The Harbinger (36 page)

“No. But I knew someone who studied Hebrew from biblical and rabbinical writings. I looked up the Paleo-Hebrew alphabet, then transcribed each of the letters into its modern Hebrew equivalent. Then I made a trip to Brooklyn. That’s where my friend was, an Orthodox Jewish man who ran a little bookstore, in back of which was a study, a library of all sorts of mystical Hebrew writings. That was his passion—finding meaning in mystical Hebrew literature. I figured he’d be the right one. When I told him the purpose of my coming, he closed up the shop and led me to the back room. We sat down at a bare wooden table surrounded by bookcases. He put on his reading glasses and began examining the transcription. After a few moments of silence, he began deciphering it:

“‘
Baruch
,’ he said. ‘It means,
blessed
. It’s the word that begins most Hebrew prayers.

“‘
Yahu
or
Yah
. It’s the sacred name of God, so sacred I shouldn’t be saying it, but so I did. So,
Blessed of God
.

“‘
Ben
.—It means,
the son. Blessed of God is the son
.

“
‘
Neri
means
light
and
Yahu
, again, the name of God. So
the light of God
.

“‘
Ha Sofer, ‘the one who declares
or
the declarer
.’

“‘So what is it saying?’ I asked.”

“‘It’s saying: “
Blessed of God is the son of the Light of God, the declarer
.”’

“‘And what is that supposed to mean?’ I asked.

“‘How should I know?’ he replied. ‘You’re the one who gave it to me.’

“‘But what do you think it means?’

“‘It sounds like a blessing for a righteous man, a child of the light.’

“‘And
the declarer
…the declarer of what?’

“‘How I should know the declarer of what?’

“‘Have you ever come across anything like that before in your studies?

“‘I’ve come across many Hebrew blessings, but I don’t remember anything quite like this. You copied it from an inscription?’

“‘Yes.’

“‘Maybe from an amulet or something?’

“‘Something.’”

“‘An inscription with a Hebrew blessing is not such a strange thing. It’s a blessing. So you have a blessing.’

“‘But what does it mean?’

“‘It means you’re a blessed man.’

“And that’s all he gave me.”

“So what did you make of it?” she asked.

“I didn’t know what to make of it. The translation really didn’t give me anything to go on. It didn’t seem to have anything to do with anything.”

“But now you knew what the inscription meant.”

“Yes. Now I knew what it meant and had no idea what it signified.”

“So what did you do?”

“I went for a walk along the Hudson. It was a cloudy, windy day. It was late afternoon. Halfway into the walk I decided to take a break. There was an empty bench nearby. It was, though I didn’t realize it at the time, the same bench on which the prophet was sitting when we first met. I sat down, took out the seal, and just stared at it as I pondered my lack of direction and my still unresolved burden. I was lost in thought for several minutes before I heard a voice from behind.

“‘Looks like a storm.’”

“The same words,” she said. “The same words the prophet spoke to you at the very beginning.”

“The same words and the same voice.”

“It does,” I answered, without breaking my gaze, without turning around to see who was speaking.

“What’s that,” he asked, “in your hand? Some archaeological artifact?”

“One of several,” I said, “each with a mystery.”

“And this one? Of what mystery does it speak?” he asked.

“I don’t know. It speaks…but it doesn’t say anything…nothing that means anything.”

“So you haven’t figured it out yet?”

“I know what it says, but I don’t know what it means.”

With that, the prophet came around to the front of the bench. “Still?” he asked.

“Still,” I answered.

He sat down. “It all began with that seal,” he said, “and right here.”

“But I still don’t know what it means or what I’m supposed to do with it all.”

“But you said you knew what it says.”

“Yes.”

“So tell me what it says.”

“
Blessed of God is the son of God’s light, the declarer
.”

“Who told you it said that?”

“A friend…a friend who specializes in mystical Hebrew writings.”

“Did you ever look in a mirror,” he asked, “and not realize that the man staring back at you was your own reflection?”

“I don’t know…maybe. Why?”

“Because you’re doing it now.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s possible to become too mystical and miss the obvious.”

“Then that’s not what it says.”

“If you took it piece by piece and with no context, it could be understood to mean that. But that’s not what it says.”

“Then what?”

“What your friend translated as
Blessed of God
is the Hebrew
Baruchyahu
from the Hebrew
baruch, blessed
, and
Yahu
, the Lord.”

“But that’s almost the same thing.”

“But it’s not a blessing. It’s not even a sentence.”

“Then what it is it?” I asked.

“It’s a name.”

“A name?”

“The name of a person…a person named
Baruch
.”

“Baruch.”

“And what your friend translated as
the son
is the Hebrew word
ben
, which, in this case, is part of the name, ‘
Baruch, son of…’
”

“
Ben…Son of
…I should have known that.”

“And what he translated as
God’s light
is the Hebrew
Neriyahu’
or ‘
Neriah—the light of God
, yes, but it’s also a name,
Neriah
. Neriah was Baruch’s father…
Baruch ben Neriah
.”

“Baruch, son of Neriah. So who
was
he?”

“Think of the seals, Nouriel. What was their purpose?”

“To seal or authenticate an important message.”

“And who used them?” he asked.

“Kings, leaders, government officials.”

“And who else?”

“I don’t know.”

“And scribes. Scribes used them because it was they who wrote the messages. After the name is a title:
Ha Sofer
.”

“
The one who declares
.”

“Yes, it can mean that as well,
one who declares, who tells, who reveals
. But what it means on the seal is
the Scribe
.”

“So Baruch was a scribe.”

“Yes.”

“And why is that significant?” I asked.

“Because Baruch is mentioned in the Bible, and because he wasn’t just a scribe.”

“What then?”

“He was the scribe of a particular prophet.”

“Which prophet?”

“The prophet Jeremiah. Baruch was the one who wrote down Jeremiah’s prophecies. Jeremiah would prophesy, and Baruch would commit the prophecy to writing. As it is written:

“So this is the seal of Baruch,” I said. “The seal he used to authenticate his writings.”

“It’s one of them,” said the prophet.

“I still don’t get it.”

“Still?”

“No.”

“Then answer the question I asked you.”

“Why I was given the seal?”

“Yes.”

“Because a seal has to do with a message?”

“But why
you
?” he asked. “Why was the seal given to
you?
”

“I have no idea.”

“What was Baruch?”

“A scribe.”

“And what is a scribe?”

“One who writes.”

“A writer…a scribe is a writer. And what are you, Nouriel?”

“A writer.”

“A writer.”

“What are you saying? I was chosen because I was a writer?”

“No,” he said, “you weren’t chosen because you were a writer. You were a writer, because you were chosen.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It was the reason you became a writer in the first place. It was all for this purpose, all for this time.”

“No. The reason I became a writer was because I…”

“No, Nouriel.
The Almighty has His own purposes
. And why do you think each revelation came to you through a seal? It’s because of
you
. It’s because of
your
calling. You’re the
sofer
, the scribe, he who declares, who reveals. Do you know what that word also means?”

“No.”

“
He who records
.”

“As in he who records on a scroll.”

“Or, in the present case, he who records on a recording device.”

“This is too…”

“The rabbis say that Baruch was born of the priestly line, as was Jeremiah.”

“And…?”

“And what’s your last name?”

“Kaplan.”

“Kaplan, if I’m not mistaken, is a priestly name, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“Indicating one who is born of the priestly line. So you too were born of the priestly line, and for this moment.”

“You must have been blown away,” said Ana, “when he started telling you all this. It must have blown you away.”

“I was…and it did…but it didn’t stop there.”

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“You know my name,” I replied. “Why do you ask?

“What’s your name?” he asked again.

“Nouriel.”

“No. That’s your middle name. That’s what you used when you started writing. What’s your first name?”

“Barry.”

“That’s what your friends called you. That’s what you wanted them to call you because you weren’t comfortable with your real name. Your real name wasn’t Barry. What was the name you were given when you were born?”

I hesitated in responding, but there was no way to avoid it. It came out softly, almost under my breath.

“Baruch.”

He was silent.

“My name,” I said, in a voice still soft but louder than before, “is Baruch.”

“Baruch!” she exclaimed. “He knew it all along! It’s as if you were chosen for it…even from your birth.”