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Smithsonian, Washington, DC - Present

Doctor David Scortun answered the intercom buzzer on his phone, “Yes, Nancy?”

            “A Mister Ian Maccleith is here for his appointment, Doctor.”

            “Please show him in.”

            The man at the door was about ninety, spry, moving as nimbly as a man half his age. His jacket’s left sleeve was pinned to his shoulder; he’d obviously lost his arm. He carried a wooden box in his right arm. “Thank you for meeting with me, Doctor.”

            Dr. Scortun replied, “My pleasure, Mister Maccleith. Please have a seat. This is the artifact?”

            “Just Ian, Doctor.” He placed the box on the desk in front of the Doctor, removed the top, and took a chair. The Doctor peered inside: resting there was a fourteen-by-sixteen-inch clay tablet on white faded cloth. Every square inch contained a signet ring impression.

            “There are 187 impressions, Doctor. The remaining 43 are on the back side. The newest ones are in English, but the older ones elude me. The ephod has been a family heirloom for hundreds of years. I’ve finally decided it might have some historical value – 187 generations goes back a long way. If it has historical value, it wouldn’t be appropriate to keep it closeted. So I’ve brought it for your evaluation.”

            The Doctor scanned the impressions. He could identify most of the scripts: cuneiform, ancient Canaanite, Egyptian hieroglyphics, Aramaic Block Script, Greek, and Latin, but not being an ancient language expert, couldn’t read any of them.

            The Doctor had a quizzical look, “Ian, you said ephod. The only ephod I know of is the robe the ancient Jewish High Priest wore, not a clay tablet.”

            “I know, Doctor, I can’t explain it either. But our family has called the tablet an ephod for at least seven generations – not the garment. You are welcome to give it any nondestructive tests you want. If it helps dating or identifying provenance, you may use a few grams of the cloth or wood. I know I don’t need to tell you to treat it reverently. It’s valuable, at least for our family.”

            “Thank you, Ian, we’ll do that. Let’s move it to the credenza until someone can take it to the lab.”

            David moved the ephod to the credenza, shook hands, and Ian left.

            The Doctor picked up his phone. “George, could you please ask Jerry to bring a high resolution camera to my office. I need some close-up pictures of an artifact to email to some scholars.”

In fifteen minutes, he was examining a picture of the first seal impressions on his screen. He minimized it, changed to his Rolodex, and e-mailed a copy of the first ten cuneiform impressions. Picking up the phone, he called, “Irving, got something interesting and just sent you pictures. Got a few minutes to give me a first impression?”

“Sure. Let me put you on speaker. Give me a minute to open them…. OK, got them. Opening the first. The name is Havram. The second is … Oh my God!” Silence for two minutes, broken only by the click of computer keyboard keys. Finally, “You aren’t going to believe this. First, this style of cuneiform is archaic; these symbols date to 1800 BCE or a little later. It's unlikely a forger would know them. The impressions appear made by signet rings, the type used for bullae. The first three are Havram, Abraham, Isaac and – care to guess the next two?”

“You aren’t going to say Jacob is one of them, are you?”

“Jacob is the fourth; Israel is the fifth.”

David let out a long, slow whistle.

“David,” said Irving. “Before you do anything else, I’d recommend you get that tablet to the lab under lock and key.”

 


Rev Dr E. William (Liam) Petter    -   e-mail: liam@ewpetter.net    -    Address: 2831 El Dorado Pkwy, Ste 103-443, Frisco, Tx 75033

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