by Andrew Crown
The people all turned to look at the three men that entered the home. Their expressions remained welcoming when their eyes met Dismas. Jesus smiled and rose. Dismas carefully stepped between the seated people as he made His way through the crowded room. Jesus still had the same inexplicable regal presence despite His outwardly dirty disheveled appearance. He embraced Dismas like an old friend.
Peter began to introduce him. “Master, this is…”
“Dismas. I know,” Jesus finished.
Dismas was astounded that Jesus recognized him. After all, He must talk to dozens of people every day. Jesus seemed to sense his bewilderment as he said, “Leah has been healed by God. She has grown quite strong since we first met, Dismas.”
Dismas didn’t know what to say and just stood there wordlessly. He should have known better than to doubt the knowledge of the man who performed so many miracles.
Jesus continued, “I’m glad you came here and found Me. I have wanted to tell you something. Do you have a moment?”
Dismas nodded and Jesus took him into the next room, which was empty except for a few mats on the floor. He guessed this was where some or all of the party slept. By the utilitarian look of the dwelling, it seemed like they wouldn’t be here for long—just passing through.
Jesus turned and looked directly at Dismas. “Let it go, let all of your anger go. Love your enemies.”
“I-I-I don’t know what You mean.”
“I know you have been wronged and you carry the anger around you like an anchor on a ship. It is dragging you down, slowing your path to peace. Only forgiveness can lead you to Paradise. What Bricius has done to you is wrong. But the only remedy to sin is forgiveness, not vengeance.”
Once again, Dismas was stunned. Jesus knew feelings that he dared not release from the confines of his heart. He knew about Leah, He knew about his theft from the olive growers, He knew about his altercation with Bricius. He knew it all. Suddenly, Dismas felt guilty and ashamed. He looked down at the dirt floor, unable to bear looking Jesus in the eyes.
“Dismas, I love you as I love every man, woman, and child on this Earth. Those that came before and those that are yet to come. Do not let anger towards your fellow man lead you further away from God.”
“I-I-I’m so sorry. I am sorry for my theft. I can’t…” Tears ran down Dismas’ face. He felt a vulnerability that he had never known. Jesus saw into his heart, his every action and thought, both good and evil.
Before he could finish, Jesus embraced him again. It was a warm and powerful hug—the type of hug that Dismas recalled from his earliest memories of his mother. The two men stood there for a moment in silence while Dismas choked back tears.
“You are forgiven,” Jesus said warmly. “Go forth, sin no more, and forgive others as you have been forgiven.”
Dismas wiped away a tear and nodded at the smiling face of Jesus. He felt loved rather than judged.
They reentered the room with the disciples and the women, who were talking among themselves and paid no attention to the red eyed Dismas picking his way between them. He turned and looked at Jesus once more. “Will I see You again?”
Jesus gave him a sorrowful, knowing smile. “Yes, Dismas, you will be with Me again very soon.”
“Why do you say it such sadness?” Dismas asked.
Jesus didn’t answer but gave him a wave which Dismas returned before quickly thanking Peter and Andrew and exiting the house.
Dismas walked back to the inn, overwhelmed by a mixture of emotions and oblivious to the crowded streets around him. Guilt, hope, bewilderment, happiness, and love all mixed inside of him like a soup. He thought a lot about Bricius as he turned the corner towards the inn. Could he really forgive him and move on? He was too emotional to fully think it through.
“Dismas, wait!”
Dismas turned around and was surprised to see Peter walking quickly up the road to meet him.
“Dismas, I thought of something that I needed to tell you. I saw something on your face after you talked with Jesus.”
Dismas shifted awkwardly, not knowing how to reply. He finally said, “He knows so much about me, it’s hard to process my thoughts in His presence.”
Peter shook his head with a smile, “I know! I’ve experienced that myself.” Then his demeanor became more serious. “I don’t know what Jesus told you, but I just wanted to add—it’s never too late.”
“What?”
“It’s never too late,” Peter repeated simply.
“I don’t understand.”
“Let me tell you a story that Jesus told us a while back. I can’t tell it as well as He did, of course, but you can get the general idea.”
Peter cleared his throat. “A landowner went into town early one morning to find people to work in his vineyard. He came upon a group of men and offered to pay them a day’s wage to pick grapes. Some of the men agreed and went with him back to the vineyard. The landowner went out into town a little later and found more men and promised to pay them whatever was right at the end of the day. A few more men agreed to this. The landowner did the same a couple hours later, hired a few more men and promised to pay them what is right at the end of the day. Towards the end of the day, at about the eleventh hour, the landowner went out and found more men that were just standing around in town. He asked them, ‘Why have you not worked today?’ They answered, ‘Because no one has hired us.’ And so the landowner said, ‘Well, come work in my vineyard,’ and so the men departed towards his crops.
“At the end of the day, the landowner instructed his foreman to pay the men who had been working in the vineyard their wages, starting with those who started work last in order until he paid the men who started early in the morning. Once the money had been distributed, the earliest workers began to grumble. They had been paid the same as the men who started working at the eleventh hour, and not more!
“When they brought this up to the landowner, he said to them, ‘Friends, I have done you no wrong, didn’t you agree to work for a day’s wages? Take your pay and go. Don’t I have the right to choose what I do with my money? Or are you envious because I am generous? So, the last will be first, and the first will be last,’” Peter concluded and looked at Dismas expectantly.
Dismas stared back at him. “I have no idea what that means.”
Peter smiled once again. “It means that that those can still enter Heaven even at the eleventh hour because we serve a loving and generous God. Salvation can be achieved at any time.”
Dismas was slightly annoyed. “Well why didn’t you just say that instead of telling a long story?”
Peter laughed. “It sinks in better that way.”
He clasped Dismas on the shoulder. “I know you’ve been through a lot in life, Dismas. Remember that people who have done terrible deeds can still receive redemption at the eleventh hour.”
“Thank you, Peter. That gives me yet another thing to think on.”
They said their goodbyes and parted ways.
As Dismas opened the door to his room at the inn and lay down on his mat, his head was still swimming. As with his previous encounter with Jesus, he didn’t fully understand everything yet or know how he was going to implement the lessons he had been taught. But he would work to try harder this time to follow what He had told him. He had seen too many miraculous acts with his own eyes to doubt the powers of Jesus any longer.
With plans for starting off towards home in the morning, he dozed off to sleep, hopeful for a peaceful future.
Chapter XX
The next morning, Dismas forced his heavy eyelids open and lay staring at the wooden crossbeams in the darkened room at the inn. A feeling of resignation washed over him when he thought about his brother.
“Well Selig, I hope you found success and happiness, wherever you are. I tried to find you.” He said these words out loud despite being alone in the room. He concluded that his brother was either no longer in Jerusalem, dead, or not interested in being found. He realized sadly that he
would likely never see him again. In the back of his mind, he always vaguely thought that his brother would be waiting for him back in Jerusalem—a notion that was ridiculous once he considered it. Dismas regretted not staying all those years ago. Selig was the last family that he had.
He rose and began to shake the stiffness out of his legs. Despite Jerusalem’s grand size and excitement, he longed for the freshwater breeze, the cry of seagulls, and the thrill of hauling in a net full of fish. He longed for Asher’s company. But mostly, he longed for Leah’s embrace. He had been away for several weeks and now, it was time to return to the Sea of Galilee, to his new home and family.
Dismas continued these homesick thoughts as he untethered his donkey and made final preparations to set out on the road. Upon arriving back home, he would formally ask Asher for Leah’s hand in marriage. No more delays. He had a few days of traveling to mull over exactly how he would ask. He had no wealth to offer, but he could give her love, support, and protection. They could stay in the village or take his talents anywhere on the Sea of Galilee or the Mediterranean Sea, the great lake of the Roman Empire. Asher had taught him an invaluable skill and with it he would provide for Leah. They could be free of the shadow of that Roman fort and go somewhere where no one knew them or their past. They could truly achieve freedom and safety.
Dismas had given his mount a rest for several days and so was not surprised to see the animal energetic and seemingly eager to be on the move. There was no resistance from the beast when he led it into the street and climbed on its back. The donkey trotted forward without any coercion from Dismas.
Dismas steered the animal out onto the busy street, dodging around an aging camel that was struggling to carry a load of firewood. The camel’s impatient owner was doing his best to pull the obstinate animal forward by a rope but without much luck.
Dismas shook his head, thankful that his own journey was off to a much smoother start. Soon, he turned a corner and saw the yawning gate of the city, with the throng of people moving through it and the vast countryside of northern Judea beyond.
The gates would normally open and close for each entrant in and out of the city, but there was so much activity before the Passover feast that the guards were resigned to just keeping the doors open and trying to inspect travelers as they passed through.
A group of eight Roman soldiers stood at gate, dutifully watching the travelers with expressions that ranged from mild interest to downright boredom. The sun reflected off their silver chest plates, swords, and spears, giving them a gleaming, mirror-like appearance from a distance. These soldiers were all that stood between Dismas and the wide-open landscape beyond the city walls. He nervously noticed, however, the increase in the number of guards since the attacks on the tax collectors. Nevertheless, he pressed forward.
The donkey hesitated at the sight of the soldiers ahead but Dismas gave a hard, reassuring kick into its sides and the animal lurched forward. He wasn’t going to draw attention by fighting with a difficult animal right in front of the Romans. Dismas tucked his chin into his chest and feigned wiping sweat from his head with a cloth to obscure his face as he neared the gate. He was close enough to one soldier that he could see the flare of his nostrils as the animal trotted past. They would clear the gate in about twelve paces. Ten, eight, six, four…
“Hey, you!”
The sharp voice of the Roman solider caused Dismas’ heart to leap up his throat and his chest felt as if it was being pricked by a thousand needles. He continued to wipe his face vigorously and pretended that he didn’t hear.
“You there on the donkey. Stop!”
The hairs on the back of Dismas’ neck stood up as he halted his mount. He kept his head tucked in as much as he could as the soldier’s sandaled footsteps approached. He shut his eyes instinctively as he heard the clank of a scabbard against the leg guard signaling that the Roman was in front of him.
“Let me see your face.”
Dismas reluctantly opened his eyes and withdrew his hand from the cloth. He faced the Roman and was surprised that he did not recognize him. The soldier was very young, almost still a boy. The guard’s expression changed from smug suspicion to wide-eyed embarrassment.
“I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else. Everyone here looks the same, especially when they cover their faces.”
Dismas slumped his shoulders in relief as the soldier waved him forward. The sun hit his face as he emerged from under the walls of the city with the rolling arid hills of Judea before him, and Galilee beyond the northern stretches of the horizon. He could practically feel the mist from the sea and Leah’s exuberant embrace with her mouth pressed against his.
“Wait! Stop that man on the donkey!”
For second time in as many minutes, Dismas shuddered and his breath shortened. This was a different voice. A familiar voice. He turned in his saddle and saw the young Roman soldier hurrying behind his older, snarling commander. Dismas’ heart turned to ice. It was Bricius.
“I recognize you!” Bricius screamed at him.
With an involuntary yelp, Dismas kicked into the donkey as hard as he could, which prompted a burst of speed.
“Mount up!” Bricius commanded, and he and his two subordinates turned to get their horses that were tied up just inside the gate.
Dismas kicked wildly into his donkey and shouted at it, trying to urge it onward as quickly as its legs would allow.
“Move! Faster! Faster!” he half commanded and half pleaded to the animal.
The donkey made it a couple hundred yards at a run before it settled back into a tired walk. It was unresponsive to any further kicks, slaps, or prodding from its rider. The animal was better suited to carrying goods than it was outrunning soldiers on horseback. The heavy hoofbeats of the three Romans soon grew louder behind Dismas, their mounts bred for speed.
Dismas saw a flash of movement in of his peripheral vision. He turned towards the blur and saw the roaring Bricius with arms outstretched. The Roman unexpectedly launched himself from his horse at a full gallop and tackled Dismas, who groaned as the full force of Bricius collided with him. He felt the wind knocked out of him as he tumbled off the donkey and hit the ground with a thud, the armored Roman landing on top of him. Gasping, Dismas tried to roll over to push himself up out of the dirt, but he felt a fist forcefully connect with his cheek. His eyes watered in response to the blow from the man who acted like he was possessed by a demon.
“YOU FILTHY JEWISH THIEF!” Bricius screamed in his face as he grabbed the collar of Dismas’ robe to pull him closer, before throwing him back onto the ground. Dismas’ head bounced on the dirt before Bricius punched again, connecting this time with his mouth. The centurion’s scarred hands wrapped around Dismas’ throat and shook him vigorously, repeatedly banging his head on the ground.
“WHERE IS MY RING?!” He did not wait for Dismas to answer before punching his forehead.
Choking, Dismas tried to roll on his side to spit up blood, barely aware of his assailant going through all of his bags and pockets like a madman. Soon, Bricius uncovered what was left of his money and his precious gold ring.
“You miserable thief!” he shouted again, sliding the ring on his right hand. He dropped to his knees by Dismas and began pounding his face with his now ringed fist. Each blow of the metal jewelry tore skin off Dismas’ face until everything went completely black. Bricius continued the assault until his two subordinate soldiers pulled him off with much effort.
“Let me go, or I will take my sword to both of you!” The shocked soldiers complied and released their commander.
The centurion walked over to his mount and drew his sword. He rushed at Dismas with his weapon raised.
“Bricius, stop!”
Cassian, the centurion’s optio, came racing up the road from city on foot. He did not take the time to find a horse and chased after his commander on foot once he heard of the trouble.
“Stay out of this, Cassian,” Bricius snarled.
Out o
f breath from his run, Cassian continued undeterred. “Tribune Magnus has ordered that no more Jews be killed in cold blood… The incident with those who attacked the tax collectors was embarrassing to the tribune. We cannot keep the peace in this province if we carry on like this…you know this as well as I.”
Bricius stared at the younger officer, who had never been this forcefully direct. What Cassian said was true—there had been an order throughout the legion about bringing troublemakers to trial.
Cassian added, “If you kill this man, Magnus will have you crucified. There is no doubt of that, so I implore you to reconsider, sir.”
Bricius was still panting from the exertion of his attack and wiped the considerable perspiration off his bald head with his forearm as he gave a reluctant nod to his optio. He took a deep breath before issuing an order to the other two soldiers. “Bring him to Magnus at Pilate’s palace.” The soldiers looked at his barely breathing adversary coughing up blood and mumbling something about Leah in a semi-lucid state.
“What of the donkey, Centurion?” asked one of the young soldiers. Bricius glanced over at the animal that was grazing lazily on grass off the side of the road, unperturbed by the nearby violence. Sword in hand, he walked up to its side and with one swift motion, he drew the blade across the bottom of the animal’s neck. With a spray of blood from its throat and hardly a sound, the donkey dropped down to the ground. It convulsed spastically for a minute before its leg stopped twitching and lay still.
Cassian and the two Roman soldiers stared dumbfounded at their commander’s senseless violence. He caught their looks as he wiped the blood off his sword. “Go to Magnus! I won’t say it again.”
As Bricius hopped back on his horse and rode back to the gate, the two soldiers struggled to get the bleeding and delirious Jew up onto one of their saddles. Dismas finally was secured on the horse in front of the young soldier, with his arms and legs draped over either side of the mount and his torso balancing on top. Cassian took up the rear on foot as he watched blood drip from the face of the badly beaten man trail behind the horses, creating a narrow crimson path back towards Jerusalem.