The Days of Peleg (72 page)

“You are afraid.”

Shem’s voice startled him as it cut through the silence of the early morning. Peleg squatted down beside him, but Shem kept his eyes shut.

“I’m
not
afraid,” Peleg retorted angrily, realizing as he said it that he was, in fact, terrified. He was terrified of what had become of his city. He was terrified that his beloved
Citadel
had degenerated into promoting what it used to oppose. He was terrified, wondering why they had not been taken directly to Inanna, and becoming even more terrified with each passing hour they waited; terrified and worried about what he would find—and what the outcome of the inevitable meeting might be.

He was also terrified to realize that (unbelievably) the most rational and sane person he knew was Shem. The manic, madman Shem. Peleg was alone in his home city, and could think of no one he could turn to—or trust.

They sat for a few moments in silence, until Shem asked a simple question.

“What is the opposite of fear?”

Peleg squinted in the darkness, trying to make sense of the inquiry. Eventually he answered, “Contentment? Or perhaps security?”

Shem’s eyes opened.

“No,” he said simply. “Those are simply the absence of fear. The
opposite
is that which is required to remove it—the
remedy
for fear.”

Peleg sighed in fatigue and hunger. He knew he would get no more sleep before morning. He realized that his expected meeting with Inanna was nothing more than an assumption. He might be held here indefinitely. He responded to Shem with a strange mix of anxiety and boredom.

“What
is
the opposite, then?”

“Love,” Shem answered instantly.

Peleg’s boredom turned to confusion, but he knew that Shem was heading into another lecture. But Shem shifted subjects suddenly with another question.

“Can you give me an example of symbiosis?”

Startled, Peleg took a few moments before answering.

“Well,” he began, “I can think of bees which collect pollen for their nourishment and survival, yet also contribute to the survival of fruit trees by transferring the pollen from flower to flower.” He recalled many years ago, Serug had been obsessed with botany and demonstrated artificial cross-pollination to him. Young Serug had just begun his courses in heredity.

Shem was nodding.

“Very good,” he said.

Peleg suddenly remembered something that someone had once told him. He couldn’t remember who.

“I heard that sheep are unable to live without human care,” he said. “Supposedly they will die from overheating if their wool is not shorn, and they can drown from the weight of their wet fleece if they fall into water. In fact, I was told that they can sometimes fall over from the weight—and are unable to right themselves. I guess that’s symbiosis: we need them for wool—and they need us for survival.”

“Excellent,” Shem nodded again, eager to continue his thought. “Allow me to offer a few more examples of which you are probably unaware.”

He shifted to look more directly at Peleg.

“There are trees which would die if it weren’t for large colonies of ants which live on the tree and fight off organisms which would attack and otherwise destroy the tree. Also, these trees have soft surfaces which allow seeds from other plants to take root—and when they do, these seedlings damage and destroy the tree. Only the ants, which patrol the tree, eat and destroy these seedling invaders, keeping the tree healthy. In exchange, the tree secretes a nectar that has no purpose other than feeding the ants and keeping them healthy—and in the service of the tree.”

Peleg was impressed, but said nothing.

“There are also many violent animals, on both sea and land, which suspend their carnivorous instincts to allow small animals—which would normally be eaten—to enter into their mouths to clean their teeth. Small animals which would usually be consumed without thought are allowed safe access during these times, and
collect
food instead of
becoming
food.”

Shem smiled—for the first time that night, and continued.

“But my favorite example is the termite. You are aware that they consume wood?”

“Yes,” Peleg nodded, wondering where all of this was going.

“What you may not know, is that termites are unable to digest wood,” he said with a gleam in his eye. “They just chew it up, and then swallow it.”

Shem paused, as he always did, refusing to speak until Peleg responded.

“That is impossible,” Peleg finally declared, in a tone that demanded an explanation.

Shem laughed, but it was not his usual, annoying bellow.

“There is another, much smaller organism that lives inside of the termite,” he said. “This creature
does
digest wood, and breaks it down for the termites who are then able to glean its nourishment. It is difficult to say which creature works for the other. From the organism’s perspective, a termite is a creature that collects food for
it
to enjoy.”

Shem spread his arms, stretching at the same time.

“Obviously,” he continued, “such arrangements could never develop over time. One of the parties would die out while waiting for the other’s cooperation. They must be set into motion simultaneously; the same as any other system.”

Shem paused, and Peleg waited to see when or if he would connect his disparate thoughts. Eventually, Shem spoke again.

“You have been taught by this
Citadel
that you are comprised of two components: Body and Mind.”

Peleg nodded.

“I believe we have also demonstrated that your volitional abilities go far beyond mere mechanistic, causal phenomena.”

Peleg nodded again, but somewhat reluctantly.

“Human beings are designed to be symbiotic also,” Shem announced, finally making his point. “Our volitional abilities have a serious drawback. When faced with the unknown, we become so aware of the unlimited possibilities and infinite futures that we terrorize ourselves, imagining the worst possible outcomes for every situation.”

Once again Peleg nodded, but this time he actually understood what Shem was saying.

“Just as the termite can not digest the wood that enters its system, so humans cannot digest the dilemmas and uncertainties which come their way. It is the price we pay for
having
free will. However, your volition was not designed to function on its own—independent of assistance. There is a third component that must be added to the list of Body and Mind: it is
Spirit
.”

Peleg’s patience came to an abrupt end and he jerked back in anger as if he had been struck. This was all he needed: more mythical nonsense like the degeneration he had observed in the streets ever since returning home.

Shem laughed again. This time it was the annoying one.

“Don’t be offended by a word,” he said as he caught his breath. “I’m not talking about ghosts or apparitions. I simply have no better word to describe something that is, in reality, a connection point or nexus between the physical world we live in, and the realm occupied by the
Creator
. Perhaps you have a better word.”

Peleg shook his head, resigned to hear the rest of what Shem had to say, but as always, he was reticent when Shem insisted upon invoking his Creator.

“You were not designed to live in fear,” Shem said, his voice suddenly soothing. “You were not designed to be the victim of a chaotic, unguided Volition.
Your
Spirit is a region within your Volition where the Creator himself is meant to reside, guiding your decisions, giving you peace, and assuring you that you are cared for. The
future
manifestation of the
Zeh-ra
will be when the
Creator
comes in the flesh, but the
immediate
manifestation occurs when you allow the
Creator
to plant his Seed within your Spirit where His Mind and Wisdom can grow and feed your Volition—as it was meant to be.”

He paused for several moments, allowing his words to sink in.

“I said that ‘love’ was the opposite of fear,” Shem continued eventually. “By allowing the all-knowing
Creator
to reside in your Spirit, you can function in the manner in which you were designed—the way the
Creator
originally intended. When the first couple fell, their Spirit died—and all of humanity since that time has been born with a Volition that ignores the Creator and a Spirit which no longer functions.”

Peleg closed his eyes, not wanting to be completely taken in by this new thought, while Shem continued.

“When people are confronted by the unknown, their Volition creates an insurmountable mountain of anxieties and possibilities; so most simply ignore the problems and immerse themselves in activities which take their minds off of their apprehensions. They become obsessed with other ventures, or numb their agony with revelry, drugs, or other diversions.”

A contentious thought suddenly occurred to Peleg, and he opened his eyes.

“Or they hide fearfully in caves for decades, wondering what to do,” Peleg said, perversely delighted at this unexpected opportunity to show that Shem didn’t appear to live up to the claims he was making.

However, Shem stopped for a moment and then smiled sadly, looking down at the floor.

“Yes,” he said slowly with a hurt tone in his voice. “We are constantly growing—learning how to listen and trust the
Creator
’s voice within us. Since the
Zeh-ra
never forces or controls, we can still, sadly,
choose
to ignore him.”

Peleg was suddenly sorry he had said anything. But after a few moments, Shem abruptly looked up and smiled broadly, lifting his arms in the air.

“But the good news is that we are together here, now!” he proclaimed joyfully.

Peleg looked around the dark classroom/cell with disbelief, but then looked into Shem’s excited, wild eyes. It was the same old manic Shem, but somehow, this time, it comforted him.

Shem’s smile faded, and he sank back down on the floor. Suddenly he closed his eyes and seemed to shut out the rest of the world, becoming motionless just like he had the first time they had met. Peleg had never asked Shem about it, but he now realized after this last lecture that Shem was probably communing with his “Spirit” and the Creator within. Whether it was imaginary or not, it was certain that
Shem
believed it.

Peleg waited for several minutes, first watching Shem, and then looking around the room. A hue of ambient orange light was now coming from the slot overhead—the sky’s reflection of the morning sun, which was rising on the opposite side of the Citadel. He looked back just in time to see Shem’s eyes snap open.

“All is well,” he said, smiling at Peleg.

Peleg returned to sit next to Shem, amazed at this sudden assurance.

“How can someone know when he is truly communicating with the
Creator
, or simply talking to himself?” asked Peleg, insinuating his skepticism about Shem’s meditation.

“Only when you have received the
Zeh-ra
into your Volition can you discern how empty and void you were before He entered. One must also be cautious since the
Nephilim
will also attempt to enter your Spirit and control you. However, since it wasn’t designed for them, their forceful nature and your accompanying physical discomfort expose them quickly.”

Peleg’s eyes were opened wide in a combination of disbelief and fear.

Shem laughed quietly and smiled.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “Once the
Zeh-ra
is within, nothing else can enter. Also, you will know it is the
Creator
’s voice when he tells you things you don’t want to hear.”

Peleg shook his head, wondering if Shem was being serious or facetious.

Shem raised a hand as if continuing a major point.

“Having an omniscient, omni-present
Creator
within your being is not enough to drive away fear,” he said, as if clarifying himself. “It is only after you get to know the
Creator
—his mind and personality—that you realize his incredible love for his creation. It is the same as the limited love
you
would have for something
you
created. Only when you learn to trust the
Creator’s
love for you will you find your fears beginning to vanish. Since we trust and rely on the all-knowing one who is guiding us, we have no need for worry or anxiety.”

Peleg mulled all of this over in his mind, wondering how he could verify such concepts. Shem had also suddenly switched to the first person plural, apparently to include Bernifal and all those who believed as he did, which strangely made his ideas more inviting. After a few minutes of silence, he realized he still had to ask the one obvious question—just for informational purposes.

“How can I acquire this
Creator
within my volition?”

“You must be accepted, first,” said Shem with a shake of his head. “Perfection cannot associate with imperfection.”

Peleg recoiled as if had been punched in the chest. He thought of his own imperfection and wondered angrily how Shem could spend so much time and effort presenting his proposition, and then suddenly announce that it was unattainable. But Shem anticipated his discomfort and continued.

“That is where the
Zeh-ra
does his work,” he said quietly. “The coming Seed will be your human advocate, representing you to the
Creator
.
His
perfection will supersede your imperfection, allowing the Creator to commune with you. Since His future coming is a certainty, you can rely upon it as assuredly as if it has already happened.”

Peleg suddenly felt isolated as Shem switched his language, again, to the second person singular, making his explanation uncomfortably personal. Peleg’s next question was sincere.

“How would
I
request this exchange?”

Shem’s smile was instant and almost giddy.