Chapter 27 - The Esseen
When I came out of the water after swimming, I was met on shore by a tall, Chrome-looking old man in such worn-out clothes that they seemed to have fused with him. From his braided horse, I immediately noticed that he was an Essene. His countenance was wrinkled and dark, but his pale blue eyes shone brightly, while his hair, despite his venerable age, showed not a speck of gray.
He was one of the oldest of the Essene community, which had been settled among the rocks west of the Dead Sea since time immemorial and had managed to transform a stretch of desert into a thriving garden, a microcosm in which orange, and lemon trees thrived, eucalyptus and the Persian lilac, and where an aqueduct peacefully babbled the water that one mechanical tools brought up from deep beginnings.
The Essenes would probably outlive us all, because they multiplied attic intercourse and they hated women, whom they saw as sources of evil: congregations were replenished for centuries with other people's children and lies receptive neophytes who went out into the desert to rid themselves of one illusion with another. They will spend centuries building dwelling houses, beautiful on the outside but hideous because of their hopelessness. They will sit therein waiting for their death, lighting new and new men with their grief and apathy again and again. The small town of praying ascetics that had existed for generations resembled a picturesque execution site, version with the flowers of the lifostroton. As unified people with unified thoughts, they stopped living even before they died. Even a ram who sees that one wants to stab him to death tramples his legs and barks, while the Essene receives the sword of asceticism with joy. I wonder who oversees them from above. Surely not the ancient Jewish God, for the Scriptures say, "Enjoy life with the woman whom you love both the days of your vain life, and whom God has given you under the sun for all the vain days of your life.
Of course, this law has long needed to be changed, because now, as we live in a new era, at the end of the fourth millennium from the creation of the world, it is laughable to limit oneself to one woman, which is hardly better than teetotalism. If we compare the development of spiritual teaching with the stages of men's maturation, Essenism is the lad who wants intimacy but is still ashamed of women.
It is said that John, the put to death priest of the murky waters of the Jordan, had also once been Essene ... While the righteous Essene Menachem foretold a young Herod would become a great king.
By the way, what I liked about the teaching of the Essenes was their disregard for the highest Jewish things, especially those of the Pharisees and Sadducees.
Why does he come to me? After all, the Essenes are extremely closed, the outside world does not care, I thought, looking at the old man who bowed to me and said, "My name is Ochia, I am one of the 10 elders of our Essene brotherhood in Qumran. We heard that you, Jesus, are a wise teacher, that you reject falsehood and the laws that will also reject it and therefore we want to ask you for help... We have been struck by disaster. All means have been tried and nothing helps. Surely we can hardly ask the shameful sanhedrin for counsel.'
'I hear you gladly, my good Ochia,' I replied, feeling proud that even the stern Essenes, renouncing all earthly vanities, turned to me, sinner. Evidently only good rumors about me had reached the community of Qumran.
I suggested to Ochia that we talk while walking along the streets of Capernaum, and eat something at the same time. No sooner said than done. We bought some smokers in a store, some bread and fried fish wrapped in a palm leaf, walked to the synagogue and sat on the grass in the garden, under a eucalyptus tree. Ochia paid for the welcome, even though I didn't like it right away, out of politeness. He only had some bread and didn't drink sikera with it, but water from the aqueduct that ran to the synagogue. In the cared for garden was a good place to be, besides that I was drawn to the synagogue, I wanted my voice to grow stronger, to echo through the stone vaults, and for the people to listen to me. I wanted people to be on fire from my words, but by an invisible fire and therefore elusive and not reproachable. That fire did not scorch, but neither could you roast a leg of mutton in it. That fire illuminated the path to immortality, if it existed at all. But the Rabbi Avdon no longer allowed me into the synagogue, so I liked to at least sit nearby then, in the garden.
"We live contemplatively and silently in the valley of Qumran," the old man began his story. 'We are happy because we know that we will inherit eternal life by renouncing the world. You probably know that the brotherhood of the Essenes is numerous and that the South Gate of Jerusalem is called the Essene Gate, because the whole street in the holy city belongs to it. But the community of the Essenes is a special one, we grow fruit for sale, and like you we also heal people, anyone who turns to us. We know a great number of cures for various diseases. An experienced Essene Physician can even prepare medicine from a stone, if he finds the supplies and pulverizes them...'
'Tell a little more about that, old man,' I requested, because I knew little about stone treatment; the Essenes did not give away their secrets, and I was glad the old man was so communicative.
'The stones are collected taking into account the course of the stars, the age of man and his condition,' Ochia began his explanation. 'Of significant is the color of the stones, its shape, its dimensions and its degree of transparency, if the stone lets light through. We open the stone and warm it before use. For example, emerald, zircon and yellow topaz help make contact with the higher powers when the moon is waning, while with anthracite when the moon is waxing you can perform miracles by invoking the strongest spirits of the earth. And yellow veined jasper renews the blood and gives old people back their strength. There are many diseases, but also many stones. We take notes, we have books. You can come to us, Jesus, and we will let you know in full knowledge of this science.'
'No, I'm a bad hermit and a lazy prey,' I said, laughing. 'I have no desire to shut myself up with you in the desert. But if you would lend me your books... Anyway, you can't study everything, and I know so many beneficial methodologies and recipes by now that I probably wouldn't have the time to actually apply them all before the end of my life. And it also happens that people resist; for example, I wanted to find out a long time ago whether goat poop dissolved in oxycrat actually helped liver pain, but no one wanted to drink it. And what physicians can't achieve from dead snakes...! But Stijn is a complicated matter and I am in awe of your arts.'
'We know the secrets of the stones,' Ochia said with a modest smile, 'but even the very strongest stone is useless if you have not found the accompanying words. Every substance we use is only a pretext for treatment, the main gestation lies in the words. The Essene healer gives the sick person his medicine, but then takes him by the hand, immerses him in sleep and erases the disease from his consciousness, after which the body gets better. The physician removes the disease, as a superfluous word. We are happy because we live in harmony with nature and with each other. We know the names of angels, they are recorded in our books, with the salutation and verses attached. We do no harm to anyone, we do not use spoilers, we do not wear jewelry, and all things belong to everyone with us. But the calamity is this: every year, in the month of chesvan, when we are all fasting and praying for rain, the letter ק falls from heaven, killing one of our brothers. It falls right on the unfortunate one's head and he is instantly dead, the brother's head breaks like an egg, because it is a very heavy letter, made of a material similar to a deep blue metal that gives light in the dark. You cannot grasp it, it is hot, and so one of us grabs the cursed letter with long pliers and becomes it in a deep, dry stand of the well, on the beds of which now lie 67 such letters. At night a bright deep blue glow rises to the sky, and we anxiously await the month of chesvan, trying to guess we will be the next victim. We make use of astrology, the predictions on the basis of follower walls, study the constituent parts of our names, but nothing gives results, and if you can't calculate the future victim, you can't finish his death either. What to do?
No, I thought, this old Essene is no simple soul ... perhaps he lies about that letter falling from heaven, but it is indeed true that every year one of them dies a sudden death, I have even heard of it.
'Tell me, Ochia, how exactly do you fast, before the start of the rainy season?' I asked.
"In Lent, we eat almost no food. We are afflicted with our helplessness. We cry, but above all, we are silent," the old man replied. "We close the gates, and in those days none of us can enter the monastery. Sometimes the sick die before the gates, but we are implacable, because the love of God is the main thing, everything else is meaningless, and if we do not observe the commandments, we lose ourselves in being doomed. Once during Lent a rich youth named Johazar came to us, the lover of tetrach Avilineus Lisanus himself. He had rushed to us, but Paul arrived at the beginning of Lent. He was with a large retinue of sentries and servants. First he begged us, then he issued his threats, but we did not let him, even though we could probably have cured him. Sitting behind our stone walls we deadened in silence. Soon Joazar left and reportedly went blind. But why does God allow a deadly letter to fall down from heaven? And how to escape it?
As I listened to Ochia, I careened in pondering the fate of Joazar. Had the tetrarch disowned His blind love? Clean-shaven, eyeshadowed and blanketed, but blind? Or had this sad circumstance actually inflamed lust, as some members blindfolded each other during erotic play. Often it was teeth, hair and nails that hindered pleasure, was eyesight also superfluous in this matter? What good were your eyes if you were completely absorbed in your lover? Probably your body had to utterly renounce to finally grab lust by the tail. And I was also amazed at the obstinacy of the hermits of Qumran. They knew how to turn numbness into a weapon in the fight against levity, but their indifferent stubbornness was clearly against God, and the falling letter was a sign that I could read immediately, and I didn't understand why those Qumranians hadn't figured it out in all those 67 years.
'I'll explain what it's about right away, just walk behind me,' I said.
We stood up, and I took the old one to the southern wall of the synagogue, which was illuminated by the sun. On the way I touched a piece of charcoal from the path and with it wrote on white marble of the wall the word
קחש
'Ochia, read what you see,' I requested.
'Heavens,' the old man replied.
'And now imagine that it is now the month of chesvan, the time of the first rains. And hup, the letter comes falling from heaven and has killed someone,' I said, and I spit on that letter and missed it out. 'Now tell me, Ochia, what word is left?
Ochia fell silent and looked at the word in dismay,
חש
'That's what Our Lord July wanted us to know in all these 67 years!' Exclaimed me, as Ochia made a stop at the wall in fear. 'The letter kills, but the spirit creates life! But you Essenes had put the spirit in the can and sealed this can, you hid yourselves in the desert and dreamed of eternal life for yourselves alone. ''Speak!'' is the word addressed to everyone in Qumran. You said that you are not harming anyone, but by denying people their healing during your silent fasting, you are doing harm through inaction. Therefore, you should not remain silent! By remaining silent you are betraying God, if He exists and has not gone mad from having no one to talk to. And God is not a kind, beloved brother to you. He is strict. I waved my finger back and forth in front of Ochia's nose, and the star diviner's signet ring glittered on. 'If he is kind, simple people also stop being afraid of him and start biting each other's throats plumply in the streets, like hyenas gone mad. It is only good for a sensible man if God is like a caring servant, but there are catastrophically few sensible people: a wild goose can fly over Palestine for a whole day without seeing one sensible man down there. You have secluded yourselves there, in the desert, to save yourselves, thinking only of yourselves, and in so doing you have angered our Lord. Why is the cheese burning when you have covered it with a bowl? Smash that accursed bowl! Let the candle illuminate the secret corners of the earth! And do not keep silent during the fast, when you can heal people with the word.
Ochia looked dismayed, alternately at me and at the black letters on the wall.
"You have solved the riddle that has tormented us for so many years. Jesus, in your words, is like the balm of Gilead to my soul! Said he. 'I only now understand that we Essenes are like the snake biting its tail ... I have understood ... But now I must convince my brothers of that. We Essenes of Qumran must announce our footsteps to the world to burn up in the fire of the world in honor of the Most High! He suddenly began to cry, and his institution's braided beard began to shake.
'The numerical meaning of the letter Kof = 100,' I continued, 'and that means when 67 letters have fallen, really 33 are left, that is 33 lives of your brothers. Do you want that reason? Open your mouths and assist the sick, even in times of the strict fast. You don't need to increase the grief with silence, who will benefit? Bring light into the world without silence, and our Jewish God, who watches over you, will be satisfied. These like birds floating farther on the waves of the elements of this world! Do not be like the serpent who uses his tongue only to scan the dead stones with it...'
I knew best, of course, that he would not be able to change his community's mind. The old man had seen the light, but I understood that in all probability his grievous brethren would subject him to a carefully devised punishment, they could, and in the worst case expel him from the brotherhood afterwards high would soon end his days, expected by the Essenes, and misunderstood by everyone else. But how amazing it was that his mind had not withered, that he had listened to me! That was a miracle! The old man who had seen two black words on a white background and had been born again. But I could not have acted differently and concealed the truth from a neighbor, because more or less the same thing awaited us all at the end of time, only in a different degree of horror, and then was it not wiser to be a little harsh, but golden?
We walked out of the garden into a small marketplace. It was scorching hot, and under the awnings sat only some Arab traders offering their wares: spices, cheap jewelry, amber, Indian people, fine message leather and woolen fabrics. In the dust lay, legs pulled up under them, their red-brown, charging camels of a stout and indefatigable sort, who had brought all that through the sands and mountains of Chidzjas over the caravan routes along the sea of Eritrea. These camels were also for sale. The remaining merchants in the store owners waited in the coolness of their stone houses for the adventure, to begin their trade when the heat subsided and the square bustled to life.
I suggested to Ochia that he spend the night in the barn by the lake, to rest and sleep a little before the return journey after the shores of the dead sea, but he replied that he should not allow himself to be idle and should return immediately to his brothers, to tell them of his meeting with me and of the solved riddle of the letter that sowed death and destruction. He made a bow to me, touched the earth with his hand and walked out of the street without looking back.
Yes, the Essenes ARE as ineradicable as the suffering of the world is inexhaustible. The ages will pass, but they will go before to settle in cities and spots, building their monasteries and spreading their teachings that destroy youth, reason, love and beauty for the sake of an unattainable goal, while God will sometimes weep for him, then laugh at them again, then destroy him in anger with the help of the alphabet.
Absorbed in these thoughts, I watched the old Esseen, until the grinding of the wheels of the small days of urban water transport called me back to reality.
That evening I told my disciples at the dis of those who had come to me during the day. Matthew took out his writing utensils and a piece of leather and, as usual, wrote down on them his muddled thoughts more which he edited out for my actions.
The silk fabric of the drunkard from Goes-Halav I donated to Judas, who was very happy with it.
Andreas and Philip once complained that they had been insulted in Bethsaid by a well-to-do man. The day before they had come to his house to preach sensible liberty, he expressed his interest in this, but when they recalled my name and added for a bite to eat, he became diabolical and ordered his huge black servant to "throw these jerks out the door" and shouted, "I swear that I will personally cover with gold the pillory for this accursed Jesus, who offers his own daughter for sale!
The black had executed the command eagerly.
It turns out that a few days before, Bethsaid had indeed been put on by yet another vagabond Bass who had impersonated me, with in his side a young virgin, his daughter, with whom he not only accosted as with his wife, but whom he also offered anyone who wished to confess her in the adjacent bushes for a small payment.
A number of men took up the offer, among them even a boy who had stolen money from his parents for this purpose. The good fathers of that city immediately reported the event to the Roman chancellery, and the Centurion, vested with the administration of Bethsaid, determined to take the vagabond into custody. He was so indignant at the barbaric amusement of the Jews in this city entrusted to him that he put on his sumptuous battle helmet with the silver-plated crest and set out, in company with some legionnaires, to arrest the vagabond, but the latter had meanwhile managed to escape, taking his daughter with him. Someone said that they had sailed away in a stolen boat, someone else that they had walked through the vineyards to the west, but all they had left behind was something that was once again a stone Bert in the crown of my evil fame.
By the way, I was not angry with the vagabond, he was trying to keep his head above water under the emaciated skies of Israel, and his dealings with his daughter were, in the light of the faith of our fathers, worth nothing but a reverent silence, because the righteous Noah himself, chosen by God to preserve life on earth, had indulged in the charms of his daughters. His example was followed by the pious Lot, who was already an old man with a gray beard when he fled from Sigor, in order not to have to share his two beautiful daughters with anyone, living with them in a deserted valley and having fellowship with them, by day on the hot stones between the thickets of box tree and flowering oleander, by night in the coolness of a cave. The three of them had a fine time together. Every Moabite and Ammonite will agree with me.
The very wise fathers of Noah and Lot knew what they were doing, and they just didn't trade their daughters, because after the flood the former had no one to whom he could offer them, and the latter was wealthy and lacked nothing.
