The Master's Quilt (5 page)

“There comes a time,” began Uriel as he
watched the red-hot embers ignite the dry wood, “when an individual
must make a choice between what his five physical senses tell him
is real, and what his inner man, what the Scripture refers to as
n
^e
shamah
, the breath of life,
tells him to be aware of.” His eyes sparkled with light coming from
some other source than that from the now steadily burning fire.

“It is not an easy path to follow, but as you
learn more about the enemy that has been the source of your
torment, you will learn patience. Soon, the thief will be
exposed.”

Joseph’s whole body tingled.
This man
seems to know more about me than I do about myself,
he thought,
intrigued
. Strange. . .he speaks with the same authority as the
Nazarene.

“Continue your story, Joseph—we haven’t much
time.”

“I went back to Joppa and spent two weeks of
intense study in the Scripture at the temple there. Although I had
a vague sense that I would recognize what I was searching for once
I found it, I wasn’t sure I could explain it to anyone else. Even
so, by the end of the second week I was beginning to despair.

“One afternoon, late in the day, I was
walking on the outskirts of the city. I’d been studying Isaiah for
several days, not quite sure why I lingered upon his words. I
experienced mixed emotions as I read, alternating sadness and joy.
The great prophet’s words came alive in me as never before, almost
as if he were reaching out with his visions and revelations,
traversing through time to speak to me personally. But his message
eluded me.

“I found myself in the midst of a small clump
of olive trees. In the center of the stand was an unusually tall
carob tree. Its branches swayed in the cool breeze, causing the
sunlight to ripple across the leaves and coarse bark of the shorter
trees. The effect was very unusual; the whole stand seemed to be
swaying.

“It was cool in the shade, so I sat down
against the carob and closed my eyes. I could feel the cool bark
where it touched the back of my neck and I imagined that I was
standing on the deck of my uncle’s boat, watching dolphins chase
one another in the blue-green ocean. It was then that I heard the
voice—

“‘
And there shall come forth a rod out of
the stem of Jesse, and a Branch shall grow out of his roots. And
the spirit of the Lord shall rest upon Him, the spirit of wisdom
and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of
knowledge and of the fear of the Lord: and He shall not judge after
the sight of eyes, neither reprove after the hearing of His ears:
But with righteousness shall He judge the poor, and reprove with
equity the meek of the earth: and He shall smite the earth with the
rod of His mouth, and with the breath of His lips shall He slay the
wicked. And righteousness shall be the girdle of His loins, and
faithfulness the girdle of His reins.’”

“What happened next?”

“I opened my eyes immediately. Much to my
surprise, there was no one to be seen. Baffled, I stood up. Again
the voice spoke. This time I realized that the words had come from
within me:
‘The people that walked in darkness have seen a great
light: they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon
them has the light shined.’

“My heart began to pound. The haze of
twilight blurred before me as I cried out with understanding:
‘Bethel, the place of God!’”

Uriel remained silent, unmoving. He studied
Joseph through hooded eyes as he absorbed everything the young man
said.

“The next morning I set out for Jerusalem.
I’d been immersed in my studies, and it wasn’t until I was on the
outskirts of the city that I remembered the Passover would start
that evening.”

“It was just after the sixth hour, and I was
about five miles away. In a matter of minutes the deep blue,
cloudless sky turned an angry purple-black. The wind began to blow
with such force that it was all I could do to stand. I expected a
torrent of rain at any moment, but no rain came! Instead, the wind
began to howl, and great bolts of lightning crisscrossed the sky,
like sparks created by the pounding of metal upon metal as the
ironsmith pulls red-hot iron from the furnace and works it with his
hammer.

“I imagined that all the forces of darkness
had been loosed in the heavens above Jerusalem. I fell to the
ground, trembling, and cried out to Almighty God.”

Joseph’s eyes grew wide and his face became
flushed as he relived the experience. The light danced off his
glistening hazel-brown pupils and his taut, finely muscled body was
drenched with sweat. “Abruptly, the wind stopped! The sudden quiet
was deafening. I knew, somehow, that I was
hearing
death
instead of seeing it.” He shuddered with the memory. “An especially
loud crack of thunder ripped through the silence. It reminded me of
the singing sound the scourge makes before landing upon flesh.

“Then the rain came. Great torrents of it.
The fat drops fell. . .and fell. . .and fell—like a flood of
heavenly tears. I thought it would go on forever.

“I started to run, but had not gone far when,
just as abruptly as it had started, the rain ceased. No drizzle. No
light shower. The deluge just
stopped
!

“I arrived in the city just after dusk. The
streets were deserted. Shortly thereafter, I came upon a woodworker
in the process of closing up his shop. ‘Greetings, friend,’” I
said, my mind still contemplating the strange occurrence. “I’m a
stranger here and in need of lodging for the evening.”

“What business do you have in Jerusalem?” he
asked me, moving forward from the shadows into the light of a
lantern. “I seek a Rabbi from Galilee. . .a Jew who heals the sick
and teaches love of his fellow man.”

“And what would the name of this Galilean
be?”

“Jesus of Nazareth—”

“The shopkeeper became very quiet. When he
finally spoke, tears filled his eyes. “The one you seek is here no
more.”

“Where has he gone? I must find him. It is
most urgent.”

“No brother, you misunderstand. The Nazarene
was crucified this very day by the Romans at Golgotha,” he
whispered, then paused and quickly scanned the darkening
streets.

“Golgotha?”

“The place of the skull, just outside the
city.”

“But—”

“Just then several Roman soldiers headed our
way and the proprietor glanced at them furtively, then added, ‘I’ve
said enough already, especially to one who is a stranger. Go now. .
. I’ve work to do.’ Then he disappeared into the recesses of his
shop, taking the light with him.”

“Is that all?” sighed Uriel.

Joseph stoked the fire to keep it going. “Not
quite.” Outside, stars danced a promenade across the heavens, using
the black canopy as their stage, and a soft wind carried the scent
of salt and fish into the cave. Below, on the marl beach at the
base of the cliff, a fleeting tremor in the belly of the earth
rearranged the pulverized limestone ever so slightly. Neither of
the cave’s occupants noticed.

“I asked questions of several and learned the
location of the Rabbi’s burial. I arrived at His tomb well after
midnight,” continued Joseph. “There was a chill in the air that
belied the normally warm nights. I stood before the great
outcropping of rock and shivered. I couldn’t take my eyes off of
the huge slab of stone that sealed the entrance.

“Finally, exhausted and having nowhere to go,
I collapsed in front of the sepulcher. Mercifully, the sweet
release of exhaustion rescued me from my waking nightmare. Oddly, I
dreamed of my time in Joppa.

“Suddenly, an intense, almost blinding, white
light filled my head. Then, out of the light, a voice spoke! And it
was the same voice I’d heard at Bethel. . .and Joppa! It was
difficult understanding what the voice was saying because another
voice was talking at the same time. “Wake up, you!” the other voice
said.

“I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes,
only to discover that I was surrounded by a contingent of Roman
Centurions led by a Praetorian. ‘Who are you and what is your
business here?’ the Praetorian asked me.”

“I was terrified. My name is Joseph,” I told
him and stood up. “I came seeking the man who is buried in this
tomb. Who are you?”

“I am the Commander of Pontius Pilate’s
Praetorian Guard. And I warn you, if you stay here any longer you
will be subject to immediate arrest.”

“I knew enough about the Legion to know that
one does not argue with a Praetorian. Inexplicably, in spite of the
Praetorian’s harsh words, I felt a strange kinship with him. Had we
met under different circumstances, I believe we might have become
friends.”

“That’s quite a story, my young friend. And
now, because of what you’ve told me, I will share something with
you that I’ve never spoken about to any man.”

Joseph suddenly grew flushed, like he was
being comfortably immersed in a pool of warm oil. Impossibly, the
cave suddenly smelled as if it was filled with frankincense.

“We have not met by accident,” Uriel said
solemnly, fastening his gaze upon the younger man. “I have known
for some time that a man such as your would come. I just didn’t
know when. I know now my time here is nearly finished.”

Joseph started to say something, but Uriel
silenced him with a look. “The area around this cave was once known
as the Vale of Siddim,” he continued. “Many believe the name means
Valley of the Fields. However, the Vale Siddim is known to me, and
others like me, as the ‘Valley of Demons.’ Beneath the green
expanse of water below this cave lays the plain of abomination, and
beneath it lays the graves of giants. . .the
Nephilim
.”

“The fallen ones?” muttered Joseph,
translating the Hebrew.

Uriel nodded. “They are better known to you
as the
Rephaim
—aboriginal giants who inhabited Canaan.”

“Spirits of the deceased. The
Anakim
,
the
Emim
, and the
Zamzummin
,” whispered Joseph,
remembering reading about them in Scripture.

Uriel frowned. “Cursed because of their lust
for the flesh and blood of men, they perished in the Great
Flood.”

Joseph’s heart hammered. He knew from his
studies that Sodom and Gomorrah were said to be buried under the
great inland sea, and that the word “Gomorrah” actually meant
submersion.
Is it possible?
he wondered in amazement.

Uriel stood and went to the back of the cave,
where he withdrew something wedged between two rocks. “What I am
about to tell you, Joseph, is covered in detail in these
manuscripts,” he said, holding up a linen wrapped bundle.

“Are you the author?”

Uriel shook his head. “Merely a guardian.” He
handed the parchments to Joseph. “There will come a time when you
will know what to do with these. Trust your heart when that moment
comes.” The old man paused, a faraway look in his glistening eyes,
then continued in a somber voice. “You know the phrase
“wayigra
,” of course?”

Joseph nodded. “It means ‘and He called’; the
opening lines of the third book of the Pentateuch.”

Uriel smiled. “You learned your
bar
mitzvah
lessons well. Yet, when the Greek scholars translated
the books of Moses into the Septuagint, nearly three hundred years
ago, they named the book ‘Leviticus,’ because it contains the law
of the priests, the Levites, and illumines the priestly approach to
God.”

“Atonement,” interjected Joseph.
How did
this abrupt transition fit in with the information about the
Nephilim
?

“Atonement as it relates to Aaron and his
descendants, the Tabernacle, the brazen altar. . . the entire
nation of Israel,” pressed Uriel, skillfully guiding the
conversation. “And the most important element throughout the entire
book is—”

“The blood—”

“The
Torah
teaches that the life of
the flesh is in the blood, and that it is given to make atonement
for the souls of men. That is why God admonished Noah not to eat
the flesh in its life, the blood, and later instructed Moses to
tell His people that anyone, even strangers who sojourned among
them, who ate or drank of the blood of any animal would be forever
cut off—not only from their people, but from Him.”

“But how—”

“Shhh. . .let me finish, my impatient young
friend. What I must tell you is this. The remnants of the
Nephilim
, although they no longer have fleshly bodies, are
still very active. They can no longer operate in the natural realm
as physical beings, but they still foment madness and perversion
among the ignorant. Being offspring of angels and women, they are
neither angelic nor human. Having once been flesh, they desire
again to be flesh. But this is denied to them, except in rare
instances. Nevertheless, they feed on fear, anger, strife, and all
the perversions of the flesh. Ever consuming, never coming to
fulfillment, they are eternally damned. They hunger for blood,
because they know that there is life in the blood. Yet, they are
spiritual bastards, so no matter how much blood they consume, it is
never enough. For them, there is no
life
—only the torment of
everlasting darkness.”

Joseph was stunned. He was having a hard time
comprehending all that the old man was telling him. True, he knew
the basics—but the rest! Disembodied demons, thirsty for blood,
searching for hosts. . .

His mind reeled with the implications. He was
suddenly lightheaded, like a marathon runner nearing the end of his
long, yet exhilarating, ordeal. He gathered the bundle to his chest
and wondered why he did not doubt for a moment what Uriel had told
him.

Uriel studied Joseph’s face, then reached
over and took his arm, patting it, as a father would a child’s who
needed reassurance. For the time being, he had given Joseph enough
information about the scrolls. God would do the rest. “It is time
you slept,” he said soothingly. “And tonight I promise your dreams
will be peaceful. The demon has left you. He seeks more succulent
prey.”