CHAPTER 17
Rayford Steele sat in a lounge at Ben Gurion Airport. He was early, preceding the Carpathia delegation by more than an hour. His crew was busy on Global Community One, and he had time to try to get through to Chloe.
“I saw you, Dad!” she laughed. “They tried to flash names with each shot. They had yours almost right. It said you were Raymond Steel, no e on the end, and that you were the pilot of Air Force One.”
Rayford smiled, warmed by the sound of his daughter’s voice. “Close. And the press wonders why no one trusts them.”
“They didn’t know what to do with Buck,” Chloe said. “The first few times they panned to him, they didn’t put anything on the screen. Then somebody must have heard the announcement when he was introduced and they came up with ‘Duke Wilson, former writer, Newsweek.’”
“Perfect,” Rayford said.
“Buck’s all excited about this rabbi who’s going to be on international CNN in a couple of hours. You going to get a chance to watch?”
“We’ll have it on the plane.”
“You can get it that far away and that far up?”
“You should see the technology, Chlo’. The reception will be better than we get on cable at home. At least as good, anyway.”
Buck felt an overwhelming sadness. Chaim Rosenzweig had embraced him at least three times after the ceremony, exulting that this was one of the happiest days of his life. He pleaded with Buck to come along on the flight to Baghdad. “You will be working for Nicolae in a month regardless,” Chaim said. “No one will see this as conflict of interest.”
“I will, especially in a month when he owns whatever rag I work for.”
“Don’t be negative today, of all days,” Chaim said. “Come along. Marvel. Enjoy. I have seen the plans. New Babylon will be magnificent.”
Buck wanted to weep for his friend. When would it all come crashing down on Chaim? Might he die before he realized he’d been duped and used? Maybe that would be best. But Buck also feared for Chaim’s soul. “Will you watch Dr. Ben-Judah on live television today?”
“Of course! Wouldn’t miss it! He has been my friend since Hebrew University days. I understand they will have it on the plane to Baghdad. Another reason for you to come along.”
Buck shook his head. “I will be watching from here. But once your friend outlines his findings, you and I should talk about the ramifications.”
“Ah, I am not a religious man, Cameron. You know this. I likely should not be surprised with what Tsion comes up with today. He is an able scholar and careful researcher, brilliant really, and an engaging speaker. He reminds me somewhat of Nicolae.”
Please, Buck thought. Anything but that!
“What do you think he’ll say?”
“Like most Orthodox Jews, he will come to the conclusion that Messiah is yet to come. There are a few fringe groups, as you know, who believe Messiah already came, but these so-called Messiahs are no longer in Israel. Some are dead. Some have moved to other countries. None brought the justice and peace the Torah predicts. So, like all of us, Tsion will outline the prophecies and encourage us to keep waiting and watching. It will be uplifting and inspirational, which I believe was the point of the research project in the beginning.
“He may talk about hastening the coming of Messiah. Some groups moved into ancient Jewish dwellings, believing they had a sacred right to do so and that this would help fulfill some prophecies, clearing the way for the coming of Messiah. Others are so upset at the Muslim desecration of the Temple Mount that they have reopened synagogues in the same vicinity, as close as they can to the original site of the temple.”
“You know there are Gentiles who also believe Messiah has already come,” Buck said carefully.
Chaim was looking over Buck’s shoulder, making sure he was not left behind when the entourage moved toward transportation back to the hotels and eventually to Ben Gurion for the flight to Baghdad. “Yes, yes, I know, Cameron. But I would sooner believe Messiah is not a person but more of an ideology.”
He began moving away and Buck suddenly felt desperate. He held Chaim’s arm. “Doctor, Messiah is more than an ideology!”
Rosenzweig stopped and looked his friend in the face. “Cameron, we can discuss this, but if you are going to be so literal about it, let me tell you something. If Messiah is a person, if he is to come to bring peace and justice and hope to the world, I agree with those who believe he is already here.”
“You do?”
“Yes, don’t you?”
“You believe in Messiah?”
“I said if, Cameron. That is a big if.”
“If Messiah is real and is to come, what?” Buck pleaded as his friend pulled away.
“Don’t you see, Cameron? Nicolae himself fulfills most of the prophecies. Maybe all, but this is not my area of scholarship. Now I must go. I will see you in Babylon?”
“No, I told you—”
Rosenzweig stopped and returned. “I thought you just meant you were finding your own way there so as not to accept any favors from an interview subject.”
“I was, but I have changed my mind. I’m not going. If I do wind up working for a Carpathia-owned publication, I imagine I’ll tour New Babylon soon enough.”
“What will you do? Are you returning to the States? Will I see you there?”
“I don’t know. We’ll see.”
“Cameron! Give me a smile on this historic day!”
But Buck could not muster one. He walked all the way back to the King David Hotel, where the clerk asked if he still wanted information on commercial flights to Baghdad. “No, thanks,” he said.
“Very good, sir. A message for you.”
The envelope bore the return address of Dr. Tsion Ben-Judah. Buck trotted up to his room before tearing it open. It read, “Sorry to abandon you last night. Would not have been able to converse. Would you do me the honor of joining me for lunch and accompanying me to the ICNN studio? I will await your call.”
Buck looked at his watch. Surely it was too late. He placed the call, only to get a housekeeper who said that the rabbi had left twenty minutes before. Buck slammed his hand on the dresser. What a privilege he would miss, just because he had walked back to the hotel instead of taking a cab! Perhaps he would take a cab to the TV studio and meet Tsion there after lunch. But did the rabbi want to talk before going on the air; was that it?
Buck lifted the receiver, and the front desk answered. “Can you get me a cab, please?”
“Certainly, sir, but a call has just come in for you. Would you like to take it now?”
“Yes, and hold onto that cab until I get back to you.”
“Yes, sir. Hang up, please, and I will ring your call through.”
It was Tsion. “Dr. Ben-Judah! I’m so glad you called! I just got back.”
“I was at the signing, Buck,” Tsion said in his thick Hebrew accent, “but I did not make myself visible or available.”
“Is your lunch invitation still open?”
“It is.”
“When shall I meet you, and where?”
“How about now, out in front?”
“I’m there.”
Thank you, Lord, Buck breathed as he ran down the stairs. Give me the opportunity to tell this man that you are the Messiah.
At the car the rabbi shook Buck’s hand with both of his and pulled him close. “Buck, we have shared an incredible experience. I feel a bond. But now I am nervous about informing the world of my findings, and I need to talk over lunch. May we?”
The rabbi directed his driver to a small cafe in a busy section of Jerusalem. Tsion, a huge black three-ring binder under his arm, spoke quietly to the waiter in Hebrew, and they were directed to a window table surrounded by plants. When menus were brought, Ben-Judah looked at his watch, waved off the menus, and spoke again in his native tongue. Buck assumed he was ordering for both of them.
“Do you still need your patch, identifying yourself as a reporter from the magazine?”
Buck quickly yanked the patch off his pocket.
“It came off much easier than it went on, did it not?”
Buck laughed.
As Tsion joined in the laughter, the waiter brought an unsliced loaf of warm bread, butter, a wheel of cheese, a mayonnaise-like sauce, a bowl of green apples, and fresh cucumbers.
“If you will allow me?” Ben-Judah pointed to the plate.
“Please.”
The rabbi sliced the warm bread in huge sections, slathered them with butter and the sauce, applied slices of the cucumber and cheese, then put apple slices on the side and slid a plate in front of Buck.
Buck waited as the rabbi prepared his own plate. “Please do not wait for me. Eat while the bread is warm.”
Buck bowed his head briefly, praying again for Tsion Ben-Judah’s soul. He raised his eyes and lifted the delicacy.
“You are a man of prayer,” Tsion observed as he continued to prepare his meal.
“I am.” Buck continued to pray silently, wondering if now was the time to jump in with a timely word. Could this man be influenced within an hour of revealing his scholarly research to the world? Buck felt foolish. The rabbi was smiling.
“What is it, Tsion?”
“I was just recalling the last American with whom I shared a meal here. He was on a junket, sightseeing, and I was asked to entertain him. He was some sort of a religious leader, and we all take turns here, you know, making the tourists feel welcome.” Buck nodded.
“I made the mistake of asking if he wanted to try one of my favorites, a vegetable and cheese sandwich. Either my accent was too difficult for him or he understood me and the offering did not appeal. He politely declined and ordered something more familiar, something with pita bread and shrimp, as I recall. But I asked the waiter, in my own language, to bring extra of what I was having, due to what I call the jealousy factor. It was not long before the man had pushed his plate aside and was sampling what I had ordered.”
Buck laughed. “And now you simply order for your guests.”
“Exactly.”
And before the rabbi ate, he prayed silently too.
“I skipped breakfast,” Buck said, lifting the bread in salute.
Tsion Ben-Judah beamed with delight. “Perfect!” he said. “An international adage says that hunger is the best seasoning.”
Buck found it true. He had to slow down to keep from overeating, which had rarely been a problem for him. “Tsion,” he began finally, “did you just want company before going on the air, or was there something specific you wanted to talk about?”
“Something specific,” the rabbi said, looking at his watch. “How does my hair look, by the way?”
“Fine. They’ll probably comb out the hat line there in makeup.”
“Makeup? I had forgotten that part. No wonder they want me so early.”
Ben-Judah checked his watch, then pushed his plates aside and hefted the notebook onto the table. It contained a four-inch stack of manuscript pages. “I have several more of these in my office,” he said, “but this is the essence, the conclusion, the result of my three years of exhaustive—and exhausting—work with a team of young students who were of incalculable help to me.”
“You’re not dreaming of reading that aloud in an hour, are you?”
“No, no!” Ben-Judah said, laughing. “This is what you would call my security blanket. If I draw a blank, I pick up the blanket. No matter where I turn, there is something I should say. You might be interested to know that I have memorized what I will say on television.”
“An hour’s worth?”
“That might have seemed daunting to me, too, three years ago. Now I know I could go on for many more hours, and without notes. But I must stick to my plan to redeem the time. If I get off on tangents, I will never finish.”
“And yet you’ll take your notes with you.”
“I am confident, Buck, but I am no fool. Much of my life has consisted of speaking publicly, but about half the time that has been in Hebrew. Naturally, with their worldwide audience, CNN prefers English. That makes it more difficult for me, and I don’t want to compound that by losing my way.”
“I’m sure you’ll do fine.”
“You have just satisfied the requirements of your end of the conversation!” the rabbi said, grinning. “Treating you to lunch is already a profitable proposition.”
“So you just needed a little cheerleading.”
The rabbi seemed to think about the word for a moment. Though it was an American term, Buck assumed it was self-explanatory. “Yes,” Ben-Judah said. “Cheerleading. And I want to ask you a question. If it is too personal, you may decline to answer.”
Buck held his hands apart as if open to any question.
“Last night you asked me my conclusions on the Messiah question, and I told you, in essence, that you would have to wait until the rest of the world heard it. But let me pose the same question to you.”
Praise the Lord, Buck thought. “How much time do we have?”
“About twenty minutes. If it takes longer, we can continue in the car on the way to the studio. Maybe even into makeup.”
The rabbi smiled at his own humor, but Buck was already formulating his story. “You already know about my being at a kibbutz when the Russians attacked Israel.”
Ben-Judah nodded. “The day you lost your agnosticism.”
“Right. Well, I was on an airplane, headed for London, the day of the disappearances.”
“You don’t say.”
And Buck was off and running with the story of his own spiritual journey. He wasn’t finished until the rabbi was out of makeup and sitting nervously in the green room. “Did I go on too long?” Buck asked. “I realize it was asking a lot for you to even pretend to pay attention with your mind on your own presentation.”
“No, Buck,” the rabbi said, deep emotion in his voice. “I should be able to do this in my sleep. If I tried to push any more into my head at this late date, I would lose it all.”
So that was it? No response? No thank you? No “you’re a fool”?
Finally, after a long silence, Tsion spoke again. “Buck, I deeply appreciate your sharing that with me.”
A young woman with a battery pack on her hip, earphones and mouthpiece in place, slipped in. “Dr. Ben-Judah,” she said. “We are ready for you in the studio for sound check, and ninety seconds to air.”
“I am ready.” Ben-Judah did not move.
The young woman hesitated, looking doubtful. Apparently she was not used to guests who didn’t simply nervously follow her to the set. She left.
Tsion Ben-Judah rose with his notebook under his arm and opened the door, standing there with his free hand on the knob. “Now, Buck Williams, if you would be so kind as to do me a favor while you wait here.”
“Sure.”
“As you are a man of prayer, would you pray that I will say what God wants me to say?”
Buck raised a fist of encouragement to his new friend and nodded.
“Want to take over?” Rayford asked his first officer. “I wouldn’t mind catching this special CNN report.”
“Roger. That rabbi thing?”
“Right.”
The first officer shook his head. “That would put me right to sleep.”
Rayford made his way out of the cockpit but was disappointed to see that the television was not on in the main cabin. He moved toward the back where other dignitaries and press were gathering around another TV. But before Rayford was completely out of Carpathia’s conference room, Nicolae noticed him. “Captain Steele! Please! Spend a few minutes with us!”
“Thank you, sir, but I was hoping to catch the—”
“The Messiah broadcast, yes, of course! Turn it on!”
Someone turned on the set and tuned in ICNN. “You know,” Carpathia announced to all within earshot, “our captain believes Jesus was the Messiah.”
Chaim Rosenzweig said, “Frankly, as a nonreligious Jew, I think Nicolae fulfills more of the prophecies than Jesus did.”
Rayford recoiled. What blasphemy! He knew Buck liked and respected Rosenzweig, but what a statement! “No offense, sir, but I doubt many Jews could believe in a Messiah—even if they think he is yet to come—who was born other than in the Holy Land.”
“Ah, well, you see?” Rosenzweig said. “I am not that much a student. Now this man,” he added, pointing to the TV screen where Tsion Ben-Judah was being introduced, “here is your religious scholar. After three years of intensive research, he ought to be able to outline the qualifications of Messiah.”
I’ll bet, Rayford thought. He stood in a corner and leaned against the wall to keep out of the way. Carpathia slipped off his suit jacket, and a flight attendant immediately hung it for him. He loosened his tie, rolled up his sleeves, and sat down in front of the television holding a fresh seltzer with a twist. Carpathia obviously considered this a good hour’s diversion, Rayford thought.
An off-camera announcer clarified that “the views and opinions expressed on this broadcast do not necessarily reflect the views of the International Cable News Network or its subscribing stations.”
Rayford found Dr. Ben-Judah a most engaging communicator. He looked directly into the camera, and though his accent was thick, he spoke slowly and distinctly enough to be easily understood. Most of all, Rayford sensed an enthusiasm and a passion for his subject. This was not at all what Rayford had expected. He would have imagined an ancient rabbi with a long white beard, hunched over some musty manuscripts with a magnifying glass, comparing jots and tittles.
Ben-Judah, however, after a brief introduction of himself and the process through which he and his team did their research, began with a promise. “I have come to the conclusion that we may know beyond all shadow of doubt the identity of our Messiah. Our Bible has given clear prophecies, prerequisites, and predictions that only one person in the human race could ever fulfill. Follow along with me and see if you come to the same conclusion I have, and we shall see whether Messiah is a real person, whether he has already come, or whether he is yet to come.”
Rabbi Ben-Judah said he and his team spent almost the entire first year of their project confirming the accuracy of the late Alfred Edersheim, a teacher of languages and Grinfield Lecturer on the Septuagint. Edersheim had postulated that there were 456 messianic passages in Scripture, supported by more than 558 references from the most ancient rabbinical writings.
“Now,” the rabbi said, “I promise to not bore you with statistics, but let me just say that many of those prophetic passages are repetitive and some are obscure. But based on our careful study, we believe there are at least 109 separate and distinct prophecies Messiah must fulfill. They require a man so unusual and a life so unique that they eliminate all pretenders.
“I do not have time in this brief hour to cover all 109, of course, but I will deal with some of the most clearly obvious and specific ones. We consulted a mathematician and asked him to calculate the probability of even 20 of the 109 prophecies being fulfilled in one man. He came up with odds of one in one quadrillion, one hundred and twenty-five trillion!”
Dr. Ben-Judah gave what Rayford considered a brilliant example of how to easily identify someone with just a few marks. “Despite the billions of people who still populate this planet, you can put a postcard in the mail with just a few distinctions on it, and I will be the only person to receive it. You eliminate much of the world when you send it to Israel. You narrow it more when it comes to Jerusalem. You cut the potential recipients to a tiny fraction when it goes to a certain street, a certain number, a certain apartment. And then, with my first and last name on it, you have singled me out of billions. That, I believe, is what these prophecies of Messiah do. They eliminate, eliminate, eliminate, until only one person could ever fulfill them.”
Dr. Ben-Judah was so engaging that everyone on the plane had stopped talking, moving, even shifting in their seats. Even Nicolae Carpathia, despite the occasional sip from his glass and the tinkling of the ice, barely moved. It seemed to Rayford that Carpathia was almost embarrassed by the attention Ben-Judah had commanded.
Trying not to cause a distraction, Rayford excused himself and quickly slipped back into the cockpit. He put a hand on his first officer’s shoulder and leaned down to talk to him. The first officer lifted his left earphone.
“I want this plane to not touch the ground before five minutes after the hour.”
“We’re scheduled for about two minutes to, Cap, and we’re making good time.”
“Make whatever adjustments you have to make.”
“Roger.” He reached for the radio. “Baghdad tower, this is Global Community One, over.”
“Baghdad tower, go ahead One.”
“We’re reducing speed a few knots and are setting a new ETA of five minutes after the hour.”
“Roger, Global. Problems?”
“Negative. Just experimenting with the new plane.”
The first officer glanced up at Rayford to see if that was all right. Rayford gave him the thumbs-up and hurried back to the television.
Buck prayed as he watched. Other staffers had gathered around monitors. There was none of the usual behind-the-scenes banter. People were glued to the broadcast. To keep from jumping out of his skin, Buck dug out his notebook and pen and tried to keep copious notes. It was nearly impossible to keep up with the rabbi, who rolled on and on with prophecy after prophecy.
“Messiah is not limited to just a few identifying marks,” Ben-Judah said. “We Jews have been looking for him, praying for him, longing for him for centuries, and yet we have stopped studying the many identification hallmarks in our Scriptures. We have ignored many and made favorites of others, to the point that we are now looking for a political leader who will right wrongs, bring justice, and promise peace.”
Chaim Rosenzweig stepped over to Carpathia and clapped him on the back, turning to beam at everyone. He was largely ignored, especially by Carpathia.
“Some believe Messiah will restore things as they were in the glorious days of Solomon,” Rabbi Ben-Judah continued. “Others believe Messiah will make all things new, ushering in a kingdom unlike anything we have ever seen. And yet the prophecies themselves tell us what Messiah will do. Let us examine just a few of them in the remaining time.”
Buck was getting a glimpse of what was to come. Jesus was either the Messiah, the chosen one, the fulfillment of God’s Word, or he could not stand up to the scrutiny of the record. If only one man could possibly fulfill the prophecies, it had to be Jesus. It didn’t appear the rabbi was going to use the New Testament to try to convince his first and primary audience, the Jews. So the prophecies from hundreds of years before the birth of Christ would have to be clear enough to make the point—if indeed that was where Tsion was going.
Dr. Ben-Judah was sitting on the edge of the table where he had displayed the several-hundred-page conclusion to his research study. The camera zoomed in on his expressive features. “The very first qualification of Messiah, accepted by our scholars from the beginning, is that he should be born the seed of a woman, not the seed of a man like all other human beings. We know now that women do not possess ‘seed.’ The man provides the seed for the woman’s egg. And so this must be a supernatural birth, as foretold in Isaiah 7:14, ‘Therefore the Lord Himself will give you a sign: Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a Son, and shall call His name Immanuel.’
“Our Messiah must be born of a woman and not of a man because he must be righteous. All other humans are born of the seed of their father, and thus the sinful seed of Adam has been passed on to them. Not so with the Messiah, born of a virgin.
“Our Messiah must be born of an extremely rare bloodline. While he must be born of a woman, that woman must be of a bloodline that includes many of the fathers of Israel. God himself eliminated billions of people from this select bloodline so Messiah’s identity would be unmistakable.
“First God eliminated two-thirds of the world’s population by choosing Abraham, who was from the line of Shem, one of Noah’s three sons. Of Abraham’s two sons, God chose only Isaac, eliminating half of Abraham’s progeny. One of the two sons of Isaac, Jacob, received the blessing but passed it on to only one of his twelve sons, Judah. That eliminated millions of other sons in Israel. The prophet Isaiah years later singled out King David as another through whom Messiah would come, predicting that he would be a ‘root out of Jesse.’ David’s father, Jesse, was a son of Judah.
“Messiah, according to the prophet Micah, must be born in Bethlehem.” The rabbi turned to the passage in his notes and read, “‘But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah, though you are little among the thousands of Judah, yet out of you shall come forth to Me the One to be Ruler in Israel, whose goings forth are from of old, from everlasting.’”
Chaim Rosenzweig was moving nervously, the only one on the plane not perfectly still. Rayford felt the old man had made a fool of himself and hoped he wouldn’t compound it. But he did. “Nicolae,” he said. “You were born in Bethlehem and moved to Cluj, right? Ha, ha!”
Others shushed him, but Carpathia finally sat back as if he had just realized something. “I know where this man is going!” he said. “Can you not see it? It is as plain as the nose on his face.”
I can, Rayford thought. It should be obvious to more than Carpathia by now.
“He is going to claim to be the Messiah himself!” Carpathia shouted. “He was probably born in Bethlehem, and who knows what his bloodline is. Most people deny being born out of wedlock, but maybe that is his history. He can claim his mother was never with a man before he was born, and voilà, the Jews have their Messiah!”
“Ach!” Rosenzweig said. “You are speaking of a dear friend of mine. He would never claim such a thing.”
“You watch and see,” Carpathia said.
A steward leaned in and whispered, “Phone for you, Mr. Secretary-General.”
“Who is it?”
“Your assistant calling from New York.”
“Which one?”
“Ms. Durham.”
“Take a message.”
Carpathia turned back to the screen as Rabbi Ben-Judah continued. “As a child, Messiah will go to Egypt, because the prophet Hosea says that out of Egypt God will call him. Isaiah 9:1-2 indicates that Messiah will minister mostly in Galilee.
“One of the prophecies we Jews do not like and tend to ignore is that Messiah will be rejected by his own people. Isaiah prophesied, ‘He is despised and rejected by men, a Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. And we hid, as it were, our faces from Him; He was despised, and we did not esteem Him.’”
The rabbi looked at his watch. “My time is fleeting,” he said, “so I want to speed through a few more clear prophecies and tell you what conclusion I have drawn. Isaiah and Malachi predict that Messiah will be preceded by a forerunner. The Psalmist said Messiah would be betrayed by a friend. Zechariah said that he would be betrayed for thirty pieces of silver. He adds that people will look on the one whom they have pierced.
“The Psalmist prophesied that people would ‘look and stare at Me. They divide My garments among them, and for My clothing they cast lots.’ And later it is prophesied that ‘He guards all His bones; not one of them is broken.’
“Isaiah says ‘they made His grave with the wicked; but with the rich at His death, because He had done no violence, nor was any deceit in His mouth.’ The Psalms say he was to be resurrected.
“If I had more time, I could share with you dozens more prophecies from the Hebrew Scriptures that point to the qualifications of the Messiah. I will broadcast a phone number at the end of this broadcast so you can order all the printed material from our study. The study will convince you that we can be absolutely sure only one person could ever be qualified to be the special Anointed One of Jehovah.
“Let me close by saying that the three years I have invested in searching the sacred writings of Moses and the prophets have been the most rewarding of my life. I expanded my study to books of history and other sacred writings, including the New Testament of the Gentiles, combing every record I could find to see if anyone has ever lived up to the messianic qualifications. Was there one born in Bethlehem of a virgin, a descendant of King David, traced back to our father Abraham, who was taken to Egypt, called back to minister in Galilee, preceded by a forerunner, rejected by God’s own people, betrayed for thirty pieces of silver, pierced without breaking a bone, buried with the rich, and resurrected?
“According to one of the greatest of all Hebrew prophets, Daniel, there would be exactly 483 years between the decree to rebuild the wall and the city of Jerusalem ‘in troublesome times’ before the Messiah would be cut off for the sins of the people.”
Ben-Judah looked directly into the camera. “Exactly 483 years after the rebuilding of Jerusalem and its walls, Jesus Christ of Nazareth offered himself to the nation of Israel. He rode into the city on a donkey to the rejoicing of the people, just as the prophet Zechariah had predicted: ‘Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion! Shout, O daughter of Jerusalem! Behold, your King is coming to you; He is just and having salvation, lowly and riding on a donkey, a colt, the foal of a donkey.’”
Buck leaped from the couch in the green room, standing now, watching the monitor. Others had gathered, but he couldn’t help himself. He shouted, “Yes! Go, Tsion! Amen!” Buck heard phones ringing down the hall, and the rabbi hadn’t even flashed the number yet.
“Jesus Christ is the Messiah!” the rabbi concluded. “There can be no other option. I had come to this answer but was afraid to act on it, and I was almost too late. Jesus came to rapture his church, to take them with him to heaven as he said he would. I was not among them, because I wavered. But I have since received him as my Savior. He is coming back in seven years! Be ready!”
Suddenly the TV studio was crawling with activity. Orthodox rabbis called, angry Israelis pounded on the doors, studio technicians looked for the cue to pull the plug.
“Here is the number to call to obtain more information!” the rabbi said. “If they will not flash it, let me quote it for you!” And he did, as directors signaled the cameramen to shut down. “Yeshua ben Yosef, Jesus son of Joseph, is Yeshua Hamashiac!” the rabbi shouted quickly. “Jesus is the Messiah!” And the screen went blank.
Rabbi Ben-Judah gathered up his notebook and looked frantically for Buck.
“I’m here, brother!” Buck said, running into the studio. “Where’s the car?”
“Hidden around back, and my driver still doesn’t know why!”
Executives burst into the studio. “Wait! People need to see you!”
The rabbi hesitated, looking to Buck. “What if they are seeking Christ?”
“They can call!” Buck said. “I’m getting you out of here!”
They ran through the back door and skipped into the employee parking lot. No sign of the Mercedes. Suddenly, from across the road, the driver jumped from the car, waving and shouting. Buck and Tsion sprinted toward him.
“Now that was anticlimactic.” Nicolae Carpathia concluded. “I would have liked him saying he was the Messiah better. This is old news. Lots of people believe this myth. So they have a primo Hebrew rabbi convert. Big deal.”
It sure is, Rayford thought, moving back to the cockpit for the landing.
Buck felt awkward in the small home of Tsion Ben-Judah, whose wife embraced him tearfully and then sat with her children in another room, sobbing loudly. “I support you, Tsion,” she called out. “But our lives are ruined!”
Tsion answered the phone and motioned for Buck to pick up the extension in the other room. Mrs. Ben-Judah tried to quiet herself while Buck was listening in.
“Yes, this is Rabbi Ben-Judah.”
“This is Eli. I spoke to you last night.”
“Of course! How did you get my number?”
“I called the one you mentioned on the broadcast, and the student who answered gave it to me. Somehow I convinced her who I was.”
“It’s good to hear from you.”
“I rejoice with you, Tsion my brother, in the fellowship of Jesus Christ. Many have received him under our preaching here in Jerusalem. We have arranged for a meeting of new believers in Teddy Kollek Stadium. Would you come and address us?”
“Frankly, brother Eli, I fear for the safety of my family and myself.”
“Have no fear. Moishe and I will make clear that anyone who threatens harm to you will answer to us. And I think our record is plain on that account.”