György Spiró - Captivity

To believe in an Invisible, One and Only, Everlasting Lord, to see Him, to strive with the Lord, as the name Israel literally means — maybe that is enough to be Jewish. The Eternal One binds His people to Himself with a bond stronger than the Ark of the Covenant: He has the menfolk’s prepuces cut off, and that is the mark that shows they are His.

From then on they were surrounded night and day by an intoxicated throng. The Samaritans had not drunk any wine, but they had become inebriated by their own souls, and as far as the eye could see signs of the Divine presence, the Shekinah, His Immanence in the world, the Holy Spirit, appeared in the fields and trees, in the grass and sky.

For the Samaritans this Day of Atonement was more significant than usual. Uri was pleased when he recognized this. Once he got back to Rome, he would recount it all in detail to his father.

They moved with the crowd. The walkers were hemmed onto the narrow tracks as there were no other paths. Stones, clods of earth, and protruding roots cut their unshod feet, and Uri felt a twinge of guilt watching from above on the back of a mule. They made slow progress, adopting the pace of the mass anyway, so Uri got down and walked on among the people. His feet were sore but he did not mind, as the soles would soon be as tough as leather. Aaron saw but did not upbraid him. The two white-robed men noticed and also dismounted, leading their mules by the tether. The others, though, stayed on their mules.

Progress was slow.

“We are Essenes,” one of the white-robed men said. “What about you? Where are you from?”

Uri gave a brief outline. The Essenes humphed.

“Was it your people, then, after whom the gate in Jerusalem was named?” Uri asked.

“Our forbears,” they answered proudly.

Uri carried on walking with the Essenes, who were greeted gladly by the singing Samaritans attached to the throng.

The day becomes long if a person is walking, and talk is slack until the sun sets. That was how Uri learned that Essenes, of whom he had never heard in Rome, were few in Judaea, perhaps just a few thousand altogether, but had been there for a century now. There were places where they lived in their own houses, with the occasional scattered family member living in a village or town; wherever they were they helped one another and obeyed the commands of their leader. When Uri asked whether they had a single leader in Judaea, they first gave an evasive answer, then confessed that there were several sects of Essenes and several leaders. Many Essenes maintained only frigid relations with those Essenes that still paid dues to the Temple, but they still considered them clean; the Essenes alone had striven for purity in this mire that the Almighty had unleashed on Earth during recent generations. The high priests and even the masters left them alone. Individuals and even whole families could join the Essenes, but it was difficult to gain admission. Newcomers were subject to a trial period, during which it was not permitted to do or, above all, think anything impure. Thoughts could also be impure; indeed, it was mainly thoughts that were impure, stemming as they do from the bowels, and they condemned impurity of thought among themselves. They would regularly recount to each other their thoughts, even their dreams, and the community would discuss them and judge whether they were clean. If not, the leader would impose a punishment on the person who had thought or dreamt it.

They carried a trowel at all times because they were allowed to leave no impurity in their tracks on the face of the earth. They never resorted to arms, although a trowel might be used a weapon if it was whet. They only used it in self-defense, and if it was ever used as a weapon it had to be buried deep in the soil, at least five feet deep, because blood made it impure and would never wash away. Violent use of the trowel had to be confessed to the community, who would judge whether it was legitimate or not. If it wasn’t, the leader would mete out a harsh punishment, the harshest of which, for the Essenes as it was for the Jews, was ostracism, even if a follower had attained the highest rank of initiation, the fourth.

Both of the Essenes had attained the second degree, though only after many years, because unfortunately they were not born Essenes. Their leader had nominated them for this delegation in response to the high priest’s request for Essene involvement.

Uri felt inclined to live in an Essene community for a while, though he did not admit it, as it would have been a futile wish.

Unclean Samaritans were not to be found among the Essenes, the Essenes said disparagingly, as they walked with the masses toward Mount Gerizim and politely returned the respectful greetings of the unclean Samaritans.

By the second day of advancing through the crowd Uri was singing their psalms softly to himself, having learned the texts; they did not sing many psalms in Rome. Joyfully treading in step with pipes, the Samaritans were carrying their produce northward — wheat, barley, grapes, figs, pomegranates, olives, honey. They said a golden-horned ox decorated with olive branches proceeded at their head, while the women carried fruit in baskets wreathed with laurel leaves on their heads. It was one of the psalms of King David that they sang most often, the thirtieth:

I will extol thee, O Lord, for thou hast lifted me up, and hast not made my foes to rejoice over me.

O Lord my God, I cried unto thee, and thou hast healed me.

O Lord, thou hast brought up my soul from Sheol; thou hast kept me alive, that I should not go down to the pit.

Sing unto the Lord, O ye saints of his, and give thanks at the remembrance of his holiness.

For his anger endureth but a moment; in his favor is life; weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.

And in my prosperity I said, I shall never be moved.

Lord, by thy favor thou hast made my mountain to stand strong; thou didst hide thy face, and I was troubled.

I cried to thee, O Lord; and unto the Lord I made supplication.

What profit is there in my blood, when I go down to the pit? Shall the dust praise thee? Shall it declare thy truth?

Hear, O Lord, and have mercy upon me; Lord, be thou my helper.

Thou hast turned for me my mourning into dancing: thou hast put off my sackcloth, and girded me with gladness;

To the end that my glory may sing praise to thee, and not be silent, O Lord my God, I will give thanks unto thee for ever.

He switched to a dance rhythm as he hummed the psalms, in the way that the others did, and found out that it was easier to move ahead by dancing and singing in this manner.

One more day, Uri thought to himself as evening drew in, and we shall be reaching the sacred mountain.

They had just set up camp for the night when Aaron, who was standing and looking to the north, called them over to him. He pointed to the distance, up in the sky. Uri didn’t see anything, but Uri’s companions did, and a great excitement took hold of them. Others looked in the same direction and noticed too.

“Birds,” whispered the thin youth, Jehoram.

Uri squinted but could still see nothing.

The sun was peacefully preparing to go down.

People discussed something excitedly, a few cried out, then there were ever more people as a large group arrived running from the north, yelling, “Soldiers! Soldiers! Soldiers!”

The tribes got together, and the elders consulted one another. There was a general commotion, no one lay down to sleep.

Those coming from the north related with sobs that soldiers had attacked and slaughtered the people assembling at the foot of Mount Gerizim. Syrian soldiers, a whole cohort; they had come from the north, from Antioch via Galilee, and encamped peacefully two days ago at the foot of the hill, but then they had unexpectedly set upon the people, striking at will, chopping, lashing. Many had died — children, women, and old people alike.