The Galilean Secret: A Novel (23 page)

“You have made a pact with treachery,” she said.

“We had no choice. We needed Judas to convince Barabbas to accept a better plan.” Dismas placed a hand on her shoulder. “Please don’t worry. Judas would lose too much if he betrayed us.”

She pushed him away. “You know what could happen. If we lose, we could all get—”

He pressed a finger to her lips, interrupting.

She picked up a torch. “I’m going to bed.”

Not wanting to cause a scene, Dismas waved a hand and said goodnight.

As she left, he noticed Gestas by the fire, staring aimlessly at the wall of the cave. Dismas walked over. “Why aren’t you joining in?”

“Because there will be death at the Temple.” Gestas stood and eyed him contemptuously. “And it will be your fault.”

“You have no right—”

Gestas cut him off. “Barabbas is eager for battle, and you encouraged him. At least his plan made sense; yours distracts us from fighting the Romans and will get us arrested—if we’re not killed first.” Gestas grabbed him by the tunic. “The plan was better before you changed it.” Gestas shoved him and walked away. “The failure and death will be on your head!”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

JUDITH BIT BACK A SOB AS SHE PRESSED THE JEWELRY BOX TO HER BREAST AND TRUDGED THROUGH THE DARKNESS. The deeper darkness lay within her, an abyss of shame and guilt as formless as the void before the world’s creation. She had fallen into the abyss when she heard Gabriel describe how she and Dismas had devastated him. When she stole from the kind Pharisee who was trying to help Gabriel, the fall had accelerated, cutting her off from all light, all warmth.

Her foot slipped on the moist limestone. She paused to regain her balance and cursed under her breath. How could she be in this position? Judas Iscariot, whom she hated more than she hated the Romans, could now determine her future. The cleansing of the Temple had become more important than she ever imagined, and she was carrying a letter written by the rabbi Jesus of Nazareth, whose assistance could mean success or failure.

If the cleansing succeeded, the masses would join the revolt; the Zealots would have their best chance of defeating the Romans; and perhaps she could begin a new life in a free Jerusalem. If the cleansing failed, the Zealots would be arrested or killed, and the revolt would end before it began. In that case, all her efforts would be for naught, and she would be alone.

Quickening her pace, she shook her head in disgust. Why had Dismas and Barabbas trusted Judas Iscariot? He was a liar who cared only about himself. She had hoped never to see him again. Now he was back, with more power over her than ever. Oh, why had she robbed the house? As an adulteress and now as a thief, she had nowhere to go—unless she could return the jewelry box and the letter to Nicodemus ben Gorion. Perhaps he would help her. . . .

But before putting any plan into effect, she had to read the letter. She knew it contained timeless wisdom, but would this wisdom have meaning for her? She needed to know. Relieved to be in her refuge, the ledge on which she and Dismas slept, she opened the box and began to read the scroll by the light of the torch:

A message from Jesus of Nazareth to Mary of Magdala, and to all people in every age: Grace to you and peace from him who was and who is and who is to come. Let anyone with ears to hear listen.

This letter contains news of the greatest of all loves. I want its truths to become your own, especially in times of confusion, trouble or sorrow. Great tribulation must occur in order to bring the letter’s message to distant times and places, and to all who need it. Honest seekers of God will understand its truths. Beware of those who try to refute or ridicule the letter, and keep your faith pure by heeding my promise: Ask, and it will be given you; seek, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened to you. . . .

As Judith read, her eyes felt riveted to the papyrus. The ideas in the letter were new, yet they sounded strangely familiar, as if she were remembering them, not hearing them for the first time. The rabbi Jesus discussed how the love between a man and a woman related to the greatest of all loves—the love of God. This love was the source of all goodness and blessing. It expanded with each human birth and embraced every person.

Judith opened the scroll farther. Her heart grew warm as she read that God loved her as only she needed to be loved. The letter said that no one had ever been loved this way before or would be again. She put down the scroll and stood up. Did this mean that God accepted her completely? Forever? She crossed her arms and stared out into the night. A voice whispered in her heart, “Yes, you are accepted forever. Never doubt your acceptance, even when you do not feel loved.” Although she had never heard the voice before, she felt as if she knew it as well as her own.

She drew a breath and read on until she came to Jesus’ teachings about guilt and forgiveness. He emphasized that at times everybody needs to be forgiven, from others and from God. In a story about a father and the younger of his two sons, Jesus described the joy that forgiveness brings. Her eyes blurred with tears as she read that the son had demanded his inheritance and then squandered it in a distant land. Had she not done worse? When the son returned home, his father did not send him away. Instead he embraced him, put a robe around the young man’s shoulders and a ring on his finger, and then threw a lavish party in his honor. Her hands trembled and tears flowed as she wondered if her father would do the same.

The letter stated that God is like the forgiving father and like a woman searching for her lost coin. Again Judith heard the voice. “You can trust God’s love. Never can you lose it. Never will it abandon you. There is joy among the angels of God over one sinner who repents.”

Her entire body grew warm as her eyes moved from line to line. The letter stressed the importance of receiving forgiveness from the person you hurt. Judith fought to calm her shaking hands. Jesus said that you must go to that person and acknowledge your fault. If you are forgiven, you will be freed from your guilt; if you are not forgiven, you must still forgive yourself and trust that God does the same.

She thought of Gabriel, of how she yearned to throw herself on his mercy and beg his forgiveness. Of how she would never have the chance. The back of her mouth felt raw from trying to swallow against the ache in her throat. She set down the scroll and dried her tears on her tunic. “Make amends as best you can,” the voice said. “Do not dwell on your hurtful actions. If you do, you give them the power to destroy your soul.”

She picked up the scroll and read on for a time, but then she stopped, troubled. As a faithful Jew, Judith had always found God by following the law. To join the Zealots—to help them drive the Romans from the land—was the supreme act of obedience. But the letter challenged this notion. Jesus wrote about a kingdom greater than one under Roman power—the kingdom of God. He claimed to have brought this kingdom’s presence to the earth, but its fullness would arrive in the future. Receiving the kingdom would bring peace of heart and promote peace on earth. The kingdom’s coming would end poverty, war and suffering. Jesus Christ would reign over a new earth, in which all people knew the security of justice in the fullness of peace.

Judith heard the Zealots cheering in the distance and wondered what further inspiration Barabbas had given them. She waited until the cheering faded, and then she read faster, eager to finish before Dismas came.

She gasped when the letter described the union of male and female in the kingdom of God—the same union that existed in the Garden of Eden before Adam and Eve sinned. This teaching was new to her, and she found it shocking. The letter also stated that the male images of God would be balanced by female images. As in the scriptures, God would be pictured not only as a father but also as a woman giving birth, a nursing mother, a midwife or a mother eagle or bear. The letter emphasized that human beings could not find peace, either within themselves or among themselves, until a balance between the male and the female was achieved.

Judith touched her forehead. Now the conversation that she had overheard made sense. As Nicodemus had told Gabriel, to become whole, a man must find the female image of God within, and a woman, the male. She had tried to find the male image through Dismas, giving up her own sense of self to please him, but he had bitterly disappointed her, and if the letter were true, his violence would destroy them both. Worse, it would destroy everyone, Jew and Roman alike, for only love had the capacity to heal.

Judith broke out in a sweat as she pondered the implications of this teaching. Jesus’ values turned the Zealots’ values upside down. The Zealots believed in peace through conquest; Jesus promised peace through inner rebirth. According to him, love was supreme, even love for one’s enemies. But how could any human achieve such an impossible standard? Only by being born of the Spirit, the letter said. This new birth revealed the true reason people were born. By losing their lives to God, they gained them back, fuller and richer than before.

The letter’s wisdom was an offer of happiness. The material world rewarded the wealthy, powerful and beautiful with its pleasures. The letter showed the way out of this folly. It promised a whole new life to those who opened their hearts to Jesus and were born anew in spirit. Compelled by these insights, Judith sensed that he was speaking to her.

Tears clouded her vision, making it impossible to read farther. She heard Dismas approaching. She set down the letter and dried her tears. More than anything, she wanted the love that Jesus described, even if she lost everything else. Without this love, nothing else mattered. As the letter had instructed, she began to pray that the Lord would fill her heart with his love.

“What are you doing?”

Dismas stood above her, the torchlight accentuating the fatigue on his dark, brooding features. Resolved to leave him unless he forsook violence and his dealings with Judas Iscariot, she had to give him one last chance. After rolling up the scroll, she handed it to him. “I have been reading a letter from the rabbi Jesus of Nazareth. I want you to read it too.”

Dismas frowned and reluctantly took the scroll. “Ordinarily I wouldn’t care what any rabbi says, but this man’s reputation has spread far and wide.”

Judith remained silent as Dismas read. Watching his dark eyes scan the papyrus, she prayed that he, too, would open his heart to the letter’s message.

Dismas had not read far when he smirked and began to quote the letter in a mocking voice. “‘Love your enemies; do good to those who hate you; bless those who curse you; pray for those who abuse you.’ What foolishness!” He went on sarcastically, “‘If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. Do to others as you would have them do to you.’” He tossed the scroll on the blanket-covered stone. “This Jesus of Nazareth speaks nonsense. Love and forgiveness are for the weak. Only a fool would follow such a man.”

She picked up the scroll and protected it against her chest. “Is that really what you think? Then why did you agree to Judas’ plan?”

“Of course it’s what I think. Our enemies don’t need love.” He withdrew his dagger from its sheaf and held it up. “They need this! I only agreed to the plan because Jesus can help us cleanse the Temple.”

“If violence is all you believe in, I cannot stay with you.”

“Don’t be naïve, Judith. The world doesn’t work by love. The only way to get respect is to fight—to the death, if necessary. First we’ll cleanse the Temple, and then we’ll attack the Antonia. After we rid the holy place of impurities, God will help us drive the Romans from our land. Our victory will prove my point. If you leave me, you’re the worst fool of all.”

“I know how set in your ways you are, but I can’t live like this.” She placed the letter inside the box, picked up her bag and moved away from Dismas, the box under her arm. The letter didn’t belong to her, and it contained the most powerful message she had ever heard. Her future would depend on what she did with it. Somehow she had to get the letter back to Nicodemus ben Gorion. She didn’t know where she would go, but she knew she needed to leave, even if it meant she would die.
It is the only way that my spirit will live.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

THE SIGHT OF SOLDIERS ON JERICHO’S MAIN STREET TURNED JUDAS ISCARIOT’S BLOOD TO WATER. He had come twenty-three miles from Jerusalem to rejoin Jesus and his disciples. They had dined the night before with a wealthy tax collector called Zacchaeus and were now ready to travel up to the holy city. The trap for Jesus was set. Judas couldn’t let anything ruin it, not even a confrontation with the Romans, whom he feared saw the Nazarene as a troublemaker.

He slipped a hand inside the belt of his tunic and felt the dagger concealed there. Assured that the weapon was ready if he needed it, he surveyed the gathering crowd and then glanced at the disciples. The fishermen among them appeared brawny, but in light of Jesus’ teachings about loving one’s enemies, Judas feared that the only disciple who would fight with him was Simon the Zealot.

As the early sun was turning the morning golden, Judas kept his eyes on the approaching soldiers, prepared for anything. Fortunately, there were only two of them, and the crowd had grown to nearly thirty. Dressed in full regalia, the soldiers were riding white stallions past the bushy sycamore trees and lush date palms that dotted the dusty, shop-lined road. Judas vowed not to let the soldiers block Jesus’ path to Jerusalem. If the Nazarene stayed away from the city, he could remain safe. Only if he died would Mary Magdalene be free to love another man. Jesus had to go to Jerusalem.

The thought of having Mary to himself made Judas lightheaded: he drew a breath to calm down. He was so desperate for her love that he would do anything—even monstrous evil—to win it. This made him feel powerful.

And full of lust.

Yesterday their conversations had been casual but friendly, leading Judas to believe that Mary wanted him. The memory of their kisses in Caesarea Philippi was constantly on his mind, fueling his desire for more. The kisses had been so enthralling that he didn’t dare imagine the ecstasy of making love to her. The mere thought caused his bones to ache.

Standing up to the soldiers would be an opportunity to impress Mary. His future with her might depend on how he handled them. He stole a glance at her as she walked beside the Nazarene, the crowd swirling around him. The soldiers drew near, their armor flashing in the sun. They stopped their horses and climbed down, blocking the road. The lanky younger soldier held both sets of reins while the older one, a thickset man with fiery eyes, said, “None of you will be allowed to go farther until we’ve searched you.”

Judas stepped forward. “Why? We’ve done no wrong.”

The thickset soldier stood firm. “You Jews are nothing but trouble. Our job is to find the enemies of Rome and stop any rebellion before it starts.”

Judas gave no ground and glanced at Mary Magdalene. She moved back as the disciples and Jesus crowded around. John presented himself to the soldier, followed by his brother James. “I have nothing to hide,” John said. “Search me if you must.” The thickset soldier ordered the brothers to stand still, arms at their sides, while he patted them down.

He found nothing and moved on to Judas. The soldier made him hold his arms out at the shoulders and began to search him. Judas could feel his face turning red, the veins in his neck throbbing, but he remained still until the soldier’s hand approached his waist. A moment before the soldier got there, Judas darted a hand inside his tunic and withdrew the dagger.

He caught the soldier off guard and hit him backhanded across the face. The soldier recoiled; Judas pounced and began to choke the Roman with his left arm, holding the dagger to the man’s throat with his right hand. Judas was about to slit the man’s throat when Jesus cried out, “No, Judas! This man does not deserve to die. Put your dagger away and let him go.”

Judas ignored him and pressed the dagger against the soldier’s throat. He glared at the man’s partner and said, “Throw down your sword or your friend will die.” The younger man tossed his sword on the ground. Simon the Zealot retrieved it and also took the other soldier’s sword. Judas let the thickset Roman go, grabbed a sword from Simon and, wielding it fiercely, said, “Both of you, take off your helmets, your armor and your sandals.”

Jesus stepped out of the group, his jaw set, and jabbed a finger at Judas. “You have disarmed these men. There is no reason to humiliate them.”

Judas kept brandishing the sword, forcing the soldiers to strip down to their undergarments. “Now get on your knees,” Judas said, pointing to the ground. “You Romans have no right to treat Jews as you do. All we want is to govern ourselves and live in peace.” He turned to Jesus. “We have no choice but to deal severely with these men. Otherwise they will send reinforcements against us.”

Jesus grabbed Judas’ wrist and lowered the sword. “This is not the way to defeat an enemy. We defeat our enemies by making them friends.”

Judas resisted for a moment and then decided that in order for his pact with the rebels to work, he could not alienate Jesus. He dropped the sword and left Simon the Zealot to guard the soldiers as he walked over to the two white stallions, slapped them on their hindquarters and watched them gallop off. With the hooves pounding the ground, he couldn’t yell loudly enough to stop James and John from picking up the helmets, armor and sandals and returning them to the Romans.

Red-faced and breathing hard, Judas confronted the brothers. “What are you doing? We must teach these Romans to respect us. If they think we’re weak, they’ll never stop oppressing us.”

Jesus said to him, “If you think love is weak, you do not understand my teachings.” He turned to the soldiers. “Go on your way and let us go on ours.” He began to leave.

Judas grimaced as John gave one of the swords to a portly man in the crowd. When Simon the Zealot did the same with the second sword, Judas rejoined the group, satisfied that the soldiers couldn’t retaliate but disgruntled that he had not appeared stronger. Most of all, he was relieved that Jesus would continue toward Jerusalem.

G
abriel stepped out of the growing crowd, his heart pounding in his ears. He gave silent thanks that the rumors had been true, that Jesus of Nazareth was passing through Jericho on his way to Jerusalem. When Gabriel’s head injury had healed and he had stocked his market for Passover, he came down to find the Nazarene but hadn’t expected to see a fight with the Romans. The potential for retaliation made his task even more urgent.

He approached Jesus’ entourage of about twenty men and women, his insides quivering. Having waited since dawn along Jericho’s main street, Gabriel couldn’t worry about the violence now and had to warn Jesus of the dangers in Jerusalem.

If Gabriel failed and Jesus died, the Jews would lose their best hope for peace. The Romans would crush the Zealots, and he might never see Judith again.

He noticed Mary Magdalene walking behind Jesus with several other women, their hands shielding their eyes from the morning sun. Gabriel slipped through and touched her arm. “Mary, do you remember me?”

When she saw him, a wide smile brightened her face. “How could I forget the man who saved my life? But what are you doing here, Gabriel?”

He pulled her aside as the others moved ahead. “I need your help, Mary. There are new dangers in Jerusalem. We must convince Jesus to stay away.”

“His disciples have already tried, but he insists on going.” Mary Magdalene’s voice rose in frustration. “Since you have just come from the city, perhaps he’ll listen to you.” She took Gabriel’s hand and hurried to catch up with the others.

The growing entourage was approaching the massive stone wall that surrounded Jericho. Gabriel felt the surge of bodies as more people joined the crowd at the front gate. A chorus of expectant murmuring rang in his ears. He must act soon, or he would never stop the momentum toward Jerusalem.

Jesus was saying to his disciples, “You still do not understand what I have been teaching. Judas and Simon wanted power over those soldiers. It must not be so among you. Whoever wishes to become great must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you shall be slave of all. For the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”

Jesus’ words had a sobering effect: the crowd passed through the enormous wooden gates in silence. The road began ascending to Jerusalem. Gabiel’s thighs burned, but his concern for the rabbi burned even hotter—he needed to speak with him. Before he had the chance, several beggars, dirty and in rags, converged on Jesus from beyond the gate, clamoring for alms. Gabriel covered his mouth to shut out the smell of their unwashed bodies. He could tell by their sunken eyes that the men were blind.

Jesus surprised him by pausing. One blind man, short, with a straggly beard, began to cry out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

Gabriel didn’t join those in the crowd who tried to shut the beggar up.

Jesus asked the man, “What is your name?”

“I am Bartimaeus, the son of Timaeus.”

“What do you want of me?”

Bartimaeus reached out both arms and spoke haltingly. “Rabbi, I want to see again.”

Jesus placed his hands on the man’s eyes. “Go your way; your faith has made you well.”

Gabriel held still and watched Bartimaeus slowly open his eyes, shielding them with his hands and shaking his head, as if he were in pain. Bartimaeus turned away from the sun and blinked wildly. He bent low and felt the ground; then, without warning, he sprang up with all his might. “I can see! I can see!” He leapt in time with great bursts of joy.

Gabriel hurried toward him with several men, who examined Bartimaeus’ eyes and asked what he saw. When Bartimaeus identified the sycamores, the date palms, the stone wall and what the men were wearing, they hugged him, and Bartimaeus, too, joined the swelling crowd.

With the disciples and the women, Gabriel marveled at what Jesus had done. Could Nicodemus be right about this man? Was God unleashing extraordinary power and wisdom through the rabbi from Nazareth? If so, Gabriel had even more reason to keep him out of Jerusalem. If Jesus went there, his power and wisdom could be lost forever.

Gabriel stayed close as the Nazarene said to his disciples, “By believing in me, you will receive eternal life. But if you want abundant life, you must abide in me and let my words abide in you, that your joy may be full.”

Gabriel noticed the confusion on Mary Magdalene’s face. She said to Jesus, “None of us truly understands your teachings, rabbi.”

Jesus lifted an eyebrow. “Even a Pharisee named Nicodemus ben Gorion did not understand them, and he is a member of the Sanhedrin.”

Gabriel saw his chance. “I’m a friend of Nicodemus’,” he said, touching Jesus’ arm. “I met you in Nain at the home of Simon ben Ephraim. I’ve come from Jerusalem with an urgent warning for you. Pilate suspected several Galileans of planning a revolt, and he killed them. I’m afraid the same will happen to you.”

Jesus appeared unfazed. “I am aware of the dangers, but I believe it is God’s will for me to go to Jerusalem.”

Gabriel could see fervor and dedication in the Nazarene’s eyes. He remembered when he had first glimpsed those penetrating eyes and felt totally known and accepted. Feeling this way again, he gripped Jesus’ arm. “You are needed in Galilee, rabbi. Only you can save our people from the murderous schemes of the Zealots.” Gabriel reached for Jesus’ other arm and became passionate. “Please don’t go any farther. Pilate crucifies rebels to make examples of them, and I fear that he may see you as a threat.” Gabriel shook both of Jesus’ arms. “Sir, I beg you. If you care about your life, please go home!”

Gabriel felt a hand squeeze the back of his neck. He turned and saw the firm-jawed disciple who had humiliated the soldiers a few minutes earlier. The disciple glared at him. “Who are you? And why are you disturbing Jesus?”

Gabriel eyed the man with an unflinching stare. “I am Gabriel ben Zebulun, a merchant from Jerusalem. I have come to warn him of how dangerous the city has become.”

The man’s expression grew agitated. He said to Jesus, “You go ahead. I will answer these concerns.” As Jesus and the others continued walking, the man took Gabriel aside. “Do you have a brother called Dismas?”

Gabriel’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “How do you know this?”

“I worked with Dismas by the Dead Sea. I also know his wife, Judith.”

Gabriel grabbed the sleeve of the man’s tunic. “What is your name?”

“Judas Iscariot. I was once a Zealot, but now I am a follower of the Nazarene.”

Gabriel kept his voice even, so as not to arouse Judas’ suspicions. “Is Judith alive?” He narrowed his eyes. “Do you know where she is?”

Judas’ lips flattened into a thin line. “Yes, she’s alive, and I will tell you where she and your brother are—but only if you promise not to deter Jesus from going up to Jerusalem.”

Gabriel stepped back, his stomach tense and his mind reeling. Finally he had met someone with information about Judith and Dismas. Now he could go after them and exact a just revenge. But as he considered how he might kill his brother or bring his betrothed before the Sanhedrin, he realized he could do neither.

The letter had explained why Judith and Dismas betrayed him. He knew now that they had not acted maliciously but out of ignorance, and this knowledge filled him more with pity than rage. Without the betrayal, he might never have discovered the image of God as both male and female. This discovery was giving him a deeper understanding of himself—an understanding that freed him.