Chapter 7

  There has always been a religious tension amongst Jews and Christians. The Jews are suspicious of Christians because for centuries some of the most horrible crimes against humanity were committed under the guise of Christianity; for example, numerous pogroms, the Inquisitions, and even Martin Luther, Hitler and the Nazis were claiming to do what they were doing as Christians. Some Christians balk at the Jews because they think the Jews killed Jesus, some think that they’re ignorant for having the Holy Scriptures of God and refusing to believe in who they claim to be the Jewish Messiah and the Son of God. Others are simply intimidated by them, so they ignore the Jews out of ignorance. Few are those who bridge that gap in love and mutual respect, laying aside doctrinal differences and celebrating a mutual love for the true God of Israel, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Neither Rabbi Geller, nor his wife, Rachael, were able to do that. Both had lost large numbers of their immediate family to the horrors of Nazi Germany in Poland. Zvi was actually able to identify his parents in a photo of bodies lying naked in a mass grave after being machine-gunned to death in the frigid winter snow. As far as the Geller’s were concerned, Christians would all have a special place in hell reserved just for them...and that suited them just fine.

***

  Zvi's heart was racing almost as fast as he was, as he wove in and out of traffic along Hwy 26 towards Beaverton. He was imagining what he would say to this man, or what this man would say to him. Would he have good news? Was Elijah alright? He mentioned Elijah might be in trouble. What kind of trouble? He said he saw Eli while hiking with his children...where in the world could he be, and why would he be out in the forest? A million questions raced through his head as Rabbi Geller pulled his black, convertible BMW onto the Hwy 217 exit, then a few more miles to the Canyon Road exit. He nearly side-swiped a teal Ford Taurus as he was positioning himself to get in the furthest lane on the right. Taking the exit, he pulled onto Canyon Road, then into the parking lot that that houses Noah’s Bagels. Zvi takes a moment to collect himself and his thoughts, says a quick prayer and walks into the bakery.
  Mike was already there and waiting, nibbling on a piece of babka bread and sipping a double mocha. He recognized Zvi immediately when he walked in. He'd never seen him before, but he looked exactly as he pictured in his mind; short and a little thick around the mid-section, but striking to look at. He looked exactly like what he pictured a rabbi to look like. He wore a yarmulke similar to Elijah's, and had the same intense look on his face, like he was drinking in every detail of his surroundings. His presence was definitely felt as he entered the bakery. Mike stood up to greet him.
  "Rabbi Geller?" Mike extended his hand.
  "Yes, and you are Mr. Blanchard?" Rabbi Geller exposed his anxiety with his handshake. "Yes, but please call me Mike."
  "Alright, and you may call me Zvi. Now, please tell me what you know about Elijah."
  "Yesterday, my two children and I were in Deschutes National Forest on a hiking trip. We ran into Elijah. Actually, he nearly ran into us, and scared the life out of my twelve year-old daughter, Micah. You know, Zvi, I am actually a bit nervous about our meeting today because I'm not sure about what to say to you."
  "What's for you to say; except telling me everything you know about my son? Zvi was a little put-off already that Mike seemed to have another motive or agenda for this conversation.
  "Well, Zvi...I will tell you all about Elijah, but I really want to ask you about what led him out there. It's a very wild and dangerous place. He wasn't prepared to be out there. It almost appeared to me that he was thrown into that situation. "
  "Like he was kidnapped and left out there?" Zvi was getting more upset by the moment.
  “No, I wouldn't say that. It's just that his behavior was so strange and wanton that there had to be something undelying.....just that perhaps his personal situation back home was so bad that he felt compelled to run as far away from everything he knew as he could. It seems as though that's the farthest he could get from society. That's my theory from my limited conversation with him."
  "Well, at the risk of being rude and abrupt, Mr. Blanchard, I am not much interested in your psychoanalysis of what is compelling my son to do what he's doing. I am not interested in anything you have to say, unless it is giving me information on where I can find my son, so please, give me that information and we can be on our way."

  Mike sat there quietly for a moment, thinking about how to say what was really on his heart. Though intelligent and educated, tact was never a strong point of Mike's. He was always a victim of impulse and the need to say exactly what he was thinking and feeling at the very moment he thought and felt it. He may not have another opportunity after this with the rabbi, so he needed to give it his best shot. "Lord, please give me the right words."
  "Zvi, there is something that I really feel weighing on my heart that I need to share with you. I feel it as a conviction in my spirit, so please indulge me just a few more moments of your time. We may not have another meeting after this one..."
  “You’re damn right about that." Zvi was doing everything in his power to remain under control, but that was proving difficult. He was a volcano of raw, explosive emotion, and Mike was lighting his fuse. Zvi hadn't slept in nearly three days, praying and fasting constantly, and for a moment he felt as though this messenger might be the answer to his prayers, but he's turning out to be nothing more than a story teller yanking on the frail strings of his heart. Sure he saw Elijah, or did he? How could he be sure it was his son that he saw?
  "Zvi, I want to you to know that my children and I have been praying and will continue to pray for you and Elijah."
  "Thank you. Now, is that what you felt compelled to tell me?"
  "No...not exactly. Zvi, I need to tell you about Jesus and what He can do for you and your family in this situation." That was it. Of all the things in the world he could have said, that was the one thing that guaranteed a total emotional meltdown.
  "Are you serious? Have you completely lost your mind? I came here in faith that you would help me find my poor lost son, who you say may be in trouble, but instead you want to tell me about Jesus and what he can do for my family?" Zvi was leaning completely over the table, the veins in his forehead bulging and drops of spittle flying everywhere as his voice steadily grew louder until he was yelling…
  "You want to know what Jesus can do for my family, eh? Is it the same thing he did for my parents when the Nazi’s stripped them naked in the freezing Polish snow with the rest of their family and village, and machine-gunned them to death? In the name of Jesus! You're trying to tell me about the same Jesus? Maybe you're another sick Jew-hater like them. Maybe you've killed my son, and now you're here to taunt me by telling me about Jesus!" Zvi was yelling and weeping at the same time by now. "Do you or do you not know where my son is??"
  Mike couldn't even look at this man who was on his feet, completely undone emotionally. The entire bakery had come to a complete standstill...nobody dared to even breathe. His answer came out as a weak, broken whisper.

  "Yes I do." Mike wanted to weep. Zvi lunged forward and grabbed him by the shirt, nearly yanking him out of his chair...
  "Then prove it! You prove to me that you saw my Elijah. Right now!! How...how can I know it's my son you're telling me about?? Say something or I will beat you to within an inch of your life you sick sonofabitch!"
  With that, Mike pulled away from Zvi's grip, reached into his satchel and pulled out Elijah's prayer shawl, covered in his blood and tossed it on the table in front of Zvi. Everyone in the store took a collective breath at the sight of the bloody garment. Zvi looked down at it and immediately recognized it as his son's. He picked it up and clutched it to his chest as he collapsed from an emotional overload. Lying on the floor he just squeezed the shawl and wept like he'd never wept before.

***

  Elijah knew he needed to get out and look for water, but the ripping pain in his face was almost too much for him to bear. He hasn't been able to sleep more than a couple hours at a time since it happened, which is to say, since he arrived in this wild and untamed parcel of land. The food and water that Mike left him ran out a day and a half ago. His situation was turning critical. Deciding that he needed to force the issue, he headed out of his little niche and onto the rock outcropping. Looking out over the carpet of trees that stretch for miles in all directions, Elijah scanned the enormous landscape for any sign of water. His eyes were focused like an eagles, squinting as he practically willed a river into view. Nothing. He knows there's water here somewhere because as he surveyed the panorama before him - an explosion of greens painted against the deep blue backdrop of the wild Oregon sky, evidence of life flourished everywhere. He just needs to stop and think, but he can't concentrate due to the pain and discomfort his wound is causing. Under normal circumstances, he would know to look for low ground, look for a sharp decline off the mountains. He would know that water is right at his fingertips on these mountains from glacial melt and run-off, but he just wasn't able to process such simple knowledge.

  Coming down off the ledge, he made his way west, away from everything he needs to live, and right into the clutches of desperation. Cutting through thick underbrush he stumbled headlong into a tangle of blackberry bushes that overran the entire hillside. Being on the fringes of starvation, Elijah gorged himself on the wild berries, not considering the repercussions that it would have on his already dehydrated body. In a matter of just a few minutes his hands were bloody from the scratches the thorny vines inflict, but he didn't not care. He found temporary relief from the pangs of hunger, and that's all that mattered. He has moved from calculated decision-making ability to the mind-set of instant gratification. He knew that he was holding on to life by a quickly unraveling string, groping aimlessly in the dark for some shred of hope that just doesn't exist for him now. He was in way over his head and had, essentially, passed the point of no return. He was a dead man walking, and the fact of the matter had been at the forefront of his mind all day, knowing that even if he wanted to leave here and go home, he couldn't. He wasn’t strong enough physically to make it back to where he left his car, not to mention the fact that he had no idea where his car was located. His stomach strongly disagreed with his choice of food, but the pain of hunger has receded for the time being. He needed to keep searching for water. He made his way down the hill, through the cedars; into a meadow of grass as tall as him, but found no water. The heat was making his stomach hurt the more, adding debilitating abdominal cramps to his list of problems.
  "Oh God, are You going to let me die out here? My decision to leave home may have been rash, but I am still Your child, Your own creation! You are El Shaddai, the all-sufficient God, who provides for all my needs. I need water and real food or I will die. I commit these things to Your hands. Amen." Elijah decided to duck into the tree line where there was plenty of shade and huge ferns growing under the protective canopy of the pine trees.

  "Oy...I'm exhausted from walking all over God's green earth, and I've logged more miles than Moses today, so I think I'll just lay down in these ferns and take a nap. No harm, no foul, and then I'll get up in an hour and keep looking for a stream, pond, or puddle." In an hour, he'll wish he'd never woke up at all.