False Messiahs and Other Disappointments

By Harry White

An anthology of parables and short stories about illusions lost, loves forsaken, and friendships found.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jan 18, 2016
• ISBN: 9781483561097

Book preview

WINDOW

PROLOGUE

FALSE MESSIAHS

Throughout the ages there have been many false Messiahs, and in every age their illegitimacy became sadly apparent.

David of Jerusalem based his claim on his ability, evident since early childhood, to walk barefoot on chicken fat without slipping or becoming nauseous.

In a singular incident on Good Friday, in 231 A.D., Aggrippus, also known as the Fervent, called upon his disciples to nail him to a cross in fulfillment, so he said, of his Heavenly Father’s decree. Before he bled to death on the cross, his last words uttered to the awe-struck congregated beneath him—You fools, get me down from here!—did much, in the opinion of scholars, to expedite the disintegration of his movement.

Ishmael of Alexandria proclaimed that he was the reincarnation of Christ. As the ultimate sign of his divinity, he ordered his followers to bury him alive in the great desert and commanded that they return in three days to witness his resurrection. Unfortunately, he forgot to instruct them to mark the grave site, and until their deaths, the faithful wandered the great desert in pain and sorrow, convinced that but for their negligence they had failed to witness the most fabulous event since the first Easter Sunday. Ahmed, also known as the Unswerving, the only pilgrim to survive that misguided desert journey, reports that one year to the day of Ishmael’s burial, the holy man appeared to him as Christ did to his apostles—except Ishmael appeared to him as a corpse.

In the eleventh century Gottfried of Cologne traveled the Holy Roman Empire raising the dead and ravaging Europe with plagues because he refused to bring the dead back to life before he drew them from the ground.

When the authorities intervened, they set Gottfried off to sea on a sail boat with a box of rotten lemons and no rudders.

And then there was perhaps the first of these Messiahs. He made the blind to see, the lame to walk, and himself walked upon the waters of Galilee proclaiming that the Kingdom of God was at hand, for within a lifetime, he said, the world as we know it would come to an end. But it didn’t!

Now what?

LEGENDARY TIMES, LEGENDARY PERSONS

PARADISE LOST

On the Seventh Day of Creation, the Lord rested, and gazing with great satisfaction upon his work, he declared to the angels that it was good.

On the Eight Day man rose up from his first slumber to explore the wonders of the world over which God had given him dominion, and he began by naming the fish of the sea, the birds of the air, and the beasts of the field.

Time passed, and then more time passed, so that by the Thirty-Fourth Day, Adam took the time to name them all over again. Perhaps, he wondered, salmon might be a better name for the elephant. He finally settled, for no apparent reason he could recall, on spider.

That very night Adam prayed to God. He knew not what for. Everything was so new to him. Maybe some creature, unlike the octopus or the dragonfly, that he might find more agreeable.

And so it came to pass that on the morning of the Thirty-Fifth Day Adam awoke to find the first of womankind lying beside him. He gazed without moving upon the face of the woman, upon the body, upon the flesh so like his flesh, but in so many wonderful ways so different from his own. Surely this creature must be the finest of God’s many creations, and Adam, overwhelmed with the idea of sharing God’s glorious world with this new being, embraced his companion midst prayers of thanksgiving to her Creator.

By late morning the two companions were seen walking hand-inhand through Paradise, its peace all but disturbed by the excited creature that walked on two legs and was now pointing to every fish of the sea, bird of the air, and beast of the field.

For several days after (the intervals now become uncertain) neither Adam nor Eve were to be seen wandering about in the garden. Then one day they appeared once more, side by side, here and there, he reminiscing, telling her the name originally given to this or that creature that crossed their path or perched on a branch overhead, coaxing her at every encounter to indicate which name she preferred. But she had no preference. None at all! He pleaded with the new creature, but the woman did not wish to be bothered. She told Adam that she could not understand what difference any other names could make either in their lives or that of the animals. In time it mattered little to Adam along with Eve what the beasts were called. And that was when Eve decided to tempt Adam: Can’t we go someplace else? she asked.

There is no other place, he answered.

There must be, she said.

Resting only now and then, the two of them were able to find the Gates of Paradise within six days. They slept uncomfortably that last night and were startled by the rising dawn. For one long moment they looked into each other’s eyes, smiled, and then they pushed open the Gates of Paradise to walk forth into the wide world.

Months later, on a rain-soaked night, our first parents, huddled together under a large palm tree, came to know good and bad, and it was then and there, watching the rain and the lightning pour down around them, that they created the story of the snake, the delicious fruit, and the fable that God had expelled them from Paradise. Otherwise, they reasoned, men and women in ages to come would be without hope.

As for God, he had no say in all this. One typically bright and sunny day, as his spirit walked among the sights and sounds, the sweet birds and the fruits and the flowers of creation, God discovered, to his amazement and everlasting disappointment, that Paradise was empty.

NIMROD’S PROJECT

The people of our settlement consider Nimrod as if he were a god. There is not a family in the settlement that does not trace its ancestry back to him in some way, and we are taught as children that we are all sons and daughters of Nimrod and chastised for misconduct with the warning that it is no way for a child of Nimrod to behave. For by Nimrod’s seed were we chosen to become a unique race. And even to this day, we consider ourselves special among the peoples of the earth.

No doubt the project to which so many have devoted their lives confers great honor upon each and every person. And yet we cannot help taking particular pride knowing that we, unlike the alien peoples who have of late been permitted to work with us, are descendents of the creator of the project. Other masons and woodcutters may arrive, tie up their donkeys for several months, or even put up their tents just outside our gates to be gainfully employed for a lifetime; but they have not been treated from infancy to stories of the Great Flood, and many have not even heard of Noah, Shem or Japheth. They cannot feel for the project as we do, and most prefer to work in the careless ignorance typical of aliens, collecting their rewards and passing out of the village gates after the bell sounds to announce the end of another workday.

For us it has always been different. The very lessons we learn as children cover the genealogy of the sons of Noah, the great cities built by Nimrod and the vast lands he settled. And without exception, every member of our settlement at the beginning of each workday assembles in the square before the Gate of Heaven to recite in unison from the Memorial Prayer of the Nimrodim: Nimrod, son of Cush, we intone as one, was the first of the earth to be a mighty man. But when he was dying he summoned his people from the lands of Assyria, Shinar, and all the conquered territories to the North. And he said, ‘Our brothers live in the far off lands of Mesha, along the coast and hill country. But the earth has one language and few words, as in the days of Noah. Yet soon we will not know one another, and our families shall become contentious. They will forget the Almighty and not live in peace with one another. Therefore let us build ourselves a city in Shinar, and in the city a tower with its top among the heavens so that together we shall make ourselves one people, lest we scatter about the face of the earth and be one no more.’ And our prayers conclude with this supplication: In the name of Nimrod, we, his people, ask Thee, our Lord, to bless our work and the lives that we have dedicated to Thy service. Then the watchers, who have throughout the night been walking the wall that encircles the base of the tower, leave their posts atop the wall and the gates of the city are opened to the workers who have been waiting outside. The prayer is repeated again at the end of the day after the bells have sounded. But not before the watchers have swept the town, checking for aliens that might not have departed on time, locked the three gates to the city, and assumed for the night their stations upon the walkway surrounding the base of the tower.

Thus do we remind ourselves twice daily in our prayers of how all the peoples of the earth sent their most skillful artisans to the place called Nineveh, and how on the morning of the forty-sixth day, the day we now celebrate as Simrazy, the elders emerged from the sanctuary to announce the proportions of a tower to be built midway between Cuthath and Sethesh that would rise 330,000 cubits above the plains of Shinar and whose top would embrace the firmament of the Almighty.

This we have been told and this is what we rehearse twice a day in our prayers, even though we are located halfway between Cuthath and Nippur, and there are no memories or records of a town called Sethesh. More curious is the figure of 330,000 cubits. Certainly no small distance for a tower, but given the work which has been conducted without halting for so many lifetimes, it seems more than likely that the height should have been achieved perhaps as early as ten generations ago. Nevertheless, work around the tower goes on as always and the traditional names and numbers are maintained in the prayers and ceremonies without revision or updating. For although our Laws do not forbid either numerical alteration or the substitution of names, we are a strongly tradition-bound race and if the traditional views which have guided us as a people were to lose their binding force, then perhaps the captains would have to request the elders that more prohibitive statues with all their attendant penalties be handed down. We have heard of it happening to other peoples, and our unwillingness to see it happen to us no doubt explains the acceptance of evident discrepancies. A lot depends on their maintenance.

Consider The Song of Asher. It among others speaks of the forests of Dyala, that fertile mother, bringing forth timber like sons for God’s service and of the Euphrates, that rich valley, yielding precious stones like some coy maid surrendering to her lover’s caresses. But there are no forests in Dyala that anyone can remember. The land is barren, and the valleys around the Euphrates posses no stones. One can only surmise from our songs that these lands were once abundant with material which our ancestors used in their work. Perhaps the exhaustion of resources is what led to the outbreak of the Babylonian wars and the eventual destruction and pillaging of their cities and shrines at the hands of our mighty armies. Perhaps that is why our ceremonies still include references to the Babylonians as the Lord’s hated people, though no man, woman or child is known to have survived the raids against them. Even their oxen and sheep were put to the sword. The land between here and what was once the great city of Babylon is now desert. Indeed, so extensive is the distance our carters must now travel, so forbidding the landscape they must negotiate, that for three months out of the year no timber arrives in our settlement. After hundreds of generations, work must for a time come to a halt. Not that we envision this as a problem or present it to ourselves as such. These months have been designated as a time of rest, prayer, and rededication to the work-year ahead.

But it was not always so. The Days of Peace and Rest did not always appear as part of the annual ceremonial requirement. A number of records are clear on that point. Men were born and died, one generation replaced another, and the work would progress year in and year out without ceasing. But it must have happened that at some time the carters, the stonemasons and finally the architects themselves began warning of the scarcity of stones, pointing out that inferior stones were being utilized and that, regardless, the entire length of the Tigris and the Euphrates would soon be stoneless—like an empty womb, they must have cried out for emphasis. Interest would then have shifted to Upper Zab; but with the increase in the distance travelled, construction of the tower itself must have come to proceed more slowly throughout the year as each year passed. And the day came, as it inevitably had to, that the quarries at Zab lay hollow and empty, and masons might be sent as far north as Ararat to gather and refine stones. But that would have meant that construction would have had to be halted the entire winter season when travel for such distances is all but impossible. As we say, if a husband returns not home before the green departs from the leaves, the wife may expect a cold winter.

These temporary absences of stone would explain the substitution of brick and the striated pattern of brick and stone which, on a clear day, is visible in the upper tiers of the tower—that is, those tiers visible to the eye of a man standing upon the earth. To maintain construction year round, the tower rose in brick during the cold season, awaiting the spring when the watch tower guards would sound the rams’ horns to announce the sight of the first caravan of the new year bringing stones from Ararat or Errech, or maybe even the coastland. And then after several days of celebration, feasting and prayer, building would be renewed and the tower once more rise in stone.

But it came to pass, so far as I can determine, not too many years after the holy Days of Peace and Rest were made part of the calendar year, it came to pass around that time that construction on the tower halted. Not that to this day work on the project does not continue vigorously as ever; strengthening the foundation stones at the base of the tower, adding stones on the top of the wall that encircles its base wherever slippage occurs.