intimacies than these should be exchanged by strangers in the wilderness? Finally,
when no one offered to reply, he turned towards the badu and
asked for his name and his place of birth. But the badu only
smiled - bad teeth, wet pebbles - and shook his head. He didn't
want to give his family name, perhaps. He did not know his
family name. What badu did? Or else he had no Greek. Aphas
turned to Marta now and, with a chuckle at the badu's silence,
tried to implicate her in his amusement. 'Some chatterbox,' he
said. He almost asked her name, but then had second thoughts.
Was it polite? One could not simply ask a woman's name, or
52
say, 'Who are your husband's family?' or 'Why have you come
here alone? What do you want?' Instead, he tapped the blond
man on the knee - an old man can assume such intimacies - and
said, 'Yes, yes? Let's hear. '
The honey-head, as Marta had thought, was from the north.
He knew some Aramaic and some Greek, though many of the
words he used were unfamiliar. Unlike the gabbling stonemason,
he spoke as ifhe had eternity. She didn't recognize the name he
gave for his home town, but she knew his own name well
enough. It was Shim. An almost Jewish name. Though he was
no Jew, he said. His grandfather had been a Jew, however, who'd
left the valley ofJezreel in one of the dispersals, sixty years ago.
Now he'd come back to the land of his forebears, Shim said, to
seek something that he could not name. 'Perhaps there is no
word for it. As yet.'
'To meet with god,' suggested Aphas, keen to show he was
a man of culture.
'No, no, the word "god" is hardly strong enough for what I
seek.' He would not look at the old man, but only concentrated
on his staff and his own voice. 'My god is not a holy king, an
emperor in heaven. He's immanent in everything. In things like
this . . . ' he shook his staff, ' . . . and in the human spirit. He will
absorb us when we die. If we are ready. But first we have to
find that something for which I have no word . . . '
'Enlightenment's a word . . .' ventured Aphas.
'Enlightenment comes to the ignorant. That is their candle in
the dark and their salvation from the sensual impulses and appetites
of public life. But for myself, I am looking more for . . . Tranquillity, perhaps. That's not so easy to acquire . ' He rubbed his fingers on his thumbs, as if his words were cloth. 'I can encounter god
at home. I can find enlightenment in tiny things. I do not have
to leave the house. But here . . . ' again he felt the cloth of words,
'what better place to look beyond enlightenment and god for
5 3
nameless things than here, in caves, far from the comforts and
distractions of the world?' Aphas nodded all the while, though
men like Shim - scholars, mystics, sages,· ascetes, stoics, epicureans, that holy regiment - were a mystery to him. Why punish your body voluntarily when the world and god would
punish it in their good time? It would not do to argue, though,
with someone of Shim's undoubted class and dignity. 'I've
understood,' he said, although to Marta's eyes, he looked alarmed.
'I know it, though there is no word for it . . .'
'As yet.'
He had not turned his back on god, the emperor of heaven,
Shim continued. Not on one god. Not on any of the gods. But
he was Greek in his beliefs. He worshipped every living thing.
'I worship this,' he said, picking up a stone. 'I worship those. '
H e pointed at the birds. 'I worship this.' Again h e turned the
spirals of his staff.
'That's good. That's very Greek,' said Aphas.
'I worship everybody here,' Shim continued. His voice was
slow, and hardly audible. 'Excepting one of course.' He lifted a
hand from his staff and pointed at himself
Aphas could not claim to have such selfless motives as Shim,
he said. He could not claim to be so Greek. He'd come for
quarantine because ('No need to wrap it up in complicated
words') he was dying. These forty days were his last chance, his
priest had said. He
when no one offered to reply, he turned towards the badu and
asked for his name and his place of birth. But the badu only
smiled - bad teeth, wet pebbles - and shook his head. He didn't
want to give his family name, perhaps. He did not know his
family name. What badu did? Or else he had no Greek. Aphas
turned to Marta now and, with a chuckle at the badu's silence,
tried to implicate her in his amusement. 'Some chatterbox,' he
said. He almost asked her name, but then had second thoughts.
Was it polite? One could not simply ask a woman's name, or
52
say, 'Who are your husband's family?' or 'Why have you come
here alone? What do you want?' Instead, he tapped the blond
man on the knee - an old man can assume such intimacies - and
said, 'Yes, yes? Let's hear. '
The honey-head, as Marta had thought, was from the north.
He knew some Aramaic and some Greek, though many of the
words he used were unfamiliar. Unlike the gabbling stonemason,
he spoke as ifhe had eternity. She didn't recognize the name he
gave for his home town, but she knew his own name well
enough. It was Shim. An almost Jewish name. Though he was
no Jew, he said. His grandfather had been a Jew, however, who'd
left the valley ofJezreel in one of the dispersals, sixty years ago.
Now he'd come back to the land of his forebears, Shim said, to
seek something that he could not name. 'Perhaps there is no
word for it. As yet.'
'To meet with god,' suggested Aphas, keen to show he was
a man of culture.
'No, no, the word "god" is hardly strong enough for what I
seek.' He would not look at the old man, but only concentrated
on his staff and his own voice. 'My god is not a holy king, an
emperor in heaven. He's immanent in everything. In things like
this . . . ' he shook his staff, ' . . . and in the human spirit. He will
absorb us when we die. If we are ready. But first we have to
find that something for which I have no word . . . '
'Enlightenment's a word . . .' ventured Aphas.
'Enlightenment comes to the ignorant. That is their candle in
the dark and their salvation from the sensual impulses and appetites
of public life. But for myself, I am looking more for . . . Tranquillity, perhaps. That's not so easy to acquire . ' He rubbed his fingers on his thumbs, as if his words were cloth. 'I can encounter god
at home. I can find enlightenment in tiny things. I do not have
to leave the house. But here . . . ' again he felt the cloth of words,
'what better place to look beyond enlightenment and god for
5 3
nameless things than here, in caves, far from the comforts and
distractions of the world?' Aphas nodded all the while, though
men like Shim - scholars, mystics, sages,· ascetes, stoics, epicureans, that holy regiment - were a mystery to him. Why punish your body voluntarily when the world and god would
punish it in their good time? It would not do to argue, though,
with someone of Shim's undoubted class and dignity. 'I've
understood,' he said, although to Marta's eyes, he looked alarmed.
'I know it, though there is no word for it . . .'
'As yet.'
He had not turned his back on god, the emperor of heaven,
Shim continued. Not on one god. Not on any of the gods. But
he was Greek in his beliefs. He worshipped every living thing.
'I worship this,' he said, picking up a stone. 'I worship those. '
H e pointed at the birds. 'I worship this.' Again h e turned the
spirals of his staff.
'That's good. That's very Greek,' said Aphas.
'I worship everybody here,' Shim continued. His voice was
slow, and hardly audible. 'Excepting one of course.' He lifted a
hand from his staff and pointed at himself
Aphas could not claim to have such selfless motives as Shim,
he said. He could not claim to be so Greek. He'd come for
quarantine because ('No need to wrap it up in complicated
words') he was dying. These forty days were his last chance, his
priest had said. He
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