The Footsteps From Gilgal
The Lost Tribes of Israel—History Waited for Them
Ann Marie Cologna
Trilogy Christian Publishers
Tustin, CA
Trilogy Christian Publishers
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Copyright © 2019 by Ann Marie Cologna
All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise noted, taken from the Revised Standard Version published by Thomas Nelson, Inc. 1946 and 1952. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.
Scripture quotations marked (KJV) taken from The Holy Bible, King James Version. Cambridge Edition: 1769.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.
ISBN: 978-1-64088-317-8
ISBN: 978-1-64088-318-5 (ebook)
Contents
Chapter 1. Ben Gurion/Tel Aviv Airport, August 2001 1
Chapter 2. Qumran, Dead Sea, Israel, 28 CE 11
Chapter 3. Zaqen Museum, Jerusalem, September 2001 23
Chapter 4. Zaqen Museum, Jerusalem, September 2001 33
Chapter 5. Qumran, Dead Sea, Israel, 28 CE 37
Chapter 6. Oyster Bay, Long Island, New York, September 2001 53
Chapter 7. New Haven, Connecticut, September 2001 55
Chapter 8. Port Jefferson, New York, September 2001 69
Chapter 9. New Haven, Connecticut, September 2001 87
Chapter 10. New Haven, Connecticut, September 2001 95
Chapter 11. New Haven, Connecticut, September 2001 121
Chapter 12. New Haven, Connecticut, September 2001 137
Chapter 13. New Haven, Connecticut, September 2001 149
Chapter 14. Galilee, Israel, 28 CE 169
Chapter 15. Zaqen Museum, Jerusalem, September 2001 193
Chapter 16. Zaqen Museum, Jerusalem, September 2001 197
Chapter 17. Galilee, Israel, 28 CE 207
Chapter 18. New Haven, Connecticut, September 2001 211
Chapter 19. New Haven, Connecticut, September 2001 227
Chapter 20. Old Saybrook, Connecticut, September
2001 233
Chapter 21. Jerusalem, Israel, September 2001 241
Chapter 22. New Haven, Connecticut, September 2001 247
Chapter 23. Jerusalem, Israel, 28 CE 265
Epilogue. Jerusalem, Israel, 1099 CE 275
For Allan Shumofsky, the congregation at B’nai Israel and my children, Ann Marie and Gabriel
Baruch Adonai!
And God said to Joshua, “Now, lead the people of Israel across the Jordan River which I will make dry for their crossing. After all the people have crossed, take twelve men—one man from each tribe—and each shall choose a large stone from the middle of the Jordan River which he shall carry across and set down in a circle. These standing stones shall be a sign to your children. When your children and their descendants ask the meaning of the stones, tell them this. The stones of Gilgal mark Israel’s footprints across the Jordan River into the Promised Land, so going forward—wherever the tribes settle, mark your footprints with the stones.
CHAPTER 1
Ben Gurion/Tel Aviv Airport
August 2001
History waited for them, thought Dr. Isaac Kohath as he pushed his carry-on into the overhead bin. He gave it one last satisfying shove, then slipped quickly into the window seat. If he were lucky, he’d have the row to himself. His fear of flying was eclipsed by his claustrophobia. With a sigh, he leaned back. Was it too soon to ask for a drink? He checked his watch. If the flight left on time, he’d arrive in Copenhagen in six hours.
They’ve been hidden in the folds of nations for centuries, carrying aliases and fighting their way to recovery. Now another manuscript was found in Frederiksberg. He sighed again. He was not happy with this new find.
The vibration in his pocket startled him. He extracted the cell phone checking the display. Manyak, what does he want? He flipped open the phone. “Hello, Percy.”
“Kohath, I see you’ve booked a jaunt to Denmark. It’s kinda spur of the moment, isn’t it?”
Kohath could hear the steam in the chairman’s voice—damn. He hoped to be well on his way before the travel requisition landed on Dr. Percy Morris’ desk. “Yes, it’s a courtesy visit to the rabbi at Aleph Chabad in Frederiksberg. He asked me to look over some old papers from the archives before they bury them.”
“So, they’re sacred writings, are they?”
It just keeps getting worse. “Yes.”
“And whose judgment call was it to review these writings?”
Kohath held the phone away from his ear to avoid Percy’s growing diatribe before replying, “I’m the curator of the Zaqen Museum—have been for many years—am I right? So, why are you so interested in my review of some old papers now?” asked Kohath trying to keep his voice steady. “This is what I do. I’m guessing the rabbi wants an expert to look over the papers before they are commissioned to the Genizah. I don’t understand why you should concern yourself with the day-to-day details. You’ve never questioned my travel plans before.”
Percy sputtered. “Look, I’m trying to balance the books. I just want to have final say on any travel expenses before they’re incurred.”
Kohath smiled. Sure you are, he thought. Or another ruse to find out if I have the manuscript. Into the phone he said, “Okay, understood. In the future I’ll check with you.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“Just a few days. I’m staying with the rabbi, so there won’t be meal or hotel expenses. Look, Percy, the plane is filling up. Can we discuss this when I get back?”
A bulky man sat in the aisle seat as Kohath tucked the phone back into his pocket.
“Flying home?” asked the blonde man.
Kohath already felt cramped. “No, I’m on my way out.”
“Oh, so you live in Tel Aviv? It’s a beautiful city. I’m George,” said the man extending his hand.
“I’m Isaac. Are you from Denmark?”
“No, America. I work with a biotech company there. I had a meeting in Jerusalem and another in Copenhagen. What do you do?”
“A museum curator—don’t you hate flying on these smaller planes? I hate flying anyway, but these smaller planes…I wish we could get a drink before take-off.”
George laughed. “Look here, I have a flask—good bourbon if you like.” George extended his hand and after a tiny hesitation, Kohath opened the flask and took a swallow. The engines started whirring as they cantered to the runway.
Kohath gripped the arm rests while George continued talking. “So tell me—what takes you to Denmark?”
Kohath recalled the phone call from the rabbi at Aleph Chabad. They had a manuscript on vellum prepared for their Genizah, the collection repository for decaying sacred texts prior to burial. From the rabbi’s description, the world now had a second copy.
Yes, history waited for them, he thought. The lost tribes of Israel have percolated to the surface from their boiling down and distillation; waiting for the truth while living the lies. Familial ties broken, ancient customs lost, but they carried one tradition, one truth, their footprints.
“I’m on a quest,” laughed Kohath. “A manuscript has turned up at a synagogue and they asked me to authenticate.”
“We...