John Calvin, Milton’s Paradise Lost… they also helped hone the modern image. And Marlowe and Goethe’s versions of Faust.”

“Yes,” Shotzen nodded, his chins bouncing. “The devil as an intellectual. Gentleman Jack. Old Nick. Old Scratch. Mephistopheles. Old Horny. Black Bogey. And now, he’s an icon of pop culture.” Shotzen shrugged. “He’s in cartoons, movies, television shows, commercials…”

“Worshiped by thousands of school children in the form of rock music. Did I ever tell you about the time the arch diocese sent me to a Black Sabbath concert in the early 1970’s?”

Shotzen sighed. “Yes. You’ve shown me your souvenir T-shirt. I doubt there is anything about you I don’t know.”

“Which brings us back to topic. What do we have here?”

The Rabbi felt good. His mind was clear; clearer than it had been without the liquor. Shotzen once read that booze was proof that G-d loves us and wants us to be happy. The Talmud also stated that we would be held accountable in the world to come for every permitted food and drink we have had the opportunity to eat yet not eaten. Why should being drunk be considered a sin?

“Both of our religions believe in angels, correct?” Thrist asked.

“Yes.”

“And angels can fall from grace, just as man can.”

“Natch. But Jews don’t believe in a fiery hell where souls are tortured for eternity by red devils with pitchforks. Sheol, the pit, is nothing more than the absence of God. And most believe it doesn’t last any longer than eleven hours.”

Thrist held up his hands as if stopping an oncoming car. “Let’s hold off on hell for a second. Is it possible for a fallen angel to visit earth?”

“Perhaps. But demons aren’t prevalent in Jewish midrash. They’re usually allegorical. For example Kesef, the demon who attacked Moses at Horeb, is the Hebrew word for silver.”

Thrist sighed. “Menachem, open your mind for a moment. When President Carter recruited you for Samhain, you were publishing that underground newsletter—”

“The Wandering Jew,” Shotzen said with pride.

“You were America’s foremost expert in Judaic mysticism.”

Shotzen thought back to those years, living like a hermit in a one bedroom apartment, studying and interpreting ancient texts. The Kabbalah and Zohar, a little known Jewish tome which revealed how to obtain peace on earth. The 4th century Haggadah, a collection of Jewish legends and exegetical treaties. The apocrypha, the hidden scriptures of the Torah compiled during the period of exile in Babylonia.

“Michael, you’ve read the same texts. Seven heavens and seven earths, with twenty one layers of reality hooked together by wires. Gehenna, a continent on Arqa which encompasses the seven layers of hell—this is all allegory.”

“Take a good look at Bub, Rabbi, and tell me he is allegory. You agree fallen angels could visit the earth?”

“Perhaps.”

“Then perhaps this fallen angel, this devil, would take on a familiar appearance, even if it is the appearance that mankind gave him.”

“Go on.”

“If Bub was truly alive at the time of Christ…”

“Again with Christ?”

“Christ as Messiah isn’t the point. Can you believe that there was once a living breathing person named Jesus Christ?”

“There is mention of him in Josephus, so yes. But every knee has not bowed, there is no universal peace, the lion has not lain down with the lamb, nor does every tongue swear loyalty to the one true God.”

Thrist frowned. “You’re missing the point. You have conceded that devils exist, and that Jesus existed. Now the gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke all make the claim that Beelzebub tempted Jesus while he fasted in the desert. Luke 4:5
Then the Devil took him up..
.”

“Please,” Shotzen grimaced. “We don’t want to play the scripture quoting game again.”

“Fine. The point is, if Julius Caesar indeed taught Bub how to speak Latin, and Caesar died in 44 BC, isn’t it conceivable that it was Bub who tempted Christ in the desert?”

“That was eighty years later.”

“Demons don’t age. He’s been here for 100 years and looks exactly the same. Can’t you at least admit it could be possible?”

“Possible, yes. Probable, no. Whether Bub is a demon or something pretending to be a demon, it makes sense for him to act like a demon. Lies, deceptions, flattery, bribery, bargaining, tempting, wheeling and dealing; these are Satan’s tricks. I contend he heard the name Christ and played on your reaction to it.”

Thrist’s wrinkles deepened and he pursed his lips. “So he also heard the name Julius Caesar?” he countered.

“He was found in 1906. Say he was buried in the 1800’s, or even the 1700’s or 1600’s. He could have known the names of both Christ and Caesar. He spoke Maya when he woke up, and the Mayans were conquered by the Spanish, who were Christians, if I remember my history. That was one of the ways they justified the genocide of the indigenous South American people. They claimed it was Adonai’s will to slaughter the heathens.”

“Bah!” Thrist threw his hands in the air and stood up. “The problem with you, Rabbi, is your insistence on the past to explain the present. Until you find some kind of precedent for Bub in one of your ancient mystic texts, you’ll continue to deny what you see with your own eyes.”

“What is more important Father—what I see with my eyes or what I feel with my heart?”

“You were born and raised a Jew, and that’s why you are a Jew. It was what you were taught. I’m Catholic because that’s what I was taught. But faith is not a substitute for proof, no matter how much you insist. Anyone with a high school education can argue that the world is more than 6000 years old. Yet that is what our religions teach. Atheists have attacked the Bible from all angles, finding one discrepancy after another. How does the Church refute these claims of no God? Faith! But that doesn’t matter anymore!”

Thrist was shouting now, his finger pointing at Shotzen.

“I could show the entire world the Bible, and only some will believe. But if I showed the entire world our friend Bub, ALL WOULD BELIEVE!”

Thrist sprung to his feet, his face bright red, breathing as if he’d just run a marathon.

Shotzen chose his words carefully. “Bub is not a sign from ha-shem, Father.”

“Yes, he is.”

“Perhaps you need some time off, to rest. Can’t you confer with the arch diocese?”

Thrist stormed over to the door and opened it. He turned before leaving. “I need time off,” Thrist said, “like you need another drink.”

Thrist left, closing the door behind him.

Shotzen mulled it over.

“I cannot argue with logic like that,” he said.

Then he left his room to get another bottle of schnapps.

D
r. Julie Harker walked by Rabbi Shotzen in the Purple Arm, avoiding eye contact.

“Good evening, Dr. Harker,” Shotzen said as he passed.

Harker didn’t bother replying.

She was on her way to Purple 8 to find a movie to watch. Something to kill the evening. Shotzen, the doctor surmised, was coming back from Purple 6. That’s where the liquor was kept. The Rabbi had been holding something at his side, trying to conceal it. Trying to hide his secret.

Harker knew about having secrets.

She entered Purple 8 and hit the light. The room was arranged like a library, which made sense because it was essentially just that. But unlike Red 3, which held documents about Project Samhain, this was put here for the entertainment needs of the staff. Harker walked past the shelving units filled with fiction, past the several large magazine racks (the compound had subscriptions to 58 different magazines, and issues were dropped off every few months with supplies), and past the archaic film collection (actual 16mm films in cans on reels.)