Maximus
Page 12
“Eat, my friends.” Akhom gestured toward the trays of food.
Ezra spoke. “Thank you for your generosity, Akhom. The fruit should satisfy our hunger. The meat would be better distributed among your good men. They fought a valiant battle today too.” Sharply disappointed, Jacob and Levi looked down at the large chunks of steaming pork, their mouths watering.
“Very well,” said Akhom. He summoned one of his men to remove the meat. “My Jewish friends, thank you for your bravery today. If there is anything I can do to make your voyage more comfortable, please let me know.”
Ezra, Jacob, and Levi smiled and nodded their gratitude.
Akhom stunned them with his next comment. “Did you go to Rome to learn to fight so you could return to your homeland and fight for the new king of the Jews?”
Jacob and Levi stared at him.
Ezra spoke up. “What do you speak of?” he asked.
Akhom adjusted his position on the stool and set his wine goblet on the deck. “I have been plying the waters of this great sea for a long time. Half a year ago I was in the port of Caesarea. I heard a story there about a man named Jesus, a Galilean, I believe.” Akhom paused. “Surely you have heard of him?”
Ezra remained silent.
Akhom continued, “Supposedly he works some kind of magic to heal blind men and lepers. The merchant who told me the story said he saw these things with his own eyes. I told him I thought he was drinking too much wine. Then he told me that this Jesus could turn water into wine. I asked the man if Jesus could join us on the next leg of our voyage. That talent would come in handy.” Akhom laughed again.
Ezra chose his words carefully. “I have heard of this Galilean, but some of the claims seem exaggerated. I can assure you, my two companions and I have not left Rome to obtain employment with a new Jewish king, although the thought of a new king of Israel is amusing.” Ezra baited Akhom with his next question. “Why would this Galilean think he could become king of the Jews?”
Akhom leaned forward. “The merchant in Caesarea said that in Jewish lore there is a story about a messiah, I think he said, who would save the Jews from all oppressors. And it’s about time.” Akhom laughed. “If my knowledge of history serves me right, and with all due respect, your country has been mostly under the control of your enemies, Rome being the latest. I can see where a rumor like that would get the attention of a lot of people.” Akhom picked up his wine goblet and took another drink.
“What do you think, Akhom?” Ezra asked.
“I don’t think anything,” Akhom answered, “but it would serve the Romans right to be thrown out on their ear.”
“Do you think there is any truth to this merchant’s story?” Ezra probed further.
“He is a trusted friend of the captain. The captain asked him how this new king would manage to seize power. He told us that Jesus was from the house of David, whatever that means, and has the birthright claim to the throne of Israel. I can’t see that strategy working with Rome.” Akhom laughed loudly as the wine began to take effect.
Ezra looked upward, closed his eyes, and in Hebrew softly recited: “‘Behold, the days come, saith the Lord, that I will raise unto David a righteous Branch, and a King shall reign and prosper, and shall execute judgment and justice in the earth.’”
“Another prayer, my friend?” Akhom asked.
“No, just a prophecy from one of the ancients,” Ezra said dismissively.
“Well, good luck with your new king.” Akhom laughed heartily, toasted his new friends one more time, and then retreated to his perch at the stern.
Jacob and Levi breathed easier and looked at Ezra. “What an odd place to get your first morsel of information, my sons.” Ezra smiled.
“What was that prayer you murmured?” asked Jacob.
“Not a prayer. An ancient prophet named Jeremiah spoke of the advent of a king from the loins of David.” Ezra sensed Jacob wanted a more complete answer. “David was the youngest of eight brothers in ancient Israel, yet he was chosen by Jehovah to be king.”
“So your God chose the king?” questioned Jacob.
“Yes,” answered Ezra. “David was favored of God.”
“Did God just come down and tell the people that this David was to be king?” Jacob asked.
“Jehovah made his choice known through his mouthpiece, the prophet Samuel,” answered Ezra.
“And the people accepted the word of this prophet?”
“Yes, Jacob. There were times when the children of Israel were very obedient to Jehovah, and other times when they were not so obedient.”
“So why doesn’t Jehovah just come down now and tell the Jews that Jesus is to be their new king?” Jacob asked.
“That’s a fair question, Jacob. For centuries the prophets have been telling of the coming of the Messiah. The question begs for an answer: is this Jesus of Nazareth the chosen Messiah?” Ezra let the thought sink in. “Recently there has been a man, a prophet among the people, named John. He doesn’t fit the usual Jewish perception of a prophet, however. He mainly lives alone, spending most of his time preaching in the wilderness of Judaea rather than in the synagogues. He has gathered quite a following of more humble folk and has begun baptizing them in the River Jordan. Interestingly, I have been informed this John is a cousin to Jesus. In fact, I heard a report that he even baptized Jesus. John has publicly denied the title of Messiah—Jesus has not. The problem the Jewish rulers have is Jesus’s lack of denial about being the long-promised Messiah.” Ezra paused to take a drink of wine. “It is complicated, but I can understand the threat he poses to the Sanhedrin and the high priest. I believe they are the impetus behind the paranoia of Pontius Pilate and Herod Antipas. An ancient prophet named Isaiah told the Jewish people long ago . . .” He once again closed his eyes and recited from memory: “‘Therefore the Lord himself shall give you a sign; behold, a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel.’”
“But this man’s name is Jesus,” Jacob argued.
“Yes, it is, but the Hebrew word Immanuel means ‘God with us.’” Ezra opened his eyes to gauge Jacob’s reaction. Jacob appeared perplexed. “There’s another point of interest that I’m not sure has been considered by the religious authorities in Jerusalem. If indeed Jesus of Nazareth is the God with us, or the Son of God, then who would dispute his right to the throne?”
“You have a point, but that claim would be difficult to prove,” Jacob rejoined.
“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Ezra said. “Regardless, my sources in Galilee tell me that both his mother and father claim their lineage from the house of David, so either way, the qualification for the throne is met.”
“You sound like you are trying to convince me of the reality of the threat to Rome, Ezra,” Jacob said.
“I’m not trying to convince you of anything, my son. I am just giving you information to help satisfy the mission from your emperor.” Ezra leaned back. “Let’s finish the bounty you earned from our host and retire for the night. We can talk more tomorrow.”
They ate the rest of the fruit and bread on the tray. Shortly, Ezra congratulated them both on getting Akhom to befriend them, then excused himself and went below. Levi complained to Jacob about the lack of meat, but they maintained their identities and went to sleep craving roast pig.
18
The next few days on the open sea proved uneventful. The danger of pirates diminished as they neared Caesarea. They saw two ships heading west, which meant they were getting close to port. Perhaps one more day. Akhom continued to give his three guests extra rations of wine and fish. Occasionally he talked with them. Jacob found it challenging to discuss the affairs of the world, philosophy, battle, and Rome without sounding like a Roman, but it was good practice. Akhom engaged Levi in a conversation about swords and sword making and was enthralled by Levi’s knowledge of metallurgy.
Toward evening Jacob saw Ezra standing near the prow of the ship staring off toward the horizon and thought it might be
a good time to talk with him privately about questions that had been brewing in his mind. As Jacob approached, however, he could see Ezra’s eyes were red and tears were streaming down his cheeks. He immediately apologized for disturbing Ezra’s private thoughts.
“No need for apologies, my son,” Ezra said without turning. “Sometimes men yoke themselves to the cruel past like an ox to a cart of stones. It is sometimes difficult to unyoke and look further out on the horizon.”
Jacob understood perfectly.
“You have a question you want to ask?” Ezra said.
“Many, but perhaps now isn’t a good time. I’ll leave you to your thoughts.” Jacob turned to go.
“No, at times my thoughts pull me to the bottom of the sea. Perhaps your questions will redirect them.”
The two men found a comfortable place to sit, and Jacob looked directly at Ezra, who seemed to have aged suddenly.
“You haven’t told us much about yourself or your family,” Jacob ventured.
Ezra hesitated. “You add a stone to my cart,” he finally said with an ironic smile.
Jacob again apologized. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up a sensitive subject.”
Ezra wiped the tears from his face. “My family is a pleasant memory, but aspects of it cut like a dagger.” He regained control of his emotions and began speaking freely.
“I am a simple man from Jerusalem, my son. Being Jewish is not so much a religion as it is a way of life. It is thrust upon you as you leave the womb of a good Jewish mother, as mine was. It is not a designation you can just walk away from, no more than you can walk away from being Roman. I am proud of my heritage and the traditions of my fathers. I am Jewish; I will always be Jewish. I was a member of the Sanhedrin, which is comparable to your Senate in Rome. I was young, my wife . . .” His voice trailed off. Jacob placed his hand on the forearm of his mentor. Ezra looked up at Jacob, his eyes filled with tears. It was a few moments before he could speak. He continued in a broken voice. “My beautiful wife, Miriam, was the joy of my life. She made hard days bearable and good days better. But she was never able to conceive. Whether that was God’s wisdom or simply fate, I cannot say.
“My lovely Miriam grew ill one summer and by the coming winter was taken from me.” There was another long pause. “I spent many an hour on my knees in the great temple talking to God, trying to reconcile myself to that loss. My heart had been taken from me and trampled. I could not heal. Although I didn’t know what direction I should go, I knew I couldn’t continue as I was, and I resigned my position in the Sanhedrin. For the longest time I remained alone and away from society—you might say I was a hermit. I became angry, and soon my talks with God were different. I complained and blamed and finally cursed God. I was not strong like the ancient prophets Job and Jeremiah, who dealt with a life full of tragedy and remained faithful. I began hating my God. I ultimately fell prey to the lure of drunkenness to ease my pain and anger.
“One evening after too much wine, even for a drunk, I ventured to a nearby grove of olive trees. I cursed God at the top of my lungs and vowed vengeance, whatever form vengeance toward God takes, and drank until I passed out. When I finally awoke, I was lying on my bed. I was in clean sleeping clothes, and there was a bandage on my head where I had hit it against the stump of a stubborn olive tree when I fell. I tried to sit up in bed but was unable. I turned my head to the side of the bed where my Miriam used to lie. I kept my eyes closed, hoping that when I opened them she would be there. What I saw eventually was a dirty young boy in ragged clothes sitting on the floor with his knees tucked under his chin and leaning against the wall of my chamber. I asked him who he was. He said his name was Uah-Er-Meri. He was an orphan who had been sleeping outside my house for some time. My feeble wine-laden brain deduced it was an Egyptian name.
“I prepared a place for Meri to sleep next to the hearth inside the house. From that day forward he became my son. The arrival of Uah-Er-Meri saved my life,” Ezra said as he looked off into the distance. “Uah-Er-Meri became Benjamin. He is about your age, Jacob. He is strong and intelligent like you.” Ezra gave Jacob a tender smile.
“Does he live in Jerusalem with you?” Jacob asked.
“No, he lives in Alexandria. Remember, he is Egyptian. Together we own a shipping business of five ships that ply the Great Sea to ports like Caesarea, Piraeus, Ostia, and Carthage—war permitting. We also own two Nile barges that allow us to trade with Benjamin’s countrymen far to the south. It has been a peaceful time, and in the last few years things have gone very well for us.”
Jacob stared incredulously at Ezra. “How often do you see him?” Jacob asked.
“Not often enough,” Ezra answered, “but I intend to change that.”
Jacob had a myriad of questions he could not resist asking. “Did you raise him Jewish or did he maintain his Egyptian heritage?”
“A man’s home is in his blood. Benjamin is Egyptian. Even though he went to Jerusalem as a young boy, Egypt is in his blood. I respected his decision to take a wife and have a family in Alexandria. You,” he pointed a craggy finger at Jacob, “Rome is in your blood, and you will always be a Roman, despite our best efforts to disguise that fact.” He playfully rubbed the back of his hand on Jacob’s new beard, and they laughed heartily. “We don’t choose our home; it chooses us. You will choose to live in Rome because that is the home of your birth. Sometimes extraordinary events are thrust upon us and we change our inbred allegiances, but that is rare. For example, the Jews of Alexandria are mostly descendants of the Jews who were born in Egypt before the exodus with the prophet Moses. Some never left; some returned. Some Jews generations later than those who actually returned to the promised land returned to live in Egypt. Egypt was still somehow in their blood.” Ezra looked at Jacob. “I don’t think there is anything that could tear you away from Rome, is there?”
The question caused Jacob to ponder what extraordinary event could cause him to change his true home. Philosophically he had already moved, but Ezra was right: Rome ran in every vein of his body. Jacob answered no to avoid further discussion.
“Tell me more of your Jewish god—Jehovah,” Jacob requested.
“I don’t know if I can give you the answer you seek. I really think you want me to justify why you should believe in him, and that is a very personal thing.”
“Exactly,” said Jacob with excitement in his voice. “It is a personal thing. People should have a personal relationship with the gods they believe in, not walking around in fear of them. I consider the relationship I have with my father. People should have that kind of relationship with their god. It seems the gods men invent are tyrannical and selfish and give nothing in exchange for the devotion they require. Fate, good or bad, is simply credited to the gods. Men make most decisions themselves and suffer the consequences of those decisions. The gods didn’t make the pirates attack us. None of us on this ship did anything to bring that upon us except take a voyage. Nevertheless, we met them and suffered the consequences. In Rome it would be said the gods weren’t with us, or the gods must have been displeased, or any number of other reasons why it was the doing of the gods. I just don’t believe that gods meddle that much in the affairs of men.”
“Maybe you wouldn’t make a good Jew,” Ezra said. “Jews believe that everything that happens is directed by Jehovah. And in their history that’s how it is recorded. But Jews are a peculiar people—we arrogantly believe Jehovah is Jewish. But I have always thought that even if he is Jewish, if indeed he is the one true God, then he would treat all men equally, love all men equally, reward or punish all men equally.
“Jacob, in the synagogue I studied the dealings of Jehovah with the children of Israel. He did favor them, guide them, chastise them, and love them, just as any earthly parent would do with his own children. We can ask, Why would Jehovah pay so much attention to the Jews? Well, they were the only ones who believed in him. Think about it. The Greeks have their own gods, as do you—the Romans. The Egyptians hav
e their gods. The cultures farther east have their gods. So by default, he became the God of the Jews, the only people left who believed in him. When Moses led the children of Israel out of captivity in Egypt, many of them didn’t know Jehovah. They continued to worship the Egyptian gods they had grown up with. That is why they wandered in the wilderness for forty years. They refused to fully accept Jehovah, so in that harsh wilderness he dispensed of the generation of nonbelievers, and then when the new generations accepted him, he led them into the promised land.”
“You sound convinced that Jehovah is the one true God,” said Jacob.
“I know he is. Where the Jews get it wrong is in thinking he belongs exclusively to them. I believe he is the God of all people.” Ezra placed his hand on Jacob’s shoulder. “I believe he is my God and your God too, Jacob, but you have to discover that for yourself.”
Jacob wanted to believe Ezra but knew he was right: he would have to find out for himself. “And this Jesus of Nazareth that we have been sent to investigate?” Jacob asked. “Do you believe he is the Son of God?”
“Jacob, if God wanted to have a son and send him to walk among us in the form of a Jew, do you think he has the power to do so?”
Jacob didn’t ponder long. “A god I could believe in would absolutely have that power,” he answered with conviction.
“It appears you will soon have an opportunity to search these things out for yourself,” Ezra continued. “You must promise to tell me what you discover about this Nazarene as well as about God. You will always be welcome in my home, Jacob.”
“Thank you, Ezra,” Jacob said. “I question my life sometimes. It is so very different from yours. You have worked hard, and I believe God has blessed you.”
“I have been most fortunate. You know, God is willing to bless a Roman legate posing as a Jew, as well.” They laughed. “He knows you’re a Roman, but he also knows the intent of your heart. Of all the things I have learned about you, Jacob, I have learned you have a good heart.”