The Day the Messiah Came

William D. Kaufman

There was something in the air, something in the wind. It was a kindly wind. Trees were swaying, though gently, and their leaves were rustling as if in applause to the change in the weather.

This had been going on for several days. The men and women who gauge the climate on television were exultant over the unusual run of good weather as if it was they who had brought it on. No violent winds, no rains, no fouled air, no floods.

It seemed as if the violence in the world had lessened. The wars, the massacres in Africa and Asia, had slowed to a halt. No killings, no bloodshed. Quiet was in the air. Something was happening.

It seems, now in its retelling, that it all began with a traffic jam in Jerusalem. It was eight in the morning, a frantic hour for traffic, which was crawling slowly uphill on the main highway into the city. The police were there and they were not happy. They knew what was holding up the traffic but were helpless to unsnarl it. Traveling up the hill at a snail’s pace was an old man holding the reins of a horse-like animal on whose back perched a rider of indefinite shape.

The old man leading the beast had the face and the figure of a patriarch. He had a full, flowing white beard, was tall and full-bodied and was wearing a robe of an odd material and shape. On his head was a large silken hat formed like a turban, which had a debonair tilt to it. His passenger seemed somewhat younger, though it was not evident because of the billowing garment in which the rider was wrapped. The robe was a rich purple color, which is not commonplace in Israel or even in Paris.

An Israeli policeman hurled himself out of his vehicle and ran to the old man and his passenger. “Hey there, chevraman, you’re blocking traffic. Move to the side of the road with your horse and passenger.”

“The horse is a donkey, young man,” the patriarchal type told him.

“Whatever. Just move your ass and fast.”

The old man looked at the policeman kindly. “Do you know who I am?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care. You’re a nudnick and you’re blocking traffic.”

“My name is Elijah,” he said.

“So?” the policeman said.

“I am known as Elijah the Prophet, if you must know. Does my name mean anything to you?”

“It does have a ring to it, but I don’t know why.”

The patriarch smiled. “I was at your bris, young man. Of course you wouldn’t remember that. I was also at the bris of your fellow officer in the car. I remember him well.

“Why?” the cop asked.

“I won’t tell you.”

He continued. “I also drank your wine, or rather your father’s wine, at his Seder, Chaim.”

“Chaim! How do you know my name?”

“That’s my profession, young man. I go to all brisses and I drink at all seders.” He paused. “Does that tell you something about me?”

“Maybe,” Chaim answered. “Who’s your passenger in that fancy purple cloak wearing that funny hat, Uncle,” he asked.

“You can’t guess?” the patriarch asked.

“No, papa. Just give me his name. My partner is writing you a summons and he needs identification. Okay? That’s the trouble with you old bastards. You have no respect for the law.”

“Which law, Chaim!”

“Israeli law, for Christ sake.”

“Oh, that law. I thought you meant God’s law.”

“Don’t be disrespectful, old man. Just give me his name.”

The old man was hesitant. “My passenger is descended from the House of David.”

The cop was furious. “I don’t give a shit if he is descended from the House or Rothschild. Just give me his name.”

“Very well, officer. My passenger is the Messiah.”

“Messiah,” the policeman shouted. “The Messiah. You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“I’m afraid not, Chaim.”

Chaim approached the donkey and its rider. “I’ve got to take a look.” He removed the headgear from the passenger and was astonished.

“Listen, Elijah or whatever the hell your name is. Your passenger is a woman.” He stopped and looked at her suspiciously.

“What’s going on here? Is she a hooker?” the policeman asked.

“A hooker. What’s a hooker?” the old man inquired.

“A hooker is a whore. A prostitute, for Christ’s sake. Never mind. I’ve got to take you in, but first I’ve got to read you your rights. This is serious business.”

He read him his rights in a monotone. He took out his cell phone and began to speak rapidly. He was being transferred from one office to another. With each transfer, Chaim’s voice became more panicky. He sounded flustered and confused and irate. He did not enjoy his last conversation. Abruptly, he completed his call. Without any explanation, he turned to his two visitors and said, “I’m ordered to deliver you to the Prime Minister’s residence.”

They entered an oversized office that contained a large number of archaeological millennia-old vessels. Seated at a large relic-strewn desk was the Prime Minister, who rose to greet them.

“Welcome,” he said, and was about to say more but he was interrupted by Elijah, who pointed to an ancient urn on the Prime Minister’s desk.

“You should not have this relic on your desk, Prime Minister. You are a Kohane (a member of the priestly class) and this relic is a Phoenician funerary urn and should not be in the same room with you. It will render you unclean.”

The Prime Minister ignored Elijah’s warning and said to him smilingly.

“I assume you are Elijah, the alleged prophet.”

Elijah responded. “I am Elijah. I am he and I have come here to announce the arrival of the Messiah as I have been instructed to do.”

“Instructed? By whom, may I ask?”

“By God, of course.”

“Of course,” the Prime Minister repeated. He cleared his throat.

“We are honored that you have come to Israel to do what it is you have to do. But first I must ask you. Do you have any identification? Some sort of document or license, with a photograph of course.”

Elijah replied. “You must realize, Prime Minister, that where we come from there is no need for photographs or identification. We all know each other. For millennia, I would say.”

“Of course. Of course, Elijah. But we are a nation of laws and I am required to abide by them. You understand that, I am sure.”

“Naturally, Prime Minister. I would imagine, however, that because of the grave nature of our visit you would choose to bend your laws and dispense with the legal folderol,” Elijah said.

“Perhaps we can in this instance,” the Prime Minister said.

“Thank you, Prime Minister.”

“I must say, Elijah, you look every bit like Elijah the Prophet should. You have a flowing white beard, you speak well, you have a commanding presence. I confess that I cannot identify the fabric of your garment.”
Elijah replied. “My garment is made with haircloth, which I prefer. And the girdle is leather.”

“It must be hot in the summer.”

“Yes it is.”

“And doesn’t it attract flies?”

“No, Mr. Prime Minister. Bees.”

“Bees. That’s very interesting. We are the land of milk and honey, you know.”

“I believe these are God’s words. From Genesis actually. Shall I quote you the verse, Prime Minister?”
The Prime Minister answered. “That will not be necessary.” He turned to the Messiah.

“Welcome to Israel, madam. I hope you will enjoy your stay here.”

“Thank you, Prime Minister,” she acknowledged in a sweet and musical voice. “I would not characterize my presence here as a stay.”

“Whatever, madam,” he answered. “Call it a visit or a sojourn, to use the biblical term.” He changed the subject.

“If I may say so, madam, I greatly admire your garment. Especially the purple color. And your bonnet. May I ask you why you selected green?

“I call it misty green, Prime Minister. I thought it would go well with the purple of my gown.”

“It does indeed.” He hesitated for an instant. “I must be candid with you, madam. Your presence here today comes as a complete surprise to me. When I announce your arrival at a special press conference later this afternoon my constituents will be stupefied, if I may use the term, that you have finally arrived and that the Messiah, the anointed of God, is, how shall I put it, a member of the feminine community. A woman, I mean.”
Elijah interrupted. “No press conference. That is my final word.” He stopped briefly and then said:
“Prime Minister, let us have no circumlocution. The Messiah, the anointed of God, is a woman and should not be referred to obliquely as a member of the female genus. As you people say here, that’s bullshit, if you will excuse the vulgarity. Is that clear, Prime Minister?”

“Yes, of course,” he mumbled.

“And we will make the announcement of the arrival of the Messiah in the manner selected by God,” Elijah said.

“And how will that be, Elijah?”

“With this,” Elijah said and withdrew from his cloak a shofar. “I will trumpet forth one long drawn-out blast of the shofar and God’s world on earth will change. It will signal the coming of the Messianic age. Is that clear, Prime Minister?”

“Not exactly, Elijah. There are complications.”

“Complications?” Elijah asked.

“I’m afraid so.”

“And they are, Prime Minister?

“The Rabbis,” he answered softly.

“The Rabbis, you say.”

“Yes, Elijah. You see, we are a democratic government. We rule by coalition. The critical group in our coalition is the Religious Party, which is headed by the Chief Rabbi. Whatever we do that is religious connected must have the approval of the Chief Rabbi. Is that clear, Elijah?”

“Yes,” Elijah answered.

“The arrival of the Messiah falls eminently into that category,” the Prime Minister said.

“So what you are saying, Prime Minister, is that we must meet first with the Chief Rabbi.”

“That is true.”

“In that case, Mr. Prime Minister, would you arrange without delay the appearance of the Chief Rabbi. Heaven is not happy with the delay.”

The Prime Minister said rather smugly, “I have taken the liberty of summoning the Chief Rabbi and his spokesman. They will be here shortly. In the meantime, may I offer you and your companion a cup of tea or some other beverage?”

“Thank you, no, Prime Minister,” Elijah answered.

“And the lady?” the Prime Minister asked.

“Thank you, Prime Minister,” she answered with a smile. “We take our nourishment in the evening.”

The Prime Minister’s assistant entered the office and announced that the Chief Rabbi and his spokesman had arrived. They were ushered in and seated. The Prime Minister was about to introduce his visitors to the Chief Rabbi and his assistant, but the Rabbi raised his right hand as if to indicate it was not necessary. He looked directly at Elijah and said in a firm voice, “You say you are Elijah. Elijah the Prophet.”

“That is true, Jacob,” Elijah answered.

“You call me Jacob though we have never met.”

“That should not surprise you.”

“Why?”

“I am a prophet. I have known you for a thousand years.”

The Chief Rabbi squirmed in his seat. He seemed uncomfortable. “If I may say so, you are a master of trickery. But I will repeat my question. Do you claim to be Elijah the Prophet?”

“I am he,” Elijah answered.

“You are mentioned in Scripture as wearing a garment made of haircloth.”

“I am wearing it now as you can see,” Elijah said.

“You claim that you are present at every bris.”

“True. I was at yours, Rabbi. Shall I describe what I saw?”

“That will not be necessary.” He continued, “And you claim you attend every Seder on Passover and that there is a Cup for Elijah waiting on the table for you?” the Chief Rabbi asked.

“Exactly. I was at yours. If I may say so, Rabbi, the wine at your table was not fully matured.”

“That is true,” the Chief Rabbi admitted. He pressed on.

“It is written that Elijah was fed by ravens and ate grasshoppers for sustenance.”

“That is something of an exaggeration, but basically true, Chief Rabbi. I was a fugitive at the time, you understand.”

“Does that complete your biography?”

“No, Rabbi. There is more.”

“More?”

Elijah answered very leisurely. “You know, of course, that I never died. I was taken alive to God in heaven in a chariot of fire.”

The Chief Rabbi snorted. “Everyone knows that. It is in our Scriptures. Kings 2, Chapter 2, Verse 7. But it was not you.”

Elijah interrupted. “Verse 12 actually.”

“Perhaps,” the Chief Rabbi said. “You are standing on a mountain of lies. All lies.”

“You doubt what is written in Scriptures, Rabbi?”

“Of course not. You are the fabricator.”

“You want proof, Rabbi,” Elijah said.

With a single movement, he opened his haircloth robe and revealed a torso that was scarred, misshapen with patches of blackened tissue that appeared to be unhealed and splattered. It was a charred body.

The Rabbi averted the sight and Elijah refastened his cloak. The Chief Rabbi was pale and shaken. He appeared to be on the verge of collapse. His assistant asked for water and a damp cloth. He swabbed his superior’s brow and in a short while, the Rabbi appeared normal.

“What happened to your body?” he said softly.

“I was on fire in the chariot,” Elijah answered, “I missed a step and fell directly into the flames. The horses too were afire, you know.”

The Chief Rabbi turned to the Prime Minister and told him that he was ready to interview “the other one.”
“I assume you mean me. I am the Messiah, the anointed one,” the Messiah said softly.

“She is the one,” the Rabbi said.

The Messiah addressed the Chief Rabbi. “Elijah and I are pleased to make your acquaintance, your eminence.”

The Chief Rabbi was silent. His assistant said, “Thank you.”

Elijah turned to the Prime Minister. “Is the Rabbi unable to speak?”

The Prime Minister replied. “He does not speak directly to women.”

“Why?” Elijah asked.

“They say it is forbidden,” the Prime Minister said.

“By whom?” Elijah asked.

“By rabbinical tradition.”

“What about God’s tradition?” the Messiah asked.

The assistant answered for the Rabbi. “We believe that rabbinical tradition is God’s tradition.”
The Messiah said with a laugh. “Did God tell you that directly?”

“Of course not, young woman.”

“Then how do you know?”

“Through our interpretation of Scripture.”

She continued. “And you say that God revealed that you may not speak directly to a woman.”
This brought a rejoinder from the Chief Rabbi, who said excitedly to his assistant, “Tell her that it is not that we may not speak to a woman but that we should not speak to women directly.”

“Why?” the Messiah asked.

“Because they may not be worthy, or they may be unclean, or they may not be intelligent enough,” the Chief Rabbi answered her directly.

“I see.” She smiled archly at the Rabbi and addressed him directly. “Do you think I am the Messiah?”

“Of course not,” he replied emphatically.

“Why do you say that, Rabbi?”

“Because it is ludicrous to think that God would make a woman the Messiah.”
She turned to the assistant. “Do you know the meaning of the word Messiah?”

“Of course. It means ‘the anointed.’”

“Do you believe I was anointed by God?”

“Of course not. Ridiculous,” he answered.

Turning to the Chief Rabbi, she asked. “Would you permit your assistant to feel my head?”

“Why should he feel your head?”

“Because God has anointed me.”

“You are ridiculous and brazen, young woman.”

“My hair is still redolent with oil. It is a mixture of myrrh and virgin olives. And all the ingredients are

kosher, I assure you.”

“What is myrrh?” the Chief Rabbi asked.

“An ointment,” she said. “It is a kind of incense.”

“Then I’m sure it is not kosher,” the Rabbi said.

The assistant whispered in his ear. He turned to the Prime Minister. “My assistant tells me it is allowable.”

“In that case, Rabbi. Would you wish to touch my hair?” she asked.

“I must refuse, madam.”

“Of course you must.” She paused and smiled at the Chief Rabbi. “We have proof, you know.”

“What proof, young woman?”

“The white donkey which was led by Elijah the Prophet. Elijah’s strange garb, the haircloth robe, his shofar which will change the world. And of course myself who will bring you there. All this was ordained centuries ago, Rabbi. Do not trifle with the inevitable.”

“This is the first time I have heard of the presence of a white donkey. I would like to examine him. Where is he?” the Chief Rabbi demanded.

“He is in the custody of the Police, Rabbi,” the Prime Minister answered. “We can bring him here, if you wish.”

“I do indeed,” the Chief Rabbi answered gruffly.

“You may interview the donkey, Rabbi. He speaks,” Elijah said.

“Does he speak our language?” the Rabbi asked.

“He speaks all languages.”

“All languages, you say.”

“More than 100 different tongues,” Elijah said impatiently.

“I will want to interview him,” the Rabbi said.

“Why?” the Messiah asked.

“I love all animals. Please bring him to me,” the Chief Rabbi said emphatically.
Both Elijah and the Messiah were silent. It seemed as if they were listening intently to some faraway voice. They looked at each other and Elijah turned to the Prime Minister and the Chief Rabbi.

“Gentlemen, we have received word from God that the Messiah’s mission has been cancelled. Scrubbed, as they say in your country. And I must say that God is somewhat miffed at the lack of faith of you people down here. We are being recalled and will return at a more suitable occasion. We have other fish to fry you know.”

“Other fish to fry? What does that mean, Elijah?”

“Think about it. You’ll have plenty of time.”

The Rabbi pondered. “Other fish to fry. Obviously this is not about fish. It must be some form of revelation from God.”

The Messiah turned to bid farewell to the hosts, but Elijah interrupted. “Transportation is on its way to bring us back, Messiah. We must not be late.”

Almost immediately, a fiery chariot drawn by a pair of flaming horses landed in the Prime Minister’s garden. With them was the white donkey, who was chattering away with fiery steeds.

Elijah assisted the Messiah into the chariot and then tripped as he stepped into the flaming vehicle. He gasped and his last words were, “Oh, God. Here I go again.”

The Prime Minister, who was standing close by, swore he heard a voice coming from the heavens. It sounded very much like the word “idiot,” but he could have been mistaken. But they all agreed that there was a slight barbecue aroma wafting through the Prime Minister’s garden.