Ether 2

So Jared, his brother, extended family, seedy luggage, and entourage of friends, flocks, and herds headed off to the appointed valley (called Nimrod Valley, after the famous hunter).

Along the way they built traps, shot birds, and caught fish. Oh, and I should mention they brought beehives. They obviously had a serious sweet tooth, worth getting stung on the trail everyday. When they hit the valley, God came down and talked to Jared’s brother, though stayed in a cloud so he could wear whatever he wanted.

What did God say? According to Jared’s brother he said to go out to the frontier, further into the wild than anyone had ever gone. They did, with God giving directions from the cloud, now mobile and with a speaker so everyone could hear. He told them to build barges to cross the water when needed. But wait, he said, there’s more: they would be crossing the ocean to the Promised Land, one of several God had picked out for various social groups he preferred.

Yet remember: God has a temper. In this case he got mad and swore at Jared’s brother, telling him that once they got to the Promised Land, if they didn’t stay good he’d kill them all in a sudden rage.

So that was the condition. It would be the same for any group who sailed there. If I give you liberty, God said, I’ll give you death.

That means you, Gentiles. Don’t think you can come here and party and give people your scummy Euro-diseases and lash us into subservience. At least not unless you’re religious. Never push God.

And with religiosity, by the way, comes freedom, at least a certain kind of freedom that privileges a vague, collective freedom and not necessarily individual freedoms. Slavery is okay, for example, but only of lower classes not of the nation at large (i.e., to other nations). Serve Jesus and you’re free in this amorphous way, though you can still be a Christian and a slave. We’ll work out that kink later.

But I digress. God-in-the-cloud led them to the seashore, where they pitched tents and named the spot Moriancumer. The cloud apparently dissipated, because they ended up living there for four years.

After four years of lip-chewing and bad hygiene, God returned with a new cloud and a new message for Jared’s brother. He was mad—see what I told you?—this time because Jared’s brother had conveniently “forgotten” to pray for the past three years. Jared’s brother had his reasons, for example, the first of which was God’s silence for a full year before the three noprayer years.

Still, Jared’s brother knew when he was whipped. He said he regretted his actions, to which God replied: “Fair enough. I’ll give you a pass this time. But don’t screw up again. I’m not in this for my health. I’ve got a reputation for meanness I’ve got to protect. You flagrantly defy me and I’ll chop your heads off. Spiritually speaking, of course. I’m giving you the most amazing piece of property, one bigger than all of the Middle East (a term that doesn’t make sense now, but will in time). My treat. You’re welcome.

“Oh, and go build some new barges. More later.”

So, with divine coaching, they built small, light barges that floated like big oblong ducks, but had water-tight seals on every corner and even in the door jamb.

“O Lord,” Jared’s brother prayed, “Done. We’ve built these according to your specs. We have three problems, though: no air holes, no interior light, and no way to steer. Are you sure about these blueprints? We’d be dead in a day.”

The Lord said, “Put air holes with good corks in the top and the bottom—more on that later.”

Jared’s brother did that. “Fine,” he said. “But what about the light issue? You want us to sit in these things with marginal air supply, no toilet, and be blind for who knows how long?”

“Look, what do you want? Give me some ideas. Windows are out—we don’t have shatter-proof glass yet. In fact, I’m not sure we have glass at all yet. And fire, while it may help block the stench you’re going to have, is just too dangerous on a jerky sea voyage. Frankly, while your design is duck-like, the prospects are more whale-like. They have mass and enormity to hold up in seismic waves. You’re not even close. Now, I’ll protect you, but it’s going to be messy. I’ve got some big storms planned for those months. Anyway, you’re going to need light, yes. But I’m fresh out of ideas.”