Chapter 6: The Tablet of Moses
(Saturday morning)
PREV HOME NEXT"And if thou make Me an altar of stone, thou shalt not build it of hewn stones; for if thou lift up thy tool upon it, thou hast profaned it."
"And Moses turned, and went down from the mount, with the two tables of the testimony in his hand, tables that were written on both their sides; on the one side and on the other were they written. And the tables were the work of God, and the writing was the writing of God, graven upon the tables."
"And Moses' anger waxed hot, and he cast the tables out of his hands, and broke them beneath the mount."
"And the Lord said unto Moses: 'Hew thee two tables of stone like unto the first; and I will write upon the tables the words that were on the first tables, which thou didst break . . . .'
"And the Lord said unto Moses: 'Write thou these words, for after the tenor of these words I have made a covenant with thee and Israel.' . . . And he (Moses) wrote upon the tables the words of the covenant, the ten words."
Things were starting to unfold rapidly. Next morning at nine I headed over to the Department of Middle Eastern Studies. I didn't expect much since it was Saturday.
"May I help you?" said the department secretary, who just happened to be in her office picking up some examination blue books for her husband who taught in the department.
"I want to find a tutor who will help me improve my Hebrew. Someone who also knows Arabic too would be perfect."
My analysis at the office, the events around Farbstein, and the conversation with Noah gave me a strong urge to work on my Hebrew.
Now I am as Goy as they come. In fact, I still remember the surprise when I discovered that one of my classmates at the Episcopalian prep school I attended was a token Jew, the first I had ever met. (They also had a token Arab, and a half-breed Native American, but no Blacks. In all fairness, however, I should mention that since those days the school with its growing sense of political correctness has opened its doors to a wide range of minorities, including Orientals and quite a few Blacks.) Later on at Harvard and in Boston I began to really experience the American Jewish presence.
Also, my mother, who was a professional musician and the daughter of a Mormon missionary and a German spiritualist, found herself taking a job as music director in a Temple Beth El near New York city. It was a reform temple, very progressive, with lots of New York executives in the congregation. Since Mother knew I liked to sing, she persuaded me to help out with her choir during the High Holy Days. This was my first inside look at the Jewish religion and the Hebrew language. Before long I could read the alphabet and knew many of the chants and prayers by heart.
I can still hear the cantor intone: "Shma Israel Adonai Elohenu, Adonai Echod" (Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One). "Baruch Atoh Adonai, Elohenu Melek Ha-Olom" (Blessed be Thee O Lord, Our God, King of the Universe). You just don't forget those soul-piercing Middle-Eastern modes.
That brief acquaintance with Hebrew, as well as some Arabic that I picked up at a Mosque in Washington, D.C. ultimately stood me in good stead as I pursued my studies in linguistics. The Semitic languages are quite different from Indo-European tongues or East Asian languages like Chinese.
But that brief introduction to the Semitic tradition was decades ago during my college years. It was time for more. The secretary pointed me at a bulletin board. On it were posted a variety of job openings and jobs wanted.
My attention went immediately to a card that was lettered in blue and had golden decorative scrolls drawn by hand around it.
TUTORING IN HEBREW
BAR MITZVAH - BAT MITZVAH TRAINING
RIVAH TSUR (617) 868-7583
I jotted down the name and number and showed it to the secretary.
"Oh, yes," she nodded. "Rivah is good. She's the daughter of Russian Jewish parents who immigrated to Israel when she was very young. She graduated from Tel Aviv University. Then in her twenties she lived several years on a kibbutz in the Negev. She's got a bit of a pioneer spirit about her. Her Russian surname was Kremenskaya, but she changed it to Tsur when she was living in Israel. She speaks Hebrew fluently, and of course, Russian. Her English is excellent, and she picked up quite a bit of Arabic from the Palestinians, which inspired her to get a Ph.D. studying the social and cultural aspects of the Israel/Palestine question. She is currently working on her dissertation, and doing some tutoring on the side. People say she's a good teacher. I think you'll like her."
I borrowed the secretary's phone and called the number. I noticed a sharp twinge in my gut when I made the decision not to use my cellular.
Rivah Tsur answered. The sound of her voice was bright and cheerful, and she was happy to meet me at ten. We would work out a study plan and set up a schedule for two classes a week, unless I went out of town.
On the phone I got a good impression. She's responsive and flexible.
It was about 9:30. I walked to the Mall opposite the Old Campus. Am I being watched, I wondered, even as I walk around town? In the past I always went about my business without any concern for what others might think of me. I considered myself to be an apolitical individualist. But the events of the past two days brought an element of - was that fear? - to my life. If I couldn't walk around my own town without worrying about unseen terrorists, what was the difference here for me in Iowa City from living as a Jew in the West Bank or a Muslim in Serbia?
It was clear that part of this project was to dig into the fundamental nature of FEAR. Where did it come from, and how was it used? And that immediately led me to another question. What is the role of PAIN? Terrorists used deliberately random (funny oxymoron, eh?) violence as a key part of their agenda. What is pain after all, and how does it relate to fear? What sort of pain might this adventure bring to me? I shuddered to even speculate. And then another question arose. Was this exactly what they wanted me to feel?
No, I said to myself. I am committed to this. There is something right about it. Maybe this is my life mission, my little contribution to mankind, to help resolve this awful blight of 'International Terrorism.' Then another doubt occurred: what if the whole thing about terrorism is just propaganda, indoctrination by the media? After all, I've lived my whole life, over fifty years, without actually witnessing a single terrorist act. That is, until yesterday - that is, if Noah's interpretation was correct, and the shooting was not just the exaggerated frustration of a confused student.
Now I was starting to feel confused. Was I beginning to doubt Noah's integrity? What's getting into me? So, again, I steeled myself. There must be a correct answer, and I will find it through careful research and following my intuition, the Higher Self that was becoming more and more the guide on my life path. Like the T-shirts say, NO FEAR.
There's time to see Lin before my appointment with Tsur, I thought to myself. I stepped into The Sphinx, a small New Age bookstore located just opposite Crystal Vortex. I walked past the clerk's counter into the back room to order the Jewish Publication Society edition of the Holy Scriptures in Hebrew: Torah, Nebiim, and Ketubim with side by side English translation.
Sitting behind the computer screen was Lin Fei-peng, known to most of his Chinese friends as Mo-shu Lin, or Magic Lin. He got that name because he was an accomplished amateur magician, often entertaining children at birthday parties. Lin came from an expatriot Chinese family in Singapore. From his youth he apprenticed with a Taoist master and became expert in the use of Chinese herbs. He was also good at acupuncture and feng-shui, but did not put much attention on them. His real loves were herbs and books. As far as I was concerned, his real 'magic' was an amazing ability to find interesting books and match them to the right people. Also, although he was not a martial arts specialist, he was a Taoist adept. He carried a lot of silence in a very down-to-earth way, with an uncanny tendency to just show up when needed, and otherwise disappear.
When I finished placing my order, he said, "Say Derek, you know, I have just the book for you. It's not for sale. I go' it in Singapore last time I was there. You will find it interesting. Take your time, and let me know w'a' you think when you return it to me."
Then he reached into a drawer and pulled out a little red paperback with an Eight Trigram Taiji symbol on the cover and a couple of dragons to boot. It was entitled The Chinese Pakua: An Expose by Hean-tatt Ong, published in 1991 by Pelanduk Publications out of Selangor Darul Ehsan, Malaysia.
OK. Lin knew of my interest in The Book of Changes. I weighed the little paperback in my hand. This was a strange author and publisher. The eight trigrams represent the fundamental archetypes of creation. These are pretty widely known nowadays, even in the West. What was there to expose about the Chinese Pakua, I wondered? I opened the book and flipped through the pages. Ong's starting point leaped out at me. The magic square of the Lo-shu in The Book of Changes, according to his theory, is derived from the Kabbalistic Sigil of Saturn, which he reprints from Barrett's The Magus, the classic work on medieval Kabbalistic magic and the Seals of Solomon. I turned some more pages: Ong then proceeds to claim with quite a lot of evidence that Chinese civilization came from Mesopotamia, and was transmitted to the Chinese people by ancient shamans. One piece of evidence that particularly caught my eye was a chart showing the Chinese gan-zhi symbols. These ten celestial stems and twelve earthly branches have been used for several thousand years as the basis of the Chinese calendar. Ong matched them with the twenty-two letters of the original Hebrew alphabet.
"Thanks Lin," I said, still reeling from the revelation that he had opened up for me in that moment. Could it be true? Did Chinese culture really originate in Mesopotamia - essentially in what is now Iraq, the home of Saddam Hussein? And true or not, could such an idea have anything to do with the problem of China's role in international terrorism that I was investigating?
I stuffed the book into the side pocket of my jacket and headed for my meeting with Rivah Tsur. Whether or not Mr. Ong was right, I felt it was time to find out more about this powerful Hebrew alphabet that had changed the world so radically.
The address was on Lindsay Street. It was a quiet street lined with stately maples. The buildings were older frame multiplexes with three to six apartments occupied mostly by graduate students and junior faculty. She was living in a small duplex. At the front was a wide porch with a swing on it. I rang the bell to her apartment, and a minute later Rivah Tsur opened the door.
Her eyes were very large, very almond and very bright. Her hair hung to the middle of her back and naturally curled in loose ringlets that had minds of their own. Her body was lithe and athletic. Her skin was tanned, but it was obvious that she had a naturally dark complexion. She reminded me of Pushkin displaying his proud hint of African ancestry over high cheekbones and the secret eye corners so many Russians carry as an emblem of distant centuries under the Tatar Yoke. But the vibrant and bold energy of her body movements spoke of youth in the Pioneers and Kibbutzim, now translated into American coed grad student.
"You must be Professor Walker," she said with a smile. "Come on in. I've heard of your teaching in the East Asian Department. The students really like your unique classes. I'm pleased to meet you finally in person."
"Thank you," I replied, flattered by her recognition, and stepped into her small living room. Well, it was really more like a library reading room. There were built-in bookshelves on half of the wall I faced, and on a second wall she had installed a couple of dark stained legal bookcases with windowed shutters. I scanned the shelves at a glance, noting many spines in Hebrew and Cyrillic. The front wall had windows opening out to the stately trees in her yard. To the left was a staircase apparently leading to a second floor bedroom. The living room opened like an L into a small dining room. She was using the dining room table as a research area. Most of it was piled with books and papers. A Macintosh hummed and glowed at the far end. Next to it were the remains of breakfast, a coffee mug and some crusts of toast.
She motioned toward a puffy brown couch and I sat. She herself dropped into a well-worn armchair with a reading lamp peering over its shoulder. In the corner on a small table covered with a dark blue velvet cloth I noticed a small brass menorah with a Star of David on the middle branch. That reminded me that as I crossed the threshold I had slid past a mezuzah. On her wall was a framed image of the Tree of Life. This lady definitely was Jewish, and probably was acquainted with the Kabbalah also.
"I know you teach Chinese, Professor Walker," she said. "Now you want me to teach you some Hebrew. It may be helpful if you tell me a little about your purpose in studying Hebrew, so that I know where to put my attention."
"Well," I replied cautiously, "I may travel to Israel soon on some business, and I always like to get a deeper experience of places I visit. The Jewish culture and religious traditions are a source for much of our Christian culture, so I think it will also give me a better understanding of my own roots. I do have a beginning knowledge of Hebrew, but I'd like to be able to read the Torah in the original.
"I also have a linguistic interest. I have studied several Indo-European languages, and have a pretty good grasp of Chinese. I know the Hebrew letters, and can read a few phrases. I even learned some of the synagogue prayers. But now I want to go deeper into the Semitic system. For example, I'd like to explore more deeply the origins of the alphabet. I know that most linguists believe that all alphabets originally derived from a set of letters developed by a Semitic tribe - not necessarily the Hebrews. Some say it came from the Phoenicians. I even saw a theory once about it coming from the Palestinians."
"Oh, you mean the theory of Sir Arthur Evans," Rivah jumped right in, as if on cue, with precise information on the tip of her tongue. "He believed that the Palestinians derived it from the Minoan scripts of Crete. According to him the Phoenicians borrowed it from the Palestinians, and it went from there. Others see it as a set of symbols extracted from the Cyprian syllabary or Babylonian cuneiform. At least nobody believes that it came from the Greeks anymore. Most of the letter names have meanings in Semitic and are meaningless in Greek. And then there's the Egyptian evidence. There's a lot of support these days for Lenormant's old view that it came from Egypt - from sources like Petrie's Sinai material."
"Oh, yes, didn't some of the earliest alphabetic inscriptions come from the Sinai?" I asked, probing my memory for tidbits to keep up with her.
"Right," she replied, "Also, one of the oldest sources - and a key to the whole thing - is a stone dating from the 9th century B.C. It was found east of the Jordan, beyond Jericho. Oddly enough, the text was by a Moabite chieftain named MoSheH. That's the Hebrew form of the name Moses. Nobody believes it's the Biblical Moses. It's not the Ten Commandments, just an announcement. But he could have been a descendant of the original Moses, maybe Moses X. Actually, I think his name may have been recorded in the Bible, chapter three of Second Kings, spelled as Meysha'. There he's described as a local Moabite chieftain who rebelled against paying tribute to the Israelites.
"In 1906 Flinders Petrie found some Sinai inscriptions that appear to be a cross between the Moab script and Egyptian hieroglyphic letters. The Egyptians used a large number of pictograms and ideograms, but also evolved a lot of symbols used to represent discrete sounds. They just did not give up the ideograms or use a single consistent set of letters.
"Taking into account the Cyprian votive inscription to Baal-Lebanon and the various other Semitic sources from Yemen, Damascus, the Hejaz along the eastern coast of the Red Sea, many feel that they all derive from an earlier source that is not yet discovered. I personally think old Moses' Moabite Stone is the oldest and most accurate prototype we currently have of the true alphabet. All the others seem stylized in various ways, and the Sinai material, though considerably older, seems to be an Egyptian hybrid, not fully evolved into an alphabet."
"I see," I said, delighted at the details. "And the old Semitic alphabet didn't actually have 27 letters like Modern Hebrew does, or 26 like we use. It had 22, didn't it?" I felt Magic Lin's book in my jacket pocket pressing into my side like a prompter cueing the conversation forward.
"That's right," she agreed. "The extra five Hebrew letters are really just alternate ways of writing some letters at the ends of words. They all came later. Also, the original Semitic letters did not indicate vowel sounds - only consonants. The Greeks probably get credit for adding the vowels."
She walked into the dining room and opened a filing cabinet in the corner near the computer. She pulled out a manila folder with a xeroxed copy of an article, and flipped on a little desk copier that was next to the file cabinet. "Here is an article by Dr. Alan Gardiner with a nice chart comparing the early Semitic alphabets and their possible source Egyptian glyphs. I'll make a copy of this article for you to take home and play with. And, you know, this is a good way to start our lessons - by studying the Hebrew letters."
[Alphabet Chart][Editor's Note: RECENT NEW DISCOVERY]
While she ran off the copy for me, we arranged to meet twice a week, Sundays and Thursdays, 4-5 p.m. I would pay her $30 an hour.
She stapled the pages and handed me the article open to the alphabet chart. When I scanned down the column entitled 'Moabite Stone,' I felt a distinct shiver run up my spine. There was an eerie fascination in those crudely drawn symbols. Juxtaposed with the Egyptian hieroglyphs, I could see that the letters were highly simplified pictographs of body parts such as head, hand, or mouth, and ordinary animals and objects - bull, fish, snake, water, house, and so forth.
"The letters have Hebrew names that start with the sound of the letter, and most of them mean something in Hebrew," said Rivah. "See that one there." She pointed at the first column. "That's the Egyptian hieroglyph for 'eye.' The Hebrew letter - over here - (she pointed at the Moabite column) is simplified to a round circle. The name of the Hebrew letter is 'OaYN'. That word means 'eye' in Hebrew, and it begins with the sound of the letter 'OaYN', a sort of 'O' sound down in the throat. And our Modern English letter 'O' comes from that glyph."
"Huh!" I muttered in surprise. "The Modern Hebrew letter as I know it doesn't look very much at all like this. It really has changed. The old letter really suggests an eye."
I looked up at her, and our eyes met. In that magical gaze my vision shifted. My attention drifted ineluctably into her left eye, and suddenly I felt relaxed. Around the still point of her eye's black pupil her face radiated patience and compassion, with a mysterious intensity that totally intrigued me. The room melted into a field of light with a dot in the center. Feeling wonder and awe, my soul passed through the enchanted gateway of her gaze into the timeless realm of the nomads who wander vast deserts, bearing with them a great secret treasure.
PREV HOME NEXT