The Harbinger, page 15
“Pretty impressive,” I said, “for a street that started out as a wall.”
“Pretty impressive,” he replied, “for any street. But how did it happen? What was it that transformed a road, just a few blocks long and that for decades was not even paved with cobblestones, into America’s financial capital and laid the foundation for America’s ascent as the world’s preeminent financial superpower?”
“I think you’re going to have to tell me.”
“In March of 1792, a secret meeting took place at a Manhattan hotel. It involved twenty-four of the city’s leading merchants. The purpose of the meeting was to bring order to the trading of stocks and bonds while protecting that trade from competition. Two months later on May 17, 1792, the merchants again gathered together, this time at 68 Wall Street to sign a document. The document would seal the goals set forth at the first meeting. It would be the founding of what would ultimately be known as the New York Stock Exchange. The document was called the Buttonwood Agreement. The organization born of the agreement would be known as the Buttonwood Association and later as the New York Stock and Exchange Board, and finally as the New York Stock Exchange. It would become the nation’s leading stock exchange and then, in the twentieth century, the world’s. Thus on May 17, 1792, with the signing of the Buttonwood Agreement, the foundation was laid for the rise of America as the world’s towering financial superpower. Do you know what buttonwood means, Nouriel?’
“No.”
“It’s the name of a tree,” he said.
“What does a tree have to do with the founding of Wall Street?”
“The twenty-four merchants used to meet and carry on their transactions under a buttonwood tree that grew on Wall Street. It was under that tree that they signed the agreement that gave birth to the New York Stock Exchange. So both the founding document and the founding association were named after the tree under which it all began. Wall Street, as we know it, and American financial power, also as we know it, officially began under a buttonwood tree.”
“May I ask a question?”
“Of course,” he said.
“What kind of tree is a buttonwood?”
“You already know.”
“What kind of tree?”
“A sycamore.”
“A sycamore.”
“Buttonwood,” he said, “is, in essence, just another way of saying sycamore.”
“So that document from which Wall Street began was, in essence, the Sycamore Agreement.”
“You could say that.”
“And the New York Stock Exchange is, in essence, the Sycamore Association.”
“You could say that too,” he replied.
“And all the consequences of American financial power—all of its world-changing repercussions—it all began under the branches of a sycamore tree.”
“Yes,” he said, “under the branches of a sycamore tree.”
“And 9/11 . . . ”
“The World Trade Center was a towering symbol of what that power had become. But the sycamore was the symbol of its origin.”
“The foundation,” I said, “the foundation of a nation’s power . . . ”
“Which are exposed in the days of judgment. ‘So I will break down the wall you have plastered with untempered mortar, and bring it down to the ground, so that its foundation will be uncovered.’”
“And in that foundation was a sycamore . . . and growing in the shadow of the World Trade Center was the Sycamore of Ground Zero.”
“Correct,” he said. “And on 9/11, the fall of the one would cause the fall of the other.”
“The fall of the symbol that stands for Wall Street.”
“Yes,” said the prophet, “just as 9/11 would strike a blow to Wall Street and the American economy—not only in those first days after the attack, but in the long-term economic damage it would inflict, culminating in the collapse of Wall Street seven years later.”
“So the Sycamore wasn’t only a warning of judgment; it was, at the same time, a specific foreshadow of economic collapse.”
“The striking down of the sycamore tree is a biblical sign of judgment,” he said. “But the same tree is also a symbol specific to American power.”
“So then the uprooting of the sycamore would foreshadow . . . ”
“Yes,” he said, “it would foreshadow the uprooting of America’s financial and economic power.”
He walked ahead of me, then stopped when he saw that I wasn’t keeping up.
“Come, Nouriel, I want to show you something.” He led me to the end of Wall Street and into the courtyard of an old church, where there rested a strange-looking structure of bronze.
“Do you know what this is?” he asked.
“I have no idea.”
“This was among the first of permanent memorials to commemorate 9/11. It was unveiled on September 11, 2005. Its creator intended it to memorialize one of the details of the tragedy in which many found a measure of inspiration.”
“But it meant more than he intended it to mean?” I asked.
“Yes,” he replied. “And do you know what it is?”
“It looks like some sort of root system.”
“It is a root system. It’s the root system of a particular tree . . . a sycamore.”
“A particular sycamore tree?”
“Yes, it’s the root system of the Sycamore of Ground Zero.”
“How?”
“Its creator fashioned it according to the roots of the fallen tree. He intended it to be a symbol of hope.”
“But a fallen sycamore is not a symbol of hope,” I said, “It’s a sign of judgment . . . ”
“And a sign of uprooting,” he added. “They placed it here at the end of Wall Street—the same street symbolized by the sycamore . . . now bearing the image of a sycamore uprooted.”
“The foundation,” I said, “the foundation of America’s financial power. It’s the exposing of the foundation.”
“And a message,” he replied, “a message from the prophets:
“Behold, what I have built
I will break down,
And what I have planted
I will pluck up.”3
“So what does it mean?” I asked. “What does it mean specifically for America?”
“If a living sycamore signifies the rise of America as the world’s preeminent financial power, what then does an uprooted sycamore signify?”
“Its fall,” I answered. “It would have to signify its fall.”
“God had allowed America’s power to be planted here, to take root, to grow, and to branch out over the world. The nation would rise to unprecedented heights of global power and economic prosperity. But in its departure and its rejection of His ways, a sign was given. If now it refused to turn back, the blessings and prosperity symbolized by the sycamore would be removed—that which had been built up would be broken down, and that which had been planted would be uprooted.”
• • •
After a slight pause, he asked me for the seal. And, after placing it in his hand, I received another. “Do you remember this one too?” he asked as I looked it over.
“Of course. It’s the Erez Tree.”
“The Seventh Harbinger.”
“But now you want me to see something else?” I asked.
“What do you see . . . in the background . . . around the tree?”
“Blades of grass.”
“Look more carefully.”
“Grain . . . stalks of wheat.”
“How many?” he asked. “How many stalks?”
“Six,” I answered. “Three on each side of the tree.”
“Six stalks of wheat,” he said, “and a seventh you don’t see.”
“How could there be a seventh, if I can’t see it?”
“It’s there,” he said. “It’s there in its absence.”
“It’s there in its absence . . . another mystery?”
“This next seal, Nouriel, is going to open up a whole other realm of mystery.”
“And it has to do with the second shaking?” I asked.
“With the second . . . and with the first . . . and with that which joins the two together.”
“As in the Isaiah 9:10 Effect?”
“Yes, but in this mystery the connections are even more beyond the realm of the natural.”
“They’re supernatural?”
“You could say that.”
“And they connect 9/11 to the economic collapse?”
“Not only do they connect them . . . they determined them . . . down to the time each would take place.”
“An ancient mystery?”
“Yes, an ancient mystery upon which the global economy and every transaction within it was determined, a mystery that begins more than three thousand years ago in the sands of a Middle Eastern desert.”
Chapter 17 The Mystery of the Shemitah
And then he left.”
“So what happened?”
“I tried to figure out the mystery on the seal . . . the six stalks of wheat . . . and, in some way, a seventh . . . but not there . . . absent. Six of one kind and a seventh of another. It turns out, it’s a biblical pattern—the days of the week, six days of one kind and a seventh day, the sabbath, different from the rest.”
“But what do the days of the week have to do with wheat?” she asked.
“I had no idea. But that’s all I could figure out.”
“And then he reappeared . . . ?”
“Several weeks later. I was driving home from a conference out of state, through the countryside. It was a rolling landscape with fields of grain on both sides of the road. On my left, the grain sloped upward to a distant crest. The wind was beating against the stalks, making waves throughout the field. I couldn’t help looking at it while trying to keep my eyes on the road—a dance of wind, wheat, sunlight, and shadow. Then I noticed something out of place. At first I thought it was a scarecrow, it was the only thing I could think of . . . the figure of a man standing on the top of the crest.”
“With a long dark coat?”
“It was him. Not that I could be sure from so far away, but I just knew it. So I pulled over to the side of the road, got out, and made my way through the field up to the crest.”
• • •
“Nouriel!” he said, greeting me as I approached. “What brings you to these parts?”
“Ah . . . of course . . . what would bring me to these parts?” I replied. “And would it do any good if I asked you what you’re doing standing in the middle of a wheat field?”
“I can tell you I’m not here for the farm work.”
“I knew it wouldn’t do any good to ask,” I replied.
“I’m here for the same reason you are.”
I gazed out at the surroundings. The crest wasn’t actually part of the field. The wheat stopped just short of reaching it. And we were surrounded not by one field but several in every direction, each one rolling away from us and up into the distant hills.
“So,” he said, breaking the silence, “have you figured out the mystery of the seal?”
“Something to do with the days of the week.”
“Why do you say that?” he asked.
“There were six stalks of wheat, and a seventh one I only know about because you told me. The six were visible; the seventh was not. A pattern of six and seven . . . the same pattern of the biblical week.”
“You didn’t get it,” he said, “but you were on the right track.”
“How so?”
“The pattern is correct, six of one kind and then a seventh. And each stalk of wheat represents a measure of time. You got that right. But it’s not a pattern of days.”
“Then of what?”
“The same pattern, given to Israel to mark their days, was also given for their years. For six years, they were to labor, sowing and reaping their fields, pruning their vines, gathering in their harvests. But in the seventh year, they would rest. It would be the Sabbath Year. The law of the seventh year came to them in the deserts of Sinai through Moses. Thus they were commanded:
“When you come into the land which I give you, then the land shall keep a sabbath to the LORD. Six years you shall sow your field, and six years you shall prune your vineyard, and gather its fruit; but in the seventh year there shall be a sabbath of solemn rest for the land, a sabbath to the LORD.”1
“Then each stalk represents a year,” I said. “Each stalk represents a harvest.”
“Correct. And the missing stalk?”
“The missing stalk would stand for the seventh year. It’s not there because the seventh year is the Sabbath Year. So there’s no harvest.”
“Well done,” he said. “The seventh year was given a name. It was called the Shemitah. The word Shemitah means, the release, the remission, the letting rest. In the year of the Shemitah, all laboring over the land was to come to a rest. There was to be no plowing, no sowing, no pruning, no reaping, no harvesting. The fruits of the harvest would be abandoned . . . let go:
“What grows of its own accord of your harvest you shall not reap, nor gather the grapes of your untended vine, for it is a year of rest for the land.2
“Look over there, Nouriel. What do you see?”
“A field with no harvest,” I answered.
“Only the remains of a past harvest. It’s fallow ground. The land is resting. In the year of the Shemitah, all the fields of Israel became like that, fallow and resting.”
“But how did they live without a harvest?”
“They would eat whatever grew of itself:
“Six years you shall sow your land and gather in its produce, but the seventh year you shall let it rest and lie fallow, that the poor of your people may eat.3
“In the seventh year, each landowner was required to open up his land to those in need. The poor would share equally in the fruit of the rich. The land’s produce would become, in a very real sense, the possession of all.”
The wind was now beginning to pick up in speed and strength, its gusts beating down all the more intensely on the stalks of wheat. The resulting waves were now more rapid and dramatic than before. The prophet paused for a few moments as I took it all in . . . then continued.
“But the Shemitah,” he said, “touched not only the fields but also the people. The last remission took place in an entirely other realm:
“At the end of every seven years you shall grant a release of debts. And this is the form of the release: Every creditor who has lent anything to his neighbor shall release it; he shall not require it of his neighbor or his brother, because it is called the LORD’s release [Shemitah].4
“Thus, the last letting go of the Shemitah would touch the economic realm and transform it. So in the seventh year, all debts were canceled. Everyone who had made a loan had to annul it. Those in debt were released. Anything still owed was forgiven. All credit was nullified, all debt was wiped away.”
“And all this took place at the end of the seventh year?” I asked.
“Yes, at the very end on one specific day—the twenty-ninth day of the Hebrew month of Elul, the last day of the civil year, the very end of the seventh year. So the twenty-ninth of Elul was the climax, the focal point, and the finale of the Shemitah—the day when the nation’s financial accounts were nullified.”
“But wouldn’t the canceling of all debt and the nullifying of all credit cause economic chaos?”
“It could,” he said. “Most economies are dependent on some sort of system of credit and loans. So the economic repercussions of such a sweeping change would be immense, so immense that, over the centuries, the rabbis would seek ways to get around these requirements in the fear that keeping them would cause economic disaster.”
“But it was supposed to be a blessing,” I replied, “a sabbath.”
“Yes, a year of release and freedom, a year of rest from one’s labors and of drawing near to God. And yet still, in outward form, it could resemble an economic collapse.”
“But if the Shemitah Year was meant to be a blessing, what does it have to do with judgment—or Isaiah 9:10 or America?”
“The Shemitah would have been a blessing had Israel observed it and not rebelled against God. But Israel did rebel and didn’t keep the Sabbath Year. And the breaking of the Sabbath Year became the sign of a nation that had ruled God out of its life. The nation had no more time for Him. The people were now serving idols. Their Sabbath Years would be filled, not with peace, but with the restless pursuit of increase and gain. The breaking of the Shemitah was the sign that the nation had driven God out of its fields, out of its labors, its government, its culture, its homes, its life. The Shemitah was meant to be a blessing, but in its breaking, its blessing turns into a curse.”
“And what does that mean?” I asked.
“The Shemitah would still come,” said the prophet, “but not by choice—but by judgment. Foreign armies would overrun the land, destroy the cities, ravage the fields, and take the people captive into exile. And the land would rest. The fields would become fallow. The buying and selling of its produce and the flow of commerce would come to a standstill. Private ownership would become virtually meaningless. And every debt, credit, and loan would, in an instant, be wiped away. One way or another, the Shemitah would come.”
“Does the Bible connect the Shemitah to judgment . . . explicitly?”
“Yes,” he answered. “The connection was foretold from the beginning, from Mt. Sinai:
“Your land shall be desolate and your cities waste. Then the land shall enjoy its sabbaths as long as it lies desolate and you are in your enemies’ land; then the land shall rest and enjoy its sabbaths. As long as it lies desolate it shall rest—for the time it did not rest on your sabbaths when you dwelt in it.5
“And it would all be fulfilled centuries later when the armies of Babylon invaded and ravaged the land and took multitudes into captivity. The people would remain in exile for seventy years. Why seventy? The answer was hidden in the mystery of the Shemitah.”
