Ether 13

Whew again. I’ve written so much about ancestors. It’s taxing to keep going.

But now, for your reading pleasure, the exciting conclusion …

No one liked Ether. No one liked what he said, which included antediluvian tales, cross-cultural riffing, and, of course, our own magical tragic history on the allegedly best spot on God’s green earth, the planned site for the next Jerusalem which will plop on its foundations direct from heaven.

To be more specific, Ether saw that the old Jerusalem, which Lehi fled,

would be rebuilt after the Romans sacked it. That one could never be a “new” Jerusalem in the technical sense, only a refurbished one. Not to take away from the quality of the refurbishing. It’ll be a great place, one God won’t cross out of his ledger of vacation destinations.

But the New Jerusalem goes with the New World, which is what they’ll call this place.

The symbolism is clear. Joseph of old brought his dad from Israel to Egypt, where he could survive, which he couldn’t at home. Now God has brought a snippet of Joseph’s lineage from Jerusalem to this place. For survival, yes, but revival as well.

It is here they’ll build an equivalent city, one that’s durable enough to survive till the final conflagration God has in mind—always going for the splashy ending. Well, not ending so much as rebirth. Because heaven and earth will both start over, just like we did as foreigners in an empty hemisphere. (God will explain that word later.)

Who will live in the New Jerusalem? People who wash their spiritual laundry in the Lamb’s blood. People who had scattered into various populations. People who’ve signed onto the everlasting contract between God and Abraham.

Old Jerusalem will have similar residents, too. So a parallel restructuring of civilization as we, Middle Easterners, know it. And the fulfillment of that cryptic saying that the first people will also be the last people and the last people be first. The twin Jerusalems will switch roles in the hierarchy of attention and influence. Maybe more than once.

(I had more to say on this topic, but this pinching feeling in my back says don’t go there.)

Ether was the best in a long zig-zaggy line. But what does being the best get you? What it got Ether: constant putdowns, rocks thrown in his path, death threats. He had to become a homeless hermit, if there’s such a thing. He lived in a remote cave, walked out at night to, literally, look down on his people and spent his days writing to no one but the future.

The same year he moved into the cave, war had broken out—one more attempted coup, now with gangsters targeting Coriantumr. But Coriantumr had studied military strategy for years and had trained for all forms of combat. So he was ready for the fight.

But he was also stubborn. He had no use for prophets and the like. In that he was just like his extended family (by marriage and by blood). Maybe I should include in “extended family” everyone with human genes. Because we’re all one big family and no one seems to want to better himself.

So while Ether stayed holed up, people were dying in droves. Both sides suffered massive casualties. It’s hard to know which side to root for, since neither was very good.

As the war went into its second year, God told Ether to approach Coriantumr with another offer: turn to me (God) and I’ll let you live and remain king. Keep rebuffing me and all you’ll live to see is the whole shebang handed to someone else, either someone you don’t know or someone you hate.

But Coriantumr, no surprise, would have nothing of it. Neither would anyone else. War continued and, while some tried to hunt down Ether, his cave was so remote no one could find it.

A commander named Shared finally ended the war by beating Coriantumr’s forces and capturing the man himself. That was in the third year. In the fourth year, Coriantumr’s sons revived the fight, freed their father, and proclaimed him king again.

Tribal infighting has always been. But now it went hot in every sector. No rhyme or reason but greed. Thieves multiplied like cockroaches. No point listing the other crime trends. The usual muck.

Coriantumr took aim at Shared, though, rushing his compound in Gilgal Valley with a ferocious, hopped-up army of thugs. The fight lasted three days, Coriantumr won and chased Shared to the plains at Heshlon. Shared rebounded and chased Coriantumr back to Gilgal, where Shared finally took it in the chest. For the rest of his life Coriantumr had a limp from a thigh wound. He took two years off from killing to nurse that wound.

But no one else took time off.