The Harpist by the River

Preface

One of the songs that has haunted me all along is By the Rivers of Babylon by Boney M [1978]. It is inspired by the biblical Psalm 137. The Psalm was written after the Babylonian King, Nebuchadnezzar II, conquered the kingdom of Judah and destroyed their most sacred temple in Jerusalem. The Jews were soon exiled to Babylon. Then some Babylonians asked the Jews to sing songs for them. Psalm 137 is a response to that: “How can we sing the Lord’s song in an alien land?” There is profound sorrow in the psalm. Exile and longing for homeland, oppression by enemies, and loss of identity are dominant themes. Boney M succeeded in carrying all those deep emotions and pain in their verses too.

As I was wondering what to write for today’s #WriteAPageADay challenge, Boney M’s version of Psalm 137 wafted into my consciousness from the darkness and silence outside my bedroom long before daybreak. How to make it make sense to a reader of today who may know nothing about the Jewish exile and their agonies? The following story was the answer. 

The Harpist by the River

Fiction

“I won’t sing anymore nor play the harp until Yahweh wreaks vengeance upon the Babylonians for destroying His Temple,” Nathan vowed as he hung his harp by a piece of palm rope on the branch of a poplar tree not far from the Euphrates. The Temple was built by none other than King Solomon and it housed the sacred Ark of the Covenant. And now it lay in smithereens. Destroyed by idol-worshipping pagans.

“Destroying the enemy’s temple is the worst anyone can do to them,” Amos said to Nathan. Amos was Nathan’s best friend. “See, even your God is powerless in front of us – that’s what the enemy wants to tell us through this destruction.” Amos wondered whether Yahweh was indeed powerless though he didn’t articulate that blasphemy. How many times has Yahweh abandoned us again and again? Amos’s faith in Yahweh was strong, but had it begun to waver a little?

We are the chosen race, according to Yahweh’s repeated assurances. Amos reflected to himself. But He has given us up umpteen times by now. If only He didn’t choose us anymore!

And the next moment he sought Yahweh’s forgiveness. Blasphemy is a huge sin.

A Babylonian messenger came and ordered Nathan to go with him to the house of noblewoman Amat-Ishtar.

“The lady has heard about your magical music and wants you to play for her in her court.”

Nathan refused bluntly.

Amos came to his rescue again. “You’d better go,” he counselled. “That lady is very powerful and you know what power means for helpless people like us.” Amos asked Nathan to remember Eliakim.

Eliakim was a Jewish scribe. That is, a religious scholar and copyist. He refused to work for Amat-Ishtar and so he was starved to death. Power sucks your blood to the last drop either way: your skills or your very life.

Nathan didn’t want to die of starvation. Not yet. He has to wait until Yahweh proves His prowess to the Babylonians. “If I forget you Jerusalem, may my right hand wither!” Nathan muttered to himself. And said yes to the messenger.

May my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth if I forget you. Nathan was composing his new song as he walked to the palace of Amat-Ishtar.

Amat-Ishar, graceful outside and feral inside, thought Nathan was singing about her. She was used to adulation.

She was swayed by the magic in Nathan’s harp. Intoxicated by Nathan’s love for Yahweh which she mistook as for her.

“Your wish will be granted,” Amat-Ishtar declared solemnly in the stupor of her intoxication. Nathan wanted Eliakim back.

And Eliakim, the scribe, appeared before him in minutes. A skeleton that didn’t even have the energy to stand erect. He was not dead yet; he was dying. Yahweh is great, Nathan muttered to himself.

Nathan sang for Yahweh again and again. Ceaselessly. 

By rivers cold, we wept so long,
Our harps in silence knew our pain,
Yet hope has burned, a hidden spark,
And now we rise to sing again!

Nathan’s music had magic.

“Bring fire to your lines, man,” Amos said to Nathan. “Only when poetry sets hearts on fire will Yahweh come with his brimstone to Nebuchadnezzar.”

Arise, Yahweh, arise and become a flame in our hearts, Nathan’s poetry acquired a new tone altogether. Yahweh’s power is our power, he sang. The Jews repeated his lines.

What is God but the longing in human hearts? Amos contemplated.

And now we rise to sing again!

Yahweh, Yahweh, Yahweh… They chanted… until Yahweh brought Cyrus of Persia to take back Judah from Babylonians and let Yahweh’s own people return as well as build a new Temple.

“One Nation One Religion is a policy of bigots,” Cyrus declared. “Let every citizen discover his God in his own heart. To every man his own God.”

Amos was happy to let Yahweh return to his heart though Yahweh hadn’t changed a bit all the while. Nathan continued to play his harp in the new temple in Jerusalem. And his songs returned to the old harmonious melodies. The Jordan river gurgled on merrily.

PS. Both images generated by Copilot Designer