Mosaic at Huqoq (Israel)
They call me Alexander,
Alexander the Great,
And I have travelled far,
very far already,
And hope, the gods being
willing, to travel further,
All the way to the ends of
the earth, across many seas,
Over mountains that reach the
sky, passing deserts
That seem never to end, and
then more rivers
Where I hope to conquer the
unconquerable tribes
Who are hardly human yet so
powerful the heavens
Tremble just to hear of them,
yes, I Alexander.
And these, may a humble
priest of a humble people
Demand of one so great, are
these your armies, your beasts
With long proboscis and ivory
tusks? You surely
Cannot hope to lead to the
very edge of reality, the place
Where sky meets horizon and
falls into never-quenching night.
My holy books and ancient traditions
tell of lands
And nations beyond the oceans
and mountains, and yet no one
Has ever been so far, not
even our ancestors who wrote
The scrolls we study to
understand the universe.
They do not call me great
conqueror for nothing, priest.
My name resounds throughout
the world from west to east,
In every city and on every
island where people dwell,
And no one ever doubted my
capacity to travel far,
Far beyond their dreams and
where their dreams are born.
But let me demand of you, as
I have heard the fame you bear,
You people of the Holy Books
and guardians of the Law,
Tell me this one thing that
bothers me—that when I have seen
The very ends of the earth
where it melts into the sky,
Will I be able to return, if
not with armies, slaves and wealth,
But with my consciousness
intact, to enjoy my victories?
A very heavy question you
have put to me, oh great conqueror of men,
And one a humble man such as I
myself can only answer with the words
Our God will perhaps provide
in the hours of sleep tonight,
For never have we met someone
so proud and powerful as you
And yet so respectful of our
wisdom that you inquire of me a truth
That may expose me to your
wrath.
Do not worry, priest of this holy
land, I have heard enough to value
Such wisdom as you have. My anger will be restrained, and you
And your people, no matter
what, will have my protections, so long
As I may live—and I expect to
live for many years to come.
My mind trembles before you,
for now we are dependent on your life
For our safety and our
life. Let me say this, then, before the
vision
Enters my inner chamber after
the sun has fallen into night:
Your name will live forever
among us, and our sons, from the greatest
To the lowest, will be called
Alexander in your honour, even priests
And generals, as well as
teachers, scribes and kings. Now great
Alexander, leave me to my
silent duties in the Temple,
And tomorrow with the
breaking of the dawn I will expound
What the Voice from Heaven
whispers in my ear.
In the morning, it is said,
when the High Priest, Kohan haGadol
Emerged from the Holy of
Holies, the armies of Macedonia
Had gone, elephants and
camels, horses and asses, all,
Even the young and arrogant
Alexander; and though
He never returned to the City
of David, generations of the Book
Bore his name in gratitude
and this beyond the days
When generals and armies, who
had survived the march
To the very ends of the known
world, fought among themselves
And turned in anger on the
people of Jerusalem
And fouled the sacred
precincts of the Temple.
Look at this mosaic found at
Huqoq for all the proof you need:
The mighty conqueror and the
humble priest face to face.
The rabbi and his
congregation who built this synagogue understood.
The archaeologists, however,
argue year after year: who is he,
Alexander or Antiochus? Perhaps a poet knows the truth
Because he lets the figures
made of little stones speak for themselves.