Blood Moon Redemption

by Judy DuCharme

  Tassie could feel Omar’s rage bristling under the surface and wanted to change the subject. “I heard that many of the rabbis have turned to Jesus as their Messiah. Rabbi, is this something that surprises you.”

  A sweet smile crossed Rabbi Welcker’s face and he closed his eyes momentarily. “Surprise? Yes. Surprise? No.” He chuckled. “The claims of Jesus as the Messiah have always been far from my interest, no? But, current events, study of the Torah and the Prophets, and the hand of God Almighty, blessed be He, have strangely turned my heart and ears to listen to these claims. As other rabbis have persuaded my thinking, I, too, have given my heart to the One who always called Himself the Messiah of the Jews. Jesus has truly become my Lord and Savior, and I couldn’t be more happy or more settled within my spirit.”

  “Uncle!” Sally stood up, came around the table, and hugged the rabbi. “Oh, I didn’t know. I am so happy for you. This happened to me and Grandfather one year ago, and to Harvey shortly after he came to Israel.”

  “I suspected as much, Sally. I could see it in your countenance.”

  Tassie was dumbfounded. These were all Jews, now Christians? “So, you’re Christians, now . . . not Jews.”

  “We like to think we are completed Jews. We have our Messiah now. We were all a little surprised that our Messiah was Jesus. It took us a long time, as Jews, to realize it, but hey, we’re pretty pleased with it all.” Sally had a smile that seemed to come from within even more than from her face. Her whole demeanor seemed to glow.

  Tassie momentarily forgot Omar was a terrorist, ready to kill her or keep her in a burka the rest of her life, ready to turn her over to other men for whatever they wanted to do.

  “Omar, remember the young man at the restaurant in Door County?”

  “The Packer fan kid? Yea, what about him?” Omar looked at her and shook his head. Tassie just took it that he didn’t remember.

  “He prayed for us that we would find Jesus.” Tassie laughed. Is that what happened to me the other night when I prayed. Is Jesus my Messiah?

  Omar pushed his chair back from the table. It scraped on the floor. Everyone paused. “Thank you for the lunch. This conversation is not for me. I would like to hear about the relic. I would like to see the relic.” His eyes bore into Harvey’s. “Is not that for which you invited us?”

  “Why, yes, Omar, my apologies.” Harvey stood up. “Please be seated again. We have a fruit dessert. Then we will go.”

  Sally began to get up to retrieve the dessert. Harvey shook his head. “I’ll get it. I’m already up.”

  The rabbi stood up. “My sincerest apologies, Omar. I did not mean to offend. I have much to tell you about the relic.”

  Rabbi Welcker remained standing until Omar sat. By then Harvey had returned with small bowls full of strawberries, pears, and grapes, cut in small pieces. He brought a small pitcher of cream to pour over if they desired.

  “Rabbi, you mentioned the ninth of Av. What is that?” Tassie poured the cream over her fruit.

  “Dear one, so many horrible things have happened on the ninth of Av, which occurs the end of July to the beginning days of August. The Temple was destroyed on that day. World War One started that day, the orders for the holocaust were given that day, and on and on. It has never been a good day for Israel.

  “Now the blood moons are lunar eclipses that fall in groups of four that land on Jewish feast days. They occurred in 1493 and 1494, in 1949 and 1950, in 1967 and 1968, and right now. They began on Passover in April this year and continue to the Feast of Tabernacles next year. There will also be a total solar eclipse during this series. That also holds significance.”

  Tassie pressed her lips together and looked around. “Forgive me, Rabbi, my mother has told me all this, but I felt it was totally anecdotal, not prophetic or significant . . . more coincidental.”

  “That is how many look at it, but as one who studies the Scriptures continually and the writings of rabbis who have studied this throughout the ages, I and others are quite sure that these signs in the sky are God’s signals. He writes this in the prophet Joel. It says, ‘The sun shall be turned into darkness, and the moon into blood, Before the coming of the great and awesome day of the LORD.’ Each of these times of the four blood moons on the feast days has indicated great trial and persecution for the Jews, but praise to our God, blessed be He, it is always followed by great triumph and provision.”

  Rabbi Welcker paused to sip his drink and take another spoonful of fruit. He looked all around, then continued. “In 1492, we were expelled from Spain, only to be given a whole new world via Columbus. In 1948, we received our nation Israel after the holocaust and we had to fight to keep our nation, for the British and the Arabs put up many barriers for us. In 1967, the whole world wanted to tell us what to do and the whole neighborhood around us decided to wipe us off the map. Instead, with the miracle-working hand of God, blessed be He, they were stopped. And we received Jerusalem, Gaza, and the West Bank back into our possession.

  “So now, look what is happening. Lemkrof is moving into Ukraine. They are considering making Jews register. Register! That is what Hitler did before World War Two. No one confronts Lemkrof, they only appease, just as happened with Hitler. And now Iraq is being taken over by insurgents. It is not just Iraq, but Syria and Iran moving into this process. As I said, they may be at our door by the ninth of Av or before. But, the Scriptures also say that our God, blessed be He, will pour out of His spirit. The rabbis are realizing Jesus is the Messiah. Perhaps it is time that Israel will fully have their God in their hearts. Perhaps part of the provision is the oil that we now have with the promise of even more oil. And, just perhaps we will get our Temple back.”

  Omar jumped up. Tassie was sure he was going to pound his fist on the table or turn the table over. Instead he grabbed his knee and bent over. “I’m so sorry. Every once in a while my knee slips out of joint while just sitting. It’s a sharp pain, but it subsides quickly. Please go on.” Omar gingerly sat down rubbing his knee. Everyone watched him. “Please, go on. Tell us how the relic figures in.”

  Good recovery, Omar. What a lie! Hope you fooled no one.

  Rabbi Welcker ran his fingers down one of his Hasidic braids. “I believe the relic is such a sign, a signal, of God’s provision in little and big things. The Jews in 1492 lost all. The tassel, saved by little Lydia, was like their synagogue. It provided a point of worship, a gathering position. And then, it seemed that wherever it was, there was protection. As they traveled throughout those many years whether by land or by sea, they arrived safely, while others were not always safe. Coincidence, perhaps. The blessing of God, blessed be He, perhaps.

  “In 1948, while many boats were turned back trying to bring Jews to Israel, the boat with the tassel had no problem. In 1967, as the six-day war was ending, and Jerusalem was recovered, a young soldier, who escaped as a child from the Nazis, was presented the relic by an Arab child at the Wailing Wall. As its story was told, many more believed that the relic was a signal of God’s blessing and miracle-working power.

  “But, alas, in the early 90s, it disappeared again, assumed stolen on the ninth of Av. Because of that date, many were convinced that the relic was definitely a sign of God’s blessing and thus many relic hunters searched for it. It became like the movie, Raiders of the Lost Ark, and stories of its powers abounded.”

  Omar spoke up. “You think those stories are unfounded, that the relic carries no power.”

  “As a rabbi, the Lord’s command to have no idols tells me to not put much stock into the powers of such a relic. The history and archaeological value of this tassel in the bottle is incredible, though.” The rabbi put his elbows on the table and rested his chin in his hands. “The stories that go with it are sure hard to deny. Whoever has possession of it definitely has a treasure, that is for sure.” Rabbi Welcker stood up. “Enough discussion. Would you like to see it?”

  “Certainly.” Omar stood up and pulled Tassie’s chair out for her to stand up.
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  The drive to the museum took only a few minutes.

  The museum appeared unprotected. It stood on a small residential street while children played nearby, and people walked along the worn sidewalks. Many carried bags with fruit and vegetables, even some flowers sticking out, apparently returning from a nearby market.

  Tassie wondered if she could get a message to her parents through the Goldmans. Omar managed to not allow her out of his sight. Even visiting the restroom, Omar was just outside the door, as if he was concerned that she was ill, and he was ever present to assist her.

  The museum was much like the Goldmans’ house, small rooms, set in a haphazard fashion. Purposeful, perhaps. Endearing, but a little cluttered. Swords, shields, vases, paintings, maps from the many eras of the life of Israel. Holocaust items, war information, and Nobel Prize plaques displayed the accomplishments and the heartaches of the Jewish people. Tassie’s head swiveled back and forth, taking in the comprehensive history that this little place held.

  Why has this never interested me before? Mother would love this. And I studied world history. If I get out of this, I need to bring my parents here.

  Very few people occupied the museum. Tassie wondered if those present were maintenance or research people. The quiet of the museum unsettled her. Everything had been noisy or tense since Omar kidnapped her. Now stillness enveloped them. Tassie wished she could relax.

  They rounded a corner and there, in a little interior room, sat a pedestal with a bell jar on top. Inside the jar was a small glass bottle. It reminded Tassie of medicine bottles she’d seen in old movies. Square on the bottom, two inches across, and about six or seven inches tall, including the neck which was about an inch or so high. The top had a seal of dark brown wax. In the bottle hung a small tassel of an off-white color.

  Tassie gasped and leaned in. What she beheld was over five hundred years old, and she was named for it. She counted five knots and observed the wrap of threads between the knots. A sense of reverence was in the room. Tassie could not take her eyes off it.

  If it could only tell us of its adventures. All of a sudden, the tassel became blurry. Tassie stood up confused, until she realized tears were rolling down her cheeks. As she brushed them away, the Goldmans and the rabbi smiled.

  Omar smiled, but she knew it was more of a smirk. The magic dissipated, and she knew he was probably waiting for a moment to remove it. There are so many things here that he despises, but he wants this for its magical properties.

  Mr. Goldman walked over, entered a code in a small key pad on the side of the pedestal that Tassie hadn’t noticed. Lifting the bell jar, he handed it to Sally and picked up the bottle with great care, as if it would shatter at any moment, and set it in Tassie’s hands.

  She cried. Why is this doing this to me?

  She wiped her eyes on her sleeve as best she could, and then stared at the tassel, turning the bottle every which way. She looked at Mr. Goldman. “Thank you.” Her voice was just a whisper. She glanced at Omar, fearful he would grab it, somehow shoot everybody, and run out.

  He pulled out his phone and was about to take a picture when a hand reached in and removed it from Omar’s possession. Omar jerked up and whirled around, eyes glaring. “What the . . . ”

  “Sorry, sir, no pictures.”

  Omar pulled himself erect and face to face with the young man who held his phone. “Excuse me. I am the fiancé for the namesake of this relic, and we are here at the request of the owners.”

  “Even so, I have my orders, sir.”

  Tassie saw five more men arrive and take positions all around the room. Where in the world did they come from? I thought no one was here. She looked at Harvey Goldman and shrugged her shoulders in question.

  “IDF, Israeli Defense Forces. They know the value of this relic. Even a picture could be tracked by GPS and the location exposed. I’m sure you meant no harm, Mr. Tugani. I should have told you. I was so excited for Tassie to see it that I forgot. We are used to having the IDF ever ready, and we so appreciate it.” He took the bottle and placed it back on the pedestal. After Sally returned the bell jar, he reentered a code in the tiny key pad.

  Tassie tried not to let her smile show. She bent over to look again at the tassel, so Omar could not see her expression. She glanced sideways and could see the muscles rippling on his neck.

  “No problem.” His voice was strained. He reached out for the phone. “I need to answer a text.”

  The young man with the phone glanced at the face of it, handed it to him, and followed him as he headed toward the door. Tassie watched him dumbfounded. Now is my chance. They’ll help me. They’re the IDF.

  Tassie turned to talk to the men. Before she could get a word out, Omar whirled around and locked eyes with her. “I’m so sorry, darling, forgive me. Did you see enough? If not, I can wait. Why don’t you walk out with me?” He walked over to Tassie and held out his arm. She took it and walked out.

  Just before getting to the door, Tassie turned. “Thank you. This means so much to me. My mother would so love to see the tassel.” She brought her shoulders up and smiled. “She named me after that tassel and the little girl who kept it.” A bubble of excitement rolled through Tassie. Never had she felt pride or happiness at her name, and now, here she was in Israel, being held by a terrorist, in the presence of the IDF, beholding the relic. And she was happy.

  The Goldmans and the rabbi joined them outside. Tassie gushed about the relic and Omar texted.

  “Will you spend the night, dear ones? We would love to have you. We have rooms for each of you. It would be no trouble at all.”

  “That’s very kind of you, Mr. Goldman, but we must be moving on. Thank you for letting us see the relic. That was certainly an honor. And, Tassie loved it.”

  Tassie nodded. “I certainly did. I can’t believe how blessed I feel.”

  Omar looked at Tassie with his face all screwed up and laughed. “Really?”

  It was the first relaxed impression he gave her since that night in Chicago. It lasted only a moment. She remembered, and so did he, for his face immediately hardened and his eyes held no sparkle of love, only the image of hate.

  Dear God, do the Goldmans or Rabbi Welcker see through this? Have I missed my opportunity to escape? Did the IDF figure it out?

  CHAPTER 17

  PRESENT DAY, ISRAEL

  Omar all but shoved Tassie into the rental car. He was steaming, and she feared for her life. The excitement of moments before was gone. She tasted tension in every fiber of her being. She did not see the streets, the trees, the buildings. The people didn’t see her. She was invisible again and everything was blurry. No, don’t cry Tassie. Don’t let him see that. He’ll kill you or beat you.

  Omar was cursing the traffic as he jerked the car through the streets on his way back to the airport. He glanced at the GPS map on the dashboard and groaned. Tassie realized he had made a wrong turn. As he tried to find a place to turn around, a car suddenly pulled in front of him just before a stop.

  Tassie screamed. “Omar!”

  The crunch of metal was loud enough, but Omar’s cursing was louder. He threw the gear into park and jumped out, yelling at the man who was slowly climbing out of his car and rubbing his neck. The man looked at the dent and scratches Omar’s car had caused and threw up his hands.

  People gathered around and said it was Omar’s fault. Omar denied it. He then pulled out his wallet and asked the man what the cost of repair would be, apparently realizing that he had no time to argue and have attention brought to him. The man and others gave their opinion and dickered back and forth. A car mechanic stepped forward and gave his rough estimate. It was equivalent to five hundred American dollars. The driver then reminded Omar that his neck was in a great deal of pain. Omar gave him one thousand American dollars. The driver slapped him on the back. The crowd clapped and dispersed. The cars that had been waiting while all this occurred honked their horns for everyone to get moving.

  Omar cursed again
. He sighed and climbed back into the car.

  Tassie was nowhere in sight. She’d left the rider’s door wide open preventing Omar from driving away until he got out of the car and went around to close it. He slammed the steering wheel. Blood vessels popped out in his neck.

  Horns were honking, preventing him from texting or calling at the moment for his bodyguards to assist him. He jerked the car over to the side before realizing he could not park anywhere on this thoroughfare. Not one of the side streets had an available parking slot. By the time he found a parking area, and got back to the place Tassie disappeared, she had been out of his sight for at least twenty minutes.

  Tassie stumbled as she ran and skinned her knee, but she took no time to examine the wound. Where could she go? Were there police or Israeli Defense Forces? Who could she trust? This was Israel. She could probably trust everyone, but she needed to get far enough away. Omar could catch up and sweet talk anyone or shoot them. Either way she would be back in his clutches.

  She found herself in Old Jaffa, now a part of Tel Aviv. The streets narrowed, and the stone steps rose to more narrow roads overlooking the sea. The brown bricks that made up the wall as she climbed the stairs felt rough on Tassie’s hands. She paused and leaned against them to catch her breath. On the other side were uneven rows of roughhewn stones. They seemed to sway. Tassie half wondered if it was she that swayed. Fear oozed out of her. Maybe it was only sweat.

  Rounding a corner at the summit of the stairs, Tassie lost her breath again. This time it was the sea. The beauty of the Mediterranean stole her breath. She gasped and wandered, not paying attention to where she was going. The slightly salty air was heavenly, and she began to relax just as she found herself near a market place with shops and cafes.

  Thirst nudged her forward. A woman walked out the door of a cafe and observed Tassie. I must look a sight. The woman glanced back into her café and said. “Believe me, appeasement will never work.”