Tempting Faith
...by Emily Mills
Eloi speaks:
“Weather is a funny thing. Well, not belly-laugh funny, but what I mean is that it has such an interesting effect on the human demeanor. For instance, today I woke up and the sun was pouring its light in through my windows, and whereas yesterday I had been most gloomy, today I am thoroughly inspired. You see, if all goes according to plan, today will be the first day of the end of my life. I am taking my fate into my own hands, finally, and I believe I owe this sudden ambition to the boisterous presence of the sun today. I have seen the damn thing a hundred-thousand times, but something struck me this go-round. I had started to take the sun for granted you see, but today it let me know that it had never taken me or anyone else for granted. That even after all this time, it is still quite happy to give all its’ got every day. I was humbled by this realization. Humbled and motivated.
“And it feels so good to be motivated by something that is actually positive for once in so many years. Something that I can do that will actually be beneficial to humankind-end my life.
“Now do not go and think that this is some melodramatic suicide of a depressed mortal. Perhaps it is melodramatic, I do not know. But what I am getting at, is that I have lived an incredibly long and, I dare say full life. But I have done almost entirely harmful deeds. I have not earned this strange gift that was, shall we say, “bestowed” upon me so many millennia ago. Immortality is a fickle creature.
“Let me share the one true piece of wisdom I have managed to learn during my stay here, something that has helped me to understand my own shortcomings and those of my fellow human beings. A man likes to imagine that he will do great and wonderful things in his life, but when he actually steps onto the stage of history, it is terrifying and full of blunders. After all, one cannot rehearse for eternity.
“Also, allow me to clear something up straight away. I am immortal, yes, but I am otherwise an average man. I have no special powers, though one might encounter me and believe something to the contrary. But really, anyone who had lived this long would pick up a skill or two along the way. I have had much time to hone my abilities. So now that that little detail is out of the way, let us proceed to the more important bit-the story.”
*********
There was a pervasive chill in the air, but not so much that it was actually cold. Autumn, in fact, was putting up quite a fight against the onset of colder, bleaker months. Gabrielle watched a few yellowed leaves float to the ground and sighed.
“Fall should last much longer,” she thought. Her fingers were getting tingly under the gloves, but not from the temperature. There was something about the man who sat next to her on the bench that caused the tingles. It was a sort of overwhelming presence-an aura, you could say.
Eloi, he called himself. Gabrielle wasn’t sure what it meant, only that it was foreign and lofty-sounding. The people who had introduced him to her had also said that it was, most likely, not his real name. She wondered what name he had been born with, and even if she’d be able to pronounce it if she knew.
Gabrielle turned and faced the figure that sat in stoic silence next to her, letting the breeze toss her umber colored hair in lazy patterns around her face.
Eloi, a man of surprisingly short stature, stared straight ahead at the whatever features of the park and then slowly turned to look at his companion. Short, yes, but the sheer presence that radiated from the man made him seem bigger. This energy was so great that people who encountered him on the street often felt an intense need to avert their eyes. Gabrielle was used to this, however, and met his slate gray eyes with her own verdant stare.
“So, do you…” Gabrielle began to speak but faltered. “Should I just…? Or maybe, I mean-“
“I want to tell you something,” he said. The cadence of his voice was steady, deep and rich, but musical. The accent was an interesting mix.
“OK. Um, go ahead?”
Eloi leaned into the backrest and laid one foot over the opposite knee.
“I have never told anyone my whole story. I have been thinking, lately, that it might be important for someone to know-at least, a little of it. There is so much, though, that I fear we would be here until the next millenium. So I want to tell you the most important things.”
Gabrielle shifted uncomfortably and tugged at the hem of her jeans.
“But why now? Why didn’t you just write all this down? It’s not like you haven’t had the time.”
Eloi smiled, two dimples coming into vivid existence on either side of his mouth. It made him appear much younger than his years.
“Time, yes, I have had that. And I spent so many years busying myself with the act of living it-badly, as it were-that I never sat down to write. I wish I had.”
“Well, you may still have time. I haven’t decided whether or not to help you with your little mission yet,” she added, trying to add a touch more resolve to her voice than she felt.
“Fair enough,” Eloi chuckled. “But allow me to get this out, so as not to keep you for very long.” Gabrielle nodded, signaling for him to continue. “I cannot tell you exactly when I was born, because we did not have the calendar that is used now. I do know that it was during the harvest month, and that it was some thousand years before the year zero, as it has now been placed. I was born a subject of the Assyrian Empire, in the city of Asshur, to a professional soldier and his wife. The details of my mortal life are mostly inconsequential save to say that my father raised me like a soldier might-proud, brash, tempestuous, and physically strong. This upbringing is what would ultimately help to bring about my strange fate, though. You see, when I had reached my twenty-second year of life and was following in my father’s footsteps by serving in the army, I encountered a man who would eventually reveal himself to be of great importance.”
“A Messiah?” Gabrielle asked, pulling her collar closer around her neck in an attempt to ward off the growing chill of evening. A previous conversation with Eloi had revealed his acquaintance with a number of Messianic figures in the past.
“No, but a prophet of the Divine Presence.” Eloi paused and studied Gabrielle for a moment. “You are cold. Let us go inside somewhere.” Gabrielle was slightly taken off guard by his sudden concern for her well being. It wasn’t like him. But she shook the notion off and nodded, standing to lead her companion in the direction of a small coffee shop that was just down the street. They walked side-by-side in silence, Gabrielle’s hands thrust deep into her pockets and Eloi’s gaze cast up at the dimming sky. The breeze tossed loose rubbish up into little tornadoes on the streets around them.
They reached the shop and found a somewhat secluded booth near the back where the light was less harsh. Gabrielle ordered a mug of cider and sipped it carefully when it arrived, finally looking back to Eloi for him to continue with his story.
“So, I hate to cut to the chase and miss any good stuff, but how did you become immortal?” she asked.
“By the hand of the only thing in the universe I believe can do such a thing to a man. The Divine Presence took retribution on me for an act of Sin that I committed.”
“But what on earth could you have done to piss God off that much?” Gabrielle asked, wincing slightly as the hot cider burned the tip of her tongue.
“Cruciatus in crucem, eas in crucem.”
“What?”
“It is Latin. It is also what I screamed at the prophet when he told me…told me about my destiny. A destiny which I could not abide by then, for I was far too stubborn and set in my ways,” he said, lowering his eyes for a split second to look at the ragged leather bracelet that hung around his left wrist.
“But I still don’t know what it means. They didn’t offer Latin at my school,” Gabrielle persisted.
“The meaning of that phrase is not important. What are important are the events that led up to that moment. I had been stationed at a post just outside the city limits of Asshur when the man came to me. He told me that he had been sent to teach me about his One God so that I might set myself on a path of spreading the word to my people. Know that until then, I had been raised in a polytheistic society, so at first his ideas seemed preposterous and I thought him mad. But over time he started to make sense to me and the word he preached touched me in a way that my native religion of many gods never had. He talked of a loving and forgiving god that wanted good things for all humankind, but that it was up to us to decided if we wanted to walk that path. It all sounded so good to me, and eventually he had a new convert on his hands. I was fervent in my newfound job of spreading this word. But to, as you say, cut to the chase, one day something happened that would change the course of my life-and the lives of countless others-forever. My commanders learned of my strange new faith and because practicing anything other than the prescribed religion of the Empire was illegal, they came down upon me like hawks on the hunt. But it was not me directly that they went after. No, they knew that the most effective means of breaking a man was by going after those whom he loves. And so they came to my parents’ home late at night and beheaded them both as a warning to those families who might be harboring heretics like myself. A price was put on my head, and I went into hiding. Deep in mourning and consumed by an awful, hateful rage, I blew up at the prophet when he came to console me. He tried to convince me that what had happened was “God’s will” and that I should go on with my mission. Of course, I was having none of that and I lashed out, cursing him and his god with all of my soul. Eventually, he died from the harsh blows I had heaped upon him. Still in a fury, I dragged his body into the city and presented it to my commanders, saying that it was he who had brainwashed me and therefor I had punished him appropriately. I told them that I was completely repentant for what I had done, and they took the bounty off my head. But I did not know. There was so much I did not know. And that night, as I slept fitfully, a vision was sent to me. The Divine Presence came to me and condemned me for the vengeful act I had carried out. But It offered me the chance to ask for forgiveness. I could have.” Eloi’s voice had grown soft, almost inaudible, and Gabrielle sat in perfect stillness so as to hear the rest of the tale. “But this brightly burning rage had taken up residence within me and showed no signs of ever being quelled. I embraced that fire and rejected the peace that It had offered. I wanted none of it. And so, since I had betrayed and killed one of It’s prophetic children, one for whom It had great plans, I was condemned to walk the Earth forever, never knowing peace or happiness until I finally might ask for forgiveness. But the catch is this: I have been here for so long and done so many awful things in rebellion for what It did to me that I can never even dream of asking for forgiveness, much less be deserving of it. And so I am doomed to remain. Unless you help me.”
Gabrielle sat quietly for a moment, contemplating the ceiling tiles and running the tip of her finger around the lip of the mug. She drew in a long breath and furrowed her brow in thought.
“If all of this is true, who am I to go against the will of God? And who am I to relieve you of this punishment when from all you’ve told me, you’ve done nothing but nasty shit over the course of your life? You can’t ask me to even try to do this. Hell, I don’t even know if I could, but I don’t think I should even try.”
“You are very wise for your age, Gabby,” Eloi said, smiling slightly. “But because you know of what I am capable of doing, ought that not motivate you to rid the world of such a presence?”
Gabrielle retreated back into her thoughts at this and shook her head a little. It was a trick, it had to be. He was clever. He knew how to twist words to suit his needs.
“What makes you think I could do this?” she asked tightly. Eloi just grinned and raised an eyebrow at her.
********
The wind was causing her hair to blow into her eyes and mouth. She could feel the warmth of his presence just behind her, but took no comfort from it. All around her the sky was black and the tall buildings sang with the currents of air that blew through their canyons.
“Beautiful view.”
“What?” The sound of his voice so close to her ear made her jump slightly and then remember that she was perched on a balcony, some fifteen stories up off the ground.
“From here you can actually see the heavens. Down below, all of these buildings and their light tend to obscure the view.”
Gabrielle peered over the edge again and noticed a police car that had pulled someone over for speeding on the Beltway below. She wished she had a car.
“Jump.”
This time, she nearly leapt out of her down-lined jacket at the sound of his voice so close that his breath was hot on her neck.
“What the hell is wrong with you? Of course I won’t fucking jump. We’re fifteen stories up!”
“I know. But what you don’t realize,” he said, clasping her shoulders with his hands. “…is that It won’t let you die if you jump and ask It to save you. You know you have power, but you do not know the extent of that power.”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Gabrielle growled out, her white knuckled grip on the railing growing even tighter.
“Yes, you do,” he insisted, his voice a low rumble. “You have known it since you were a child and could do all of those strange things. Your parents never understood it, did they? And teachers, it concerned them to the point that they often asked for you to be placed under special observation. But you knew it was natural, that it was a gift given to you alone.”
“This is insane,” she stated, taking a step back from the railing and turning around so that she faced Eloi. They locked eyes. “Let me by.”
“You could kill me if you wished, you know.”
Gabrielle swallowed hard and looked away from his stare.
“I don’t wish. Just get out of my way. I’m done with this crap.”
Eloi stepped to the side and watched as Gabrielle rushed through the door and into the apartment. After a few seconds passed, he followed her in. She was pacing in front of the cold fireplace.
“Why do you insist on denying what you are?” he asked softly, continuing to stand in the doorway.
“I am Gabrielle. I’m a twenty-year-old woman who works at a local retail New Age shop.” Eloi chuckled. “Shut up! I don’t know what you’re getting at here, but I’m beginning to suspect that all of your years wandering the Earth have made you completely nuts!”
“Well, yes, you could say I am lacking a few ‘marbles’,” he said, amused. “But I still seem to understand your destiny better than you do.” He paused, tilted his head, and met her gaze yet again. “You…are the Mes-“
“Shut up!” she yelled, cutting him off. “It doesn’t matter what I am or am not. I’m not going to help you. It’s not my place to even think I could try.” Gabrielle picked up a small statue from the mantle above the fireplace and turned it over in her hands. It was made of stone, a depiction of a woman wearing an old-fashioned helmet and long robes.
“That’s Athena.”
“Goddess of War and Wisdom,” Gabrielle supplied, still studying the statue.
“Some scholars say that the myth of the Goddess Athena is based in fact. That a woman who lived a great long while ago inspired those legends, most probably because she was a Messiah.”
“You’re obsessed,” she shot back, slamming the Athena back down onto the mantle.
“Perhaps. I cannot say that Messiahs do not fascinate me. They are always such enigmatic and complex people. I suppose that makes sense though.”
“I’m leaving,” Gabrielle stated, moving towards the front door. Eloi sat down in a large armchair and clasped his hands together.
“Do what you need to do, little one. But tell me, will you be able to handle having the fact that tomorrow I will go out and start my usual nasty business all over again on your conscience?”
“What you do is your own fault, Eloi. I take no blame for your actions,” she growled and stopped short of her destination. She remained facing away from him.
“True. I am not placing blame with you. I am simply stating a fact. I am capable of atrocities. I have done them in the past. What is to keep me from doing them now? You could help stop this cycle. You could help bring an end to the violence, and yet you insist on denying who you really are and what you could do.” His voice hit a lower octave and took on a slightly more sinister tone. “You are selfish, Gabrielle. Think of the people you would be helping to avenge; Martin Luther King, Gandhi, Jesus Christ. Shall I go on?”
She whirled around and took a few angered steps toward Eloi, then stopped and sucked in a deep lung-full of air. He waited, eyes narrowed, sensing that his argument might be getting through her defenses.
“You…are trying to tempt me.”
“And is it working?” Gabrielle’s hands curled into fists and she trembled with unreleased anger. Eloi smiled serenely and then spoke again, his voice now eerily calm and quiet. “Your father, you never knew him, did you? He died when you were very young.” Gabrielle remained motionless, but the anger was growing within her. “You never knew how he died exactly though. No one did. The circumstances were very unusual. He was working in…in Africa, if I remember correctly. Photo-journalist, taking pictures of the strange plague which had taken hold of the continent.” Gabrielle was so filled with rage now, and apprehension-how could he know these things?-that she had gone totally still. “One day, there was a riot. A local woman of some unusual spiritual influence, someone helping in the hospitals, someone with great political clout, had been accused of some scandalous thing or another, and the people felt betrayed. They rose up in anger against her. They formed a mob and came to her home, dragged her out into the streets, beat her and then stoned her to death. Yes…and there were a few others who got caught up in the chaos. Your father, he had been speaking with this woman, taking pictures of those who suffered from the strange affliction, when the riot started. They dragged him out too, in all that confusion. They dragged him out and stoned him to death as well as two other foreign journalists. A terrible, terrible tragedy…and one of my proudest moments.”
“You…” she began, but the rage was so intense that she found she could not speak. No one had been sure what exactly had happened to her father save that he’d been killed while on assignment in Africa. But here was this man, and he knew all the details, and he was responsible.
Gabrielle flew at him before either one of them had any idea what was going on. She gathered up the collar of his shirt in her fists and pulled him to his feet. Eloi was stunned for a moment and said nothing as she shoved him back out onto the balcony. There, she slammed him into the railing, forcing a loud grunt to escape his lips, and then held him there. Her face in his, she jerked him back a few more inches so that, if she exerted a bit more effort, he would tumble over the edge.
“I should kill you.”
“Oh I agree whole-heartedly,” he rasped out, a bemused grin stretched across his face. “But is not this lovely?”
“What?” she growled, shaking him a bit more for good measure.
“All this rage. You are in pain; I can see it in your eyes. You hurt.”
“Of course I fucking hurt! You’re responsible for my fathers’ death! For cryin’ out loud, you’re responsible for thousands of deaths! It’s kinda pissing me off!”
“Go with that! Is it not good to feel something? To have all that blood pumping through your veins because frankly, I think you like it. You understand that you have power over me, and that feels damn good, doesn’t it?” he said, his breathing still labored from the death grip Gabrielle had on his neck. A look of shock passed over her face, followed by one of shame. He was right. She released her hold and shoved him away from her.
“That is fine. You could not have killed me that way anyhow. You need to call on your inner strength for that, but I know you could do it. I know you want to do it.”
“I do,” she said.
“Then what is stopping you?”
Gabrielle leaned back onto the cold brick wall and looked up at the now clear sky and the stars that populated its’ surface. She took a moment and considered the fact that many of those stars had died in the time it took for their light to reach her view. It was looking deep into the past of the cosmos. Perhaps one or two of them had died when Eloi was still young.
She straightened up and looked the man in the eye again.
“What’s your name?”
Eloi hadn’t been expecting the question. He stuttered over a failed sentence and then just stopped and tried again.
“You know my name.”
“I know the name you’ve taken. But what name were you born with?” she asked.
“It is not important.”
“If it’s so not important, then why won’t you just tell me?” she reasoned, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Because…I have not uttered the name in centuries. It is not….” His words trailed off as his resolve faltered. He felt as though her stare was boring a hole through his head. He looked at his booted feet and mumbled, “Elishama.” Gabrielle cocked her head to one side and let the name roll around in her mind. It rang a bell. “Do you read the Bible?” Eloi spoke suddenly, reading her thoughts.
“Yes, a little. More of the Old Testament since I’ve met you.”
“The name is mentioned briefly, in one of the more boring sections of the Pentateuch. If you are really curious about its’ origins, look it up. But it really is not important."
“One of the men chosen to lead his house in the book of Numbers. One of the heads of the 12 tribes of Israel,” Gabrielle said suddenly, surprising herself that she remembered such an obscure fact. Eloi sighed heavily and leaned back against the railing.
“It is…a family name.”
“So you’re…an Israelite? How on…I mean, that makes…but, I don’t understand.” Gabrielle rubbed her temples in frustration. “I thought you said you were Assyrian.”
“I am. I was born in Assyria. But my heritage is that of the Israelites. Perhaps this will help shed some light upon why the hell the Divine Presence sent Its’ prophet to pull me back into the ranks of Its’ ‘Chosen People’.”
“And why It was so pissed off when you killed the prophet and essentially betrayed It,” Gabrielle stated, the pieces starting to fall into place in her mind. She shook her head in amazement. “So your side of the family somehow left the Israelites and took up in Assyria, abandoning your history and your true identity.”
“The only thing I wonder about is why it took so long for the Divine Presence to catch up with us,” Eloi joked tiredly. “But as I have said, it is not important.”
Gabrielle decided not to rebuke his statement, but instead approached the weary looking man and placed a hand on his shoulder. It was all of great importance.
“You’re tired.”
Eloi looked up at her at the sound of such empathy in her voice.
“Yes. Very tired.”
“But it is not my place to help you get any rest,” she said, a new finality to her tone.
“No, I suppose it is not.”
“That’s up to you, Elishama.”
Eloi bowed his head to hide the moisture that was building in his eyes and allowed Gabrielle to lead him slowly back into the apartment. She helped him get situated on the long leather couch and laid a colorful knit blanket over his body, then smoothed back the errant dark locks of hair that had fallen over his forehead.
“Sleep. Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of your life. You’ve got a lot to do.”
“I can’t. I…” he began, but Gabrielle motioned him to silence.
“I’ll help. As much as I can. But ultimately, it’s up to you. And never, never ask me to kill you again. I will not. If you want to end it all, you’ll have to do it by finally asking for forgiveness.”
“Then…” he started again, staring deep into her eyes once more. “Do you finally understand? What you are, I mean? What you’re capable of?”
“I understand nothing,” she said quietly, a far-off look in her eyes. “But I’m going to try. That’s all I can do. It’s all any of us can do…including you.”
Gabrielle stood and smiled sadly. She pulled a hand through her thick hair and rubbed the back of her neck briefly before nodding slightly and then heading for the front door. Just as she was opening the door to leave, Eloi spoke.
“You are, you know.”
“What?” she asked, pausing in the doorframe to listen.
“You’re a Mes-“
“Shut up and go to bed,” she said to stop any further speech from him, and then went out into the hallway and shut the door behind her.
The night was cold around her, and Gabrielle pulled her jacket tighter around her body and thrust her bare hands deeper into the pockets of her jeans. The stars continued to shine their light down at her, meeting the steam of her breath in the air somewhere halfway. She took the long way home, in spite of the chill, and went through the park where they had been earlier that evening. As she passed by one of the park benches, she felt something take hold of her foot. She looked down and saw a man, dirt-covered and wearing soiled clothing, grasping her foot in seeming desperation. He was mumbling inaudibly and shaking his head from side to side. Gabrielle tried to wrench her foot free of his hold, but to no avail.
“Please, let me go,” she said, starting to get worried. The man looked up at her, his eyes glazed over and filled with cataracts. He seemed to take a moment to focus in on her face, and then a look of shock and awe swept over his features. Gabrielle again tried to shake free of his hold, but he only tightened his grip and reached out the other dirty hand towards her. He was clasping a tattered old Bible and waving it at her madly. His muttering got louder, and finally Gabrielle could make out his words.
“Eloi…Eloi…lema sebachthani?”
She froze and just stared for a moment before hurriedly and unthinkingly pulling all of her loose change out of her pockets and just throwing it at the man. The rain of coinage distracted him for long enough that she was finally able to remove her foot from his grasp and she ran off down the path as quickly as she could. The phrase rang in her head, Eloi Eloi lema sebachthani, stalking her all the way through the park, down the streets, and up the front stoop to her flat. She rushed through her door, locked it behind her, and dove under the covers of her unmade futon bed. Everything was wrong. It didn’t make sense. She sat up and looked to her bookshelf and there found her copy of the Bible that had been given to her when she was five years old. It had little pictures in it. Quickly, she flipped through the pages of the New Testament and eventually opened to the end of Mark. Her forefinger guiding the way, she scanned the pages until reaching the crucifixion narrative. She stopped cold and the breath left her body.
“When it was noon, darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. At three o’clock, Jesus cried out with a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sebachthani?” which means, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?””
Gabrielle let the book fall out of her hands and onto the bed. She stared blankly at the walls for a moment, then at her hands, and finally took in a deep breath.
“Holy shit.”
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