Year 45
Once more we had a Roman ruler, Cuspius Fadus, the new Procurator of Judaea. Recently arrived with military reinforcements he quickly pacified the various communities, and lifted the civil restrictions that had been imposed after the death of Agrippa.
With time, now my ally, memories and moments gradually faded from conscious remembrances, and life resumed its delicate order, just as I had hoped and expected. After all, we Judaeans should never dedicate excessive time for our dead, and a too long period of mourning was frowned upon by the community. But I continued to wear mostly black, a color — if it can really be called so — that I had always detested. Colors now seemed offensive, too vivacious, and even redundant for a life now lived in hues of black and white.
Still with Time on my side, I returned to older habits, and started once more to attend lectures in the agora, searching in discourses of logic for possible reasons for what had struck me. And it did help, I started to feel more at ease with the inevitability of fate, and I could finally hear of Yeshua almost with the impassivity of the resigned.
“Ruth, did you know that the Greeks have a god for time?” I asked her after returning from the agora where I had been listening to a discourse by a famous scholar of Alexandria.
“I didn’t know, but I’m not surprised. After all, they have gods for everything.”
Although she did not sound too interested, I wanted to tell her more. I was actually happy in having identified and personalized this old adversary and companion of mine.
“His name is Chronos, and he was the creator of all.”
“So, is he their supreme god now? I thought that was Zeus.”
“Zeus is the King of gods, as they call him, but Chronos came first.”
“These Greeks are really inventive, aren’t they? I am surprised that you still pay any attention to such trifle,” and she went on, “and, by the way, do you know that the Messianics are now talking of you?”
“What? What do you mean?”
“They are saying that you were the last person to speak to their messiah.”
“Who told you that?”
“I heard it… “ and by her tone I could feel that she had regretted having said it.
“Since when do you know any Nazarenes?”
“And if I do? You are the last one in this house who can criticize me for that.”
“Well? Do you?”
“Yes I do! And I’ll tell you something else. I take comfort from their sayings.”
I could not believe it! My Ruth, my pillar…
“Ruth…”
“Ahasver tell me! Do you really think that our son deserves to be in sheol? That he will have to stay there, suffering just like any criminal in that land of nothingness, waiting until the end of days for a messiah that was promised to us since the time of Abraham?”
“Ruth, it is written so!”
“Ahasver, Isaiah prophesied the coming of the messiah. It has happened just like he said with the coming of the prophet Yeshua.”
I did not know what to answer her. I was astonished with this sudden attitude, her emphatic words, for knowing Nazarenes and even their creed! How had that happened? And she went on.
“Ahasver, how do you think I learned about them? It was Yeshua, our son, who told me about them. He believed in them. He believed that there was an afterlife. I don’t know if influenced by Alexander and their ways, but he didn’t accept sheol. And I’ll tell you something else, you are also responsible for this, it’s on your head too!”
“How?” I stammered.
“Yes, Ahasver! Don’t you remember how he used to question you about an afterlife? How Alexander was always saying that it wasn’t fair that the just and the bad should receive the same reward after death?”
“How do you see me involved in that?”
“Well, you certainly were very liberal with his religious education. You preferred to see him in one of your lectures or at the gymnasium rather than attending temple. And let us not forget Mordechai! That tutor of his was for a long time a scribe in the service of the Messianics in Jerusalem, and he wrote a lot of things about their messiah. Some of those he passed on to Yeshua.”
“You never mentioned any of that to me.”
“I thought you knew, or at least were not too concerned about it. After all, Mordechai was a friend of Joseph and recommended by him to your father.”
“Well, yes, but I had no idea that he was a Nazarene. If I had known I would never have accepted him. Yeshua never hinted at it either.”
“Yeshua never understood you. He saw you receive them, supporting them, even if you never spoke any good about them.”
“You know very well why I had to do it. I never hid it from you.”
“Yes, I did know, but Yeshua liked the stories that Mordechai passed on to him. He was a child, credulous and gullible, awed with their miracles, their courage and their sayings.”
“Why didn’t you do something about it? It seems to me now that he wasn’t the only one who liked those stories.”
“Well, in the beginning I wasn’t too happy, but the stories that he repeated to me were quite harmless. I did come to admire their convictions, their messages of solidarity, and the promise of an eternal life. True or fabricated, they were morally sound. I saw no harm in him hearing them.”
“Really? Even the miracles?”
“Those I played down. They were just stories witnessed by gullible people, without any or much education, and I told him exactly that.”
“And that was it? No one converted I hope" I said sarcastically, desperately hoping that she would laugh it off.
“No. Neither did Yeshua don’t worry.”
“Well then, so that you know what is my opinion, I will not tolerate any deviation from the true faith in this house. I hope that is clear.”
“Ahasver, you are the master of this house, and as your wife I swore to obey and to follow your rules. Of course, I will do as you wish, just as I have done all these years.”
“You must, above all, follow the commandments and the scriptures, and they are very clear about worshiping and following false prophets. Not to mention a heretic who called himself son of the Lord, and who is now being deified by his followers just like any Roman Emperor. And I think that it is time that we go to Jerusalem and to the Temple. I will not stand idly by and allow you to lose your faith.”
The arrangements for our journey to Jerusalem were quickly done, since it was not my intention to say there for long. Even so, those days dragged on, and I could not stop myself from recalling some of the bitter words we had exchanged. If Ruth had not converted to that faith, and I believed her, at least she seemed receptive to some of their ideas. How does one lead with apostates in the family? If I had to follow the laws of our faith, I would have to renounce her, even expel her or worse. If I accepted it, then I too would be an accomplice, and not just of a public misdemeanor but of offending the Lord.
And Yeshua? Was it a life wasted if he died believing in the damnation of sheol? From my lessons and the teaching of the scriptures, I knew that once we die our spirit was taken to that land of nothingness, and there it would roam until the final judgment. All those who had not been faithful and true believers and practiced good and honorable deeds during their lifetime would be destroyed forever. There was no room for a paradise, as the Nazarenes claimed, in our afterlife. If Ruth had any doubts about this, then I could understand why the Nazarene creed had some appeal and offered some comfort to her.
This trip to Jerusalem was just an excuse to do what seemed to be the only possible and reasonable thing at the time. I was hopeful that a visit, the rightful devotion in the Temple and the practice of our rituals would bring her some peace and even some closure.
During our journey, we were often questioned by other travelers about a prophet that had come from the desert near the city of Jericho. At first, I even thought that they were speaking of Yeshua again, but I then understood that this was an
other of our messiahs, announcing that he would divide the waters of the river Jordan for his followers to pass through, just as Moses had done when he came from Egypt.
I took the opportunity once more to admonish Ruth about false prophets.
“You see this ? Another fool followed by fools.”
“Ahasver, do not say that, don’t do it. Are you also calling our benefactor and friend Joseph a fool? Have you forgotten how much we owe him? His kindness?”
“No, I haven’t, and I always did my utmost to fulfill his wishes, even when I had to deal with heretics. Because of him, I have risked my reputation and of being identified with that cult.”
“Well, we have been well paid to do it.”
“Are you speaking of money or of something else?”
It had crossed my mind more than once, that Yeshua’s death could have been some sort of punishment for my involvement with the heretics. But I could not believe that our Lord could be so heartless.
Bitterness and resentment, more than rocks, olive groves or sheep, I encountered on those winding roads, and never the roads to the holy city had seemed so inhospitable and barren.
I missed my Ruth, right there beside me, enshrouded in silence.
I missed Yeshua, ever more distant in my memory and in the anguish and pain of the departed. Each crevice, hill and turn of the path brought back memories of another journey, when the three of us had impatiently rushed to a new and joyful life in Caesarea. And even before reaching Jerusalem, I wanted to return to what had been and would never again be.
The urgency that had brought me to Jerusalem was the same that took me on our arrival to the house of Gamaliel, even before I considered going to Temple. I was totally lost, entangled with indecision, and Gamaliel, a wise and learned man, was the right person to hear of my predicaments. At that point, more urgent than fulfilling my duties as a devoted believer, I had to understand what could be salvaged in Ruth.
“Ahasver, it has been awhile since we last saw one another in Caesarea. You have suffered the greatest of tragedies. Let no one doubt what a tragedy it is for a father to survive a son. Our children are a part of us, the guarantors of our immortality, the seeds we leave in this world. I know that words of comfort are easy to utter, but seek comfort in our faith, and remember the words of Menander when he, so wisely, taught us that too soon depart those who are most loved by the gods.”
“Thank you, Rabban, for your words of wisdom and comfort” I mumbled.
“Ahasver, the designs of the Lord are and always will be a mystery for us mortals. Some of us do try to interpret them, actually we all do it somehow and often, but we’ll never know His true will and purpose.”
“Certainly, Rabban, and you are indeed an inspired interpreter.”
“I am not so sure. Sometimes I think I could use the muses of the Greeks and the aid of their oracles. Yes, yes. Surprised with my pagan reveries?” he asked shrewishly and with a little malice in his voice.
“There’s little these days that surprise me, Rabban” I also answered with a smile.
“Well, I am not only interested, nor do I only study that in which I truly believe. I have learned over the years that to recognize what is right we must also learn the wrong. Greek and Roman paganism doesn’t mean anything to me, and I am grateful for knowing it. But their wisdom and knowledge are undeniable. What I read and saw in Alexandria, when I was a younger man and even more curious than now, left me astounded. Do you know why?”
“No, Rabban.”
“Because the mysteries that the Greeks unraveled, the ingenious solutions they found, and the sagacity with which they explained the phenomena of nature, could only have occurred with the help of an enlightened godhead. At the time I questioned myself. How could such people, estranged from the true faith and the belief in our Lord, be so wise? And the evidence was there, all around me, in those rolls, those parchments and papyri, already yellowed with age and use.”
“And you came to a conclusion?”
“Yes and no. And such an answer could only be dubious.”
“I don’t understand” I had to confess.
“Ahasver, the Lord has confirmed the Judaeans, countless times, as the chosen people, chosen to maintain the faith alive, to keep His word and His commandments. This is our covenant with the Lord.”
He continued. “But no one doubts that every tribe and nation is also the result of the Lord’s creation, placed in this world to fulfill a role defined by our Maker. By His will, some excel in warfare, like the Romans, others in exploration, like the Phoenicians, others in the arts and architecture, such as the Egyptians and the Greeks, and so on.”
“So, Rabban, you have reached a conclusion. You are saying that whether these people worship the Lord or not, they achieved what they did because such was our Lord’s desire.”
“I came to a possible interpretation, that is all.”
“What you are saying is that everyone, believers and pagans, are guided by the Lord?”
“Yes, Ahasver. Once we recognize that He is omniscient and the one and only true Lord, how can then we negate that everything is done by Him and through Him?”
“But, Rabban, surely there is something called freedom of choice. The Lord gave us that too.”
“That is why there are other religions, Ahasver. The divine is an inborn trait of the human soul. That is also why I admire the Greeks and their search for the rational, for their attempts in finding reason in divine purposes and in humanizing their gods.”
“Are you talking about oracles?”
“Philosophy. I believe that their religion will not resist for much longer to philosophy and reason. Soon enough their Olympic paganism will be as buried as the animal gods of pharaonic Egypt.”
“And then?”
“They will adopt another creed. Probably one with a single deity. It could be our Lord or something like the Zoroastrianism of the Persians, for example.”
“Is that why the Messianics are so eager with their conversions?”
“I think so, Ahasver. I don’t know if it is premeditated or instinctive, but if they are successful they could one day replace the paganism of the Greeks and the Romans.”
“A tragedy, Rabban!”
“Not so much…”
“No?” I exclaimed surprised with his serenity.
“Although we will never accept their prophet as our messiah, and time will prove us right, at least there will be more followers of our own Lord. It's better that, than they following Ahura Mazda or some other Arian godhead.”
“It is a pessimistic vision, Rabban. Is there nothing we can do?”
“But what ? We have already done with their messiah. And if our more radical elements have their way, we might even sentence a few more of them.”
“I meant with this issue of conversions. Why don’t our own priests also convert more people to our faith?”
“Very few even try it. We are too inflexible and reluctant to allow Gentiles to become part of our faith. It is not only the Lord who is a jealous god, but the Kohanim too. Many don’t even accept the translation of the Torah, much less to go on missions of conversion.”
“I think I understand, Rabban, but my main worry now is Ruth.”
“The issue with Ruth could become a general problem for us all. Your family is not the first, nor will be the last where there will be discord because of religion. I think it is a growing issue in our society.”
But that did not bring me any consolation.
“But what should I do, Rabban? Allow Ruth to take this path into heresy?”
“The problem, as I see it, Ahasver, is that Ruth’s faith at this moment is weak, partially explainable because of your recent loss. It is all too human to question divine purpose when it personally affects us so profoundly and intimately. The why is the most human question there is, and the answers are most often incomprehensible to us, and at such times only blind faith can offer any comfort.”
“But, Rabban, what do
you recommend I do now?”
“Ahasver, I know you. What can you do? Forbid her from following her own way? How can one prohibit another person from thinking what they really want to think?”
“But surely there must be something to be done.”
“I advise you not to do much now. The two of you go to Temple, speak with some of the more reasonable Kohanim, go and listen to the scriptures, don’t distance yourself from her, but support her, be understanding. And above all, trust the Lord.”
Nothing too different from what I had planned. And we went on, with other subjects.
“Rabban, I’ve been hearing about this other messiah.”
“Yes, the Sanhedrin has deliberated, and once more we had to vehemently condemn this new heresy. Only credulous and ignorant fools could ever believe that this opportunist, an ascetic with no past, could ever command the waters of the Jordan. We have warned the Romans, and I believe they will intervene if the situation gets out of hand.”
“A story that keeps repeating itself.”
“As long as there are ignorant people, there will always be someone to exploit their credulity.”
“You mean that misplaced faith helps create them?”
“Always, Ahasver, always. As long as men need to be saved from themselves, there will always be this sort of messiah.”
“Except the Nazarenes, those have had their messiah.”
“Even them don’t seem too satisfied, and now claim his imminent return.”
Time… thou shall not want for time… thou will have all the time in the world until my return…
“And you, Ahasver? Will you be staying in Jerusalem now?”
“Not for too long, Rabban, I have grown fond of the seaside. I like Caesarea.”
“I understand. By the way, I don’t know how you do it, but you don’t seem to grow any older. Not fatter, not thinner. How I envy you, my friend. I am almost bald, my beard grows erratically, my eyesight deteriorates daily, and even my hand starts trembling when I write for long periods of time. But you…”
“It must be because of my workload, Rabban. Don’t they say that work brings health?” I smiled embarrassed with his remarks.
“Yes, some say it indeed. I suppose that is why some of my dearest friends, true altruists that they are, don’t cease to give me work” he said it grinning too.
By the time we had finished, night was falling and I rushed home to Ruth.
But that evening I never saw her. She was resting in her room, recovering from the journey, and according to one of the servant girls, she had hardly eaten anything. I was eager to speak to her about my conversation with Gamaliel, but it would have to wait.
Also, Isaac arrived, knowing that I was in town, and we sat in the terrace and caught up with our conversations, as I had not seen him since Yeshua’s burial.
Recalling Gamaliel’s remarks, I observed my brother attentively. Isaac was looking older, as expected really, his beard grayer, a face more deeply wrinkled and gaunt.
“Isaac tell me something. How do you find me? I mean in physical terms?” I asked interrupting him, “Do I look much older to you?”
“What? What do you mean?” he asked puzzled.
“Well, I don’t really know. But I was talking to Gamaliel earlier on, and he mentioned that I was looking well, I mean, my aspect… I didn’t seem to have aged since we had last met.”
And looking attentively at me, eyes half-shut as one does when we want to focus on minutiae.
“Yes, I see what he means. You are looking good, Ahasver, indeed. How old are you now ? Forty something…?”
“Almost forty three.”
“Well, you don’t look it. You are keeping yourself fit, certainly the result of an easy life” he added.
“You think so ? Well, I have been working hard, a lot to worry about these days. And yes, Isaac, I feel that I have aged a lot these last few months. Yeshua was a shock to us.”
“I can’t imagine it and anyone who looks at you even less. Time has been generous to you, brother,” while sipping a sweet wine from Galilee, “but you know, it is not proper for you to continue to dwell on his death. This black clothing you insist on wearing. The scriptures are very clear on this, and mourning in excess can be disrespectful to the Lord.”
That is all I really needed at that moment, a reprimand from my own brother.
“Pray and fervently implore the Lord for you never to experience such a loss” I answered bitterly.
That shut him up and drove him again to the wine cup. And amidst that awkward silence, I recalled the words.
Time… thou shall not want for time…
Year 46
Regrettably, my talks with Ruth lead nowhere. I did not demand anything tangible from her, and she promised nothing, and I could feel us growing more distant each passing day. Our visits to the Temple were long walks of silence, interrupted by curt answers to remarks I made on everyday issues. More than disbelief, gloom had settled on that house, as dark as the black dresses that she wore since the days of our misfortune. Friends came to visit and quickly departed. They were civilly received with all due courtesies, but also constrained with her short answers and long silences. That mutism enveloped me constantly, although I tried to ignore it by keeping busy with repetitive tasks and the usual outings, but it was that same silence who welcomed me back at the end of those afternoons.
I tried tenderness, but there was no reciprocity, I tried to talk, but I went unanswered, I tried and I tried, but nothing got through that wall of indifference. Even when I did receive some return, it was just colorless sounds deprived of any emotion and little reasoning.
Almost in despair and as glum as her, we searched for advice from the more tolerant and wiser priests and councilors, some highly recommended by Gamaliel, with whom I continued to share my anguish. But it was of no avail. Ruth would fix her answers on banalities and never really participated wholeheartedly in those sessions. And they would invariably recommend the very same remedies of prayer and penitence, concluding that the Lord would certainly intervene and reinforce her faith in time.
Long stretched those days, hard days spent in the company of Chronos, distracted and unyielding as ever. It was then and there that I personified time with the old pagan god, and by naming it, I gave him presence. It was not heresy. I certainly did not find anything divine in him, just a companion, silent and stable, and more present than Ruth.
I gradually realized that there was not much else to be done, and I decided to return home to Caesarea, as Ruth was also keen to go home. Once more I started with the usual preparations for our trip back.
“Rabban, I am leaving for Caesarea” I announced when I went to say my goodbyes to Gamaliel.
“I understand, Ahasver, and I am sorry to see you go so soon. I will miss our talks”
“Well, I think it is time to return. Ruth also wants it. She is increasingly morose and closed in herself. I am worried about her. She hardly talks these days and doesn’t seem to get much sleep either.”
As perceptive as ever, Gamaliel came out with the crucial question.
“Ahasver, and what if she found peace and solace in the Messianic creed? Would you accept it?”
It was not a question that had not already occurred to me, but I had not yet forced myself to dwell on it.
“I really don’t know how to answer that at this point. I’ve thought about it, yes indeed. But I have always tried not to consider it, even when I do see her so remote, so forlorn…”
Gamaliel interrupted me.
“My friend, place your trust in the Lord. What has to be will come to be.”
“But, Rabban, are you saying that I should do nothing, even it means that she will be condemning herself to eternal damnation?”
“No, Ahasver, all I am saying is that Ruth is already lost to us. We are too late.”
“Rabban…”
“Ahasver, just the other day we spoke about our destiny as a nation. Since the time of Mose
s we know for certain to be the chosen people of the Lord. Chosen to keep the faith and the truth until the very last days. How many times have we demonstrated this devotion and suffered to sustain it ? We are few when compared to the world out there, and for our faith to be unshakeable, we have to be strong and steadfast in its defense, and so some call us fanatics, belligerent, in constant turmoil with others and even amongst ourselves.”
Without pausing, he went on. “On the other hand, we now see this sect of heretics that claim to be followers of our Lord, preaching compassion to men who do not know or even follow the divine commandments, announcing to their followers that they are saved because their messiah gave his life for all sinners.”
“Rabban…”
“Ahasver, let us be honest with one another. If you were not a true believer, totally convinced of the righteousness of our faith, would you not choose such a path as the Messianics now offer ? Isn’t it easier to believe that our misdeeds will be forgiven when we leave this world, and that death does not lead anymore to sheol but to some heavenly bliss?”
“I do believe that’s the opinion of Ruth too.”
“Yes, indeed, just as you told me before, and I’m saying to you is that Ruth’s faith is too weak to resist such temptation. That is why she is already lost to us. Not just her, but many others who are tempted with such delusions.”
I shook my head in negation, I could not resign myself to such an inevitable course.
"Rabban, I can and I will fight it.”
“My dearest friend, I see every day the weaknesses of the human spirit, I see it because they are in me too. As friends, believe me when I say that all I want is for you to be aware of them, so that you may not fall into the same temptations. Remember that it is natural to have doubts and questions, and when you find yourself at a crossroad, search for the true path in the scriptures for you will find it written there.”
It was quite a farewell speech! Once more I was touched by his eloquence and clear thinking. A sagacious mind, but also very human with all the human doubts and questions that we all carry with us. I could feel some angst with the inevitability of future clashes with the Nazarenes. If half of his colleagues in the Council had a similar opinion, we would once again see the return of the purges and persecutions.
How relieved I felt, when once again I stared at that vast ocean limiting the greenery of the plain of Sharon and the whitewashed glow of my city of Caesarea. How good it was to be back, gulping that humid and salty air, that breeze of relief. How much prettier it now seemed my own house, the geometric precision of the decorative friezes over the intricate inlaid woodwork of the front door, details that had always been there, but at that moment it almost seemed like a revelation to my flustered gaze.
I had some correspondence waiting for me, including a letter from Joseph who was still in Antioch, informing me of the latest news, with questions about the recent unrest near Jericho and enquiring about the business and about Ruth.
In time, life returned to some normalcy and I anxiously watched Ruth’s behavior and moods, looking for signs of some improvement. Her silences had diminished somewhat during the latter stages of our journey, and back home she started to see some of her usual friends, but did not abandon her mourning habits nor stopped with her muted prayers and lamentations when alone in her room.
We returned to the Temple and the normal rites of two dedicated believers. I went back to the agora in the company of Alexander. I saw the Nazarenes again, once more tolerated by the Romans and the other Gentiles in the city, gathered in their usual groupings and openly preaching. I visited the tomb of Yeshua, alone in my grief, and I recalled once more the words of Gamaliel, longing for some comfort in his strong convictions.
I continued to question myself about the future, in muted monologues, and of the paths that the future would bring. I questioned priests in regard to some obscure details of the scriptures, searching for solutions to imagined problems. I spoke of trivia to friends, but not really interested in their answers or opinions. I retold burlesque incidents to Ruth, who heard them with guarded smiles and fleeting gazes. Overall, I was at that crossroad that Gamaliel had mentioned, living in the apparent normality of an uneasy truce.
“Ruth, are you feeling better, more resigned? We have hardly spoken lately…” I asked at dinner, trying to hide my anxiety so that she would not grasp how important her response was to me at that moment.
“Ahasver, I have had some help from your friend” she replied with downcast eyes.
“Who?” I asked, baffled with her answer.
“Time, that Greek god you mentioned the other day.”
“Oh, you mean Chronos.”
“Yes, that one… your friend.”
The irony was obvious.
“Hardly a friend... why do you say that?” I asked uneasily.
“Because you are relying on him to heal our wounds and bring on forgetfulness.”
“Hasn’t it helped? Hasn’t it softened our loss, our grief?”
“No, Ahasver, not at all. I still keep counting the days, and the hours since Yeshua is in sheol, and every second that goes by only adds to his suffering in that land of darkness.”
“Ruth, we are all destined to that same fate. It is written, it is the word of the Lord.”
“Ahasver, your son was always a good child. How can you honestly believe that his spirit deserves to share the same fate as the basest of thugs? I don’t! The Lord would never allow it. Never!”
“Now you doubt the scriptures? How can you have faith in the Lord and not in His words? I will not tolerate apostates in my house!” I replied indignantly and much too loud.
“Are you… are you going to expel me?" she stuttered.
I did not answer, limiting my response to cast her an accusatory glance and I stood up.
“Ahasver…”
“I will not speak further on this. One day you will thank me. It is not my Ruth who is here now, grief and sorrow are speaking for you.”
But was I right? Was my Ruth someone else, someone who had left me in an afternoon just like any other, before a boy’s casket? After all, how many were interred in that dark tomb?
Our wound festered again and apathy took over the house once more. A place for shadows, where light seemed so vague and almost imperceptible. And, in the company of my old friend Chronos, my nights stretched into pale dawns of poignant odors brought on by the low tides. And I would torment myself in lethargic inactivity, disinterested in anything except a solution, an answer, and despite Gamaliel’s dictates, I began to doubt that all our solutions could be simply found in the sacred writings.
Once more I ran to the comfort of a long letter to Joseph, minutely describing my state of mind. I realized that I had no one else I could trust with these bitter thoughts that were slowly eating away my will. In moments such as these, we never have enough friends, and those in whom we most trust are the very same who we do not want to distress with our own problems. In long sentences I unloaded unto those pages not only my anguish, but also the events, the talks I had had with Gamaliel, the disbelief of Ruth, and my doubts and questions, a very long list.
Although embittered with the situation at home, I was determined in bringing some degree of order into my daily routines, taking refuge in the affairs of the emporium, going to temple regularly, paying more frequent visits to friends, watching the races and the games, now held more regularly under the patronage of the Romans, and even actively participating in discussions at the agora.
The nights I spent reading under the light of flickering lamps, some furtive nocturnal visits to a nearby house, and enthusiastically savoring wines and liquors bought from merchants of the region and afar. The different aromas and bouquets were enjoyed by the senses, and as a bonus I would even get some restful slumber. So I learned of Dionysus, a fierce rival to my Chronos.
But my understanding of the Greek pantheon still included another god, or to be more precise, a goddess, Aphrodite, personif
ied for my delight in the beautiful Demetria — in my defense for this stage of licentiousness, I do blame most emphatically my wife, just as most men have done since the beginning of time. I will not claim that she was the one who took me to Demetria, that was my friend Adad, but her stubbornness and disregard for her marital duties were certainly major contributors to these lustful episodes.
Demetria was beautiful and sensual, a true courtesan, not to be confused with those dissolute that walked the insalubrious areas of the port, waiting for the arrival of some ship. She was a refined woman, exotic even, who attracted her admirers by her physical prowess and retained them through her intellect. An excellent conversationalist, always in the know of the more brazen events in town, spiced by very flowery and illustrative descriptions. She was a creature of the shadows, almost unknown, rarely spoken of and never seen in daylight. It was exactly what I needed at the time, irrefutable pleasures and lusty satisfactions.
With her I learned new arts and stood in awe with the splendor of the feminine body, until then only glimpsed in silhouettes of Ruth against the jalousies of nights of full moon. In her company, my desire took shape and sound. With her, I learned to savor the moments and the movements, and also the pleasures of voluptuousness. And to her I would return regularly and remorseful.
But even with all these efforts to keep mind and body occupied, there were always moments of idle solitude, unaided by those personal gods of mine.
Years 47 - 48
Long months went by without any news from Joseph, or at least so it seemed to me. But eventually something did arrive, brought by an unknown Nazarene. A bulky package, too big to be just a plain letter, and on opening it, I saw that it was some sort of a manuscript with pages sewed together and written in koine. I later learned that it was called a codex, a recent invention of the ever creative Greeks.
In the accompanying letter, Joseph began with the usual compliments and personal news and rapidly went on to my own issues. He stated that he understood my dilemma, but I should also show some sympathy with the issues that tormented Ruth. His arguments were based on some of our scriptural sayings, and he offered some of his own, clearly drawn from Nazarene sources. He claimed that even if I did not believe in Yeshua as the true messiah, I should at least try to accept his messages of tolerance and understanding. And such messages could be found in the book that he was enclosing, a compilation of the deeds of the prophet as witnessed by his closest followers.
He ended his letter with words of encouragement, comfort and even some philosophical considerations, reminding me of the brevity of life in this world and the importance of preparing ourselves for eternal life in the company of the Lord. Like Ruth, Joseph did not believe in the sheol.
Contrary to my expectation, Joseph did not offer any practical advice. He did not indicate any solution or even a compromise, except to read a book with the sayings of a dead preacher, through which I would find answers and comfort. I was disappointed, realizing that I could not count on him for any relevant spiritual guidance.
As to the book, I did not know what to do. If, on the one hand, I had some dim hope of finding something relevant to comfort Ruth, on the other, I was not too keen in reading heretical sayings. But in the end, plain curiosity won the day.
The book in itself, was nothing more than a fable, recounting the life of preaching of Yeshua. It was not even a biographical work. There were no mentions of his birth, childhood, education, nothing that could tell us more about the man. The story began when Yeshua was acclaimed by the Lord during some baptism performed by an ascetic named John, an unknown figure to me. Apparently, his divine acclamation was heard by a very large crowd. This was as new to me, as heretical to any one of my faith.
From this momentous event, the story went on to describe the many miracles, the cures and the stories told by the prophet to any who wanted to hear him, including very peculiar interpretations of our own scriptures that he made known to some of our priests and sages. And it all ended with his crucifixion and the inevitable resurrection and ascension to his own Nazarene heaven.
If this was one of the pillars of that doctrine, or their preaching manual, it did not seem that harmful to me. In truth, there were few heretical sayings and I could agree with Joseph that some of the teachings were tolerant and ethical. For this preacher, all men were sinners and all could be saved, the thieves, the most heinous of criminals or the sinful, all forgiven by simply accepting and regretting their deeds on their death beds. Naturally, all the dead would resurrect at the end of days and be judged for their faith. And the spirit of those who repented would again exist in perpetual jubilation and in the company of the Lord and of his son Yeshua. The sheol would only occur for the renegades, the worst of men, a place of infinite torments similar to the infernos of the Greeks.
Such was the faith of Ruth, and the reason was obvious.
It was also strange and curious to me, reading in those lines about some of the events that I had somehow witnessed. The procession of their messiah to the cross, entering that empty tomb of his in the company of Joseph, and in truth, those women had been there on that day.
The book was not long and I actually read it a couple of times, applying logic and reasoning to find inconsistencies and flaws. Unfortunately, only many years later I came to understand how such methods were fallible when one wants to extract reason from religious dogmas. But I even took some notes of events that seemed completely nonsensical or exaggerations. If I did a good job I might even convince Ruth to give up her obsessive thoughts on the whole thing. How I wanted my Ruth back !
Since we now only met during meals, it was at such a moment that I mentioned it to her.
“Ruth, I received a letter from Joseph” I began.
Without raising her eyes from the table, she commented, trying to show some interest. “Is he well?”
“Yes, he sends his regards and also a manuscript,” and I went on, “a manuscript about the prophet Yeshua.”
I could now see the glint of some curiosity awakening in her.
“He sent it to you? Why?”
“I wrote to him about your convictions.”
Now furtively glancing at me, she asked.
“Why did you do that? You know he is a Messianic, we all know. What did you expect?” and suddenly she stared at me, “A manuscript? About the Messiah?”
Well, now she had it. “Yes, a book about his teachings.”
“Joseph wrote it himself?”
“No, he says that they are accounts of witnesses and followers. Maybe the same that Mordechai once wrote down.”
“From Antioch! They are speaking of Him in Antioch… did you read it?”
“Yes.”
That brief questioning ended there. I had expected some more questions, some more interest from her. So I continued.
“You don’t want to know what are my thoughts on it?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know if I want to know. Your opinion was always very clear, even when your actions seemed contrary.”
“Ruth, we have spoken about that.”
“Yes, I know. I apologize.”
“Ruth, what can I do? It’s too difficult to keep this going for much longer. Your apathy for everything, your silence and your accusatory looks…”
“I only want the best for us, and when I say us, I include our son. I want to be with him in spirit, to see him together with the Messiah,” and she went on questioning, “doesn’t this book speak of salvation? Doesn’t it say that whoever converts to the truth of Yeshua will live forever?”
“Something like that. Right along with miracles of lepers being cured, the dead brought to life, the wine jar and the bread loaf that fed the hunger of hundreds of people…”
“Ahasver, don’t! Don’t mock it. Can I see the manuscript?”
“You can, but you won’t understand it. It is written in Greek.”
“I don’t understand. How can it be an account of His teachings if it is in Greek?”
“It’s probably a translation of another book. There isn’t much point in having an Aramaic version in Antioch, is there?”
“Yes, it makes sense. But you could translate it for me, if you wanted to…”
“I don’t know…” I hesitated while I thought about it. Could that book bring her some comfort or would it feed even more her belief in the Nazarene?”
“I see. I think I understand…” in a tone that clearly contradicted what she was saying.
If I translated it for her, I could mitigate some of those passages, although she already knew most of what they claimed, even the more absurd tales.
“No, I’ll do it. I’ll read it to you” besides, I would make sure that I would give a very slow reading, and we would do it in the terrace as we did so many times in happier days. All I really wanted was to get my Ruth back!
As I later wrote to Gamaliel, that text was not long or difficult to read, and it was filled with moral lessons and numerous descriptions of their miracles. Strangely, he showed some interest in also reading it, if I had the opportunity of sending it to Jerusalem or taking it with me during one of my trips.
Shameless, for I believed in the justness of my motive, I can say that I took a few weeks to finish reading it for Ruth, and I admit that I did not distort too extensively those stories. I did exaggerate some parts, using them to ridicule some of the descriptions, and I tried to minimize the fervor of other deeds and words. I recalled once more to Ruth my brief encounter with the preacher, not disclosing the words he had said to me, and although she had already heard the story before, I could see that she was enthralled with that brief encounter. I also spoke of that morning journey with Joseph to the burial grounds and our findings.
Finally, late one night, we finished. And as fate capriciously does, in the next morning Joseph knocked on our door, just arrived from Antioch in the company of a retinue of servants, animals and other travelers, among whom I recognized a familiar face, Saul.
THE HUSBAND