JOHANAN THE HIGH PRIEST
JOHANAN THE HIGH PRIEST
Johananthe High Priest was eighty years of age. Sound in spirit and strong in body had he attained to that ripe old age, at one with himself and his God. For from his earliest childhood days he had been taught to walk upon the Lord’s ways, nor did he forsake them. He guarded himself against all transgression, and he built around him one wall within another. To the old commandments he added new, and was strict with himself in fulfilling them. His words were: “The body is nothing, the soul is all. The body is dust and clay, the soul is eternity. Live not for your bodies, live for your soul alone. Heed not what time brings forth; turn all your thoughts and your efforts to the everlasting.”
And as he preached, so did he live. Word and deed were to him the same. And although he was High Priest,—the leader of his people and the wealthiest and mightiest of his brethren,—his body knew nothing of the pleasures of this world.
The inhabitants of Jerusalem, however, revered him greatly for his steadfast consistency. Although it was very difficult to follow in his footsteps, and very few did so, his entire people could not cease to marvel at him, and their admiration rose to reverence and veneration.
And because he was so beloved and respected, his eightieth birthday became a holiday for all the city. Every house was beautifully bedecked, and all the inhabitants dressed in festive array; from every corner of the land men and women in holiday mood made pilgrimages to him, riding thither or coming on foot. And there came to him from afar and near his friends and admirers, with music and song, asking him to walk with them through the streetsof Jerusalem. Let him see how the whole people rejoiced in his longevity; let him feel how beloved he was. The road was laid with carpets, and little children ran ahead strewing his path with flowers and crying, “Life everlasting to our master the High Priest!” All the streets were packed with festive crowds, men and women; all the roofs were thronged with denizens of Jerusalem; every window was besieged, and the city resounded with the cry, “Life everlasting to our master the High Priest!” And the fair daughters of Zion, with graceful gestures and virtuous blushes, showered him with flowers and wreaths.
And as he passed thus through the streets of Jerusalem, amid the jubilation of the people, he heard behind him the voice of a woman, saying, “How handsome is the old man, and how strong he still is! A girl could fall in love with him!” And because his heart was filled with pleasure and forbearance, he turned his face toward the gossiping woman, with a fatherly smile upon his face. It was a young maiden, as beautifulas a picture, of medium build and buxom presence, and she received his glance with eyes out of which beamed the sun. It was as if she had been waiting for him to look upon her, reserving for him her most penetrating glance. He was abashed at her look, and the genial, fatherly smile upon his lips faded into embarrassment, not knowing what to do with itself and at last lengthening to a grimace.
And as he turned his head away from her he heard the voice of a man, saying, “What has he had, pray, of all his long life, his beauty and his strength?” The voice came from the vicinity of the beautiful woman, and in it echoed a certain insolence, as if the speaker had meant to strike him and hurt him with the words. And yet there was deep pity in the voice. And it seemed to the aged High Priest as if an arrow had grazed his breast. He rose to his full height, the smile vanished entirely from his lips, his forehead became wrinkled and his countenance grew dark.
His assistant, the vice High Priest, whowalked beside him, noticed the change that had come over the sage’s face, and whispered to him, angrily, “That is Jason, the son of Meshulem, and the woman at his side is his sweetheart, Athaliah.”
Johanan, however, affected not to hear what his subordinate whispered to him. He raised his head proudly and walked with firmer tread than before. His entire exterior bore the answer to Jason’s words. His countenance grew stern and the look in his eyes sharp. Every moment spoke of his strength and of the consciousness that he had nothing to regret in his life. Jason understood this mute reply and smiled back ironically yet sadly, but all the people looked with great veneration upon the proud, giant-strong figure of the High Priest. They made way for him with trembling in their hearts; piety and reverence echoed in their incessant cries of “Life everlasting to our master, the High Priest!”
His proud bearing did not forsake him during all the time that he walked through thestreets, nor even later, as he sat with his intimate friends at the banquet given in his honour.
That night, however, the High Priest could not fall asleep. The small quantity of wine that he had permitted himself to drink at the table and the excitement kept sleep away from him. A confusion of human figures and dwellings and streets passed before his eyes; his ears buzzed with the endless hum of voices and instruments. But soon, from all the figures emerged that of Athaliah, and he could hear distinctly what she said and what Jason replied. At first it came to him unawares, like a dim remembrance, a slight impression. At once, however, the sight and the voice grew clear to him, and he became uneasy. He scowled angrily, as if trying to banish form and voice, and soon he began to toss from side to side. In vain! Athaliah stood before him, with her eyes that beamed with the sun transfixing him with her penetrating glance. Heexperienced a sensation that had come to his body many a time during his life,—one that he always feared as much as deadly sin, trying to drive it from him by his strong will, long prayers and severe fasting.
His being cried within him: he, he the octogenarian! How does he come to this? He raged against himself and thought of himself with scorn. Eighty years old and a High Priest! He directed his thoughts to God; his lips began to whisper a prayer. Yet the great crowds continued to pass before his eyes, and from the multitude, clear and well-defined, there stood out Jason’s sweetheart, the wonderfully beautiful Athaliah. Impossible to drive her from his thoughts! Impossible!
Suddenly Jason’s words caused his blood to boil. A curse upon the wretch’s mouth! What had he had of all his long life, his beauty and his strength! He had devoted these to God! God had given them to him and he was God’s debtor, and he had paid back God like an honest man. His life was God’s, and helived for God. Whoever lived otherwise was a wicked man, a sinner against God, a debtor that evades his debts.
These thoughts made him strong. It was as if his muscles had become iron and his veins, steel.
But despite everything, Athaliah’s image did not disappear. She stood before him in all her beauty, with her radiant eyes, and that glance which penetrated into his bones and his very brain. He looked at her with ire and scorn; he even spat in disgust. All this was of no avail to banish the vision.
He lay calm, free of thoughts, and pretending to see nothing. His scorn of the feminine form knew no bounds. Soon, however, he arose and lighted a candle. The light must surely banish the evil vision. Seated on the side of the bed, his bare feet resting on the cold earth, he began to murmur a prayer. He was angry, utterly broken in body and soul. How came this to him, the aged man? Woe, woe, he hadnot lived righteously after all. The bodily, the fleshly, the sinful, still ruled over him.
He arose and stretched himself. Something now grew clear to him. As long as the soul dwells in the body, it must wage strife against the body. Thus was God’s will. And he would give battle! His will was strong. He even stamped his foot. Yes, his will was strong!
And on that night he did not return to his bed. He unrolled the Torah in the light of the candle and sat down to study. He knew that the form of the beautiful woman had not yet vanished. He needed but to close his eyes and he could see her. He needed but to turn his head away from the sacred scroll and he would behold her, feel her presence distinctly. But he was calm. He knew that he would conquer in the struggle with the vision, which came from the Evil One. She would disappear. And his voice, as it intoned the holy passages, was touching.
The following morning he went into the wilderness, into the desert of Judea. He said that he desired to be all alone after the excitement of the previous day; far from human beings and his own affairs he wished to take account of his deeds: it was already high time he did so, for he was very old. He went into the desert, however, in reality to fast and to torture his body in combat against a desire that comes from Satan. He went barefoot over the burning sand, on jagged rocks and through thorns, under the scorching rays of a July sun, without food or drink, granting himself no rest. Yet the beautiful Athaliah hovered still before him and behind. Many a time he cast himself to earth, groaning frightfully. Not from fatigue, not from hunger or thirst, however, but from despair. Why did she not disappear? He beat his heart and tore at his breasts. “Lord God, why drivest Thou not from me this visitation from Satan!”
But he little knew what was still in store for him. When, that evening, after a meal of figs and water, he lay down upon hard stones, in a rocky hollow, tired, despairing, wracked by a burning desire for the beautiful Athaliah, a terrible thought assailed him. It came altogether unexpectedly, like an enemy from behind concealment.
What had he had of all his years, his beauty and his strength?
These were Jason’s words, but the High Priest no longer knew it. The thought came to him so overwhelmingly that he groaned and commenced to tremble, as if he were exposed upon the snow-capped summit of Mount Lebanon.
He no longer remembered what he had thought the previous night upon his bed,—what had then made him so strong. One thought alone kept gnawing at him incessantly: “What have I had of all my life, of my beauty and my strength?” He even cried to God: “Lord,what have I had of all my life, of my beauty, and my strength?”
Under the stress of unfulfilled passion his entire life seemed to him now like a desert. Harsh and ascetic, thorns and stones. Nothing but debts and debts paid. The body had been nothing; the soul all. The soul! Who was it crying so within him now? Who was longing within him now? Was it the soul or the body?
His head sank back and he lay weary and hopeless. All at once he started up. With frightened eyes he gazed before him and delved into his soul: How did he know that the truth had been with him,—that his life had been the true life ordained by God?
He stretched himself out upon his stomach, his chin propped on his hands, his eyes staring into the desolate night, burrowing, burrowing into his soul. Somewhere in the distance jackals were howling; a lion of the desert bellowed with hunger. Johanan heard nothing. He was cold, and his heart and soul were rent asunder by bloody claws. The entire peoplelived altogether differently from him. Were they all wicked sinners, and was he alone the righteous man? But there was no righteous man upon earth who had never sinned. What was sin? They had often ridiculed his severity, crying out against it. Had he really been too severe? Where was the proper boundary?
He looked up to the sky. He half expected that the heavens would now open and that he would behold God and hear Him. Then he would know the whole truth. God would reveal to him everything. To him alone. He did not remove his eyes from heaven, and a yearning enfolded him. He longed to see God, to hear Him. He was eighty years old, and for the greater part of his life had been a High Priest, yet God had never revealed Himself to him either in reality or in a dream. What he knew, he knew from others, those who had come before him. From Moses and the Prophets. And, too, from himself alone,—from what his heart had told him. But now he wanted to hear it from God’s own lips. Hadhe, then, not earned it? But hour after hour went by, yet the heavens parted not, nor did God reveal Himself. The stars twinkled peacefully in the high heavens and from afar came the howling of the jackals and the roaring of a lion.
He cast his face upon his arm and burst into tears. Like a petulant child; and like a child, too, he fell asleep in his tears.
His slumber was restless and short. Queer dreams wove and interwove themselves in his mind, and on waking he could not recall them. And he knew that not even in his dreams had God revealed Himself. His heart became very heavy, and he accompanied his morning prayers with deep sobs. Athaliah’s figure was as if veiled by a cloud; that which had driven him into the desert had disappeared and been forgotten. Now he had one great yearning: to experience a moment of revelation,—to hear God’s voice, God’s word. With sighs and tears he proceeded further into the desert, to torture his body with prayer and fasting. Hestrode along in expectancy, his eyes directed to heaven, his ears wide open. Often he would stop short with bated breath, for it seemed to him that already he saw or heard something. Each time, however, after a brief waiting, he would continue on his way with a deep groan.
His prayers did not cease. “From the depths of my heart I call out to Thee, Oh God. Lord, hear my entreaty, and bend Thine ear to the voice of my supplications.” And he discoursed learnedly with God. He believed in Moses and the Prophets. He knew for a surety that God had discovered Himself to them and had spoken to them. But if He spoke to these others and revealed his will, then why not tohim? If he was unworthy of this grace, he wished to know why. If none might look upon God and remain thereafter alive, he did not care. He was ready to die. With all his heart he desired such a death. Almighty God, this very moment.
He stopped and waited. Sadly he then continued on his way. At last he began to call,“God, if Thou Thyself desirest not to reveal Thyself unto me, then send me Thy messenger!”
But day after day passed by. He travelled the length and breadth of the desert; his body became cadaverous, his face sunken, and his weary, extinguished eyes sat in deep sockets.—Then he turned back to the city, which was much agitated by his disappearance, and where he was received with cries of fright and wringing of hands because of his wretched appearance. With still greater fright did they leave him, for he refused to reply to all questions; his mouth was sealed, his look severe and distant. His wife and children, and all his friends in the city went about distracted and in despair, for they could not tell what was the trouble with the aged High Priest. The only words he vouchsafed were addressed to the guardian of the keys, from whom he took the key to the Temple, admonishing him to permit none to follow the High Priest. The entirecity was plunged into deeper consternation than ever.
Only once per year—on the Day of Atonement—was the High Priest permitted to enter the Holy of Holies, the most sacred room of God’s house. Only this once, without being punished on the spot by a bolt from the Almighty. Yet it was to the Holy of Holies that Johanan now directed his steps. He desired to see God, and death held no terrors for him. His heart was embittered, his spirit downcast. He was not of God’s chosen few. What mattered to him a continuance of life in unworthiness?
He prepared himself with ablutions and performance of sacrifice, and clothed himself in white. Before the entrance to the Holy of Holies he paused for a moment. In fear, but also in expectation: perhaps God would yet send him a token. It was everywhere so still, and the semi-darkness of the room in which he stood was as though peopled with spirits.He looked in horror about him and his heart beat wildly. He did not retreat, however, nor did he desist from his firm purpose. With unbending will, yet with trembling hand, he opened the heavy door to the Holy of Holies, and dashed, rather than walked, into it. His eyes were as if dazzled, his legs sagged beneath him, his heart was almost rent. He leaned against the wall to keep from falling. He neither saw nor heard anything. He stood rooted in great terror.
Gradually he recovered his composure. How long had he been there? And he was still alive? His eyes opened wide with astonishment; he tore himself away from the wall and surveyed his surroundings. All was silent and calm in the dark solitude of the room. The Satijah stone, the Rock of the World, which stood there in place of the vanished Holy Ark, he felt rather than saw. Silence. A vast silence. He rolled his eyes about, listening intently. Nothing. Four bare walls, the Satijah Stone and he alone. And nothing else. Hecried aloud with amazement. And his present stupefaction was even greater than his previous terror. He straightened himself out, proud and arrogant. His countenance grew stern and ireful. He began, from force of habit, to go out with his back to the entrance and with his face to the Ark, but at once he wheeled about and with firm steps left the Holy of Holies and the Temple.
He went to Athaliah, the beloved of Jason, son of Meshulem.
She looked at him in surprise and fright. The High Priest in her home!
“I have come for your love,” he said.
She screamed and recoiled from him with hand upraised to defend herself.
“I am handsome and strong and capable of inspiring a woman’s passion. You yourself said so, and I have come for your love.”
She tried to flee but firmly he barred her way.
“I have had nothing of all my life. Nothing of my beauty and strength. Your own Jason said so. Now I desire to enjoy what I havemissed as long as strength and beauty remain with me.”
She wished to make an outcry, but her throat was as if tightened with fetters.
He embraced her with a powerful arm and she turned and writhed as though a snake were coiling about her.
And he spoke:
“I have come for your love. Are you afraid of me? Do I arouse your aversion? Am I too old for you? My white hair recalls the snowy cold of death. But I still live and am strong and passionate, and I have come for your love.”
Athaliah, ghastly pale, squirmed in his arms and gasped, in fright and loathing. “Let me go! Let me go!”
But he took her in his arms and with his keen eyes seemed to devour her beauty.
“I’ll have your love. You shall have to belong to me. If not willingly, then by force. I am all-powerful; you know that. Your life is in my hands, and the life of your sweetheart,and the life of all those near and dear to you.”
Athaliah now regained her voice. “No! No!” she shrieked. “Killme! Slay me alone!”
“You shall belong to me. I do not wish your death. I desire you in your living beauty. I am very wealthy,—the richest of all our people. I will clothe you in gold and silver, and bedeck you with precious stones. Ask what you wish and it shall be granted. Why do you fear me so? I am old in years, but strong in body, and I wish to enjoy that strength. Be mine and you shall never regret it.”
His words, which echoed with gold, and his arm, which spoke of great masculine strength, changed Athaliah’s mind. She became the mistress of the High Priest, but for a few days only. For a savage fury befell the High Priest; he desired to enjoy the pleasures of the senses more and more, and he changed his mistresses every day, intoxicated with lust and wine. Then, to the great horror of his people, he also took to drinking.
His wife, his children, and all those who were truly pious and decent, together with all to whom the honour of their people was very dear, tried with despair in their hearts to turn him from the terrible life he had begun to lead. They also tried to learn how all this had so suddenly come to him,—how he could so completely have forgotten God. But he did not speak to them; he was as one dumb. And it seemed that no invocation of God or the Torah could touch his heart or his ear.
And many who were not decent, and to whom the honour of their people was worth less than the smallest coin that fell into their purses, became his flatterers and pandered to his desires. For he was prodigal with his gold, and that was all they desired of him; the deeper he sank into lust and dissipation, the more gold came into their clutches.
Soon, however, his eighty years began to tell. He grew weak and impotent, but he could still guzzle and he became a disgust and a fright.
The people felt that they must be freed of him, and his death was decided upon. They remembered, however, what he had been for eighty years and none cared to lay hands upon him. It was resolved that his death should be an honourable one, happening as if by accident. And once, on an evening in which he had drunk more than usual, he was abducted from his sycophants, taken into the mountains and left lying upon the brink of a precipice over a deep sea. No one’s hand was lifted to thrust him over the edge, and with tears in their eyes and sad shakings of their heads they abandoned him to his fate.
He lay motionless, sunk in a deep sleep. But the first rays of the rising sun awakened him. He stretched out his arms as if to reach for the wine that stood now always before him. He grasped only the air. He groped and groped about and at last opened his eyes. He opened them wider and wider, distending them more and more. Where was he? He looked around, to this side and to that, above and below.He saw the abyss. Slowly and gradually it dawned upon him that he lay upon the brink of a high precipice. How had he come hither? Who had brought him? Slowly and leisurely he looked over the edge. If he should fall in.... Then he understood. This was his death-sentence. He had been condemned to death and the hands of his judges were to remain clean. His blood boiled. He wished to arise at once, but he was not strong enough. He rolled his head about, thumped the earth with his fists, gnashed his teeth. Weary and utterly exhausted, he remained lying there and somewhat later began to gaze around him. Where on earth was he?
He beheld before him a large sea girded by green mountains. It looked like a huge cauldron, over which arose the queen of day, pure, youthful and flaming. From the mountain forests far and near there wafted up to her a thin blue mist. The earth was uncovering itself before the sun, receiving its beams with delight, shouting to her in radiant green. Quite nearto him there sparkled dazzlingly the snow-capped peak of Mount Lebanon, mischievously reflecting with all the colours of the rainbow its lance-like rays of the sun. And the calm, deep sea received into its bosom all the light of heaven and earth and redoubled their splendour.
Johanan lay and gazed without taking into account what he saw, but he was inundated with the surrounding splendour. And suddenly his lips began to murmur, “Bless the Lord, O my soul. O Lord, my God, Thou art very great; thou art clothed with honour and majesty. Who coverest Thyself with light as with a garment; who stretchest out the heavens like a curtain.”
Thus he murmured and his spirit was not with him. He did not know what issued from his lips. He repeated it several times. Always the same passages. “Bless the Lord, O my soul. O Lord, my God, Thou art very great; Thou art clothed with honour and majesty....”And his heart became softer and softer.
Then he suddenly became aware of what he was saying and was startled. God’s name upon his lips! He, full of God,—of God, against whom he had spoken, against whom he had rebelled so arrogantly! He burst into tears. Ever so softly, without the slightest sound, but his heart was torn, rent asunder. He was weeping over the last few weeks, over the wretched life he had been leading, and his subdued crying was filled with deep lamentation, filled with regret and repentance, yet his eyes did not turn from the great beauty and glory around him. It seemed to him that now, for the first time, he grasped that which all his life he had not known. He who creates such a wealth of beauty and splendour cannot be merely austere and harsh. And in his dejection he was consoled by the hope that God was good, merciful and loving.
He tried to arise, return to his people and tell them what he had there discovered, but hisstrength abandoned him. Then he knew that his end had come. He was terrified. God! Anything but to be left lying there in the ugliness of death! But soon he composed himself. He began to murmur a prayer, opening his eyes wide in contemplation of God’s beautiful world. And when he felt that his eyes were growing heavy, he made only a single movement—and he fell like lead into the deep waters.