by Janette Oke
“Enough.”
“The bandits and Zealots have one primary aim. They want to restrict us to our fortresses and our garrisons. There we are safe. But the roads they can then claim for themselves.”
Linux hesitated, then said, “You must take the fight away from the roads.”
The two officers stared at him. Linux understood their unspoken objections all too well. A Roman officer was trained to think in terms of dominance by force. And the roads formed their lifelines. So long as they held the roads, they reasoned, Roman soldiers could be shifted into position, and massive attacks could be launched.
Linux continued, “The Megiddo crossroads have been under pressure to pay tribute to the bandits. Ever since my arrival, we have given chase. We do not attempt to engage. We want to tire them out, make it so uncomfortable for them that they leave the territory. And the only way to do that is by taking the fight to where they are most powerful, where they believe they have the upper hand. The hills. The caves. The hidden valleys. And the villages.”
Both men looked aghast. “You patrol the Judean towns? How can you spare the men?”
“Two reasons. First, only half of my men remain in the Megiddo fortress, with orders that they must patrol daily. The other half are garrisoned at the crossroads.”
“The Judeans make you welcome?”
“More than that. They consider us friends.”
Several other of the brigade’s officers had drifted over to listen. One said, “But the Judean villages give shelter and aid to the Zealots.”
“Some do. And those we do not condemn. We do not have the strength to fight everyone. But we patrol their villages more often than the others, and we bring pressure on them in subtle ways. We search all produce and wagons. We inspect all their barns and outbuildings. Over and over and over.”
Cornelius demanded, “And this scheme of yours is working?”
“We have not lost a man,” Linux replied. “Only sleep.”
An officer by the wall said, “If I garrisoned my men in a Judean town, they would slit our throats while we slept.”
“Most villagers would not, but some connected with the Zealots might,” Linux agreed.
“So how do you and your men remain safe?”
Cornelius understood Linux’s hesitation, so he spoke out. “The Judean villagers to whom you refer are followers.”
“Some. Perhaps most. But not all.”
“You treat them with respect.”
Linux nodded. “We treat the believers as brothers and sisters in Christ. And we pay all who provide us services. In coin.”
“And your own men, what do they think of this?”
“Those who might resist this approach are assigned to the fortress. Of the others . . .” Linux smiled at the recollection of their last meal. “Some are coming to heed the Messiah’s call.”
“This is madness!” an officer protested. “The Judeans are our enemies!”
Cornelius shot Linux a warning glance, and Linux simply shrugged and did not comment further.
The officers ate a meal together. At least, they all ate in the same room. But there was a clear distance kept by those who scorned Judea and its citizens. Dark looks were cast Linux’s way. Cornelius gave no sign that he noticed anything amiss. After the meal, he bade most of the officers farewell and ordered Linux to remain behind. He led his smaller band to the rear balcony, where his home’s outer perimeter met the cliff and the sea. The torchlight revealed a face shadowed by worry and fatigue. “You are understanding the dilemma I face?”
“Yes, sire. I believe I do.”
“For those of us who are coming to accept Jesus as the Messiah of all mankind, there is a growing desire for unity and peace,” the man said. “This threatens to drive a wedge between us and the others, our fellow officers. Men I have trusted for years with my life. Men of Rome, good men.”
“I do understand.” The group as one stared out over the stone balustrade at the moonlit sea. Linux said, “It has been good being back in Caesarea. And difficult at the same time. Good, because it is familiar. This is a Roman city – orderly, safe, prosperous. But difficult, because it isolates me from the people.”
“Your people?” Cornelius said.
“Not all. Not even most. Those who are not followers of the Way, those who do not know me, those who only see a Roman officer wearing the uniform of their hated conquerors, for them I am and will remain an enemy.”
“And yet you are comfortable here in Judea.”
Linux nodded slowly. “I did not recognize until I passed through Caesarea’s gates just how much the Samaritan plains have become home.”
“We have need of officers like you. Not here. Out there in the field.” Cornelius turned to face him. “I would like you to return to Megiddo.”
Linux resisted the sudden urge to shout his delight. “I hear and obey, sire.”
“You will take with you men who share your sentiments about this land and the risen Messiah. You will carry silver to continue paying the stall holders for provisions. You will forge new alliances.” Cornelius studied him intently. “What say you, Linux?”
Linux answered truthfully, “Your orders stir my soul and warm my heart, sire. They are an answer to prayer.”
CHAPTER
FORTY-THREE
Damascus
Jacob had returned to the caravanserai to find instructions waiting from an absent Julia. The parchment had been folded and the edges sealed with wax. He was to go to a merchant on Straight Street, where she had already selected cloth for a new robe. The man had promised to have it ready that afternoon, and Jacob was further instructed to meet them before sunset at Jamal’s Damascus home for the evening meal.
The merchant said to him when he arrived at the shop, “I did not attend morning prayers. But I heard you were there. Jacob, is it? Is it true what they are saying, that you traveled from Tiberias with the Pharisee known as Saul?”
“I did.”
“And you spoke in the synagogue of meeting Jesus upon the Damascus Road?”
“I did not meet our Lord. Saul did.”
The man responded with a shudder. “My family has lived in Damascus for over a hundred years. We Judeans take pride in our distance from the Temple priesthood. We chart our own course. We find our own way to God. When the disciples arrived speaking of the risen One, I and all my family heeded to this call. We have found great comfort, and more besides. We have grown closer, both to each other and to our God. We find such peace.” He paused. “To think that Saul has come to destroy all this leaves me . . .”
“I understand,” Jacob said. “But I think Saul may have been transformed by what happened. I know I was, and I did not meet Jesus face-to-face as he did. I saw a light. I heard a voice but could not make out the words. Saul saw and he heard what the voice said. And the light blinded him.”
“There are those among the followers who think we should strike while his blindness lingers,” the merchant said slowly. “That this is a gift from our Lord to rid us of this threat.”
“I did not hear what Jesus said,” Jacob repeated. “But I felt his presence. And there was no menace. Only peace.”
“You led this Saul into Damascus?”
“He held onto my arm the entire way.”
“Did he tell you what the Lord said?”
“Yes. That he should come to Damascus and wait. The Lord would tell him what must happen.”
“And now he waits in solitude, and he fasts.” The man stroked his beard. “He is blind and he is weakened. Like a lamb delivered to us, and now is waiting for the judgment he deserves.”
Jacob shook his head. “I can only tell you what I saw and felt. And there was only peace in our Lord’s presence. A feeling so powerful it defies description. I was left utterly shamed that I had once considered revenge.”
Jamal’s Damascus home was both grand and ancient. The original structure had been built in the desert manner, and the blank outer portal revealed littl
e. A servant answered Jacob’s knock and bowed him into the first courtyard, which was as far as most guests would ever come. Jacob was then led through a second portal, and entered a different realm. He was very glad Julia had arranged for his new robe.
The private area had been rebuilt in the Roman style, with an interior courtyard lined by pillars. The gardens were lush and contained three fountains, out of which splashed scented water. Birds sang to the sunset from flowering trees. The air was rich with the aromas of spices and roasting lamb.
They ate around a low table, seated upon divans. Five servants cared for their every need. Jamal sat at the head with Florina at his right. Their elder son, Gaius, sat at his left, with the younger, Titus, next to him. Across from them sat Helena, then Julia, and Jacob was seated nearby. Both Helena and Julia were dressed in gowns of silk equal in beauty to the one that Florina wore. In this unusual grouping, Jacob felt an underlying tension – but no resentment, unless it could be on the part of the two sons. They seemed to study the table guests with a mixture of curiosity and concern.
Gaius appeared to be a few years older than Julia. Titus seemed close to the same age. They watched Helena and Julia without masking their obvious interest. They avoided Jacob’s gaze entirely.
Jacob marveled that these particular people could break bread together and discuss such things as weather, travel, news from the outlying cities, the next meetings to be held by the followers of the Way, and the strange and frightening news that Saul of Tarsus was actually in their city.
Jamal held the true mystery of the evening. Gone were his ebullient strength and his latent aggression. This evening, Jamal was even more silent than his two sons. He brooded, but without that smoldering hint of danger. Instead he studied each of the people around the circle. Jacob, Julia, his wife, his sons, Helena. Then Jacob again. Jacob thought the man seemed perplexed.
Jamal did not speak until the final plate was cleared away and the servants had departed. He looked around at them all once more and said, “If anything could convince me that this God of the Judeans does indeed exist, it would be this. How we are seated here today. But I could never have thought to ask for such an impossible thing, for I could not have imagined it happening.”
The entire table seemed to breathe as one. The three women exchanged looks before Jamal’s wife said, “Impossible for man. But in the company of God, joined to his wisdom and peace, all things are possible.”
“Yes,” Julia said. “Amen.”
Jamal heaved a great sigh and looked at his daughter. “I prayed with you the other evening because you asked. Looking back at that, I feel as though I prayed as a merchant would. With my mind, but not with my heart. I wanted to negotiate. I was not completely truthful. But now I am coming to understand what happened to me . . .what is happening to me.”
Florina obviously was fighting with her emotions and regained control. “How I have longed to hear you say such words. How I have prayed.”
Titus said hoarsely, “As have I.”
Gaius looked across the table at Jacob. Jacob understood the young man’s expression very well. He had seen it any number of times when joining a new caravan, and all the other guards fingered their weapons and wondered if he was truly an ally. Or a foe waiting for the chance to strike.
Jacob lowered his head and prayed silently, not merely for himself, but for all of them. That God might find a way to continue this miracle, and strengthen his power and peace among the two households.
The elder son was still watching him. Gaius spoke for the first time. “You were praying?”
“I was.”
“What did you ask?”
Florina admonished, “Gaius, that is between Jacob and his God.”
“No, no, it is all right.” Jacob took a breath. “I was praying that God would continue to work his miracles in this household. And make us friends.” He hesitated, then added the final words of his prayer, “And heal the wounds I sense . . .” But he did not complete the thought.
Jamal leaned his head on his fist, a sound like a soft groan coming from his lips. Julia rose and walked over to seat herself on her father’s divan. She took his hand. She did not whisper, but her voice was soft enough that the night almost captured what she said. “Part of coming to know Jesus is coming to know ourselves, Papa. Seeing all the things that we otherwise might wish to keep hidden. Even from our own minds.”
Jamal lifted his face, creased in sorrows only he could know, to hers. He shook his head as if to clear it.
Julia said, “The closer we come to Jesus, the more we recognize his perfect love. And the more we see how far removed we are from this perfection. He calls to us with that love and forgiveness. He invites us to grow, to become more than we ever could be on our own.”
Two of the servants reappeared bearing torches. Dotted around the garden were tall braziers, each fashioned like a flowering vine topped by a broad basin holding scented wood. The air became filled with the fragrant smoke, and light danced about them. Jacob was sure he was the only one who even noticed the servants.
Jamal asked quietly, “Will you teach me to pray for . . . for forgiveness?”
Julia said, “You need to ask this of Jesus himself.”
“But . . .” Jamal’s features tightened. “There is so much I have done wrong.”
Jacob leaned forward and said, “You are no further from his forgiveness than the rest of us.”
“That is true, Father.” This time it was Gaius who spoke.
Florina straightened in her chair. “I have something to say.” She stood and walked around the table to lay her hand on Julia’s arm. “Julia, there is nothing I would desire more than to be able to . . . to share you as a daughter. Though I promise I will not attempt to come between you and your own mother.” She turned to look at Helena. “She deserves you. And she needs you. But I would be so honored if, along with your father, we could welcome you to our home – your home – occasionally. You and Jacob. You are the daughter I have always longed to have. And if Helena will be so gracious as to allow this, I will be in her debt.”
Helena already had stood beside Julia, and the three made a circle with their joined hands.
CHAPTER
FORTY-FOUR
Damascus
Jacob was glad for his soft new robe, as it was made for the wintry chill. Over it, as with most of the men he passed, was a tan sleeveless cloak. The woolen belt was a rainbow of copper and red and ochre and royal blue.
He had insisted upon sleeping at the caravanserai for several reasons. First, because Jamal’s attention remained upon his family at their home, and Jacob wanted the merchant to know his animals and his affairs were in safe hands. Also, because he felt that Julia needed the opportunity to be with her new family. God willing, Jacob had the rest of his life to come to know his beloved. And he had little role in this family saga.
Each morning he called on Helena and Zoe, who still resided at the inn. Then the day was his.
He took to attending all three prayer services at the synagogue on Straight Street. With each service, the number in attendance grew. By the third day after his arrival in Damascus, more than four hundred men were present. They spilled out the synagogue’s front and side doors and filled the alleys to either side and the synagogue’s forecourt. Even the Damascus Judeans who were not followers had little time for meddling Temple priests. They felt quite capable of charting their own course. Welcoming the persecuted followers from Jerusalem had come naturally.
Even those who did not acknowledge Jesus as the Messiah were incensed by Saul’s presence in their city and what it portended. The idea of a Pharisee being sent by the Temple Council to arrest Judeans living peacefully in Damascus filled them with outrage.
From Jacob’s place in the forecourt he could hear several groups muttering darkly. How they should cross the street and overwhelm the Temple guards and do away with this man. The clamor rose until those guards began to nervously talk between themselves, their w
eapons at the ready.
The message of peace Jacob had spoken from the synagogue dais was being overwhelmed by the rising fury. But just after the morning services ended, he noticed a curious encounter across the street. He was folding up his prayer shawl and stepping out the door when a man approached the two guards and bowed a formal greeting.
A voice near Jacob demanded, “Who is that?”
“Ananias. I would know him anywhere,” said another.
“Our Ananias? What does he want with them?”
“I should know this? Go and ask.”
“I will do that. . . . No, look, the guards are letting him enter!”
More eyes turned toward the now-opened portal. Someone said, “Ananias is a follower! What is he doing – ?”
“Why should he have to face the dreaded one alone?”
Jacob could feel the crowd’s growing sense of menace. He did the only thing he could think of to halt the likely violence before it began. He crossed the street and stepped through the front gate to face the guards. In a voice that would carry to all, he demanded, “Why did you let that one enter?”
The guards obviously did not want to respond. But in light of the crowd’s growing ire, one said, “He claimed to have a message from God.”
The other guard added, “This morning the Pharisee told us he had seen a vision as well. One named Ananias would come to see him.”
Jacob nodded, turned, and held up his arms for quiet. He repeated what the guards had said. Then he waited.
A man said, “Are we going in or not?”
“Did God speak with you as well?”
“No, but . . .”
“God told Ananias to go. God told Saul to hear what the man came to say. If God is involved, what can we do?”
The bearded Judean reappeared in the doorway. Ananias was greeted with total silence until a man standing beside Jacob called over, “Did you see him?”
Ananias bowed once more to the guards and crossed the avenue. As he approached, Jacob felt a thrill course through his body. The glow on the face of Ananias looked like one he had seen before.