Golden Fleece's winter Assembly unfold. He, like the other members, filled a gilded antique chair. They were aligned in rows of eight, the Circle facing them, Alfred Hermann's center chair draped in a blue silk. Everyone seemed anxious to talk, and the discussion had quickly gravitated to the Middle East and what the Political Committee had proposed the previous spring. At that time the plans had been merely tentative. Things were now different. And not everyone agreed.
In fact, there was more dissent than Alfred Hermann had apparently expected. The Blue Chair had already twice interjected himself into the debate, which was a rarity. Usually, Thorvaldsen knew, Hermann remained silent.
"Displacing the Jews is impossible and ridiculous," one of the members said from the floor. Thorvaldsen knew the man, a Norwegian heavy into North Atlantic fishing. "Chronicles makes clear that God chose Jerusalem and sanctified the Temple there. I know my Bible. First Kings says God gave Solomon one tribe, so David would have a lamp before Him in Jerusalem. The city He chose for Himself. The reestablishment of modern Israel was not an accident. Many believe it came by heavenly inspiration."
Several other members echoed the observation with Bible passages of their own from Chronicles and Psalms.
"And what if all that you quote is false?"
The inquiry came from the front of the hall. The Blue Chair stood. "Do you recall when the modern state of Israel was created?"
No one answered his question.
"May 14, 1948. Four thirty-two PM. David Ben-Gurion stood in the Tel Aviv Museum and said that by virtue of the natural and historic right of the Jewish people the state of Israel was established."
"The prophet Isaiah made clear that a nation shall be born in a day," one of the members said. "God kept his promise. The Abrahamic covenant. The land of the Jews was returned."
"And how do we know of this covenant?" Hermann asked. "Only one source. The Old Testament. Many of you have today called on its text. Ben-Gurion spoke of the natural and historic right of the Jewish people. He, too, was referring to the Old Testament. It's the only existing evidence that mentions these divine revelations-but its authenticity is seriously in doubt."
Thorvaldsen's gaze swept the room.
"If I were to have a deed to each one of your estates, documents that were decades old, translated from your respective languages by people long dead who could not even speak your language, would not each one of you question its authenticity? Would you not want more proof than an unverified and unauthenticated translation?" Hermann paused. "Yet we have accepted the Old Testament, without question, as the absolute Word of God. Its text eventually molded the New Testament. Its words still have geopolitical consequences."
The gathering seemed to be waiting for Hermann to make his point.
"Seven years ago a man named George Haddad, a Palestinian biblical scholar, penned a paper published by Beirut University. In it he postulated that the Old Testament, as translated, was wrong."
"Quite a premise," a member said. The heavyset woman stood. "I take the Word of God more seriously than you."
Hermann seemed amused. "Really? What do you know of this Word of God? You know its history? Its author? Its translator? Those words were written thousands of years ago by unknown scribes in Old Hebrew, a language dead now for more than two thousand years. What do you know of Old Hebrew?"
The woman said nothing.
Hermann nodded. "Your lack of knowledge is understandable. It was a highly inflected language in which the import of words was conveyed by their context rather than their spelling. The same word could, and did, have several distinct meanings, depending on how it was used. Not until centuries after the Old Testament was first written did Jewish scholars translate those words into the Hebrew of the time, and yet those scholars could not even speak Old Hebrew. They simply guessed at the meaning or, even worse, changed the meaning. Then centuries passed, and more scholars, this time Christian, translated the words again. They, too, could not speak Old Hebrew, so they, too, guessed. With all due respect to your beliefs, we have no idea as to the Word of God."
"You have no faith," the woman declared.
"On this I do not, since it does not involve God. This is the work of man."
"What did Haddad argue?" another man asked, his tone suggesting that he was interested.
"Correctly, he postulated that when the stories of the covenant made by God to Abraham were first told, Jews