Chapter 21

An old man picking up trash and putting it into a bag noticed Oscar standing in front of the Golden Gate. Wearing the cloak and robe while carrying a staff, Oscar looked like a character straight out of the Torah. He stared at Oscar wondering what he was doing at the Golden Gate. Considering the current religious climate, the old man was halfway convinced that Oscar was going to march into Jerusalem after breaking down the wall that had been built to render the gate useless. He held his breath.

Oscar looked at the old man and smiled. In Hebrew, he said, “I am not the one who will enter this gate.”

The old man let out his breath with a sigh of relief. He waved a hand in a dismissive gesture and said, “Don’t scare an old man like that. Times are too dangerous to play around. Someone could think the wrong thing and kill you.”

Nodding his head, Oscar said, “I’m pretty sure that anyone who kills me will be thinking the wrong thing.”

“That’s always the case,” the old man said. Feigning disinterest, he turned his back on Oscar and went back to picking up trash.

Oscar walked away from the Golden Gate and entered the old city of Jerusalem through the Dung Gate. Legend says that it is named that because the priests of the old temple used that gate when they carried off the dung scraped from the floor of the temple after the sacrifices were held. The offal was burned in the Valley of Hinnom. Whether that story is true or not, the name has remained. While the history of the gate is ancient, the gate itself it not quite the same as it was in ancient times. It was widened to allow cars to pass through it. Oscar put a hand on the wall of the gate and tried to imagine what it had once looked like.

He didn’t tarry long at the gate despite the fact that he wasn’t in any particular hurry. The route to the Western Wall of the Temple of Solomon took him through the Jewish Quarter. He paused to watch some kids playing with a soccer ball. There weren’t enough kids or space to hold a game, but they ran along the street passing the ball back and forth with passes of varying degrees of skill. There were shouts of joy when the ball passed from one kid to the next in what was deemed good form. It seemed to Oscar that no matter where he went, kids were kicking around a soccer ball. With so much in common, he wondered how it was that kids forgot how to play and chose to fight.

The kids passed from view and Oscar returned to his travels. He hadn’t gone far when an old grandmother came out of one of the houses carrying an infant in her arms. The old woman was smiling down at the child and then up at her neighbors. Oscar paused to watch all the old women gather around the grandmother and infant. The looks exchanged among the women were as ancient as the city.

Oscar didn’t need to know the language to understand the conversation. The grandmother was praising her grandchild’s intelligence and beauty. The other women were acknowledging the wonderful attributes of the infant while managing to boast a little about their grandchildren.

Oscar grinned as he thought of his mother seeing the two pairs of twins for the first time. He knew that the vision he had been given was accurate on that count. His wives were pregnant with twins although they wouldn’t know that for a while. He went over to the old woman and asked, “Is that your grandchild?”

“Yes, he is,” the woman answered examining Oscar with a critical eye. It took a full five seconds for her to realize his identity.

“He is lucky to be born in these times,” Oscar said looking at the child with a grin.

“The times are not good. I worry about the future. I’m not sure that the kids have one,” one of the neighbor women said.

Looking over at her, Oscar said, “Today is the day that the world changes.”

“I’ve heard that a thousand times. When Hitler was defeated, I heard that evil had been vanquished. Evil still walks the land,” the old woman said. She gestured to the child and said, “One day that evil will knock on the doors of our grandchildren and we won’t be here to protect them.”

The grandmother looked at her neighbor for a second and then said, “I believe him. I believe that the world is going to change today.”

“Thank you,” Oscar said. It was getting late and the crowds would be growing at his destination. He turned and walked away leaving the old women discussing the state of the world.

Before reaching the Western Wall, Oscar spotted a news van. The camera crew was pulling equipment out of the van. One of the men grumbled, “It’s just a rumor that this Druid Prophet is going to be here. We’ve been chasing rumors for six months now and none of them have panned out. What’s so special about this one?”

“It’s not a rumor. He’s going to be here today,” said another man.

Another man said, “It’s the winter solstice today. That’s some sort of special holiday for pagans.”

Chuckling at the comments, Oscar made his way to the Western Wall tunnel. His destination was the Struthion pool. This was a pool that had been incorporated into an ancient moat constructed under the orders of King Herod. No one noticed him enter the tunnel. He stopped at the pool and sat down looking at the reflections in the still water. It was quiet there and Oscar knew he would not be disturbed.

Shortly before noon, Reverend Leroy Jones stepped out of the Church of St John the Baptist. He paused and looked up at the clear blue sky above. It was a glorious day. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was time to go. Using his cane, he headed down the street towards the Western Wall. It wasn’t that long of a walk to his destination, but at his age it was a difficult walk. He was wearing his finest suit.

The streets were more crowded than usual. It seemed that people were just milling around waiting for something to happen. He moved through the crowd without drawing any attention. It was as if he were invisible.

He was about halfway to his destination when he overhead a man say, “Ignore the differences? What the hell does that mean? There’s no way that I’m going to bend over so that some faggot can slip his dick in my ass. That’s what happens when you ignore differences. How are you supposed to ignore that? It’s an abomination, that’s what it is.”

Looking sad, Leroy continued down the street for a few steps and then stopped. Echoing words that had been spoken over two thousand years earlier, he looked up at the sky and said, “Forgive them; for they know not what they do.”

When there was no answer, Leroy resumed walking towards his destination with a sad heart. He had a feeling that today there would be no forgiveness. He wondered how in a world filled with such hate and intolerance there could ever be peace. He reached the Western Wall and walked to it. There were surprisingly few people there, but those few looked tense. More people were arriving by the minute.

He looked around the square and spotted several dozen television crews set up to film whatever was about to happen. Shaking his head, he whispered, “Don’t you know that miracles can’t be filmed?”

Rabbi Teitelbaum, feeling better than he had in days, stepped out of the Ramban Synagogue. He stretched and patted his stomach happy to be free of the pain even if it was for just a few hours. Looking up at the sky he was pleased to see that there wasn’t a cloud in it. He turned his gaze earthward and watched the people around him. There was a tension in how they acted. Reinforcing the tension was an undercurrent of anger.

He stepped into the street and headed towards the Western Wall. As he walked, he thought about the times when he had written his prayers on small pieces of paper and then slipped them between the bricks. He tried to remember if he had ever asked for peace. He remembered praying for Israel to be victorious over its enemies. He couldn’t remember how many times he had prayed for vengeance after his wife had died, but it was a lot. Thinking back, he realized that peace was one thing for which he had never prayed at the Wall.

Upon reaching the Western Wall, he spotted Reverend Leroy Jones standing near the far end of the square. He nodded to him. The elderly black man nodded back, but they didn’t speak. Distance would have required them to shout and nerves made their voices shaky and uncertain. Both men turned to look in the direction from which they expected Imam Abdel-Malik to arrive.

Seated upon his wheelchair, Imam Abdel-Malik rolled out of the Al-Aqsa Mosque. He looked up at the sky and said, “It is a beautiful day.”

“Yes, it is.” Although the Imam’s wheelchair was powered, his bodyguard grabbed the handles to push it. The bodyguard asked, “Where to?”

“The Western Wall,” Imam Abdel-Malik answered. He thought about the route he would have to take to reach the wall. It was going to be a long trip that required the bodyguard to keep the wheelchair from getting out of control.

The bodyguard had known the destination, but didn’t like it. It was his hope that Imam Abdel-Malik would change his mind. Trying one last time, he said, “You can’t go there. I can’t protect you there.”

“You aren’t going there. I need you to get me to street level and I will go there alone,” Imam Abdel-Malik said.

“They’ll kill you,” the bodyguard said with tears in his eyes.

“I am a servant of Allah. I live by his will alone,” Imam Abdel- Malik said patting the man who had been with him for years on the arm.

The bodyguard didn’t know what to answer. In Islam, everything happens according to Allah’s will. Nodding his head, he said, “I’ll take you there.”

“Thank you,” Imam Abdel-Malik said.

The trip was not easy for a man trapped in a wheelchair, but they reached the street to the Western Wall. Imam Abdel-Malik looked at the man who had watched over him for a dozen years and said, “Farewell, my friend. May Allah bless you.”

“Allah’s will be done,” the bodyguard said. Stepping back, he watched the elderly man operate that controls that allowed him to roll down the street. The temptation to follow was too strong and he walked two dozen steps behind the old man.

Imam Abdel-Malik rolled into the area in front of the Western Wall. The first faces he saw were those of Reverend Leroy Jones and Rabbi Teitelbaum. The men exchanged nods and turned to face the Western Wall of the Temple of Solomon. A huge crowd appeared as if by magic. The majority of men gathered were not happy to see the three religious leaders gathered together in that place. With murmurs of discontent beating upon their backs, the three men watched the wall.

Oscar stepped from the Western Wall tunnel. With his staff clicking on the stones below with each step, he made his way to face the three elderly men. The murmurs of discontent silenced for a second and then rose to angry shouts. Everyone there knew that something significant was about to happen.

Having spent the night watching the Wailing Wall, Georgia and Debbie came to attention the moment Reverend Leroy Jones arrived. They stood at the window watching the scene unfold below. It was not a peaceful scene. Afraid of what they were going to see, they held each other with grips that would leave bruises.

Georgia pointed to a man in the crowd and asked, “Isn’t that Reverend Leroy Jones’s bodyguard over there?”

“Yes,” Debbie answered. She glanced back at Oscar and then said, “Oscar’s about to speak.”

Oscar stood there for a full minute facing the angry crowd. He struck the ground three times with the end of his staff. The noises, as loud as cannons firing, echoed off the walls bringing quiet to those watching. In a voice that reverberated across the entire Old City of Jerusalem, Oscar said, “I am the Druid Oscar Meyers. I have been commanded by the Powers that Be to deliver messages to their followers.”