Alex Mitchell - The 13th Tablet

A young Ethiopian Orthodox Jew came up to them and told them in his broken English that the women’s place of worship was elsewhere. Mina told him that they just wanted to visit the synagogue and possibly talk to the person in charge of the archives.

‘You wanting administrator?’

‘Yes,’ she answered.

As he walked off, Jack turned to Mina.

‘I’ve never seen a black Jew.’

‘Huge numbers of Ethiopian and Russian Jews have emigrated to Israel in recent years. The law is such that all Jews can emigrate here, almost no questions asked. The Jewish diaspora is amazing. They’re come from everywhere, from China to South America.’

‘Wow. So they can just return from wherever they have lived for centuries?’

‘Yes, it’s called the Aliya , the Law of the Return.’

‘Too bad it doesn’t work for the Palestinians too…’

‘Jack, I’ve got more reasons than you to feel for the Palestinians, but I think you’re being naive on that count. Anyway, I’ve come here for information and not to insult people so please back me up. Shhh. He’s coming back.’

The young man had returned with a jolly looking man in his late forties, so corpulent he seemed to roll down the stairs.

‘Shalom. My name is Ezra and you are?’

‘Shalom. My name is Miriam and this is Josh. We’re from New York and we’re visiting Safed for Chanukah. Your synagogue is a real jewel.’

‘Thank you.’

He beamed with pleasure and kept looking at Jack, as if he expected him to speak. Mina realised that being a woman she was less likely to get answers than Jack, but it couldn’t be helped. She said to Ezra, ‘I’ve also come here to do some research for my PhD.’

‘How fascinating. What are you working on?’

‘Well, I’d be interested in any information, texts, documents of any sort you may have on or by Benjamin of Tudela. You see, I thought since your synagogue was the oldest in Safed, you may have old records that other synagogues don’t.’

‘Benjamin of Tudela? I don’t think so. But, there is someone in Safed who might be able to help you. Old Eli, Eli Ben Mordechai. I remember he was obsessed with Tudela for some time, but I can’t recall why.’

‘Is he in Safed?’

‘Yes, at the Ari shul , the old one where Ari prayed, the Sephardi one.’

‘Would it be possible to meet him?’ asked Mina.

‘Of course, I can arrange for you to meet him tomorrow morning. Would 10 o’clock suit you?’

‘Yes, that would be perfect.’ Mina said. They thanked him profusely and left the synagogue. They would have to rush if they wanted to book a room for the night. They retraced their steps through the Old Town to Bar-Yochai Street. Back in the van, they drove up Jerusalem Street, past the upper end of the citadel park and parked as close as they could to the guest house. They hurried down a narrow path of the Artists’ Colony and arrived at a wrought iron gate.

They passed the vine-covered stone courtyard of the Bar-El guesthouse and into the hundred and fifty years-old restored house, where they spoke to the owner, who confirmed that there had been a last-minute cancellation for a suite, which had a view of Mount Meron. It would cost $160 a night. Mina winced, so the lady said she could reduce the price if they stayed more than one night. Jack jumped in and said they were staying at least two nights and would take the suite.

She reminded them that it was almost time to light the Chanukah candles. They could of course go to any of the many synagogues of the old town for the lighting, but they would be welcome to join the others here and take care of their luggage later on. Jack and Mina followed her into the darkened dining area. The atmosphere was heavy with mystery. Jack turned to Mina and asked her in a whisper what they were all waiting for.

‘For sunset. When the lights will be lit,’ she whispered.

Mina picked up a kippa , a small, round skullcap, which she discreetly passed to Jack. He quickly placed it on his head like all the other men standing in the room. They mingled with the people surrounding the menorah , a brass candelabrum with eight branches. There were three candles waiting to be lit. A young man sang blessings as he held the shamash , the separate candle which would be used to light the other candles. Mina could not help thinking that while shamash meant ‘to serve’ in Hebrew, as the candle served the other candles by lighting them, it was also the name of the ancient Sun God in Sumeria. She marvelled at how all things were so interconnected in the Middle East.

Everyone smiled as the young man sang the blessings in a beautiful baritone voice and when he was finished, they all joined in singing songs, accompanied by a group of klezmer musicians, Eastern European Jewish clarinet players who then performed variations on the traditional songs. Jack and Mina were moved by the atmosphere, and for a while, were able to forget the ordeal of the past few days and the reasons that had brought them to this enigmatic city.

After the meal, Jack and Mina picked up their bags from the van and walked back to the guest house climbing the few steps up to their suite. It was a delightful room, with stone walls, tile floors with Moroccan motifs and the ubiquitous deep blue decorations. While Mina went to the bathroom and ran herself a bath, Jack retrieved his laptop and set up an internet connection. He started reading about the Ari synagogue. The more he read, the more he felt utterly out of his depth. He left one of the pages on the browser for Mina to read later then shrugged off his coat and snowy shoes and stretched out on the bed. He was exhausted.

When Mina came back into the room she found Jack fast asleep. She gazed at her handsome travel companion and wondered how he would react if he woke up and found her naked by his side. Tempted as she was to find out, she knew there was work to be done. She picked up the stone tablet from her bag and worked on it for some time, taking a few notes. She noticed the open laptop on the desk and had a look at what Jack had been up to. She found the page open on the Ari Sephardi synagogue. It dated back to the 16th century and had been named after Rabbi Isaac Luria, also known as the ‘Ari’ or ‘the Lion’ in Hebrew. His name was actually an acronym for Adoneinu Rabbeinu Isaac, one of the greatest kabbalists of all times. He’d arrived in Safed in 1570 and died there in 1572. He was buried west of the city.

The Ari had prayed in this synagogue and was said to have been visited by the Prophet Elijah in a small recess at the back of the building. According to tradition, the two of them discussed the mysteries of the Torah. Today, the tiny room is kept as a shrine, where people light candles during the day. The synagogue was destroyed in an earthquake in 1837, but was rebuilt twenty years later. Mina wondered how much of the Ari’s sacred room had remained intact over the years.

Mina’s attention drifted as she marvelled at the centuries of mysteries surrounding this city. What amazing luck that this Eli they were going to meet was ‘obsessed’ with Tudela. He’d probably have documents to show them, maybe even a small archive. She closed the laptop, picked up a large woollen blanket, and covered Jack with it. She then walked to the other room and opened her suitcase. She pulled out some of the clothes Liat had bought her in Tel Aviv, caressed the fabric and sighed, thinking about her friend. At least she was alive. Mina hoped one day Liat would forgive her for what she had unwittingly put her through. She sat down on the bed as she felt tears welling in her eyes. Pulling herself together, she undressed and slipped under the covers, where she fell asleep almost instantly.