Aleph, the Chaldean; or, the Messiah as Seen from Alexandria

by E. F. Burr

As they came up to the Diapleuston there burst from the summit of the side tower a chorus of trumpets—rich, soft, yet far-sounding. Looking up they saw seventy men standing behind a circular balustrade and chanting through silver trumpets toward all points of the compass.

“How amiable are thy tabernacles, O Lord of Hosts,” went sounding broadly forth over the city.

They were met just within the doors by Alexander himself—to whom Aleph presented his “preceptor and friend” Cimon. The Alabarch received them with great courtesy, and thanked the young man for the service rendered to his daughter the day before; and when Aleph expressed the hope that she had quite recovered from her indisposition, he said:

“Quite so, she tells me; and so I have brought her with me to give thanks for the good news this morning received that her nurse continues to mend.”

And he led the way toward a distant canopy not far from the centre, near which his daughter was sitting. She was simply dressed and closely veiled; but Aleph had no difficulty in recognizing the exquisite shape and bearing of the Gem of Alexandria.

Alexander then said that he had asked them to come somewhat in advance of the congregation, partly in order that they might have time to look about them, and to get familiar with the building before the services should begin.

“Walk about freely,” he continued, “until the trumpets cease summoning; then return and occupy the seats yonder (he pointed). They are reserved for visitors in accord with us. Meanwhile I have to meet the elders.”

He bowed himself away; and they began to look about them. But few people had yet come in. It was the largest and finest synagogue in the world. Just before them, abutting on the east side of the building, was a low platform surrounded by a delicate silver railing and surmounted in part by a canopy of cloth of gold. Under this was an ornate seat curiously wrought in various precious woods. Near the front of the platform stood an equally elaborate reading desk, with several rolls upon it. By the side of the platform was a door by which Alexander had disappeared; and in front of the platform, arranged in several semicircles, were the famous seventy gilded chairs for the seventy elders of the synagogue. Back of these were the seats for the families of the elders with a narrow aisle separating the males from the females. On the first seat to the left of this passage sat Rachel. Behind these seats, and skirted by immense columns on either hand, ran a broad aisle from end to end of the synagogue. The building was so long that the signal for the responses had to be given by a flag to the more remote worshippers; for all were expected to join vocally in the prayers as read at the centre, though addresses to the people were made simultaneously at several other platforms placed at convenient intervals. The walls were covered with Scripture verses in both Hebrew and Greek, beautifully done in mosaic—one wall with prayers, another with praises, a third with the Ten Commandments, a fourth with the leading Messianic prophecies. One mystery of the building was the pleasant illumination without any sign of windows or sources of artificial light.

While they were lingering over the Messianic inscriptions they suddenly awoke to the fact that the synagogue was becoming thronged and that the summoning trumpets were about concluding their sonorous chant. So they made their way back, as rapidly as the incoming stream of belated worshippers (not wholly unknown in any age) would allow, to the seats which had been shown them.

Amen, sang the trumpets in long-drawn note from their tower. Amen, answered the packed multitudes on their knees. The door at the side of the platform opened; and the seventy elders, with Alexander and another younger man, who strongly resembled him, at their head, entered in long flowing robes elaborately fringed and decorated on the breast with phylacteries lettered in gold. The leaders ascended the platform: the others passed on to the gilded chairs. The Alabarch seated himself under the canopy: his companion advanced to the lecturn, bowed his head upon it for a moment, then placed the tulith on his head—and at once the service began.