| Suspended
A
figure in the primitive mosaic is depicted suspended
in mid-air, seeming to flee his father’s grasp
and yet hovering dangerously close to an all consuming
fire. It is our forefather Isaac, depicted as
a small lad with his hands bound, and in some
way; it is all of us.
Our
world is wracked with horror, aghast at wanton
mass murder as much as by the heartless celebration
of our enemies. Whether on the streets of Jerusalem
or the streets of New York, we are all suspended
between the certainties of normal life before
and the moment after terror somehow touched us.
We
walk into the ruins of the synagogue at Bet-Alpha
in the southern Galilee and wonder what those
Jews thought so long ago. Were they suspended
too?
The
mosaic is now fully covered by a protective shelter,
so we must imagine the columns rising up from
their bases to support the second story and wooden
roof above. The long rectangular floor of the
basilica style building stretches before us, the
entire surface covered with mosaics. At the far
end we see the slightly raised semicircular apse
that once contained the Torah niche.
The
east aisle is mostly white mosaic while the west
aisle is dominated by colorful geometrical patterns.
The wide central nave is divided into three sections
surrounded by a wide border. We close our eyes
and can easily imagine both aisles and the entire
center crowded with men, each wrapped in his talis,
listening to the Torah as it is read on a temporary
desk set in the middle of the hall. It is right
over the elaborate mosaic of the zodiac with Helios
at its center surrounded by the four seasons.
The bal korei is reading the beginning of the
twenty-second chapter of Genesis. It is silent.
It is Rosh haShanna. The year is early in the
sixth century of the common era.
As
the men shift their positions during the leining,
the women in the balcony above see portions of
the floor mosaic nearest the aron appear and disappear
beneath the men’s feet.. It depicts another aron,
curtains drawn back to reveal a symbolic Temple
Aron, surmounted by fantastic birds, flanked by
two seven branched Menorahs, a shofar, a lulav,
esrog, ash shovel and finally, two primitive lions.
It is a vision, perhaps, of the Temple rebuilt.
We
can further imagine how the women in the gallery
right over the entrance felt as they saw that
mosaic floor appear beneath the men’s feet. They
knew the scene well and even the artists that
had just completed the mosaic. Marianos and his
son Ananias were proud of their work and happy
that the community leaders had written their names
in a mosaic inscription right at the entranceway.
This mosaic panel was a straightforward description
of the akeidah; Eliezar and Ishmael waiting with
the donkey on the left side and the ram tied to
the bush with the hand of God appearing out of
a symbolic cloud above. The entire right side
was strange, unexpected and disturbing. The mosaic
depicted Abraham, standing face forward with a
long knife at the ready. His hand extends up towards
his son, Isaac, who seems to be flying out of
his grasp. At the very right edge, just past Isaac,
is an altar with a tremendous flame blazing. The
women turn to one another and wonder, what can
this mean?
What
can this image mean for us? Horrible images of
bodies flying, momentarily suspended between life
and death, are terribly fresh in our memories.
The realities of these images frequently end in
fire and ashes. How can this be?
Some
midrashim on the akeidah tell us that indeed Isaac
died on the altar. Either his soul “fled” at the
approach of the knife, or some even say he was
slain and reduced to ashes. In both cases we are
told that the second brocha in the shemoneh esrai
of gevorah alludes to the resurrection of Isaac
brought back to life in this world with the final
blessing; “Blessed are You, Hashem, Who resurrects
the dead.”
The
artists who created the mosaics at Bet-Alpha in
Israel tried to provide us with an answer to what
this might mean. To them the prospect of being
suspended, hanging between life and death was
a given condition of this world. The Temple had
been destroyed and hope of its rebuilding was
fading with each passing year. Times were difficult
and yet the Jews clung to the land. We know that
no matter how much we cling to life, God, the
True Judge, can act at any time in a manner totally
beyond our understanding. If anything, that is
the meaning of the next blessing; “You are Holy…;”
i.e., beyond our grasp. Abraham and Isaac are
shown willingly and actively doing God’s will.
Isaac is depicted bound since he asked to be bound
tightly so that any involuntary flinching would
not invalidate the sacrifice or dishonor his father.
Our forefather Abraham proceeds and the fire is
ready.
As
we read the mosaic in the order someone entering
the Bet-Alpha synagogue would see it; the akeidah
panel is near the entrance. Next the center section
is the depiction of the zodiac and the seasons,
representing the absolute power of God to order
the world, its seasons and the heavenly spheres.
Finally, close to where the Torah was kept in
the aron at the front, is the symbolic vision
of the Temple to come. Most pointedly it is surrounded
by the mitzvahs that we must do at this time of
year. The shofar, the lulav and esrog, and even
the Torah that we must draw near to (encased in
the aron) are all shown in the holiest place of
the synagogue.
Perhaps
seeing these ancient mosaics in this sequence
will remind us that even when we feel suspended,
we must continue to steadfastly do God’s will.
His mitzvot are, in these terrible times, one
of the few things that can moor us to life as
we mourn the tragedies of our days.
Richard
McBee
September 12, 2001
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Akeidah
section, mosaic; Bet-Alpha Synagogue, Israel,
6th century C. E.
Akeidah section (detail), mosaic; Bet-Alpha
Synagogue, Israel, 6th century C. E.
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