“Abba, may I sit with you?”
Yaakov opened his eyes and his heart leaped with joy. “Of course, my child.” Sister Rivka—of all his flock, perhaps the most strange, the most delightful. He moved over to make room on the bench. Like Brother Shmuel, Sister Rivka was a good woman, and innocent. Like Brother Shmuel, righteous anger ran deep in her heart, far below the surface. She was a woman with much knowledge, but she had not yet learned that knowledge is always incomplete, that a little wisdom is better than much knowledge. She had yet to learn wisdom. One did not expect wisdom in a woman, of course, but neither did one expect knowledge. Therefore, she was a paradox, a fascination, a delight.
“What troubles you, my daughter?”
Sister Rivka spoke many words very quickly.
Yaakov listened with care. Yes, he had heard that HaShem had given Brother Shmuel some new power for healing. No, he had not spoken with Brother Shmuel. Yes, he had heard that Brother Shmuel was speaking to the people. No, he did not know that Brother Shmuel urged the people to follow him into the desert.
Finally Rivka finished. “It has been given to me by HaShem to know a little of the future. HaShem has shown me that Brother Shmuel will lead many hundred to their deaths.”
Yaakov pondered this in silence. Here was a difficult matter, and he felt his own lack sorely. HaShem had given him to know the hearts of men, of women. But HaShem had not given him to judge between prophets.
Sister Rivka was a prophet with a pure heart. Likewise Brother Shmuel. Many held that Sister Rivka was a false prophet. A few held that she was true, including Brother Baruch, a good man of honest character. None held Brother Shmuel to be a false prophet. None except Sister Rivka. This called for wisdom, discernment.
“My daughter, have you prayed on this matter?”
Sister Rivka shook her head.
“Have you spoken with your husband on this matter?”
Tears filled her eyes. “No.”
“I must seek wisdom.” Yaakov sighed. “I will pray to HaShem over Shabbat and he will give me wisdom. And you will speak to Brother Ari.”
“But ...” Sister Rivka’s voice became tight. “My husband has not been given by HaShem to know the future.”
“Knowledge is not wisdom, my child. Your husband is a deep river, a gift to you from HaShem.”
Sister Rivka stood up to leave.
“You will speak with him on the matter?”
“Yes, Abba.” There was anger in her voice, and pain, and sorrow.
“Child, you love to run fast. Faster than your own husband.” Yaakov stood up and held out his arms and felt his heart crack.
She sighed deeply and came to him and hugged him with wooden arms, a hug that was not a hug.
“Be well, my daughter. Do not be found running faster than HaShem.”
“Be well, Abba.” Sister Rivka turned and hurried away.
The quick, angry patter of her feet bruised Yaakov like stones upon his heart.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Rivka
* * *
THAT NIGHT, RIVKA DISCUSSED THE matter with Ari. She had no choice. Yaakov could prevent Shmuel from disaster, but he would not act without a word from Ari. She spoke for a long time, rocking with Rachel in her chair while Ari paced.
When she finished, Ari pulled up a short wooden stool in front of her. “Let me review your case, just to be sure that I understand. There is a man, whom we shall call Brother X, a good man, an observer of the commandments. Yes?”
Rivka nodded.
“Brother X is considered by many to be a prophet and he has some skill in healing. He has publicly performed healings that can have no rational explanation except that they are miracles. Brother X ascribes his skill in healing to HaShem.”
Rivka rocked faster. “Ari, I don’t see where you’re going with this.”
He tugged at his beard. “Finally, Brother X makes an appeal for those seeking relief from their woes to follow him. This appeal is not based on rationality, it is based on his own intrinsic authority. Yes?”
“Yes, do you have a point?”
Ari showed no reaction to her impatience. “The rational conclusion is that one should follow Brother X and obey whatever he says, yes?”
“No.”
“Very good, then.” Ari put his chin on Rivka’s knee. “Against Brother X, there is only one piece of evidence. One book, written many hundred years ago, tells that Brother X is in fact a fraud. Perhaps a pious fraud, but he is to be the cause of death of many. He is not sent from HaShem. So says this one book.”
Rivka took Ari’s hands in hers. “We have to trust Josephus. He says that Festus sent out men and killed a certain impostor who promised relief from misery to the people.”
Ari’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Ah. We must trust Josephus? A man who gloried in his lies, who abandoned his people to aid and abet the enemy, a man whose various writings contradict each other, and a man who wrote how much about Brother X?”
“Two sentences.”
“Yes, two sentences. You trust two sentences? How do you know to trust these two sentences?”
Rivka opened her eyes and looked down at Rachel. An angel. “I trust Josephus because he has no reason to lie. His very next paragraph tells about the incident with Agrippa’s new dining room. This is the time! Do you see another prophet calling people to go into the desert? I know it’s Brother Shmuel.”
“And yet you were surprised.” Ari caressed Rachel’s cheek. “You were astounded when you found that this impostor was our Brother Shmuel the prophet, a member of The Way, a follower of Rabban Yeshua, a man gifted in healing.”
Rivka sighed. They’d been over this already. Why was he being so dense? “There are always surprises in history. Little facts somebody forgot to mention that change the picture completely.”
Ari sat up straight, as if had won a point. “Completely. So an additional fact might appear which changes Brother Shmuel from villain back to saint?”
Rivka bit her lip, frustrated. “Don’t you believe me? He’s going to lead a whole bunch of our people out into the desert. Festus will send out troops and blow them all away! Don’t you care about that? Or do you only care when I don’t warn you in advance, so you can blame me for not telling you? What is your problem here?”
Ari took her hand in his. “Rivkaleh, yes, I believe you. That is my problem. Brother Shmuel is going to lead our people to destruction and that is a tragedy. But my case against Brother X goes much deeper than that.”
She stared at him. “What are you talking about?”
“The case which I have made against Brother X is precisely the case against your Rabban Yeshua, whom you wish so desperately that I should follow.”
Ice seeped into Rivka’s stomach. “Ari—”
“Please, hear my logic, Rivkaleh. I have heard yours. Rabban Yeshua is a man accounted righteous by all. A tsaddik, a healer, a prophet, an observer of the commandments. He ascribes his gifts of healing to HaShem, and he makes an authoritative claim to speak for HaShem, based on his miraculous skills. He calls men to follow him, and all men must choose.”
Rivka sighed. “Ari, yes, I see the parallels. But there’s a humongous difference. After Yeshua died at the hands of our leaders, he—”
“With respect, Rivka, it was Romans who killed him. This is another point against your Yeshua, that the legends of his death tell many details that cannot possibly be true. Why, therefore, should I believe the details of his life? You have read the Mishnah, yes?”
“Of course.”
“Specifically, you have read tractate Sanhedrin. And therefore you know that the accounts of the trial of Yeshua must be fabrications. A capital trial at night? This is not allowed, Rivkaleh, and you know this. Furthermore—”
“Ari, the Mishnah won’t be written for another century—after the Sadducees are dead and gone. They’re the ones who ran the kangaroo court on Yeshua. The Mishnah records the Pharisees’ version of how to run a court. You�
�re comparing this year’s apples to next century’s oranges.”
“It is a conservative culture, Rivkaleh. Customs change slowly.”
Rivka wanted to shriek. “Customs change pretty fast when a whole culture gets destroyed overnight. Which is going to happen in about ten years. But just let me finish what I was saying, will you? Yeshua died and his followers continued in his teachings for two thousand years. Brother Shmuel is going to die and nobody will continue in his teachings for another ten seconds.”
Ari nodded. “Those who follow Yeshua will commit murder against many Jews. The case, in fact, is many times stronger against Rabban Yeshua than against Brother Shmuel. You have two sentences of Josephus and the blood of hundreds against Shmuel. I have the whole weight of the rabbinic writings and the blood of millions against Yeshua.”
Rivka felt deep heaviness in her heart. “Ari, you can’t be serious! Yeshua can’t be blamed for what his followers do.”
“Really?” Ari raised an eyebrow. “Why then is he given credit for their good deeds, if he is not also answerable for their crimes? Why do you consider it a point in his favor that his followers will continue for two thousand years, if he is not in some way responsible for that fact?”
“Are you telling me you’re going to just stand by and do nothing while Shmuel leads a pack of fools out there to be slaughtered? That’s ... ridiculous!”
Ari patted her hands. “Perhaps not. I do not believe we can change this evil fate. Nor do I understand how such a good man as he could be the cause of many deaths. And yet ... because I love you, I will help you oppose Brother Shmuel. I will speak to Yaakov the tsaddik in the morning. Perhaps our meddling will accomplish something.”
Rivka stared at him. “You mean ... you’ve been agreeing with me the whole time? Why did you go through all that rigamarole?”
Ari stood up. “I believe you know the answer to your own question, Rivkaleh. Please think on it. Now let us sleep.”
Rivka lay awake far into the night, wondering how she was ever going to crack the hard nut of Ari’s logic. If something didn’t come along to ... shake him up, he wasn’t ever going to follow Rabban Yeshua, and that would just break her heart.
Please, HaShem, shake him up. Do whatever it takes, but shake him up good.
Ari
* * *
Come this way, Abba.” Ari guided Yaakov the tsaddik through the crowd.
Many people sat in the hot sun on the great flagstones in front of Agrippa’s palace. Brother Shmuel stood praying over a boy with an ulcerated neck.
Ari felt his flesh crawling. Brother Shmuel was a better man than he, to be willing to look at that, to touch it.
Brother Shmuel finished with the boy and began speaking to the people. It was the same as Rivka had heard yesterday. The rich were oppressing them and the Romans were cruel. Therefore, they should follow him to the desert where he had found peace from HaShem.
The message resonated in Ari’s soul. Against his will, his heart tugged at him to go with this man. Brother Shmuel was a good man. He would never lie. But he must be lying, or else deceived, or mad.
He did not appear to be mad. Ari could not believe he was lying. Therefore, something or someone had deceived him. But who? HaShem? That made no sense.
Brother Shmuel finished his speech and then began scanning the crowd.
Ari walked forward with Yaakov. “Brother Shmuel, the tsaddik wishes to speak with you.”
Brother Shmuel’s face shone with pleasure. He hurried to Ari and Yaakov and kissed them both. Then he bent his head down to listen to Yaakov.
Too polite to embarrass Shmuel in front of the people, Yaakov spoke to Brother Shmuel in whispers. “Brother Shmuel, I command you to stop this at once. You may heal the people, but you are not permitted to tell them that they must go with you to the desert.”
Brother Shmuel nodded slowly. “Yes, my father. But I may go to the desert myself?”
Yaakov hesitated and looked to Ari.
Ari did not know what to say. Rivka had said nothing of this possibility.
“The desert speaks to me of HaShem,” Brother Shmuel said. “Abba, please do not tell me I can no longer go where the voice of HaShem speaks.”
Ari did not see what harm it would do for Shmuel to go alone to the desert. You could walk out half a mile from Jerusalem and you would be in the desert.
“You may go, but you must go alone,” Yaakov said. “The Romans will kill you if you take the people with you.”
Brother Shmuel looked at Yaakov with keen eyes. “You know this to be true?”
“It is a word from HaShem,” Yaakov said. “Yes, Brother Ari?”
Ari nodded. “It is certain, yes.”
“Yeshua warned us not to seek signs in the desert,” Yaakov said. “He warned us to watch and pray.”
Brother Shmuel thought about this for some time. At last, he nodded. “I will do as you have spoken, Abba. Bless me.”
Yaakov put his hands on Brother Shmuel’s massive shoulders. “Blessed are you, Shmuel, named for the prophet. Live in peace until the coming of the holy one, blessed be he, to reign as Mashiach.”
Shmuel nodded and smiled, then kissed Yaakov and Ari again. “Shabbat shalom.”
Ari wondered what to do now. He had come expecting resistance, expecting to fail. Now he did not know what to do with success. “Shabbat shalom.”
Brother Shmuel turned back to the people and selected the next person to be healed. It was the man with the withered arm—the one he had prayed for yesterday.
Brother Shmuel laid hands on the arm and began praying.
Ari listened for some time, but his mind could make no sense of the words.
Nothing happened.
After a very long time, Ari turned to look at Yaakov the tsaddik.
Yaakov raised an eyebrow. “Yes, my son?”
“Perhaps we are finished here.”
Yaakov nodded and turned to leave. “Yes, we have done what we could.”
As they walked back through the crowd, Ari felt a strange sensation in his belly. He did not understand what had happened. It was not possible that his meddling could change the future. But how well did he know that future? Rivka knew two sentences from Josephus. Perhaps she was mistaken in the matter? Yes, that was the only possibility. Brother Shmuel would not be killed, and therefore, Josephus could not have reported him killed. Rivka was wrong, and Ari had changed nothing.
It was all a mistake, nothing more.
Hanan ben Hanan
* * *
Hanan squinted across the full width of the plaza, watching Kazan and the man Yaakov leave the impostor. He had suspected as much. This impostor was a puppet in the hand of his master, Yaakov the so-called tsaddik, who was in league with Kazan.
To what purpose? Hanan could not guess, but no doubt they planned some rebellion against the prevailing order. Perhaps against Rome, perhaps against the Temple.
He saw it all clearly now. This Yaakov was not the harmless holy man he appeared to be. He was, in his own way, as dangerous as the apikoros Saul. And together with Kazan, Yaakov was more dangerous than Renegade Saul.
Hanan waited still longer.
At last the impostor decided that he had wasted enough time praying for the man with the withered arm. He sent the man away and turned to speak to the people.
Hanan leaned forward.
“My brothers, you are troubled. Why are you troubled? Because the rich and the powerful conspire against you. The chief priests steal your tithes, and their servants beat the people with sticks, and there is none to bring justice. The king and the queen commit fornication together, mocking the law of HaShem. Caesar treats us as dogs. He does not love HaShem. His governor is an evil man who intends to kill us without cause. You cry out to HaShem to reveal his wrath against all unrighteousness. And HaShem has heard your cry, my brothers.
“I have spent much time praying in the desert, my brothers, and there I have heard the voice of HaShem. The word of HaShem
came to me and he said, ‘Tell my people to come out of the stone city, to leave the Temple made with hands, to leave the rich and the men of violence, to escape from the king of Amalek, from the dogs. Come to the desert and there you will find peace.’ In the desert, our fathers received the commandments through the hand of Moshe, servant of HaShem. Now you also must return to the desert, and there you will receive a new commandment. There you will be safe from the men of violence. Tomorrow morning, at the rising of the sun, I am leaving for the desert and you will come with me, all who long for peace. We will gather at the Pool of Siloam. Wicked men conspire to kill me, but have I not received the blessing of the righteous one? Yaakov the tsaddik bids me go at once, and so I will go. Now go to your homes and prepare. The hour is short. I have spoken.”
At once, the people began buzzing.
Hanan scowled. Idle fools! His heart still burned at the insult the man had made to the Temple. Made with hands! Yes, the impostor said the Temple was made with hands, as if it were an idol. Hanan had heard this many times from the messianics. They did not love the Temple. Would they gather an army in the desert, awaiting their opportunity, then return to attack the Temple? Such things had happened before.
But he would not tolerate it. Tomorrow at the rising of the sun, the impostor would lead his flock of fools out. But they would go nowhere, because Temple guards would arrest the impostor. He must be killed. His followers would go free, but the impostor must be killed so that the Temple could live.
Tonight, after the going-out of Shabbat, Hanan would meet with Ishmael ben Phiabi and see to it.
Chapter Thirty
Shmuel the Prophet
* * *
AT MIDNIGHT, SHMUEL HEARD THE voice of HaShem and he felt glad. Already, many dozen men had gathered at the Pool of Siloam. They lay bundled in their cloaks, asleep on the stone pavement. Shmuel had stayed awake to pray, to call up HaShem in his hour of need. And HaShem spoke to him in the bat kol, the audible voice from heaven, telling him that he must leave now, before the men of violence came.
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