{"id":6487,"date":"2021-10-11T17:13:00","date_gmt":"2021-10-11T21:13:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/whitefire-publishing.com\/read\/?p=6487"},"modified":"2023-02-28T14:34:52","modified_gmt":"2023-02-28T19:34:52","slug":"the-well-of-the-soul","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/whitefire-publishing.com\/read\/the-well-of-the-soul\/","title":{"rendered":"The Well of the Soul"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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By Doug Powell<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

A list of hiding places on a strip of papyrus found inside a mummy mask thrusts Graham Eliot, Ancient Near East scholar, into a hunt for the treasures of the second temple. The list has already cost the life of a colleague, and now he is being pursued as he races to recover what has been lost for almost 2,000 years.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As he literally digs into Jerusalem, he is haunted by the recent deaths of his wife and daughter, which have left him doubting the existence of God. His spiritual and archaeological struggles become more entwined as his life is repeatedly threatened the longer the work continues. When he reaches the final site\u2014the cisterns below the Temple Mount, a network of caves and tunnel no one has entered in 150 years and that no one has ever explored\u2014Graham discovers far greater treasure than he ever imagined.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n

\n\t\t\t\t\t

Chapter 1<\/span><\/span><\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t

The<\/a> old Graham Eliot would have allowed a smile at the irony on display in the conference room of the Dallas convention center: the Ancient Near East Society meeting in the modern Wild West. It wasn\u2019t that the incongruity was lost on him, just that it didn\u2019t amuse him like it would have in years past. He couldn\u2019t remember the last time he had authentically smiled at anything. Every attempt had been smothered by guilt or grief before it could take shape.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He had hoped being surrounded by other scholars\u2014many of them friends and colleagues\u2014would feel safe and bring some measure of comfort. Beginning in grad school, the meeting had been a pilgrimage he looked forward to throughout the year. Although it was held in a different place each time, the three-day-long data-dump of papers and reports on the latest research contributing to the understanding of biblical history was far more interesting to him than exploring whatever the host city was. Not that he had time to spare; his own presentations had made him a popular and respected speaker, and the balance of his time was devoted to networking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But the familiar rhythm of the convention\u2014an annual pulse\u2014had been broken, and he was making his first appearance after a two-year absence. However, the continuity with the world he had once known and wanted to take refuge in now felt like a facsimile, as if he had entered an imperfect replica of his own life, similar enough to navigate, and yet not quite right. In truth, he knew that he<\/em> was the stranger, not his environment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It took all his effort to make a show of interest in research meant to verify the existence of the God he no longer believed in. He felt like a ghost in reverse, physically present but spiritually empty, haunting the sessions, merely existing. It didn\u2019t help that friendly looks of recognition quickly transformed into concern. More than once, he had seen the unasked question in the eyes of friends, wondering if he was wasting away from some disease. <\/a>The toll of the last two years had left him a remnant of his former self. Stress had carved away forty pounds\u2014almost one for each year of life\u2014sharpening the features of his face almost unrecognizably, like a damaged object revealed in one of his digs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That was another irony he acknowledged without a smile: He looked like he wore a gaunt mask of himself while he actually wore a mask of faith. <\/a>And, of course, there was the physical mask, the one on the stage in front of him. It was the reason he was here.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Dr. Andrew Singer had just begun his presentation, a plenary session that had packed the room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIf I asked you which of these masks was more valuable, which one would you choose?\u201d An image of a gold mummy mask appeared on a large screen behind him, while at the same time he reached below the podium and held up a mask that looked like ornately painted cardboard. \u201cSure, the gold one is worth a lot of money. And, of course, it is an important historical artifact. But it holds no secrets. You can hear everything it has to say almost immediately.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Singer lifted the other mummy mask high again and looked at it with appreciation. \u201cBut this one holds many secrets. Why? Because of what it is made of: papyri. As many of you already know, the funerary attendants who made these masks used papyri coated in glue in order to make an ancient form of papier-m\u00e2ch\u00e9 called cartonnage<\/em>. But stop and think for a minute. Papyri was common, but not so common that new sheets were used for masks. The attendants used only what had been discarded. And what was that? Books, letters, business documents, inventories. It occurred to me that there was a chance that if I could find a mummy mask from the right time period and from the right place, some of the papyri used to make it might be discarded copies of writings of the Church Fathers, or even the books and letters that make up the New Testament.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOver the past couple of years, I have been experimenting with different ways of deconstructing cartonnage to recover the individual scraps of papyri that made up its structure. Unfortunately, I destroyed several pieces in the process, as well as a couple of my wife\u2019s favorite saucepans.\u201d As Singer paused for laughs, Graham\u2019s left thumb folded into his palm to rub the wedding ring still on his finger. \u201cBut now I\u2019ve found a way to remove the majority of the structure while preserving the mask at the same time. And I\u2019ll demonstrate that for you now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Graham watched Singer spring from the podium with the same energy they\u2019d had when they were at graduate school together twenty-five years earlier. Singer\u2019s prematurely white hair looked like it sat atop the wrong man, borrowed from his future self. It had been Singer who finally convinced Graham to attend the conference, promising his demonstration would be seen as a significant advance in the field. He even floated the idea of their working together on the projects that might result from it. Seeing his old friend usually evoked memories of Olivia, given that Singer had introduced them and had been a groomsman at their wedding. But Graham was so intrigued by the presentation that for the first time in a year his mind was completely focused on something other than his wife or daughter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As Singer disappeared behind the stage, the image on the screen cut to a stainless-steel industrial sink shot from a camera mounted directly above it. The electronic tick of a microphone turning on came from the speakers mounted in the room\u2019s ceiling, followed by several taps on the microphone, and then Singer\u2019s voice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe\u2019ve set up a camera over the sink in the pantry so you can see the work in real time. I\u2019ve developed a solution that I will immerse the mask in, which will dissolve the adhesive that holds the mask together.\u201d The white top of Singer\u2019s head saddled with a headset microphone appeared as he reached across the sink to turn on the water. He then emptied an unidentified liquid from a glass jar. \u201cAlso, I have applied a fixative to the front of the mask that will protect it from the solution. If all goes well, the mask will hold its shape even though I\u2019m removing most of its structure from the back.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bubbles began to form as the water rose in the sink, as if Singer were about to wash dishes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBefore I get started, I\u2019d like to remind everyone that no photography is allowed. Please put all phones away.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The mummy mask appeared faceup in Singer\u2019s hands. He held it in place for a moment, creating a dramatic pause as the audience took a final look.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThis mask was found in northeastern Egypt, and is probably from the late first or early second century AD. And now, let\u2019s see what secrets it literally took to the grave.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Singer lowered the mask slowly into the sink. He kept it submerged as his hands gently massaged the backside of the mask, working the surface pieces loose. The audience stared at the veil of bubbles obscuring the work for nearly a minute in growing anticipation before Singer extracted his hand. He held a tiny fragment about the size of a fingernail under the camera as he gave it a cursory look.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s so small, it\u2019s hard to tell, but it looks like Greek letters\u2026possibly Coptic.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He placed it in an aluminum specimen tray lined with a paper towel to let it dry, then continued working the mask. Within a minute he had pulled out several more pieces, some so black that no letters could be seen on them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAh, here\u2019s an interesting one.\u201d Singer lifted up one of the largest fragments, about three inches wide and four inches tall. \u201cGreek characters, another Coptic writing. Appears to be a letter of some kind, maybe an official report. Not sure what century just by glancing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He set it aside and picked through the other two with characters on them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes, we might find something really interesting here once we get a chance to dig into these. After they dry, I\u2019ll run these black pieces under ultraviolet light to see if anything can be recovered.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His hands disappeared again into the sink.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh, my goodness. Feels like the back is melting away. Several pieces have come off.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He lifted the mask out of the water, revealing that the face had stayed intact.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cExcellent. Looks like the fixative on the front surface is working. I\u2019m going to set this to the side, so it doesn\u2019t completely disintegrate. A number of pieces are loose in the sink.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Again his hands slipped into the bubbles, but this time they emerged holding a long strip of papyrus supported by both hands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThis is amazing! I\u2019ve never found a piece this large before. Looks like it\u2019s about eight inches tall by four inches wide. Greek characters. I can make out some words\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Singer\u2019s voice drifted off as he became distracted by the content, lost in thought as he studied it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCan\u2019t be right,\u201d he mumbled to himself. \u201cI don\u2019t believe it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Carefully, he flipped the fragment over, revealing more writing on the other side. He leaned over the find, apparently forgetting about the camera, inadvertently eclipsing most of the view. A low murmur broke the silence as the scholars stared at the back of Singer\u2019s head, wondering what he was seeing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIncredible\u2026This is\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The screen suddenly went black, leaving only the audio feed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI apologize.\u201d Singer\u2019s voice was suddenly urgent, running words together. \u201cWe\u2019ll have to continue this at another session. I\u2019ll report my findings then.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The sound of the headset being wrested loose scratched from the speakers along with Singer\u2019s final words, punctuated with a pop as the PA system cut off.<\/p><\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\n\n\n

\n\t\t\t\t\t

Chapter 2<\/span><\/span><\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t
<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A<\/a> gap of silence eroded into a murmur of confusion and speculation. Graham continued to stare at the screen, wondering if Singer had made a mistake during the presentation and cut the audio\/video feed to avoid embarrassment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLooks like the mummy\u2019s curse is alive and well, eh?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Graham turned toward the familiar English accent and found Nigel Horne sitting behind him. Although they had never worked together, he and Horne had become friendly through various conferences. Horne always asked about Graham\u2019s latest research with an intensity that would have been off-putting except for the genuine enthusiasm he had for the work. Singer had shared the same observation and added that the most interesting thing about Horne\u2019s work was that it wasn\u2019t interesting at all. It was workman-like scholarship, but derivative, corroborating the research of others without furthering the field in any substantial way.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNigel. Good to see you.\u201d Graham twisted around to shake Horne\u2019s hand, surprised by how much he meant the words.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Horne\u2019s round face was stamped with a permanent smile. Graham thought it looked vaguely frog-like, an effect enhanced by his moist eyes and stocky build as he hunched forward.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI confess I wasn\u2019t quite sure if it was you or not.\u201d Horne seemed to catch himself, realizing how insensitive he might sound, and glanced away awkwardly before stammering an attempt to rescue himself. \u201cI\u2014mmm\u2014must say, you\u2019ve started to favor Peter O\u2019Toole somewhat. Anyway\u2014quite something, don\u2019t you think?\u201d Horne said, changing the subject abruptly, motioning toward the blank screen. \u201cI hear Singer may have found a fragment inside one of these masks from one of the Gospels that he dated to the first century.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI heard the same thing,\u201d Graham said, cautiously lowering the emotional<\/a> armor that went on alert reflexively after Horne\u2019s tactless small talk. He threw himself into the topic, distancing the awkward moment with words. \u201cThat would be an amazing discovery. But I worry about what it will do to the market. Some of these collectors ask outrageous prices once they realize what they have. And if they get what they ask for, then it makes every new find that much more expensive. If we\u2019re not careful with how we acquire new finds, we may not have enough resources to get these pieces into the hands of people who can properly conserve them.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Horne turned his palms up in a futile gesture. \u201cYes, it\u2019s not like the old days when Egypt and Palestine were practically giving this stuff away and happy to see it go.\u201d He paused as he put a palm across his heart, looking compassionate. \u201cI am truly sorry to hear about your wife and daughter. Olivia was a lovely woman, so kind when I met her. I\u2019m sure your Alyson was the same.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Graham\u2019s defenses had gone back up before Horne even said the words, but the sound of the names still stung, almost angering him. How dare you be so casual with what was so precious<\/em>. He struggled to restrain himself, an effort Horne apparently interpreted as Graham still coming to terms with tragedy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe don\u2019t know why these things happen,\u201d Horne said, shaking his head. \u201cBut God is good, and he is sovereign. And you are a man of faith. Without that, there would be no way to make sense of it. Of anything, really.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Suppressed rage strained Graham\u2019s self-control to its limit, making him appear more calm. Even your words of comfort have no originality. I don\u2019t need platitudes, and I definitely don\u2019t need you to\u2014<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cRemember the words of Paul,\u201d Horne said with a nod. \u201c\u2018All things work together for good for those who love God.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Graham tried to disguise his wince with a quick nod and a sad smile before staring blindly at the floor, making them both uncomfortable. The last thing he could find comfort in was quick-fix Bible quotes from people who had no clue how he felt. The apostle Paul never lost a wife and daughter.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Horne patted Graham\u2019s shoulder. \u201cPlease let me know if there is anything I can do for you, my friend. Any way I can help.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The sincerity in Horne\u2019s eyes instantly convicted Graham, muting his bitterness. \u201cThank you, Nigel. I appreciate that. I really do.\u201d He turned and glanced at the empty screen. \u201cI\u2019m going to go see what happened with Andrew. Talk to you later.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Graham tried to shed the conversation\u2014the exact thing he had been hoping to avoid\u2014as he picked through the crowd that remained. He walked around the side of the partition holding the screen and spotted the president of the Ancient Near East Society emerge from a service door, his face a mixture of confusion and concern. The man recognized Graham and motioned back to the room he had just exited.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe\u2019s gone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGone?\u201d Graham brushed past without waiting for a response.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The door opened into a pantry used to hold meals for guests when the conference room hosted a banquet. A video camera was suspended above an industrial-sized stainless-steel sink, and a microphone headset lay on a countertop dotted with several small pools of water. He walked to the spot where Singer had stood a few minutes before and saw bubbles still floating on the surface of the solution in the sink. But Singer was gone, along with the mask and fragments.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

An open door yawned from the wall on the far side of the pantry, leading to the network of corridors that made up the service area of the conference center. Graham stepped across the threshold to the corridor on the other side and looked both directions down the generic service hall but saw no evidence of Singer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI did the same thing,\u201d the president said as Graham came back into the pantry. \u201cHe\u2019s vanished.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m sure there\u2019s a good explanation. Family<\/a> emergency or something.\u201d Graham hoped his words were more convincing than they sounded to himself. \u201cI\u2019ll see if I can get ahold of him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Graham was still staring at the scene in the pantry, unaware the president had left until he heard his voice come over the PA system announcing that the demonstration was postponed. A renewed buzz of speculation rose in the main room, then slowly diffused into the halls as the scholars spread into the hotel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He pulled out his phone and dialed Singer, but was sent straight to voicemail, which then announced that the mailbox was full. He quickly composed a text, trying not to sound worried. \u201cHey, Houdini, nice lecture. Need to work on your ending, though. Send a message from the other side.\u201d He confirmed the text had been delivered, then drifted to his room, exhausted from the effort of being social when he felt like a stranger to the world and to himself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The dregs of the conversation with Horne nagged him at first, and he turned his phone off to isolate himself. What little energy he had left was spent wondering what happened to Singer. Hours earlier, he would have welcomed the blackness that enveloped the room. <\/a>Now he lay on his back staring into it, wondering what he wasn\u2019t seeing.<\/p><\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\n\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

By Doug Powell A list of hiding places on a strip of papyrus found inside a mummy mask thrusts Graham Eliot, Ancient Near East scholar, into a hunt for the treasures of the second temple. The list has already cost the life of a colleague, and now he is being pursued as he races to […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":6500,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"off","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2581,128],"tags":[2583,2582],"class_list":["post-6487","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-biblical","category-contemporary-fiction","tag-doug-powell","tag-graham-eliot"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/whitefire-publishing.com\/read\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6487","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/whitefire-publishing.com\/read\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/whitefire-publishing.com\/read\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/whitefire-publishing.com\/read\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/whitefire-publishing.com\/read\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6487"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/whitefire-publishing.com\/read\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6487\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7769,"href":"https:\/\/whitefire-publishing.com\/read\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6487\/revisions\/7769"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/whitefire-publishing.com\/read\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/6500"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/whitefire-publishing.com\/read\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6487"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/whitefire-publishing.com\/read\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6487"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/whitefire-publishing.com\/read\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6487"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}