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Chapter Fourteen
Jesus’ Secret Place
As we gathered around Jesus, our teacher, in the
backyard, a familiar figure scampered into our yard. Jonah, in his flowing shift, became the first of our
fair-weather friends to return to our house. I remember thinking that this curly-headed little boy,
though timid and adversely influenced by others, was the best of the new
friends, yet I was alarmed by his display of affection and repentance. Not only did he carry on as if he
hadn’t seen us in years, but he apologized for telling his uncle we hid stolen
treasure near our house.
“Why
tell us now?” Simon looked at him in disbelief. “I hope your uncle doesn’t tell
the Romans. There are soldiers in
our town, Jonah. We’ll probably
see some of them in the hills.”
“I
don’t think my uncle believed me.” Jonah shrugged. “I was angry that Adam took
our gold. That’s why I tattled on
you, Jude. But my uncle is much
too busy with his business to worry about treasure.” “Do you forgive me?” He
looked contritely at both Simon and me.
“I
dunno.” Simon made a face
Jesus laughed heartily. James and Joseph, who didn’t like my friends, folded their
arms.
“Come
here,” I said, reaching out to grip his forearm as the Romans did. “This is how
soldiers greet each other.”
This
was not demonstrative enough for Jonah, who embraced me again, then Simon and,
for good measure, Jesus and Uriah too.
“Stop
that,” Uriah cringed. “You feel like a girl.”
“I
am a girl,” he confessed suddenly. “My name’s Tabitha Bar Jonah. I never told anyone what I was. I just let everyone think my name’s
Jonah, which is only half a lie.”
“You
told us your name is Jonah!” Simon slapped forehead in disbelief.
“I
never told you that,” she shook her head emphatically. “Boaz introduced me as
Jonah.”
“But
you let us believe you were a boy!” I pointed accusingly. “I remember Jethro
and Obadiah teasing you about that silly dress.”
“Think
Jude,” Jonah held my shoulders tearfully. “You said you had a good memory. Do you remember what Boaz said to you
when you first saw me?”
Suddenly,
it came back to me. I remembered
the day the big, plodding Boaz good-naturedly shoved little Jonah forward.
“I
remember,” I confessed, looking into Tabitha’s gray eyes. “He sort of mumbled
your name—like he wasn’t sure. Did
Boaz know who you were?”
“He
knew who I was,” Tabitha admitted, “but he didn’t know what I
was.” “My parents died of fever.
My uncle raised me the best way he knew how, but most of the children my
age in Nazareth are boys like you.
Would you have played with me, if you knew I was a girl?”
“No,”
Simon and I both answered promptly.
James
and Joseph, after looking on in shock for several moments, broke into
laughter. At this point, Jesus,
who had been listening with humor, himself, stepped forward to ruffle Tabitha’s
curly head.
Jesus
studied me closely. “Jude, Tabitha has been honest with you. She has no friends in Nazareth, except
you and your gang. What would be
so wrong about allowing a girl to romp the hills with you boys?”
“Uh-uh.”
Simon balked, running back to the house.
“This
is embarrassing,” Joseph said to James, “let’s go help Papa in the shop.”
“Jude?”
Jesus frowned at me, as Uriah backed fearfully away. “There was a time when you
had no friends. Don’t disappoint
me. Embrace your new friend.”
I
braced my shoulders, lifted my head bravely, and reached out in the Roman
manner, only to find Tabitha giving me another hug.
“That
is how your greet men,” Jesus announced, moving down the path, “not girls. Tabitha is a girl and you’re still a
boy. Come with me. I want to show you both a real
treasure.”
Uriah
followed at a distance. Out of
curiosity, Simon lagged far behind him, with James and Joseph begrudgingly
dogging our trail. As we hiked
down the Shepherd’s Trail, we met Zeno, one of the lazy guards who patrolled
the foothills.
“Greetings
Zeno,” I hailed excitedly. “We’re glad to see you back. Where’s Falco and Priam?”
“Those
slackers,” he spat irritably, “will be anywhere that’s got food and wine.”
“Your
welcome also to our house,” Jesus said, with a nod. “Please give Regulus our
regards.”
Zeno
said something under his breath that was probably not very nice. In spite of the altercation they had
with Seth, Falco and Priam had at least treated us civilly. I hoped that our Roman protectors would
warm up to us again. A sudden
commotion drew our attention to the Shepherd’s camp at the bottom of the
hills. We could see Roman soldiers
surrounding a small group of frightened men. Regulus seemed to be very angry with Odeh and his kinsmen. The optio towered over the cringing
Arab and his relatives, pointing at each of them with contempt. Though it was too far away to hear
them, it looked as if Regulus was accusing the shepherds of something. I had heard from Jethro and Obadiah
that these folk often bought stolen loot from bandits and were excellent thieves
themselves. The Arabs, as a
people, Papa told us, were once called Ishmaelites, after Ishmael, first son of
Abraham through the Egyptian maidservant Hagar. They were therefore, I was surprised to find out, the
Hebrews first cousins, of impressive lineage—both Hebrew and Egyptian, so I
found it hard to believe what Caleb’s sons had said.
When I whispered these thoughts to Jesus, however,
he shook his head and reminded me as delicately as possible, “some Arabs, like
some Jews are thieves. Odeh’s men
have been dealing in stolen loot.
I heard Longinus tell Papa about a dead shepherd found in the hills,
probably killed by bandits. A
golden necklace was found in his clothes.”
Suddenly
the words flew out of my mouth, “But there was only cups and plates among
Adam’s treasure. My pot of gold
contained only coins.”
“What
golden necklace?” Simon cried. “We found no necklace!”
Uriah
had clearly heard Simon’s outburst, but James and Joseph lagged too far behind
to catch his words. At the same
time their pace quickened because of our gestures, and then Regulus looked up
the hill, his hand shielding his eyes from the sun.
“He
saw us! He saw us!” squealed
Uriah.
“What
happened? What did Jude say?”
James charged toward the scene.
“Simon,”
Jesus shrilled from the corner of his mouth, “shut up. This is a dead issue now. The gold’s gone. Drop the subject. We’ll talk about this later.”
At
this point, we noticed the squad of Romans moving toward our hill with Regulus
at the head. James and Joseph
froze in their tracks, all other concerns evaporating in the Roman’s dust.
“The Romans warned us not to congregate in groups of
more than three or four townsmen,” whispered Joseph. “This is bad. This is very bad!”
“Where do you see four men?” inquired Jesus calmly,
glancing around our group. “I see four children, two youths and one young
man. Hardly a congregation. Just let me do the talking?”
“What treasure were you going to show us?” Tabitha
took Jesus’ hand.
“I haven’t forgotten.” Jesus smiled down at her.
“Soon, little lamb, soon.”
Already Tabitha, whom I had thought of as Jonah, had
wormed her way into Jesus’ heart.
Unlike James, Joseph, Simon, and Uriah, I couldn’t be frightened in
Jesus’ shadow. It seemed impossible
to me that God would allow a band of Roman ruffians to harm Jesus when King
Herod had failed. As I looked
around me, it also made good sense how Jesus defined Longinus’ order. Except for Jesus, himself, we were
mostly children playing in the hills.
“Don’t worry,” I whispered into Tabitha’s shell-like
ear, “Jesus will protect us.”
How could I’ve not seen that this lovely creature
was a girl?
“Peace be upon you Regulus, protector of Nazareth’s
southern flank,” Jesus called, raising his hand in salute.
“Ave Jesus, son of Joseph,” Regulus brought his fist
to his chest. “Your father’s a brave man to call on Rome. Please give him my regards.”
“Thank you optio,” Jesus bowed deferentially. “My
father is concerned for the safety of our town and the well-being of our Roman
friends. Nazareth shall sleep more
safely tonight.”
Regulus inclined his head and grinned at Jesus
boldness, gripping Jesus forearm in the Roman way.
“Your not like those young hotheads.” He motioned to
James and Joseph with his head. “You’re different. I saw that the first day we met. You’ve got that look about you: the natural leader,
self-assured, who knows what he wants.
I heard about your miracles. . . . When I look into those unblinking
eyes, I’m not surprised. What was
it, Jesus, magic? Are you a god?”
“I am my father’s son,” Jesus replied enigmatically,
as if his response had a dual meaning.
Regulus was serious about Jesus leadership
qualities, but he was playfully mocking Jesus now. Despite his attitude toward Jews in general he seemed to be
genuinely fond of him. Before he
moved on with his men, he briefly recounted an event that changed my view of
this man.
“I was in Greece when I was a youth. Once when I visited a temple I saw many
gods, all made of stone, except one pedestal that was empty. The inscription below the platform read
simply ‘To the unknown god.’ I
thought about your invisible god then.
My mother, who was once a slave, had converted to your faith, but my
father, a Roman citizen, wanted me to be a soldier like himself and worship
Mars and Jupiter—proper gods for a legionnaire serving Rome.
“Tell me, Jesus,” he murmured, a smile twitching on
his face, “am I my father’s son. . . or am I a Jew?”
To answer this question it seemed as if Jesus might
have to contradict himself. As
Jews we were taught religion by our father, but our faith was carried in our
mother’s blood. Jesus, who could
have dodged the question, by explaining this fact, replied mysteriously, “Of
this earth, you are, as myself, your father’s son, but of the father in heaven,
the greatest bond is with your mother who gave you life.”
Regulus accepted this dubious answer, though he
couldn’t possibly understand what Jesus meant. We understood, though we didn’t fully comprehend, Jesus
distinction between his earthly and heavenly fathers, but I wondered that
moment if any of my brothers understood Jesus relationship to his earthly
mother. I remembered the dream I
had about Papa in the orchard, in which I heard Jesus call from behind us “this
is our adopted father, husband to the Virgin Mary. The impact upon my brothers would be slow to come. Joseph would never accept this notion,
but James, as myself, would be forced to one day accept the fact of Jesus’
virgin birth. For the time being, a
severe look from Jesus told me to keep our secret about my dream. Thinking that Jesus had merely referred
to Hebrew tradition, James and Joseph nodded in agreement and let the matter
drop. Uriah scratched his head,
and Simon yawned. When Regulus
released Jesus arm, he gave him a curt nod and was on his way. Priam and Falco marched passed as Jesus
stood there watching the optio lead his men.
“Fear not Regulus,” Jesus called through cupped
hands, “the road you take is to the kingdom where you shall meet the unknown
god.”
The optio frowned at this brash statement yet tossed
back his head and laughed. Priam
winked at me and Falco ruffled my hair.
That Jesus might be referring to the Resurrection and rebirth of our
faith would not have crossed my mind.
Even with my dreams of the three crosses, which I asked Jesus to
interpret and he suspiciously dodged, I didn’t have a clue. The notion was just too inconceivable
for a Jewish mind. All that
mattered was that Regulus had shown us civility, and Falco and Priam seemed to
be their old selves.
“Are you going to watch over our house?” I
asked.
Feeling Jesus’ restraining hand, I jerked back as
the contingent marched past.
Priam’s voice was good to hear after all these
months. “I could use some your Mama’s freshly baked bread,” he seemed to
barter.
“And some wine,” Falco suggested, “and maybe some of
those honey rolls too.”
“Consider it done!” I chimed.
“Whoa, little Jude,” whispered Jesus. “Our mother’s
worn out form her labors. That
shall be something you and I can do.”
“Bake bread?” I looked up in disbelief.
“Yes, Jude, it’s easy.” He gave me a playful poke.
“We can even learn how to make honey rolls from Uriah. Now lets go find that treasure I
promised. I think I saw it
somewhere down this trail.”
******
Jesus led our motley band onto a narrow animal trail
Michael had shown me that had seemed to lead nowhere. Michael and I had ignored it in favor of the larger paths
skirting the overhanging cliff. As
soon as we entered the narrow passage, the foliage loomed up on each side of
us, almost blocking out the sun.
Instead of the thorns and brambles we had encountered on most trails,
the underbrush reminded me of the plants growing near Jesus’ cave, yet it was
taller and fuller, and its multi-colored leaves didn’t prickle or scratch our
feet and arms.
“Jesus,” I exclaimed with awe, “I’ve never seen this
part of Nazareth!”
“It’s one of my special places,” he confided
reverently
Uriah was whimpering to himself, and James and
Joseph murmured fearfully under their breaths, but little Tabitha muttered with
delight.
“We almost need a lamp here,” Simon observed, his
voice tinged with fear.
“This won’t last long,” Jesus promised, as he took
Tabitha’s little hand.
At one point, as we came out upon a rise overlooking
the far corner of the shepherd’s camp, Uriah squealed with delight,
“pomegranate bushes, scores of them.
Wild grapes and berries.
Look at the fruit trees!”
I could scarcely believe my eyes. The entire slope was covered with fruit
trees and tangled vines. I had
never seen so many ripe pomegranates on just one bush. No longer fearful, my brothers ran to
the nearest fig tree and plucked several of them, while Simon and Uriah grubbed
like pigs among the berries and grapes.
“Is this the treasure Jesus?” Tabitha blinked her
large gray eyes.
“No,”
he answered, patting her shimmering curls, “it’s the bounty.”
Tabitha’s golden features and fond gaze caught my
fancy. She was beautiful. As I looked around at my brothers and
Uriah, the rabbi’s son, they seemed special too. As I write down these memories, the word transfigure comes to
my mind, especially when I watched Jesus in his white homespun tunic, as a
shadow and then, as he turned to face us, a radiant, otherworldly being. Jesus was greatly amused. I’ve never known a happier and more
peaceful soul. For a moment, as
the late afternoon sun illuminated their upturned faces, while they picked
fruit or bent down to pull off handfuls of grapes or berries, I found it
strange that it was so important with the same fruit in our yard and so close
to our house. It was, I decided,
watching James and Joseph pelt each other with ripe figs, the sheer quantity of
the fruit that was significant and the fact that Jesus was sharing with us his
special place.
“This is Jesus’ bounty,” Tabitha danced gleefully
around the slope.
“But
it’s not his treasure.” I said, playfully tossing a grape at her head.
Simon
snorted happily as he sampled different grapes. Uriah grunted with delight in his berry patch. While James wrestled with Joseph in the
evening light, Tabitha and I followed Jesus to the edge of the slope where an
outcrop of the stratified rock I’ve seen in the hills jutted out, giving the
impression, as Jesus stepped onto the outcrop, that he was at the edge of the
world.
“Is
this the treasure?” I asked, stepping cautiously to the edge.
“No,
this is the promise,” he glanced back slyly at me.
“I
know what that is,” Tabitha murmured dreamily. “My uncle told me that this is
the Promised Land.”
“So,
what’s the treasure?” I grew impatient. “I see no gold in the rock or jewels
lying on the ground.”
“God’s
creation is infinite,” Jesus seemed to change the subject. “When you look
around at the plants, animals, and rocks, you see such a variety of things, but
also see a great mystery.”
“Yes,
yes we know that.” I muttered with irritation. “The mystery of
God—blah-blah-blah.”
“You
don’t know about this Jude.” He gave me a troubled look. “I’ve prayed about my
discovery in my secret place, asking God how such a thing could be, but this
time God has been silent. I know
now that the answer is already inside me.
God answers in his own way.
Sometimes silence is saying to us “well, what do you think?”
“So,”
he pointed to the outcrop beneath us, “what do you, Jude and Tabitha, think?”
I
had not noticed the strange deformity in the otherwise smooth rock. The shadows caused by the setting sun,
however, highlighted the outline of a strange looking creature. I had seen the molds and casts of
shells and snails, which Joseph insisted were left over from Noah’s flood. Because of the precarious location of
one such oddity, Michael and I had given up trying to reach it and went on to
something else. . . . Here in Jesus special place was an even greater oddity
but one we could reach down and touch
“What
is that?” I gasped.
“It
looks like a big snake!” Tabitha exclaimed, clasping her little hands.
“I’ve thought about this a great
deal.” Jesus squatted down and brushed dirt away from the outline with a leaf.
“It’s not a snake I’ve seen in our hills, and it’s skeleton is made of a
crystal-like substance, which I believe replaced its original bones after a
long, long time.”
By
now James and Joseph’s ears had pricked up. Joseph, always alert for signs of heresy, immediately
discounted the strange impression.
“I
know what that is,” he declared, folding his arms. “It’s an imprint placed by
the devil to confound our minds.”
“No,” James snorted, shaking his head, “it’s a
creature that lived before the Flood.”
“What
do you think?” Jesus gave me a nudge.
“Michael
thought they were really old,” I replied, tracing my fingers over the skeleton
of the ancient snake. “I think this serpent once lived here and somehow got
itself sealed in this rock.”
“I
think James and Jude are both right.” Jesus nodded thoughtfully. “Six days for
the Lord, which is the time interval for His creation, might have been
infinitely long.” “Come, children.” He motioned to us. “There are more wonders
in the rock that make me also believe God has a sense of humor.”
I remember Jesus mentioning these wonders in the Caves of the Old Ones
in his letter from Cyrene. He
reminded his brothers of this episode, stopping suddenly at the rim of the
cliff and holding his arms out in order to prevent us from pitching forward
onto the jagged rocks below. At
the very edge of the outcrop, glistening like precious jewels, were other
examples of James’ antediluvian animals: small skulls, bones, and teeth
embedded in the white stone.
“Jesus,”
I piped, tugging on his sleeve, “let’s chip some of these out so I can show
them to my friends.”
“Not
today, Jude.” Jesus shielded his eyes from the setting sun. “We must turn back
before darkness falls.”
We
all nodded our heads in agreement.
As we negotiated the shadowy passage of Jesus’ secret place, James and
Joseph whispered back and forth. I
took Tabitha’s small hand, feeling a stirring I had never felt before. I had much to think about: Tabitha’s
admission that she was a girl and the wonderful things Jesus had shown us
today. Simon and Uriah had made
themselves sick gorging on nature’s bounty and cared little for our chit-chit.
“So
that was your treasure,” Joseph said scornfully, “the devil’s footprints. It would be better to shield your eyes
from these monstrosities. They
have no place in our faith.”
“Well,
I think they’re treasure,” Tabitha chirped enthusiastically. “Jude and I are
gonna chop some of it out and show it to Jethro, Obadiah, and Boaz.”
“Not without supervision,” Jesus corrected her gently. “I’ll find a
patch of monstrosities we can extract safely.”
Tabitha
and I laughed with delight. As we
departed Jesus’ secret path and entered the Shepherd’s Trail, our pace
quickened. Joseph argued with
Jesus about his interpretation of creation. Against Jesus belief in constant revelation, he threw the
weight of the Sadducee, Pharisee, and rabbinical tradition. I can see this now, but that evening,
as we scurried home, it sounded to me as if Joseph had clamped his mind so
tightly shut that any illumination no matter how wonderful and beautiful it
was, if it smacked of heresy or blasphemy, would strike his closed mind as evil
and wrong.
“What
do you think, James?” Jesus asked, looking back at him.
“About
what,” grumbled James, “I still can’t believe Jonah’s a girl.”
“Do
you think what I discovered is blasphemous?”
“No,”
his tone became thoughtful, “Jude and Michael found shell and snail impressions
once. It was interesting to find
shells so far from the Great Sea.
I told him I thought they were deposited before Noah’s Flood. I’ve always taken the Torah literally
about God creating the earth in six days, yet I’ve wondered how there could be
so much variety in the earth in such a short span of time.”
“James,”
Joseph cried in shock, “you don’t believe that?”
“I
don’t know what I believe,” James admitted, as we approached the house.
We
could see Mama standing in the evening light talking to two shadowy figures,
whom I recognized immediately as Priam and Falco, our favorite guards. We called out greetings back and forth. “Peace be upon our protectors, Falco
and Priam,” called Jesus. “Peace
be upon the family of Jesus,” Priam replied. I thought Papa might scold Jesus for keeping us out so late. He appeared in the doorway with
brimming mugs and hot bread for the guards. Falco and Priam’s watch was ending. Their replacements, Arturius and
Clement, would be arriving soon, as were the other middle watch guards.
“I’m
sorry Mama and Papa,” Jesus apologized. “I should have brought them back
sooner, but we were having such a good time.”
Papa
stepped out passed the guards, and gave us all a pat on the head. “Don’t worry
boys,” he reassured us, “It’s good to see you all getting along so well.”
“Jonah
should go home,” Mama said with concern. “His uncle will be worried. Jesus you shouldn’t have kept him out
so late.”
Mama’s mild rebuke was followed by our laughter. Jesus winked at me, as if to say, “Let’s not tell her yet.” As Falco and Priam stood drinking from their mugs and chewing off large chunks of bread, I wondered if Papa had given them wine. If this was so, I didn’t smell wine on his breath. Papa had kept his promise to God and his family. The guards, however, finished their mugs with satisfied belches, tucking the remainder of their loaves in pouches they carried on their belts. Thanking Papa and Mama for the bread and wine, the guards patted me on the head and waved at Simon and our friends, but to Joseph and James, who had once heckled and teased Regulus’ guards, they gave only curt nods.
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