Mambrē lay to the west of the cave of Machpēlah, past the
valley of Eškōl teeming with terebinths, cedars, and date palms,
pomegranates, fig-trees, and most abundantly of all — rows of vines
which bore giant clusters of grapes all year long, planted as a sign
of Dionysos’ gratitude for the hospitality shown him in the
hill country of Hebrōn.

The Angels who rebelled against Yahō Sabaōth and his Ašerah
fled the Heavenly realm and alighted atop the peak of Mount Hebrōn,
where they planned to swear an oath of allegiance to Šemyāzā,
the instigator of their apostasy, after cutting down the Oak of Mambrē
which had been growing on that spot for as long as the world had existed,
so that they could fashion it into an altar upon which
each Angel would sacrifice one of the goats who grazed
on the mountain as a holocaust to Šemyāzā,
who styled himself a God equal to his maker.
But no matter how furiously the Angels smote it with their fiery weapons
the Oak of Mambrē remained undamaged, until finally
Šemyāzā summoned them back to Hebrōn’s heights
and exacted a smokeless vow from his mutinous host.

O Dionysos of Beit She’an, Lord of the hairy Se’irim who dwell in the wastes
and delight in playing pranks on travelers headed to Egypt or Syria, I pray,
make me like that mighty Oak of Mambrē, rooted deep in the Earth
with my head in the high Heavens, and able to withstand all of the blows
and harassments of the abominable spirits who would delight
in seeing me fall; may all of their machinations be thwarted,
and result in nothing more than the empty words that Šemyāzā
was able to extort from the rebel Angels who turned
on their oathed master just as they had betrayed Yahō Sabaōth
and his Ašerah as soon as it suited them, warring brutally amongst themselves
and carrying off the beautiful daughters of man so that they could defile them
and sire the incorrigible race of Giants who slaughtered their fathers
and devoured so many beasts and men because of their insatiable appetites
that they would have left the Earth as barren as the Negev
had the Lord of Sinai not flooded the plains with a storm so terrible
its like had never been seen before, nor has he punished wickedness
that way since, because of the troth he gave the herald
and messenger of the Gods on high, Iris of the rainbow-colored hair,
daughter of Thaumant and Elektra the Ōkeanide.

Though the waters covered all, obliterating any remnants
of the antediluvian races in the Levant, Mambrē stood tall
and unmoved by the deluge, and the oasis of Eškōl
returned when the waters receded through the power
of wonder-working Dionysos, as the Hebrew spies discovered
when they were preparing for the conquest of Canaan.
Lord of Nysa, I pray, may I possess such endurance
and resilience in the face of my own hardships and calamities,
and never fail to praise the Gods who are glorious and good,
no matter how dark and destructive the trials
I am passing through turn out to be.
And though Šemyāzā escaped the chastisement
that fell upon the heads of the Egrēgoroi and Nephilim,
may he be powerless to harm, impede or distract me
from the holy service that has been given me to fulfill,
and to which I have dedicated my life, my power,
and my resources to.