Tribulation Force: The Continuing Drama Of Those Left Behind (35 page)

“What will you do? Are you returning to the States? Will I see you there?”

“I don’t know. We’ll see.”

“Cameron! Give me a smile on this historic day!”

But Buck could not muster one. He walked all the way back to the King David Hotel, where the clerk asked if he still wanted information on commercial flights to Baghdad. “No, thanks,” he said.

“Very good, sir. A message for you.”

The envelope bore the return address of Dr. Tsion Ben-Judah. Buck trotted up to his room before tearing it open. It read, “Sorry to abandon you last night. Would not have been able to converse. Would you do me the honor of joining me for lunch and accompanying me to the
ICNN
studio? I will await your call.”

Buck looked at his watch. Surely it was too late. He placed the call, only to get a housekeeper who said that the rabbi had left twenty minutes before. Buck slammed his hand on the dresser. What a privilege he would miss, just because he had walked back to the hotel instead of taking a cab! Perhaps he would take a cab to the TV studio and meet Tsion there after lunch. But did the rabbi want to talk before going on the air; was that it?

Buck lifted the receiver, and the front desk answered. “Can you get me a cab, please?”

“Certainly, sir, but a call has just come in for you. Would you like to take it now?”

“Yes, and hold onto that cab until I get back to you.”

“Yes, sir. Hang up, please, and I will ring your call through.”

It was Tsion. “Dr. Ben-Judah! I’m so glad you called! I just got back.”

“I was at the signing, Buck,” Tsion said in his thick Hebrew accent, “but I did not make myself visible or available.”

“Is your lunch invitation still open?”

“It is.”

“When shall I meet you, and where?”

“How about now, out in front?”

“I’m there.”

Thank you, Lord
, Buck breathed as he ran down the stairs.
Give me the opportunity to tell this man that you are the Messiah
.

At the car the rabbi shook Buck’s hand with both of his and pulled him close. “Buck, we have shared an incredible experience. I feel a bond. But now I am nervous about informing the world of my findings, and I need to talk over lunch. May we?”

The rabbi directed his driver to a small cafe in a busy section of Jerusalem. Tsion, a huge, black, three-ring binder under his arm, spoke quietly to the waiter in Hebrew, and they were directed to a window table surrounded by plants. When menus were brought, Ben-Judah looked at his watch, waved off the menus, and spoke again in his native tongue. Buck assumed he was ordering for both of them.

“Do you still need your patch, identifying yourself as a reporter from the magazine?”

Buck quickly yanked the patch off his pocket.

“It came off much easier than it went on, did it not?”

Buck laughed.

As Tsion joined in the laughter, the waiter brought an unsliced loaf of warm bread, butter, a wheel of cheese, a mayonnaise—like sauce, a bowl of green apples, and fresh cucumbers.

“If you will allow me?” Ben-Judah pointed to the plate.

“Please.”

The rabbi sliced the warm bread in huge sections, slathered them with butter and the sauce, applied slices of the cucumber and cheese, then put apple slices on the side and slid a plate in front of Buck.

Buck waited as the rabbi prepared his own plate. “Please do not wait for me. Eat while the bread is warm.”

Buck bowed his head briefly, praying again for Tsion Ben-Judah’s soul. He raised his eyes and lifted the delicacy.

“You are a man of prayer,” Tsion observed as he continued to prepare his meal.

“I am.” Buck continued to pray silently, wondering if now was the time to jump in with a timely word. Could this man be influenced within an hour of revealing his scholarly research to the world? Buck felt foolish. The rabbi was smiling.

“What is it, Tsion?”

“I was just recalling the last American with whom I shared a meal here. He was on a junket, sightseeing, and I was asked to entertain him. He was some sort of a religious leader, and we all take turns here, you know, making the tourists feel welcome.” Buck nodded.

“I made the mistake of asking if he wanted to try one of my favorites, a vegetable and cheese sandwich. Either my accent was too difficult for him or he understood me and the offering did not appeal. He politely declined and ordered something more familiar, something with pita bread and shrimp, as I recall. But I asked the waiter, in my own language, to bring extra of what I was having, due to what I call the jealousy factor. It was not long before the man had pushed his plate aside and was sampling what I had ordered.”

Buck laughed. “And now you simply order for your guests.”

“Exactly.”

And before the rabbi ate, he prayed silently too.

“I skipped breakfast,” Buck said, lifting the bread in salute.

Tsion Ben-Judah beamed with delight. “Perfect!” he said. “An international adage says that hunger is the best seasoning.”

Buck found it true. He had to slow down to keep from overeating, which had rarely been a problem for him. “Tsion,” he began finally, “did you just want company before going on the air, or was there something specific you wanted to talk about?”

“Something specific,” the rabbi said, looking at his watch. “How does my hair look, by the way?”

“Fine. They’ll probably comb out the hat line there in makeup.”

“Makeup? I had forgotten that part. No wonder they want me so early.”

Ben-Judah checked his watch, then pushed his plates aside and hefted the notebook onto the table. It contained a four-inch stack of manuscript pages. “I have several more of these in my office,” he said, “but this is the essence, the conclusion, the result of my three years of exhaustive—and exhausting—work with a team of young students who were of incalculable help to me.”

“You’re not dreaming of reading that aloud in an hour, are you?”

“No, no!” Ben-Judah said, laughing. “This is what you would call my security blanket. If I draw a blank, I pick up the blanket. No matter where I turn, there is something I should say. You might be interested to know that I have memorized what I will say on television.”

“An hour’s worth?”

“That might have seemed daunting to me, too, three years ago. Now I know I could go on for many more hours, and without notes. But I must stick to my plan to redeem the time. If I get off on tangents, I will never finish.”

“And yet you’ll take your notes with you.”

“I am confident, Buck, but I am no fool. Much of my life has consisted of speaking publicly, but about half the time that has been in Hebrew. Naturally, with their worldwide audience,
CNN
prefers English. That makes it more difficult for me, and I don’t want to compound that by losing my way.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

“You have just satisfied the requirements of your end of the conversation!” the rabbi said, grinning. “Treating you to lunch is already a profitable proposition.”

“So you just needed a little cheerleading.”

The rabbi seemed to think about the word for a moment. Though it was an American term, Buck assumed it was self-explanatory. “Yes,” Ben-Judah said. “Cheerleading. And I want to ask you a question. If it is too personal, you may decline to answer.”

Buck held his hands apart as if open to any question.

“Last night you asked me my conclusions on the Messiah question, and I told you, in essence, that you would have to wait until the rest of the world heard it. But let me pose the same question to you.”

Praise the Lord
, Buck thought. “How much time do we have?”

“About twenty minutes. If it takes longer, we can continue in the car on the way to the studio. Maybe even into makeup.”

The rabbi smiled at his own humor, but Buck was already formulating his story. “You already know about my being at a kibbutz when the Russians attacked Israel.”

Ben-Judah nodded. “The day you lost your agnosticism.”

“Right. Well, I was on an airplane, headed for London, the day of the disappearances.”

“You don’t say.”

And Buck was off and running with the story of his own spiritual journey. He wasn’t finished until the rabbi was out of makeup and sitting nervously in the green room. “Did I go on too long?” Buck asked. “I realize it was asking a lot for you to even pretend to pay attention with your mind on your own presentation.”

“No, Buck,” the rabbi said, deep emotion in his voice. “I should be able to do this in my sleep. If I tried to push any more into my head at this late date, I would lose it all.”

So that was it? No response? No thank you? No “you’re a fool”?

Finally, after a long silence, Tsion spoke again. “Buck, I deeply appreciate your sharing that with me.”

A young woman with a battery pack on her hip, earphones and mouthpiece in place, slipped in. “Dr. Ben-Judah,” she said. “We are ready for you in the studio for sound check, and ninety seconds to air.”

“I am ready.” Ben-Judah did not move.

The young woman hesitated, looking doubtful. Apparently she was not used to guests who didn’t simply nervously follow her to the set. She left.

Tsion Ben-Judah rose with his notebook under his arm and opened the door, standing there with his free hand on the knob. “Now, Buck Williams, if you would be so kind as to do me a favor while you wait here.”

“Sure.”

“As you are a man of prayer, would you pray that I will say what God wants me to say?”

Buck raised a fist of encouragement to his new friend and nodded.

“Want to take over?” Rayford asked his first officer. “I wouldn’t mind catching this special
CNN
report.”

“Roger. That rabbi thing?”

“Right.”

The first officer shook his head. “That would put me right to sleep.”

Rayford made his way out of the cockpit but was disappointed to see that the television was not on in the main cabin. He moved toward the back where other dignitaries and press were gathering around another TV. But before Rayford was completely out of Carpathia’s conference room, Nicolae noticed him. “Captain Steele! Please! Spend a few minutes with us!”

“Thank you, sir, but I was hoping to catch the—”

“The Messiah broadcast, yes, of course! Turn it on!”

Someone turned on the set and tuned in
ICNN
. “You know,” Carpathia announced to all within earshot, “our captain believes Jesus was the Messiah.”

Chaim Rosenzweig said, “Frankly, as a nonreligious Jew, I think Nicolae fulfills more of the prophecies than Jesus did.”

Rayford recoiled. [_What blasphemy! _]He knew Buck liked and respected Rosenzweig, but what a statement!

“No offense, sir, but I doubt many Jews could believe in a Messiah—even if they think he is yet to come—who was born other than in the Holy Land.”

“Ah, well, you see?” Rosenzweig said. “I am not that much a student. Now this man,” he added, pointing to the TV screen where Tsion Ben-Judah was being introduced, “here is your religious scholar. After three years of intensive research, he ought to be able to outline the qualifications of Messiah.”

[_I’ll bet, _]Rayford thought. He stood in a corner and leaned against the wall to keep out of the way. Carpathia slipped off his suit jacket, and a flight attendant immediately hung it for him. He loosened his tie, rolled up his sleeves, and sat down in front of the television holding a fresh seltzer with a twist. Carpathia obviously considered this a good hour’s diversion, Rayford thought.

An off-camera announcer clarified that “the views and opinions expressed on this broadcast do not necessarily reflect the views of the International Cable News Network or its subscribing stations.”

Rayford found Dr. Ben-Judah a most engaging communicator. He looked directly into the camera, and though his accent was thick, he spoke slowly and distinctly enough to be easily understood. Most of all, Rayford sensed an enthusiasm and a passion for his subject. This was not at all what Rayford had expected. He would have imagined an ancient rabbi with a long white beard, hunched over some musty manuscripts with a magnifying glass, comparing jots and tittles.

Ben-Judah, however, after a brief introduction of himself and the process through which he and his team did their research, began with a promise. “I have come to the conclusion that we may know beyond all shadow of doubt the identity of our Messiah. Our Bible has given clear prophecies, prerequisites, and predictions that only one person in the human race could ever fulfill. Follow along with me and see if you come to the same conclusion I have, and we shall see whether Messiah is a real person, whether he has already come, or whether he is yet to come.”

Rabbi Ben-Judah said he and his team spent almost the entire first year of their project confirming the accuracy of the late Alfred Edersheim, a teacher of languages and Grinfield Lecturer on the Septuagint. Edersheim had postulated that there were 456 messianic passages in Scripture, supported by more than 558 references from the most ancient rabbinical writings.

“Now,” the rabbi said, “I promise to not bore you with statistics, but let me just say that many of those prophetic passages are repetitive and some are obscure. But based on our careful study, we believe there are at least 109 separate and distinct prophecies Messiah must fulfill. They require a man so unusual and a life so unique that they eliminate all pretenders.

“I do not have time in this brief hour to cover all 109, of course, but I will deal with some of the most clearly obvious and specific ones. We consulted a mathematician and asked him to calculate the probability of even 20 of the 109 prophecies being fulfilled in one man. He came up with odds of one in one quadrillion, one hundred and twenty-five trillion!”

Dr. Ben-Judah gave what Rayford considered a brilliant example of how to easily identify someone with just a few marks. “Despite the billions of people who still populate this planet, you can put a postcard in the mail with just a few distinctions on it, and I will be the only person to receive it. You eliminate much of the world when you send it to Israel. You narrow it more when it comes to Jerusalem. You cut the potential recipients to a tiny fraction when it goes to a certain street, a certain number, a certain apartment. And then, with my first and last name on it, you have singled me out of billions. That, I believe, is what these prophecies of Messiah do. They eliminate, eliminate, eliminate, until only one person could ever fulfill them.”