It all began with the arrival of Av, the blazing month of
mid-summer, when the Professor, the Billionaire, the General and the Actress
each dreamed the same curious dream for nine nights in a row. Since they did not yet know one another, each
of the eventual Companions was unaware that they shared their nightly vision of
the majestic mountain, flanked by a pristine river, glorious orchard, and
ancient white-domed burial cave.
They were unaware, too, that everyone’s dream ended with the
same encounter, with a wizened Sage from ancient Israel who introduced himself
as Shimon Ben Zoma—yet each dreamer heard Ben Zoma’s voice as his or her own—as
if he was speaking out of the dreamer’s own mouth, imploring, “Come home to me!”[i] So each of
the dreamers, thinking themselves alone with this uncanny nightly vision,
dismissed it at first, then tried, with mounting difficulty, to ignore it.
But a few weeks later, on the first of Elul, the last month
of the Jewish year, as summer turned almost imperceptibly toward fall, each of
them arrived indepdently, as it were, at Kennedy Airport and boarded El Al
flight 1836 for Tel Aviv.
Why did they follow this strange call? None of them could really answer that
question; each still thought the idea more than a little crazy. But the dream’s strange power tugged at them;
they were drawn onward like deer to a flowing brook.[ii]
And for each of them, the time was right. They were all highly accomplished, at the
pinnacles of their chosen fields. And
yet, just beneath the bright, shining surface of their success, each was
struggling mightily.
The Philosopher was a renowned professor, the long-time
chair of her department in Charlottesville, Virginia and author of both
academic essays on epistemology and pop-philosophical self-help books. Known for her celebrated wit, she was an
omnipresent guest on the media circuit. Once, when Terry Gross asked her, “Is
there anything you don’t know?” she
half-joked: “Yes—how to say, ‘I don’t
know.’”[iii] And yet, of late, she felt completely clueless. The day after the Supreme Court recognized
gay marriage, she proposed to her longtime partner. The partner said nothing—then left, that very
night, for another woman with whom she had apparently been carrying on a
three-year affair. Now, as the Professor’s
personal life imploded, she found herself alone, without a single friend to
whom she could turn for support.
The Billionaire had made his vast fortune in software
development before his thirtieth birthday, then retired to a mansion on Puget
Sound, where he wrote a semi-regular op-ed column in the Wall Street Journal. He
owned 17 cars, 2 yachts, and vacation estates on four different
continents. Rising politicians and rock
stars vied for his friendship and he dated a steady stream of swimsuit
models. In other words, he had
everything he had ever dreamed of attaining.
And it all amounted
to. . . well,
nothing.[iv] Which is to say, he was desperately bored.
From his command position in the Pentagon, the General had
instant access to the Secretary of Defense and even the ear of the
President. He was a decorated veteran of
the first Gulf War, and the nation’s leading authority on 21st
century counter-insurgency tactics. But
back on the home front, he was mired in defeat.
Twelve years earlier, on his daughter’s eighteenth birthday, he and his
wife had sat up long past her curfew, waiting for her to return from a
celebration with her friends. At two am,
his wife could no longer keep her eyes open.
She went to bed, cautioning him: “I know you are angry. I’m angry, too. But you are her father. Think before you act. Talk to her.”
Alas, when his daughter finally came through the door at 3:45, reeking
of alcohol, he didn’t think or talk with her.
“You betrayed my trust!” he bellowed.
Then he slapped her, hard, breaking her nose.[v] Since that awful night over a decade ago, his
daughter had barely spoken with him. Now
she was about to give birth to his first grandchild—and had forbidden him from
visiting. He feared that he would never see
the next generation of his family.
The Actress lamented, “Always the bridesmaid, never the
bride” for she had now been a runner up for the Oscar three years running. She garnered critical praise and box office
bounty—but just couldn’t beat out Meryl Streep or even Jennifer Lawrence. Every time she fell short of the prize, she
sank deeper into despair. In search of
consolation, she started a sad affair with the married director of her latest
film, knowing that it would end badly and leave her feeling even worse about
herself. Which, of course, it did. So when she called her agent and told him
that she would be taking an unplanned vacation in Israel, he told her to take as
long as she needed, since he didn’t see any new projects on her horizon.
El Al 1836 was a red-eye, departing New York just before
midnight and arriving in Tel Aviv at 4:30 pm.
The Professor, the Billionaire, the General and the Actress all slept
most of the trip and were still drowsy as they made their way through customs,
then exited the airport, each searching for their own pre-arranged limousine
waiting just outside. But as they headed toward the curb, they discovered that
there was only one limo in all of Ben Gurion airport. Eyeing them, the driver stepped out and
opened the rear door. The Billionaire
immediately climbed in.
“What are you doing?” snapped the General, “this is my car!”
“Excuse me, both of you,” interrupted the Professor, “but I
booked this service from back home.”
“As did I,” insisted the Actress.
“Well, then,” said the driver, “we seem to be at an
impasse. Perhaps I can help. I have instructions to pick up the passenger
who is traveling to the tomb of Shimon Ben Zoma. Which of you would that be?”
“Me,” they answered in unison.
“Isn’t that interesting,” noted the driver. “Come in, all of you.” They took their seats and, roused from their
travelers’ torpor by this most unlikely coincidence, began to take notice of
one another for the first time.
“Just one thing,” the driver added: “I cannot take you as
far as Ben Zoma’s grave. No one can, for
in the end, the road there becomes impassable for all but those who go on
foot. I can get you to the gateway. From there, you’re on your own.”
For the next two hours, the passengers sat in stunned silence
as the driver headed north, following the superhighway along the coastal plain,
then traversing a series of narrowing back roads up into the Galilean hill
country.
Just as the sun sank out of sight, the car slowed to a stop
at the base of a large stone archway.
The air was very still.
“Where are we?” asked the Professor.
“You are here,” said the driver, and without further ado, he
ushered them out and started to unload their bags.
“Hold on!” barked the General. “You can’t just leave us here in this God
forsaken place! I’m ordering you—wait
here while I check out the situation!”
The driver looked at the General, gunned the engine, and
drove away.
The Billionaire glared at the General accusingly: “Now look
what you’ve done! You and your orders
have left me stranded here!”
“Left us stranded
here,” cried the Actress. What do we do
now?
No one answered. Then
a strange voice called out from the long shadow stretching behind the stone
gate: “Who are you and why are you here?”
Out stepped an ancient beggar, his limbs wrapped with ragged
bandages but his eyes afire.[vi]
“Speak up, all of you!
Answer me: who are you and why have you come?”
Silence.
Finally, the Actress stepped forward:
“I am here on account of a dream. One month ago, I dreamed the same dream, nine
nights in a row. There was a mountain, a
river, an orchard, a tomb. Then Shimon
Ben Zoma beckoned, “Come home to me!” I
know: it’s crazier than the craziest role I’ve ever played—and I’ve had some
doozies. Yet here I am.”
“Do you know what’s even crazier?” said the Billionaire, “I
had the exact same dream!”
“Me, too,” muttered the General.
“Extraordinary, “ said the Professor. “I, too, dreamed this dream. How unlikely could this be: a pack of
dreamers in search of a Talmudic sage dead for 2,000 years. It makes no sense whatsoever. Yet here we all are.”
“Unlikely, yes,”— replied the Beggar, “but you have done
well. This vision invites great blessing, though it will not be easy to
realize. In dreams begin responsibilities.[vii]
An arduous pilgrimage awaits you. To reach Ben Zoma’s tomb, you must pass
through four gates, each of which will test whether your worthiness. I am the gatekeeper and this is the first,
the gate of wisdom. As you journey from
here, know that only the truly wise will arrive at the second gate.”
“How will we know the way?” asked the Billionaire. “Is there a map?”
“Not the sort that you expect,” replied the Beggar. “For where you are going, there is no
roadmap—but if you seek with diligence and sincerity you will find the
path. For the true way is very close to
you, in your hearts and on your lips.
Follow it.”[viii]
“What the hell does that mean?” roared the General.
“This is for you to discover. For now, heed my advice: you must make this journey
by night. Take to the road after
sundown, and make your camp at dawn. On
the path that you have chosen, daylight is blind. Sleep while the sun shines. Your vision will come with the darkness.[ix]
Now give me your bags.
The items you have packed will not help you here. I will provide you
with all that you need.”
With astonishing strength, the Beggar heaved away their
baggage, thereby relieving them of, among other things, the Professor’s classic
works of Western philosophy, a key to the Billionaire’s Swiss bank account, the
General’s .40 Glock pistol, the Actress’s I-pad, and four high-powered
flashlights. In return, he handed each
of the travelers a well-worn backpack, water bottle, coil of rope, white cloak,
and generous supply of honey wafers.[x]
“You’re out of your mind!” said the General. “What kind of rations are these? And at the very least, give us back our
flashlights. How can we travel by night
with no light?”
“To go in the dark with a light is to know the light,” said
the Beggar. “To know the dark, you must
go dark.”[xi] He pointed them toward the faint path on
the other side of the gate. “Your time
is here.” Then he turned, once more, to
the Billionaire, the General and the Actress: “For each of you, I have an
additional gift, given in accordance with who you are and what you will need
along the way.” He gave the General a hammer, the Billionaire a large gold
nugget, and the Actress a most unusual scroll—primeval looking, yet entirely
blank.
“Don’t I get a gift?” asked the Professor.
“You already have yours,” the Beggar replied. “Your challenge will be to find it.
Now go. Darkness has
fallen. If you prove wise travelers, I
will meet you again at the second gate.”
[i]
Talmud, Brachot 57b teaches that whoever sees Ben Zoma in a dream will gain
wisdom. The idea of each person hearing
a sacred call in his or her own voice comes from the classic teaching that at
Mt. Sinai, each of the Israelites heard God in a uniquely personal manner.
[ii]
See Psalm 42: “As the deer yearns for streams of water, so my soul yearns for
You, O God.” This is also a reference to
the ayelet ha-shachar, the “gazelle of the dawn” which figures
prominently in the Zohar (and below).
[iii]
Talmud, Brachot 4a: “Teach your tongue to say, ‘I do not know.’”
[iv]
Ecclesiastes 2. The author—by Jewish
tradition, King Solomon—acquires enormous wealth, only to conclude, “all was
vanity, a striving after wind.”
[v]
See Numbers 20, where, overcome by anger, Moses disobeys God and strikes the
rock instead of speaking to it—and is punished as God denies him entry into the
Promised Land.
[vi]
In a well-known Talmudic story, the prophet Elijah tells Rabbi Yehoshua that
the Messiah can be found outside the gates of Rome: “He sits among the lepers
whom you will find unwinding all of their bandages at the same time and then
covering their sores with clean bandages. The Messiah is the only one who
unwinds and rewinds his bandages one at a time, thinking, ‘I want to be ready
at a moment’s notice if I am called’.”
Sanhedrin 98a
[vii]
From a poem by W.B. Yeats, later the title of a short story by Delmore Schwartz
[viii]
Deuteronomy 30:11-14: Surely, this Instruction which I enjoin upon you
this day is not too baffling for you, nor is it beyond reach. It is
not in the heavens, that you should say, "Who among us can go up to the
heavens and get it for us and impart it to us, that we may observe
it?" Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say,
"Who among us can cross to the other side of the sea and get it for us and
impart it to us, that we may observe it?" No, the thing is very
close to you, in your mouth and in your heart, to observe it.
[ix]
Much of my story is inspired by my reading on the kabbalistic masterpiece, the Zohar, particularly as discussed in
Nathan Wolski’s fine book, A Journey into
the Zohar.
Wolski notes that the Zohar is, in many ways, a pilgrimage story: “According to the Zohar, the world is best experienced
from the perspective of a wanderer. Only
a traveler has the fresh eyes from which the deepest dimensions of Torah and
reality can be fathomed." Also of
note: throughout the Zohar, the
protagonists, a band of mystical Companions, do their sacred work at
night. As Wolski writes on pages 143 and
144: “The nocturnal delight—the nightly study vigil from midnight till dawn—is,
alongside the zoharic praxis of ‘walking on the way’ the most important
mystical ritual found in the Zohar. .
. Throughout the night, the Companions’ words of Torah below emit an
aphrodisiacal quality, arousing the male and female grades of divinity, who,
after a night of playful courtship, finally unite in the intermingling of the
day and night immediately preceding the dawn.”
[x]
See Exodus 16:31 and its description of manna
[xi]
Wendell Berry, “To Know the Dark”
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