THE DAYS PASSED bearably enough as long as Shana disciplined her mind not to dwell on Rafael’s plight. She had to keep reminding herself that taking his load onto herself would make it no lighter for him. And if she allowed herself to be morose, Josiah might be inclined to investigate the reason. At all costs, she must not jeopardise their uncomplicated friendship, which could be so vital to Rafael's release.
She was spending a great deal of time in Josiah's company now – he made certain of that – and had begun to think she had been wrong about him. He treated her like a sister, with the utmost courtesy and respect, which reassured her of his integrity. She began to tentatively explore his views about the Nazarene sect, knowing she risked drawing attention to her own convictions. One day, feigning complete ignorance on legal matters, she asked breezily how the members of the Sanhedrin, with such differing opinions on their religion, could ever agree on anything.
“They seldom ever do,” Josiah replied, with smug pleasure at the opportunity to display his knowledge, “which is why cases concerning Judaism cause some entertaining disputes in the courtroom, and none more heated at the moment than those involving the Nazarene sect, which Saul is working himself up about.”
“Why should that cause conflict?” asked Shana, her pulse accelerating.
“Because every time the subject is mentioned, it triggers a debate about their opposing views on the resurrection of the dead, which the Pharisees claim is legitimate, but the Sadducees consider akin to heresy.”
“Whose side are you on?” asked Shana in a careless tone.
“I was raised a Pharisee and personally studied the Torah. I question the interpretation of everything I read. The scriptures make it clear that the dead will be raised at the end of the age, and I believe it. The Jews are God’s chosen people and there would be little point to anything if we all just ended up as dust.”
“So the council disagree about the Nazarene sect?”
“Not at all; they are united in wanting to stamp it out before it spreads any further, which is why Saul has become such a hot favourite. It’s a dangerous heresy which threatens to destabilise our Jewish religion by claiming that the Messiah has already come when the one who claimed the title lies dead in his tomb.”
“His body is gone,” Shana blurted out and instantly regretted it.
Josiah stiffened. A red flush crawled up his neck. “There is no proof of that,” he said warningly.
Shana knew better than to pursue the subject any further.
A few days later, Josiah said something that stopped Shana’s blood in her veins. They were walking through the olive groves outside the city walls, where a group of servant girls had been sent in the cool of early evening to harvest olives for the palace kitchen. Caiaphas was very particular about the method used for curing and processing olives and refused to take those sold at the market. As usual, Josiah had taken advantage of the occasion to be on hand at the end of the day to help Shana with her baskets. The other girls had gone on ahead, but Josiah dawdled along, in no hurry to end one of the rare opportunities to be alone with Shana.
He chatted happily as they descended the hill, stopping to admire the dust-red sunset lingering on the horizon. It was a hot summer evening and the burning air cooled as it filtered through the groves and refreshed their perspiring skin. Shana was only half listening to Josiah when suddenly one sentence shouted in her ears.
“The next few weeks will be a busy time in the Sanhedrin. They are bringing the religious prisoners to trial to make space for the ones Saul has received permission to send from Damascus.”
A frightened gasp escaped her before she could prevent it, revealing to Josiah that he had hit a nerve. He looked at her in surprise. “What's the matter? Don’t tell me you are associated with one of those blasphemers!”
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she said, trying desperately to suppress the trembling that threatened to overtake her whole body.
Josiah regarded her keenly, his trained eye probing for the answer to his question. Trapped under his scrutiny, Shana felt herself unravelling.
“I’d have been a fool not to have suspected all along that the trouble you mentioned and wanted to keep secret, involves a certain family member who is in prison. A friend of mine, one of the court officials, told me he has seen you there, but I was waiting to see if you would tell me about it. It certainly never occurred to me that it might involve something like this!”
The ground beneath Shana’s feet seemed to loosen and swirl around her, faster and faster in a dizzy rush. The moment she had dreaded had come. She bit her lip hard and said nothing.
“Well, his time is almost up. You may as well tell me who it is,” said Josiah.
It felt like a stone had lodged in her throat and she swallowed with difficulty. “My–my brother,” she whispered hoarsely. Josiah stared at her through cold metallic eyes. Would he discard her now as a dangerous plaything, or did he care enough about her to want to help her? Could she convince him of Rafael’s innocence so that he might find it in his heart to defend him, even if only for her sake?
Two tears welled up and overflowed down her cheeks; she could not stop them now. She stood before him with her head hanging and mouth quivering in silent weeping. Josiah lifted her chin, and for a moment his handsome features swam before her, set in a dead-serious expression. She looked back into his eyes, pleading for Rafael’s life, though he did not know it.
He turned away and sat down on a log, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his intelligent brow furrowing. He picked up a stone and flung it hard against a ridge. “If he was a thief, an adulterer, or even a murderer I could have perhaps done something to help you, but your brother has gone against everything Judaism stands for. As much as I dislike Saul, I am in agreement with him when it comes to maintaining the purity of our religion.”
“He has done nothing wrong,” cried Shana, “he is a good man. He does not deserve to die.” Her tears fell freely now, splashing down her front unchecked as she stood before him, shaking with noiseless grief. Josiah had been moved a little by her tears, but Shana could see that this display of emotion made him uncomfortable. She had to control herself. She wiped her face with her sleeve, sniffed back her tears and waited. Josiah sat still for a long time, staring at the ground in front of him. After a while, he sighed and said, “Sit down; you will have to tell me all about it.”
Shana explained that Rafael had been a well-respected member of the synagogue who, although he believed that the promised Messiah had already come, still carefully observed Jewish customs and the traditions of their forefathers. She told him that he was educated in the teachings of the Law and the Prophets and had been arrested for passing on his learning to his student, who had been arrested with him.
“Does he comply with the teachings of the prophet Yeshua?”
“Yes, as far as they are in agreement with the whole Law and the Prophets. Yeshua did not have a different teaching. He came to give us the true interpretation of the scriptures and to fulfil them.”
A nerve began to twitch in Josiah’s cheek. He turned towards her and looked at her long and hard. “Are you one of his followers too?”
There was only one answer Shana could give to this question, no matter what the outcome. “I am,” she admitted quietly.
Josiah blew out his breath. He began to tear out stems of dry grass and crush them between his fingers, growing increasingly agitated. Out of the corner of her eye, Shana watched his profile. The wind lifted the edge of his short head-covering, showing the severe line of his mouth. A muscle in his cheek worked spasmodically and a frown was heavy on his brow. Shana’s reply hung in the air between them, completely redefining their relationship.
He stood up abruptly and flicked the broken grasses off his robe. “I cannot help you,” he said angrily. “Your brother will have to bear the just penalty for corrupting the doctrines of our forefathers.” He paused to draw a breath and then spoke with emotion. “Neither can I see you anymore.” He turned to go at once and strode away through the trees with quick, determined steps, leaving Shana dumbfounded, still sitting on the log.
He disappeared into the distance, stripping away her last hope. She had pinned so much on Josiah: not only had she been depending on him to use his considerable powers of persuasion on Rafael’s behalf, but incrementally he had become her support in many other ways too, a substitute for having her husband to lean on.
She took up the baskets, delivered them to the palace, and fled to the seclusion of her room, where she could grapple with her chaotic emotions. She sat on her bed, immobilised in a clammy fog of hopelessness, mindlessly focusing on the rise and fall of her breath. It was almost dark, but she did not light the lamps. Perhaps an hour passed like this, with disjointed thoughts flitting across her mind. She could not identify with anything except this overwhelming isolation.
How long, O Lord? How long?
The deep groan of her heart was followed by a silent whisper, “I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”
Yeshua had spoken these words the last time the Eleven had seen him, after he had risen from the dead. This promise had been his parting gift to his followers. Shana had not been present then but had seen him for the last time when they had all gathered at Martha’s house before his final Passover. She remembered his profound sorrow, which seemed to issue from some indescribable inner suffering. He told them he was going away but would come back again, and he gave final instructions to his friends: “Do not be afraid; do not be afraid.” Then he began to speak about his Father’s kingdom and the glow came back into his eyes. He told them he would prepare a place for them where they would dwell with him forever.
Forever.
In the semi-darkness, a lucid picture materialised before her. It was neither inside her head nor outside, yet she could see every detail. Throngs of people stood on a hill, lit up with a golden light that touched each of their faces. Many of them were familiar – Raf, Adam, little Sarah, Juanita, and there stood Mary, John and Peter, and a multitude of others as far as the eye could see. One overwhelming element radiated from each one in what looked like concentric waves that reached outwards continually forever: it was joy – intrinsic, pervasive, all consuming, throbbing with the very heartbeat of life. And though she could not see the Master, somehow his face was unmistakeable upon every individual face she saw. He was everywhere.
For this joy set before him, he had endured . . . the cross.
Joy swelled within her, expanding and exploding through every cell of her being, and then welled up over and over again. This was the kingdom – the coming kingdom of the Lord Yeshua – for which every extreme of this present suffering was but a small price to pay.
Baptised with joy and peace, filled to overflowing, she lay down and slept.