New Israel lay forlorn under a downcast sky, dark clouds scattered in the sky blocked out the sun from view, making it seem as through all light in the world was dead. The old world, and all its glory, its history, was gone to them forever now. Their holy places where gone now, left behind, and never able to be returned too. All that the old world was, was washed away in fire, and in death. A punishment by God, surely. These people, this city, was all that was left of an entire culture. The last thread keeping Judism alive, keeping Israel alive.
This bastion was built in the crook of a bay, next to a forest and towering mountains. From the few days they had stayed there, the forest and the mountians absorbed the wind, and they was almost never even a breeze that touched the city of New Jerusalem, the only city in this foriegn land that practiced Judaism, that kept the faith alive. The city was hilly the closer a person got to the mountains, and it was upon on of the rocky outcroppings that the leader of New Jerusalem, Rivka Goldschmidt, stood before the entire gathered population of NewJerusalem. Behind him, the religous clerics stood in their robes in the shadow of the mountains, while women, men, and children stood below him, looking up.
Rivka looked around at the people, seeming such a small number to be all that's left of the proud Jewish people. A population that had survived so much, reduced to this. "My friends!" he called out. "Today is the end of a great journey across the ocean, through the storm and through the sea serpents. We have survived." He allowed that simple fact to sink in upon his people, before continueing. They looked down, saddened over the reminder of the loss of their old homes, every thing that they once had. Unbashed, Rivka continued his speech, attempting to make this trimuph feel like a trimuph.
"My people, we have survived once more. We survived through opression by Eygpt, we survived against the hostilities that have followed us for over a millenia. We have suffered for our faith, and this was merely one more wall that we needed to pass! We have survived the crusades, and the endless march of Islam! We have survived! Even this latest evil thrown at our in our march for salvation, the plauge of Red Death, the volcanos and floods and Earthquakes, we have survived! God's test, we survived. This place we have found, is fertile, safe, protected. God has rewarded us here for our trimuph!"
Slowly, one by one, the people began to nod in the course of his speech. They had preservered against all adversity thrown at them, why couldn't they survive this also? The people began to cheer, a little here and there as Rivka's voice carried, as his impasioned victory speech reached the heart of the men of Israel. At the end, when Rivka stopped to look at his people, they were cheering, smiling somberly at their latest trimuph in their path to salvation.
Rivka smiled back, he smiled because they were smiling. He had done his purpose, he had alivated the grief, if only for a little while. "We will build this city, as a beacon of hope to all men! A shining light in the darkness, where the trimuph of our perserveance can be seen as an example to all those who have lost hope, who are opressed! We will rebuild the temple's, greater than before, we will rebuild our faith from the ground up! The stone of this temple cannot be shaken, the Holy Torah can never be destoryed, for we will not allow it!"
At that point, the cheering got too loud for Rivka to continue, and he allowed the people to calm down abit before continuing to a more somber subject. "My people, for all our victories, for all our trimuph has given us, it has still taken many things away from us. The old cities, the holy places, are now gone. Many of our former friends, and many of the populations of our brother nations, are now dead. Our sons, mothers, fathers, daughters, cousins, brothers, sisters, are dead. We must honor them, honor their lives, their memories, even as we celebrate our trimuph here in New Jerusalem. Our trimuph, must be dedicated to those that were lost, that died in the Old World. A world of death, and fire. They must never be forgotten. I ask, that Chief Priest Arieh Eyal lead us in prayer as we remember those that died, and were left behind."
Rivka stepped away from the outcropping, bowing his head in silence. The formerly happy crowd instantly turned somber, as they too bowed their heads in silence. Some women began crying, and babies brought over on the trip began wailing also. The priest walked silently until he was looking over all the people, before raising his head to the sky, and begining to pray. "We pray that those that were lost will be soon reserected in the coming of the Messiah, and that we may forever serve you in glory to your name."
After the somber moment, the priest allowed a moment of silence, before we walked silently back to his position in the circle. Rivka once more came infront of the gathered people, and this time, he spoke sadly, his voice seeming much older, and tried. "We will build a Tomb, to represent the millions that died, so that we never forget where we came from, and what we must become. This city, will stand the test of time, of that I swear. And the history that remains here, that remains in us, and our faith, will never crumble. We will become the vangaurds of all the opressed, and will survive, as we always have. Let this day be of mourning, let this day be of our trimuph, our sacrifice. We have survived, but, many have not. Let this day forever be a homage to their unspoken names. We must never forget."
I don't see New Paris or New London around
