The Big Book of Mysteries. Lionel and Patricia Fanthorpe
Exodus account, “The Lord went before the Israelites by day in a pillar of cloud and by night in a pillar of fire.” Philo interprets this as, “The fiery appearance of the Deity shone forth from the cloud.”
Philo’s ideas are always well worth considering. Philo Judaeus, who was also known as Philo of Alexandria, was born in 15 B.C. and died in A.D. 50. He was a brilliantly intelligent, Greek-speaking, Jewish philosopher and theologian, whose great pioneering contribution to human thought was his attempt to reconcile faith with reason — an exceedingly difficult but supremely worthwhile intellectual task. Philo came of an extremely wealthy and influential family in Alexandria. He studied at one of the Greek Gymnasiums, where he mastered mathematics, astronomy, philosophy, grammar, and logic. He also made a deep study of rhetoric, like all other young academics of his time and place.
METURGEMAN
The meturgeman, meaning “interpreter” or “translator,” refers to a person who stood beside the reader of the Torah in the ancient synagogue and recited the Aramaic translation of the Bible. Rules set forth in the Talmud and other rabbinic literature state that the meturgeman was to stand upright next to the reader, reciting orally (not from a written text), and not raising his voice louder than that of the reader. These rules were invoked in order to preserve the importance of the original Hebrew text.
Unlike his more ascetic scholarly colleagues, Philo had the profound good sense to enjoy life as well as to think about its philosophical meaning. He was a keen boxing fan, an enthusiastic theatre-goer, and a devotee of chariot racing. When he wasn’t pursuing any of these sensible and healthy interests, he was enjoying an evening of good food and lavish entertainment: he was, in short, a practical bon viveur as well as a great thinker. Philo’s love of a “middle way” between the extremes of Jewish scriptural fundamentalism on one hand and a liberal disregard of the old laws because they were considered to be “only parables” on the other, would have made him quite a comfortable member of the present-day Anglican Church. He is far and away our most valuable, reliable and informative source of knowledge of the Hellenistic Judaism that was practised in Alexandria in his day.
The highlight of Philo’s career, however, was an occasion in the year A.D. 39 on which he displayed great courage and integrity when he dared to lead a delegation of Alexandrian Jews to complain to Caligula about a recent pogrom in their city: the ignorant and prejudiced Greek orator Apion, who was opposing Philo, had just delivered a despicable racist attack on the Jews. Philo was on the point of refuting Apion’s nonsense when Caligula decided he did not wish to hear any more arguments at that time. Philo, one of those rare beings who dared to risk the wrath of Caligula, told his colleagues not to be disheartened because God would very shortly deal with the insane Roman emperor. Shortly afterward, to everyone’s delight, Caligula was assassinated. A man like Philo definitely deserves to be heard.
So what was this strange and mysterious Shechinah that was associated with the even more mysterious Ark of the Covenant?
Looked at disinterestedly and objectively, the ark was not an exclusively Jewish artifact. The ancient Egyptians used Arks for religious purposes, as well, and there is a possibility that when Moses led the Israelite slaves out of bondage in Egypt, the ark and its contents came with them. Had Moses with his secret inner knowledge of the Egyptian Court — he had, after all, been raised as an Egyptian prince — brought some great and powerful ancient treasure away with him? Was that why Pharaoh, upon discovering its loss, had launched his finest chariots suicidally across the treacherous bed of the Red Sea?
If distinguished researchers like Colin Wilson and Graham Hancock are right, and some of the technological wonders of very ancient civilizations escaped terrifying inundations or major disasters caused by ice and polar change, did any of those advanced artifacts find their way to Egypt? Was the dangerously powerful Ark of the Covenant itself one such object, or was it the carefully shielded and insulated container for such an object? Was it the operation of a long-forgotten technology rather than the presence of a deity that caused the Shechinah?
The 1999 discoveries by the Joides Resolution scientists drilling the bed of the Indian Ocean have tentatively indicated the ancient inundation of a huge land mass almost a third the size of Australia. Fifty million years ago it was a lush and fertile land. Dinosaurs grazed on the abundant vegetation that grew there. Twenty million years ago movements of the Earth’s crust started it on its long journey to the ocean bed. If one such great land mass could go down, why not others?
Whether it was the work of Egyptian craftsmen, Israelite craftsmen, survivors of Atlantis, or extraterrestrial aliens, the Ark of the Covenant was described as thickly covered with gold. Apart from its commercial and artistic value, gold has the great practical advantages of being easy to work and massively resistant to corrosion — it also acts as an effective radiation shield. If there was an artifact inside the ark — some sort of weapon, perhaps — was it nuclear powered? Could the Shechinah have been a glow of pure energy, visible only when the machine was operating — in other words, when “God” was present and active?
Alongside the high-profile, magical, miraculous, and historical mysteries recorded in the Bible, there are some equally intriguing low-profile, behavioural mysteries. The strange sequence of events in the exotic house on the walls of Jericho is one of these.
At first glance the story is straightforward enough. Joshua, the brilliant Hebrew general who took over the leadership when Moses died, wisely decided to send two spies to the Canaanite city of Jericho before attacking it.
THE SCARLET CORD
In Middle Eastern cities of that period, inns, taverns, and brothels tended to be situated near the gates so that travellers arriving in the city could locate them easily. A scarlet cord hanging from a window and a scarlet lamp above the door would indicate the nature of the premises.
As the Hebrew spies approached, they saw at once that one particular brothel situated on the city wall would be an ideal vantage point from which to study the gate and other defences.
Once inside, they meet Rahab and arrange to stay. Nerves are on edge in Jericho. News of Joshua’s previous military successes against the neighbouring Canaanite strongholds has already reached the city. The arrival of the Hebrew spies has been quietly observed. News of their arrival reaches the king. He sends for Rahab and demands to know where these two dangerous men are.
She reports that they were there earlier, but had slipped away at dusk just before the gates were due to be secured for the night. She assures the king that a swift patrol would almost certainly be able to overtake them.
Meanwhile, she hides them in the flax in case she is not believed and a search party is sent to the house. She begs them to save her and her family when the Hebrew army storms Jericho.
They make her a solemn promise, and instruct her to bring her family together into this house on the wall when the attack starts. They explain that it is vitally important for her to mark the window with the scarlet cord so that the house can be identified.
At the first opportunity, Rahab lowers them down the wall on that same scarlet cord and advises them to make for the mountains and hide there until the patrol gives up the search for them.
The plan works. They remain in the mountains for a day or two, then return safely to the Hebrew camp and report everything to Joshua.
When the attack on Jericho takes place, they go to Rahab’s house while the carnage rages all round it. No one else is spared. Jericho is devastated and destroyed. The vow to Rahab and her family is faithfully kept. Intriguingly, Joshua, chapter 6, verse 25, records that “Rahab is with us to this day,” indicating that she married a Hebrew and that their descendants were still thriving in the Hebrew nation when the book of Joshua came to be written.
The story as it stands, however, raises several challenging behavioural mysteries. Why did the spies feel sure that they could trust Rahab? Why did she feel certain that she could trust them? They literally trusted one another with their very lives. Do strangers