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Chapter Twenty-Four
Enough wine and food and a feather-filled mattress
allowed me to have my first good night’s sleep in weeks. As I dreamed, which I most always did,
I was carried back to my home in Nazareth where I saw, as an invisible phantom,
Jesus at work in the carpentry shop.
He was alone this time, which struck me as peculiar. Despite the implicit warning in the
absence of my father and brothers, I was not yet alarmed. I was just glad that there were no
frightful images or voices warning me to beware. From this point until I awakened, I slept soundly, almost
dreamlessly. I was exhausted both
mentally and physically from the nightmare I had suffered, and I was still
asleep when they began breaking camp.
The following morning, when the sun had not yet risen, was a busy
affair. I was told to stay out of
the way, as the tents were struck, the campfires extinguished, and the caravan
prepared for travel over the northern desert. When I thought about all the supposed prophetic dreams I
experience in my life, including my recent visions and the voice in the desert,
a question swept over me those moments: what if I was merely addled in the
head? I was tired of those
fearful sights and sounds plaguing my sleep. I had enough danger for a while, I told myself, as I climbed
onto my mule.
Though Elisha wanted me to climb into the coach for
my comfort with him and his friends, I felt like one of the men when I road on
my trusty mule. It was nice to
know I could, if I grew saddle-weary again, have such a refuge, but I enjoyed
talking to the guards as an equal, which had not been the case with the Romans,
auxilia or desert bandits. This
time I planned on enjoying the journey.
From the moment I left the Galilean fort, my destiny had been in the
hands of others. I had been given
my freedom and my life, and from now on, I vowed, I would, when the time was
right, do what’s best for me. For
the time being, in spite of my desire for independence, I was at mercy of my
benefactor. After all, I owed him
my life. It was decided by Elisha,
his scribe, and steward that I must be purified of my contamination among the
Gentiles. No distinction in this
demand was made between Roman, Greek, Syrian, Egyptian, Thracian, and desert
bandits. All Gentiles were impure
in the Pharisee’s eyes. Exactly
how my purification would be accomplished was not explained to me, though I was
certain that somewhere in this process I would be forced to visit the temple to
sacrifice for my sins.
The guards humored their employer with reluctant
nods, but said nothing. Absalom,
Laban, and their associates were not Gentiles like Joseph of Arimathea’s
guards, but they shared the pagans’ free spirit. They appeared, by their reaction to my exploits, to admire
military prowess. Absalom and
Laban had made reference to gladiators, and all these big, burly fellows seemed
impressed with my bloody deeds. Not once did they reprove me, as did Elisha, Jacob, and
Nedinijah. Though a Pharisee,
himself, Joseph of Arimathea, Jesus’ benefactor, was quite open-minded to have
Gentile guards and tolerant my brother’s eccentricities. Elisha bar Simon, on the other hand,
was set in his beliefs, displaying a mixed reaction to my account. Considering some of the things Jesus
said and did and my brother’s friendship with Joseph’s Nubian and Syrian
guards, there was a disappointing dissimilarity between the two Pharisees, and
yet I was treated well in spite of my flaws. In the beginning I might have been an interesting
distraction for the busy merchant or, at the outset, it could very well have
been a spiritual challenge, but I grew fond of my benefactor and even the religious
nick-picking steward and scribe. I
had met close-minded Pharisees before.
Elisha and his friends truly believed I was damaged goods. The guards, however, especially Absalom
and Laban, teased and scolded me at times, but they were never critical. Of all the men in Elisha’s caravan, I
felt most comfortable in the presence of these friendly yet outspoken men. Where the Pharisee and his associates
were more concerned with my religious failures, these soldiers were concerned
with my actions: those flaws, such as indecision and inaction I had displayed
during my journey to Antioch and captivity on the desert. Though showing miraculous or dumb-luck
ability in battle, as Absalom put it, I behaved both foolishly and cowardly at
times. I was given two sets of
advice therefore. While the guards
taught me to fight more confidently, Elisha would work on making me a better
Jew.
In the past several days of our monotonous yet
peaceful ride, I enjoyed those pauses during rest stops and overnighters when
Absalom and Laban showed me their skills as guards. When Elisha wasn’t looking, they gave me training on the use
of the sword, javelin, bow, and sling.
They also taught me gladiatorial secrets that my Roman teachers couldn’t
have known, including using the net to entrap a man’s feet, using the shield as
a weapon, and fighting with both spear and sword. It was during my instruction with the driver’s whip,
normally used when a gladiator is acting as bestiarii, that Elisha caught wind
of my training. The guards were
laughing at my comic attempts to twirl the net while cracking the whip, when I
heard the Pharisee’s voice. He
must have seen the activity through the trees. By then, however, it was almost too late. With my nearly perfect memory, the
essential moves taught to me by the guards could be practiced against an
imaginary opponent when he wasn’t around.
Just like the moves I learned from the Romans and their auxilia, I would
recall almost every detail of my lessons with Absalom and Laban. With such a gift, the Pharisee would
soon test me, as had the guards, but this time my weapon would be my mind.
“Thaddeus,” he called irritably, “come here!”
“Thank you,” I mumbled, dropping the whip and
handing Absalom the net.
As I trotted back to camp, I took stock of my
actions. Why, after all I had been
through, did I enjoy playing such games? I had, in spite of my desire to be a scribe, wanted to
be a soldier in the legions. That
had been my goal. Now, after all I
had been through, I wasn’t sure.
Being a warrior was dangerous.
It involved many brushes with death, and yet, as I had as a child in
Nazareth in make-believe attacks, I played the role of warrior with my new
friends. At our numerous stops,
when my head was not being filled with points of the law by Elisha, Jacob and
Nedinijah, I was physically trained by Absalom and Laban, through exercises and
practice, to at least play the part.
I had admired the big Nubian and Syrian guards who had served Joseph of Arimathea. Here on the march again, all the Jewish
guards, who had seen much of the Roman world like Joseph’s men, shared my faith
and my love adventure. Torn between my family background and tradition and my
original plans that had Jesus and my father’s blessing, I made a decision that
agreed with both my spiritual and earthly side: I would become one of the
Pharisee’s guards, a decision that should please him too.
This decision, however, was rejected out of hand by
Elisha.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded
indignantly. “I thought you were reading the scroll I gave you. I hear the crack of whip and there you
are with my guards playing bestiarii.
You think I’m stupid lad?
You don’t think I know a gladiatorial stance?”
“No sir,” I said out of breath, “I’ve been
practicing self-defense, not offense.
I know how I can repay you for you kindness. I could be one of your guards. It’s not dangerous in the northern desert. I’ll ride along with Abasalom and the
others. I could watch the horses
and pack animals as they patrolled the camp, then, as an apprentice, help guard
the caravan during the march.”
“A guard for my caravan?” Elisha muttered in
disbelief. “I have enough guards!
Who put that notion into your head?”
“Absalom said I was good,” I said pertly, “I learn
quickly. I get along with your
men. I’m good with animals. Jesus said I have a gift.”
“Silence!” He held up his hand. “You two—Absalom and
Laban,” he called through cupped hands, “I know what you’re up to. Thaddeus isn’t going to be a
guard. This stops right now!”
“Yes sir,” they called back sheepishly.
“I swear,” he muttered testily to himself, “if I
didn’t know better, I’d believe those men were Gentiles!”
“Please sir,” I begged, watching them walk away,
“don’t be mad at Absalom and Laban.
It’s my fault. They’ve been
kind to me—”
“I know that,” he interrupted irritably, “you have
that effect upon my guards.
They’re good and trustworthy men.
I’m fortunate to have them.
Until I saw them teaching you their art, I’ve found little reason to
scold them. I’m upset with them,
but I’m upset with you too. I
wouldn’t have interfered, Thaddeus nor scolded my men for simply training you
to defend yourself, but you already know how to fight. You claimed to have killed eight
men! Why do you need to know
gladiatorial tricks? I’m beginning
to wonder whether or not Absalom and Laban had not been in the arena
themselves. After hearing your
goal of becoming one of my guards, I’m very disappointed. Already you have blood on your
hands. After your ordeal, I
thought you would give up this life.
Now you treat it as a sport!”
“As you wish.” I sighed contritely. “I will stop the
games immediately.”
“Good lad,” he said, ruffling hair, “you see it for
what it is: games. No one
can blame you for trying to survive.
David, who would become king, did as much himself. The history of our people is sprinkled
with blood. But my guards are paid
to protect my goods. You,
Thaddeus, don’t have to live by the sword. You’re still a youth.
You’ve earned our respect.
You have your whole life ahead of you to prove your manhood. I didn’t leave home until I was twenty,
and that was to continue my education in Jerusalem. You took a leap into the unknown at eighteen to join the
legions—a Jew among Gentiles.
You’ve taken many chances, but you must not tempt the Lord!”
I bowed my head in feigned disappointment. I had heard my brother say that
once. It sounded silly then
too. How can you tempt God? Already, after a week of travel, I had
learned enough soldier and gladiator tricks. As he lectured me on my blood lust, a thought occurred to
me. What if I softened him on this
issue by telling him about my other skills? The concept I had in mind, of course, was the “soldier
scribe” a title that Ibrim, the Arab, once gave me—a marriage of both
worlds. As I crafted a speech in
my head, Elisha advised me to give up my wandering and devote myself to the
serious business of life. I was,
he sincerely believed, irresponsible—a wayward and footloose drifter with a
shallow goal in life. There was,
it was true, no parallel between Jesus great adventure and mine. His journey was planned and well
thought out, whereas mine was reckless, thoughtless, and filled with travail. I had given my parents much grief. Fortunately, however, I had wasted only
a short span of my life. Surely,
after my unsuccessful experiences, my wanderings must end. Jesus words “Learn the heart of the
Gentiles,” though he was humoring me, had been fixed in my mind. Until the tribulations in the desert, I
had been unable to shake them.
Now, after my dream about Jesus in the carpentry shop, I wondered if he
would feel the same.
Those moments, as I listened to Elisha, I recalled
my dream. I knew James had left
home, but where were Papa, Joseph, and Simon? If the dream had been a premonition, it implied that Jesus
was working alone. Here I was, a
footloose adventurer, my only concern for myself. In the company of pagans as both colleague and prisoner, I
had drifted faraway from my family and people. Now I sat with a rich merchant, who wanted to transform me
into a Pharisee like himself. If I
didn’t known better it might seem I had gone full circle since leaving
Galilee. I must have been
exhausted from my training with Absalom and Laban and those early wake up calls
each time we struck camp. My mind
was now wandering over a wide range of topics. As Elisha lectured me on my foolishness and lack of
judgment, I began feeling drowsy.
I was already bored to distraction. I knew I was, at least in his eyes, tainted by my travels,
but I wasn’t stupid. I also wasn’t
a liar. Elisha and his associates,
and even Absalom and Laban, saw my physical prowess with the sword and lance in
the desert as brave, but I think they believed my killings in Ecdippa were
far-fetched. I saw it in their
eyes and the expressions on their faces.
What they all agreed upon was the fact that I had survived a terrible
ordeal. “It’s no wonder,” the
Pharisee clucked, “that you’re touched in the head!” Though the guards admired my spirit, Elisha saw only a
reprobate Jew. I was damaged
goods. I must prove myself to him,
I told myself. It’s time to tell
him about my gifts. As I fought
the tug of sleep, my original train of thought drifted into my head.
“Are you listening to me, Thaddeus,” he asked as I gazed
into space. “You’re daydreaming.
Wake up lad!”
“Yes, I’m sorry.” I fluttered my eyelashes as if I
had just awakened. “I was just thinking Elisha...I have not being completely
forthcoming. I know what it means
to be a Jew.” “You see,” my eyes widened with illumination, “...I have skills.”
“What skills?” He looked at me incredulously. “Did
your Roman friends teach you these skills? Are they like the skills my guards taught you?”
“No sir, no one taught me these. I was born with them.”
“Humph, I’m listening,” he said, motioning to his
tent.
In the background, standing guard over the camels,
horses, and mules, Absalom and Laban saluted me in the Roman manner as Elisha
walked briskly ahead through the flaps.
Motioning for me to sit down on one of the folding chairs the desert
people used, he sat across from me with his hands folded as I took my seat.
“What is it that you’re trying to say?” he murmured,
pursing his lips. “What are these skills?
I know you’re a clever lad, Thaddeus, but it won’t change my mind.”
“....When I was a child,” I began with deliberation,
“I was told by Jesus, my oldest brother, that I had a special gift—”
“Ah, now it’s a gift,” Elisha snorted, “this should
be good.”
I suppressed a frown. The narrow-minded Pharisee was getting on my nerves.
“You see, I have what Rabbi Gamaliel called perfect
recall—”
Elisha popped up like a Syrian stick puppet.
“Gamaliel, you knew that rascal?
“Yes, Samuel,
Nazareth’s rich Pharisee hired him to teach my brothers, friends and me. I learned the law, the prophets, our
history, and tradition from him.
He also taught me how to read and write Hebrew, our sacred language, and
Aramean, our common tongue.
Gamaliel said I was a genius.
Aaron, the rabbi who replaced him, appointed Jesus, myself, and our brothers
to assist him in teaching class.
From Aaron, I learned both Latin and Greek.”
Elisha’s mouth moved like a fish treading water.
“What’re you saying? You-you claim
to know the law and the prophets, when all along Jacob, Nedinijah, and I were
teaching you the Torah? You can
speak more languages than me?
Gamaliel said you were a genius?
Ho-ho, I don’t believe you.
It’s like all that other stuff you’ve told us. Lies—all lies!”
“Please,” I begged, reaching out to touch his robe,
“I’m not lying. The reason I
didn’t interrupt you and your friends was out of politeness. I didn’t want to insult you. I remember how proud Samuel, my
family’s Pharisee friend, was. It
seemed the least I could do would be to listen. Really, I learned a few new things from you. I also remember the things Gamaliel and
Aaron told me.” “Test me,” I coaxed him, “go on ask me questions or have me
read something then give me a quiz.”
“You impertinent you man,” he cried, storming out of
the tent, “I should’ve left you on the block!”
Jacob, who had been listening from the flaps, wrung
his hands. “No, Elisha, you don’t mean that. The lad’s mind is addled. His experience was to much for him.”
“Bah,” the Pharisee shouted in the distance, “I
wasted eleven thousand denarii on that fool!”
I collapsed into the chair and wept. By now Absalom, Laban, and Nedinijah
had arrived on the scene. In
Elisha’s eyes, I crossed the line.
Though I tried to be respectful, in the end I had insulted my
benefactor. Was there no way for
me to reason with this old man?
“What have you done Thaddeus?” Jacob studied me.
“Have you been lying all this time?”
“No!”
I shook my head. “Sometimes the truth is stranger than fiction. I can’t prove to you what happened on
my journeys with the Romans and the desert people, but I can prove to you the
very thing that Elisha won’t believe.”
“I
overheard,” confessed Jacob, “I was eavesdropping by the entrance to the tent.”
“Me
too,” Absalom, Laban, and Nedinijah replied simultaneously.
“Is
it true then?” Nedinijah stepped forward with his arms folded.
“Yes,”
I nodded vigorously, “test me.
I’ll prove it to you!”
“I’ve never heard of perfect recall,” Jacob mumbled
disbelievingly.
“I have,” Absalom said pointing to me. “He
remembered everything Laban and I taught him. You tell Thaddeus something, even the most trifling detail
on how to handle a sword or net and he never forgets.”
“But can he do that with words?” Nedinijah asked,
rummaging in a chest in Elisha’s tent.
“Of course,” I answered, waiting calmly in my chair.
Nedinijah found a remote chapter of Moses’ scrolls
on the law. With only the book,
chapter, and verse given to me, I recited it perfectly for him in the language
of the Israelites.
“Do not make idols or set up
an image or a sacred stone for yourselves and place a carved stone in your land
to bow down to. I am the Lord your
God. Observe my Sabbaths and
have reverence for my sanctuary.
If you follow my decrees and are careful to obey my commands, I will
send you rain in its season, the ground will yield its crops, and the trees of
the field their fruit. Your
threshing will continue until the grape harvest and will continue until
planting, and you will eat all the food you want and live in safety in your land. I will grant peace in the land, and you
will lie down and no one will make you afraid. I will remove savage beasts from the land, and the sword
will not pass through your country.
You will pursue your enemies, and they will fall by the sword before
you. Five of you will chase a
hundred, and a hundred of you will chase ten thousand, and your enemies will
fall by the sword before you—”
“Enough!” cried Jacob. “Even I don’t remember that.”
“Remarkable,” Nedinijah gasped, looking up from the
text. “He said it almost perfectly.”
“That was his memory,” Jacob said, wiping his
brow. “Have him read a
passage.”
“All right,” the steward sighed, “I’ll pick a hard
one.”
After announcing the book, chapter, and verse, I
read it in Hebrew in my best voice,
“The Lord said to Moses and
Aaron, ‘Say to the Israelites: Of all the animals that live on land, these are
the ones you may eat: you may eat any animal that has a split hoof completely
divided and that chews the cud.
There are some that only chew the cud or only have a split hoof, but you
must not eat them. The camel, though it chews the cud, does not have a split
hoof; it is ceremonially unclean for you. The coney, though it chews the cud, does not
have a split hoof; it is unclean for you.
The rabbit, though it chews the cud, does not have a split hoof; it is
unclean for you. And the pig, though it has a split hoof completely divided,
does not chew the cud; it is unclean for you. You must not eat their meat or
touch their carcasses; they are unclean for you. Of all the creatures living in
the water of the seas and the streams, you may eat any that have fins and
scales—’”
“Enough!” Jacob cried again. “We get the
point...Thaddeus can read Hebrew and has a perfect recall!”
Suddenly, Elisha, who had been listening outside the
tent, himself, entered, his hands behind his back, a look of grave concern on
his face.
“This is very strange,” he mumbled, stroking his
beard, “very strange indeed.”
After deliberating a moment, he paced the floor, and then looked
appraisingly at me. “All right, Thaddeus, you have an impressive memory and can
read Hebrew scripture, but what if I asked you to recite passages in Latin and
Greek.”
Searching one of his scrolls himself, he picked a
passage on the Lord’s instructions on sacrifice, the one part of our scriptures
I liked least. I had been given a
passage about a dietary law I had broken; now, contaminated by Gentiles as I
was, I would recite information on temple sacrifice. Suppressing a smile, I searched my memory for the book,
chapter, and verses. To impress
the Pharisee and his toadies, I recited it in both languages, changing from one
to the other, as I quoted the law, a feat that astounded my listeners even
more. It was as if I had cast a
spell over these men of the law and the simple guards who had known my secret
all along.
When I was finished, Absalom declared forthrightly
“I never liked that passage. It
was bad enough in Hebrew. Thaddeus
is destined for great things!”
******
Abasalom’s vote of confidence was echoed by the
other guards. Eden, the coachmen,
who hadn’t seen my training with weapons, had heard my recitations and shook my
hand as did Laban and, to my surprise, the Pharisee himself. Taking this opportunity to set the
record straight, however, Elisha told me flatly that he didn’t believe the
miracle in which I killed six men.
It was one thing to fight off a pair of Arabs in the desert, he huffed,
but dispatching six men in the darkness while asleep was impossible. This was a lie! I mentally bristled at his insult, but
kept my peace. I would not bring
this up again. Nor did I wish to
talk about the battles in the desert and especially my ordeal with the bandits
who almost turned me into a slave.
From that day forward, I honored my benefactors wish not to train with
Absalom and Laban, but when no one was looking practiced the moves they taught
me on imaginary opponents with imaginary swords and spears. Since rich merchants used archery to
hunt fowl, it didn’t seem wrong to Elisha that I practiced with the bow. Of course, with my soft-heart, I never fired
on live prey. Even when I
practiced with the sling, which Ibrim had once wanted to teach me, I did so
against melons and gourds.
Later in life,
when I found the time, I would write about my journeys: as wet-behind-the-ears
Jew from Galilee, a captive of bandits, and a protégé of a rich Pharisee. During my final journey, however, it
never occurred to me to record these events. Much of what I wrote about my odyssey, seems frivolous
when I compare it with the preceding volumes about Jesus and my family and the
last volume about my mission to spread the Word, and yet it serves the purpose
of showing my readers what shaped me into the Apostle and disciple I would one
day become. There were many great
influences in my life, chief of whom was Jesus, himself. Paul, whom I would also serve, would be
ranked second, and I would, of course, list my saintly mother and my father, as
well as my brothers and sisters, and all the friends and associates who touched
my life.
Despite his misgivings about me, I should also place
high on my list the man who saved me from a life of slavery: Elisha bar
Simon. What made me think less of
him at times—his stubbornness, small-mindedness, and irritability—I could
slough as insignificant weighed against the faults of other men. I learned during our journey to Tarsus
to balance my time between my religious discussions with Elisha, Jacob, and
Nedinijah and my own pursuits.
When I could, I might slip out ostensibly to take a walk or relieve
myself in order to practice my military arts or daydream under a tree. In the tent I shared with Absalom,
Laban and the other guards, I began teaching them everything I knew about our
faith. I discovered that they were
almost illiterate, with little respect for the doctors of the law.
Once, after eavesdropping by our tent and hearing
one of my lessons, Elisha displayed another side of himself that I considered
unworthy of a man of learning: jealousy.
“Why hadn’t they wanted to learn from me?” he
asked petulantly. “All this time they had a thirst for the scriptures. Why did it take them so long?”
“It’s a matter of proximity,” I replied with a
shrug. “We’re in the same quarters.
After my demonstration in your tent, Absalom and the others began asking
me questions.”
“But that’s my duty,” he said resentfully, “not
yours. Those men never showed the
smallest interest in religious matters.”
“They wouldn’t, would they,” I explained, as
delicately as possible. “They’re simple men. I made the scriptures sound like fun.” “To wet their appetites,” I smiled
slyly. “I started at the beginning, with Creation, the story of Adam and Eve,
always a favorite in synagogue school, followed by epochs such as the Tower of
Babel and Noah’s Flood. Except for
the patriarchs such as Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, and the story of Moses and his
parting of the Red Sea, which were quite entertaining, I skipped over the
details of the law, which simple men don’t understand, and highlighted the
stories such as the conquest of Canaan by Joshua, the story of Samson and Delilah,
and Samuel’s anointing of Israel’s first king. The scrolls about David and Solomon show common men that
they were great kings but also flesh and blood. The scrolls about the Prophets, Psalms and Proverbs, on the
other hand, show the passion of our people—what it means to be an Israelite and
Jew.” “To reach untutored folk, it
is,” I pointed out to Elisha, “necessary to entertain as will as educate. When the time is right, if it comes at
all, tell them why the law is important before giving them details of that part
of the Torah, but never let it interfere with the Word.”
It was, at this important milestone in our
relationship, that I once again treaded upon Elisha’s sensitivies by quoting
one of Jesus most controversial beliefs.
The Pharisee, who had seemed impressed with my approach, now balked at
the thought.
“Word?” he recoiled, “the law is the
word. Who told you that?”
“The Word comes from God,” I evaded his question,
“as the spirit of the law.”
“What word is this? You make it sound like a living thing!”
“It is a living thing and a constant
revelation. The law is hollow
without the Word.”
“You preach to me?” Elisha grew agitated. “Who told
you this heresy about the Word and constant revelation? It’s not in the Torah. Did Gamaliel or your rabbi teach you
this?”
“No,” it leaped out of my mouth, “Jesus told me!”
This shook the Pharisee more than anything I had
said.
“Thaddeus,” he cried, renting his garment, “am I too
late? So this is why you have so
little regard for the law. Who is
this Jesus who has corrupted your understanding of our holy scrolls?” “No
wonder your mind is befuddled,” his voice shook. “It’s not enough to be a
genius Thaddeus and tell clever stories; you need proper guidance. You must get back on the right
road. I don’t mean the road to
Tarsus either; I mean the road back to your tradition and the religion as
written by Moses who gave us the law!”
I decided that moment never to tell Elisha about
Jesus miracles as a child and my parents’ unorthodox household in
Nazareth. That would be too much
for him. At this point, I looked
out of his tent at the men drawn by our argument and realized it was impossible
to argue with this old man. He had
saved my life. As long as I was
his charge, I must bow to his will.
Back in my town of Nazareth very few of the elders and Pharisees
accepted Jesus’ notions of the Word, constant revelation, and the universal
God. Why should Elisha, when even
my teachers Gamaliel and Aaron, found them hard to accept. Because of my mother’s use of herbs to
cure townsmen and my father’s willingness to accept orphans and outcasts into
our home, we were suspect in the townsfolk’s eyes. Now, because of my vanity, like Pandora’s box, Jesus
heretical views spilled out of my mouth.
“Forgive my impertinence.” I replied contritely. “I
must keep my opinions to myself.”
“That’s a good lad,” he said, pointing to my head,
“but it’s what’s in your heart—spoken or not—that’s troubling. You believe this heresy, do you not?”
“Yes.” I squirmed. “...I’ll try to do better.”
“You shouldn’t have to try,” Elisha lectured
earnestly, “it should come naturally like breathing.” “It’s written in here and
felt in here.” He pointed to my forehead and heart. “Memorization is fine, but
interpretation such as the ones your brother made should be left to doctors of
the law. I also blame Gamaliel,
who taught you the Torah. I’ve
heard of this gifted man, but he’s a liberal teacher. Your understanding of our faith was nurtured in you by a
freethinker, after being corrupted by a radical, who perverts the law. Gamaliel should have seen the heresy
implanted by your brother, but it’s not too late. You’re young Thaddeus, with a brilliant mind. You’d make a fine scribe or teacher of
the law!”
I mentally groaned at such a thought but didn’t protest. My decision to bow to his wishes was much easier than enduring the evils I suffered before. I set my jaw. I must humor this well-meaning man; I owed him that! When we arrived in Tarsus, however, I would ask his permission to go home. He would understand that. What I might do on the way was an altogether different matter. Perhaps I would strike out on my own instead of going home. I could still find my way to the Antioch garrison and become a soldier scribe…If Aurelian didn’t have a suitable place for me in his cohort, I could still return to Nazareth, or do as Jesus had done with Joseph of Arimathea and humor my benefactor in order to see the world.
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