Embedded. Marc Knutson

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СКАЧАТЬ Kahan, as I understand it, according to your prophetical writings, it is going to take a human, a savior, and a so-called messiah to accomplish this, right?” I asked in a rather statement tone of voice.

      “Yes, that is my teaching,” Kahan said so matter-of-factly. “He is going to save the world by dying for it. At the Passover feast, we celebrate the time when my people are in Egyptian land as slaves, but God is mean to Pharaoh until finally he lets them return to their land of Israel. Angel from God tells Jewish people in Israel to provide sacrifice by killing Pharaoh’s lambs, and place drops of lamb’s blood on door, and if the angel sees the lambs’ blood, so it will not kill people inside. Good Jewish people in the house show to God that they want angel to skip their house, and not kill anybody in there. They have blood on door. So, angel not see blood on Pharaoh’s door and kills first born son of Pharaoh. Pharaoh gets very mad and sad for killed son and makes the prophet Moses take the people of Israel back to their homes. We celebrate every year Passover of angel on our homes. Some say that messiah will be like God sending His lamb for us. I am not sure how that will work, so I am not sure that messiah is real truth or not.”

      “Well, Kahan, do you think he is alive today? Do you think he is out there living somewhere among your fellow man?” I motioned with my hand a generic “out there.” Kahan followed with his eyes and peered through the lace curtains to the street outside. Realizing that he thought I meant immediately outside, I reeled him back in.

      “Kahan, I don’t mean, is he out there outside the hotel today. I mean is he in society today, will he be Jewish or Roman? What is the word on the street about his whereabouts, has anybody seen him, does he talk of himself as some messiah sent by God?”

      The look on Kahan’s face told me that once again I was firing questions faster than he could process them and respond. “Sorry Kahan” I lamented. Slowing down but not amending my inquisitive tone. “I’m speaking too fast again, I’m sorry.” He has become quite accomplished in his second language, but not enough for me to rapid-fire questions at him.

      His face lightened up at my apology, “So, tell me more about what you think. I want to get as much information as I can. Is he a messiah for just the Jewish people, or can a Gentile be received in his eyes, too?”

      “Why you have so much interest in Jewish messiah?” he asked with consternation.

      I paused for a moment. I didn’t want him to feel that I was belittling his religion. Moreover, I certainly didn’t want to make him think that I was going to make a spectacle out of his beliefs, “Well Kahan, it seems that there has been rumor and even conjecture, that means a lot of talk among people. They are saying that for the past twenty or thirty years, the Jewish messiah has been born and is alive and living in the world today. What do you know about that theory?”

      I had almost forgotten that my breakfast plate was lying before me, granted it was getting cold, but I had Kahan’s attention and I didn’t want to lose him or the train of thought that we had established. In between our pauses, you could hear the slight rattle of silverware and glasses being cleaned and placed in their holding areas. Then I received a friendly reminder, as my stomach cried out “Eat!” I knew that I needed to, who knows what exploits the day was going to hold for me. But in the midst of my hunger, my instincts were saying, “Probe further, get in deeper, we’re really close to some answers here, don’t let go just to feed your face!”

      My drifting must have been evident as Kahan attempted to regain my attention with his response. “Mr. Stanton, the prophets write in holy book about a town that is to be called special. Special because messiah is to be brought to world in this town, it is called Bethlehem. It is not far from here just go south of . . .”

      I interrupted him, “Yes, Kahan, I am aware of Bethlehem and where it is located.” I realized that I was being a bit curt with him, “I’ve been there. But I don’t recall any anxiety or interest or undo hubbub about a messiah living there, are you sure it’s suppose to be Bethlehem?”

      “Hub-bub? What is hub-bub?” Kahan asked with a questioning expression. His dry, parched skin wrinkled like a raisin that had dried in the sun. His years of working the fields of his father’s farm were like an irremovable tattoo on his face. Lines, that went from hairline to chin, crow’s feet around his eyes, all the telltale signs of age, and sun exposure. All became very predominant, especially when he had that questioning look on his face, or when he laughed.

      “Sorry Kahan, hubbub means commotion. Well let’s see, we haven’t covered words like this yet in your training huh? Allow me to describe it as a time when a number of people talk to each other so fast and so frequent, that it even sounds like they are buzzing, like bees. Hubbub is where a lot of activity develops around a story, or a rumor, that causes people to run around and tell each other, do you get it? Is that clearer at all?” I wasn’t quite sure how to define the word for his best cultural understanding. I thought of using the word gossip in the definition, but I wasn’t sure if he knew that word. I’ve forgotten where he and I had left off in our vocabulary lessons. Now my mind was in a hubbub, conjuring questions, framing them for his understanding and stirring up new thoughts, all the while my stomach doubts that my head was even still connected to my body because I still hadn’t taken a bite of breakfast. Well, guess now it’s more like lunch, a cold lunch at that.

      “Mr. Stanton, you are correct, you have used many words just now that we covered not in our speaking, one word you do teach me is “confused,” and that I am.” Kahan spoke with a solemn and direct pattern. Choosing his words slowly and carefully, not mockingly, more like deliberate, so as not to make an error, as a good student speaks to his teacher to earn points. I found myself trying to break the hold his eyes had on me and looked away for a brief second, one way to take a mental breath without looking like I was exasperated. Interestingly enough, the young couple in the booth was still quietly enjoying their meal, but the man that was at the center table, reading the Journal, had slipped out. I thought it interesting that neither Kahan nor I had been distracted by any movement near our table. The man must have gone the other way. Yet Kahan, the consummate maître‘d, would have gone to bid him farewell and to hint at a tip.

      “Sorry, Kahan. Let’s try it again.” Even I caught myself slowing down and speaking more deliberate again. “Let me take a bite first. My stomach is going to think my head is cut off.”

      “What means this, head cut off? Mr. Stanton you make me confused again!” exclaimed a bewildered Kahan.

      “You’re right, Kahan. Let’s get back to this messiah thing,” I wanted badly to take a bite but also realized that Kahan’s time was critical. I needed information, but I didn’t know how much time I had with him. “Who would know anything about this prophesy in Bethlehem? Is there someone you recommend that I speak to? Any leads for me, Kahan?”

      “Yes, Mr. Stanton, because in the scroll of the ancient prophet Micah, he writes to us that God wants the messiah to come from Bethlehem Ephrata. It is little town south. Oh, that’s right, you know where it is. The Prophet Micah says that from this town comes the Judge of Israel, we call him messiah. I want you to know that many people have many thoughts about this; some say that messiah alive today and will come to toss away Romans and kings, to set up new kingdom run by God. Others, not so sure of that, say that messiah is not alive yet, but some new and greater prophet will arise, to bring peace to Israel and tell of God’s love for us. Others think that there is no God and that we all believe in fables.”

      I was getting a sense that Kahan really knew more about this so-called prophecy and the prophet that was to emerge than he wanted me to know. His eyes lit up when he started to talk about him, and his voice went up a few octaves with excitement.

      “Kahan,” I began, “how can I get hold of a scroll to read the prophecy for myself?”

      “Mr. СКАЧАТЬ