© Johny Noer -

Chapter 15

Hillel Goldstein became blind when he was 13. With the help of Braille he finished his studies at the Haifa University in Israel.

Now he sat as judge before professor Fruchtenbaum, who was in court for writing religious slogans on the temple grounds in Jerusalem. Judge Goldstein was well informed. Mr. Adolf Engels had given him all particulars of the professor’s doings.

He read it with his sensitive fingers and began the interrogations.

"You wrote on the temple grounds?"

"Yes, Sir."

"On what did you write?"

"On the sand…"

The judge lifted his head. He sounded surprised: "In the sand?"

"Yes, sir, I wrote in the sand."

In the small courtroom only a few newspapermen and black-clothed people listened.

"With what did you write?"

"With my finger." The professor lifted his right index finger.

With your finger? What did you write?"

"Ten ‘Words’!"

"You wrote ten ‘words’?"

"Yes, sir, I wrote Ten ‘Words’."

"They are?"

"They are…" the professor took a deep breath to say them all together:

"You shall have no other gods before the Lord, the God of Israel.

You shall not make idols.

You shall not take God’s Name in vain.

You shall keep the Sabbath holy."

Suddenly the professor stood up, in reverence and continued:

"Respect your mother and father, that your days may be long, and you will prosper in the land the Lord, Your God, gives you."

There was a reverend silence in the hall. The professor turned to the audience with a steady voice: "You shall not kill – you shall not commit adultery…"

A woman arose and left the room. The professor’s white, short beard shone like silver. The blind judge was attentive.

"You shall not steal."

"You shall not give a false witness against your neighbor."

One of the TV-men dropped his camera; he couldn’t make it work. The professor repeated: "You shall not give a false witness…"

"Thank you, that’s enough," said the judge. I understand what words you wrote. This is not against the law, nor grounds for punishment." Turning to Adolf Engels, he added: "This man has been arrested and brought to judgment unnecessarily."

One of the black-clothed men arose, shouting: "He’s from a dangerous, Christian sect trying to hinder the building of the temple."

A couple of uniformed servants rushed to get the disrupting man out, but he resisted; a riot began!

The press zealously filmed. The judge called for order with his hammer.

Peace was restored. The judge continued: "In your books I read that you believe the prophet Ezekiel recorded that there would be no veil between the Holy and the Holy of Hollies in the third temple."

"That’s right!"

Again a black figure arose protesting vehemently. He too was taken out of the hall.

"What happened with the temple veil?" asked Judge Hillel Goldstein. "This may be the cause of the unrest at the temple site, just like here in the hall! So, where’s the temple veil gone?"

"That’s my question as well, sir. What happened to the veil? In the Greek section of Holy Scripture we find 3 trustworthy witnesses, testifying to the fact that a 33-year-old Jew from Nazareth was executed and died, the temple veil was torn from top to bottom. In spite of that, temple services continued for 70 more years. What happened with the torn veil? That’s my question also! Was it mended? Was a new veil made? Sir, your question is legitimate: "What was done with the temple veil?"

The unrest increased. More officers were called, tables and chairs were turned over, a few women reporters screamed, and people from outside pressed to come in.

The professor and the blind judge were evacuated. All were sent out, the doors locked; a new court meeting was set for three days later.

Jeff Straw, the American CNN reporter, stood outside the locked doors. "No doubt the professor’s question started a heated debate."

The TV reporter took one of the professor’s books. He showed the title: ‘Where is the temple veil?’ Then he turned to a page to read a passage. The area around the camera team got more restless. Everybody was pushed around. The police tried in vain to bring order. Jeff Straw was able to read the verse: "Son of man, tell the house of Israel about the temple…"

The black-clothed crowd interrupted: "He shouldn’t tell the house of Israel anything!" Surrounded by big, black hats the TV reporter was in the middle of a roaring wave. The crowd continued:

"Who gave him the right to teach us about the temple?"

Jeff Straw kept reading into the CNN microphone: "Son of man, tell the house of Israel about the temple to make them ashamed of their sins!"

"Ashamed?" shouted an angry man in a black silk coat. "Ashamed of what?"

Jeff had to scream to be heard. The crowd pressed in between him and the technicians. Weakly he was heard: "They must measure the model! And after they are ashamed of what they did, show them the drawing of the temple…"

As the microphone was recovered, his voice became clear again: "Tell them of its goings in and coming out…"

The crowd answered: "We know the law about the entrance to the Holy of Holies. It’s covered by a veil!"

"Write it down," the reporter called, as he turned to the crowd. He held up the professor’s book: ‘Where’s the temple veil?’ Then he ended: "Write it in view of them!"

The police blockade broke. The black crowd stormed the TV team. Cameras flew through the air, shattering on the ground. Precious equipment was destroyed under the feet of the mob.

Jeff fled to the waiting TV wagon at the end of the street; his team followed.

When they were all in the car they attempted to drive, but the furious crowd banged against doors and windows. Their anger was now turned against the reporter, who had dared to show the book titled: ‘WHERE IS THE TEMPLE VEIL?’

At the corner of Hillel and St. George Street the CNN wagon was stopped. The crew was forced out and the book was found. The TV team was allowed to continue. Behind them lay the burnt remains of the book. Only the words ‘TEMPLE VEIL’ remained…

A light breeze lifted the black, burnt page-scraps into the air. Small, black butterflies flew above the housetops, disappearing into the blue …


Ursula Clemens, the secretary of the Bavarian minister-president, accompanied her boss to the Summit in Babylon.

The slim young woman with the Spanish look had impressed the vice president, John Edwards. "Just have an electronic chip inserted", he suggested. She had refused fearlessly.

Ursula had a personal interest in visiting Babylon. She had written a small book about the Venetian painter Tiziano Vecellio Titan. From l516 until his death he painted power, war, feasting, popes, idols, martyrs and ‘lovers of catholic cardinals’.

"In Babylon I will find more about ’The Woman with a Cup’ "she said, "the same dirty cup, filled with poisonous, sexy contents, as pictured by my Italian painter."

Ursula was under surveillance. Known in Brussels to have no sympathy for the EU system. Her two children, a 9-year-old boy, and an 11-year-old girl, were in danger, if she refused their demands.

On the first evening of the summit meeting she smiled with secret admiration at the bold ‘MENE MENE TEKEL’ on the wall of the conference hall. She noticed two young men. One of them, the suntanned athlete: Jack Robinson! She needed fresh air, and went for a walk in the gardens. Opening the glass door, a servant offered her a drink.

"No thank you. Just need fresh air!"

It’s a bit cool in Babylon, Madame," replied the Persian servant. "You need a wrap, Madame."

"Right," answered Ursula cheerfully, "May I borrow your jacket for a few minutes?"

"Of course." The servant was happy to be of service. He took off his glittering, black silk jacket and handed it to her. "Madame take your time. I don’t need it right now."

"Thank you," smiled Ursula, and entered the Hanging Gardens. Overcome by the aroma, she walked around. "Florentine irises!" She was surprised, "Lavender and elderberries, rosemary and thyme! It is a medicinal herb garden?"

Suddenly a shot and a cry. She stood petrified. Listened. Steps coming her way; it was the young man from the throne room. The tanned bodyguard, visibly being hunted…

He wanted to evade her and was about to jump over a hedge. Ursula intervened. "Come! Let me help you," she called.

The young man stopped. Ursula handed him the black silk jacket. "Here, put this on," she ordered, throwing his brown jacket into a bush. In a second she noticed a pistol girdle over his shoulder. Draping her arms around his neck, she whispered: "A real bodyguard, I’d say!"

The pursuers appeared. They approached the young couple in festive clothing – and close embrace; they didn’t dare ask questions. These two guests were too engrossed to be interested in passers by! The young man bent to put a rose in his beloved’s hair. The situation was clear: A VIP couple; might be a president….

"Keep up the search," ordered the security chief. Dark figures disappeared in the darkness. Their Babylonian boss slipped behind a tree to observe the couple returning to the festive hall.

"I don’t want to go back there!" Jack pointed to the lit windows. "I just fled from there!"…

"No other way," smiled Ursula. "We are being watched. Dance with me!"

The young couple mingled among the dancing guests. The smooth marble floor was crowded. Everywhere lively talk among statesmen. Servants with drinks wandered around.

The vice president, John Edwards, stepped up to the podium. Pale and visibly shocked. He had difficulties keeping his composure. Evidently important news!

"Ladies and gentlemen," he started, clearing his throat. The music stopped, conversations ended. Silence.

John Edwards controlled himself and repeated: "Ladies and gentlemen! I have important news! Wonderful news!"

Jack Robinson watched the vice-president. Ursula next to him, arm in arm. The tension increased. Secret whisperings. All eyes were towards the vice president.

"Dark powers of terror try to fight our world government, our last hope of survival for this earth, destroyed by war and death."

Ursula Clemens bent her head. She felt the same desire to flee as during the speech of the EU president, when he welcomed a coming world leader…. "Be he a devil or a god…."

Jack Robinson held her back. She was scared, only he smiled.

"Our goal remains unchanged," she heard John Edwards say. "Step by step we’ll gain the victory. Especially over the religious groups that are behind the hostage of our EU president. They’ll be found and brought to judgment!"

Jack Robinson looked around. For a moment he thought the vice president stared at him.

"I am happy to inform you that EU president, Mr. Pierre Henri Clark has been rescued in the desert of Saudi Arabia by courageous EU troops. He’s on a flight to Baghdad and will arrive tomorrow!"

John Edwards left the podium, still overcome by emotion.

"We’re like family," everybody said.

More drinking to the good news. The enemy had suffered another defeat. "Times will improve! The days of terror are over!"

The orchestra played and servants offered drinks.

Jack Robinson pulled Ursula aside. "A happy coincidence, "he whispered. "I have important business with Mr. Clark. Find out his room and time of arrival at the hotel!"

"Let’s leave business aside," Ursula answered. "The feast has just begun." She drew Jack onto the dance floor.

The Babylonian boss stood in the background, watching the young pair. He gave orders through a hidden microphone…