A.D. 33 (16 page)

A long peal of thunder rolled across the sky, though there were only a few dark clouds far to the west. But how could that be? I blinked, trying to make sense of thunder so close.

But then I wasn't thinking of the thunder at all, because suddenly that very thunder was in my mind. Yet it wasn't thunder as much as a voice. A deep, rushing voice that shook through me.

“I have glorified my name and will glorify it again.”

I gasped and jerked my head to see that Saba was trembling and staring at Yeshua.

Murmurs and cries broke out as others ducked and jumped off the road, grasping at their ears. They too had heard, the thunder at least.

Thunder. Then something that had sounded like a voice, and yet not a voice, as if from my own bones. I stood aghast.

The world seemed to still around me. I had heard the voice of God?

I have glorified my name and will glorify it again…

By “my name,” I knew this meant the Father's identity, for a name was one's blood in the desert. But how had God glorified his identity, and how would he do it again?

I was trembling from having heard this thunder in my very soul.

When I looked back up the hill, Yeshua was gone. Only the disciples and those gathered remained. Mary, who'd fallen to her knees, was pushing herself to her feet. Arim was running back toward us, eyes wide.

Yeshua had gone to be alone.

So then…it begins.
His words, spoken under his breath hours earlier, now became mine, and my spirit soared. Nothing had happened in the temple, but I knew in a way I could not yet understand—everything had just happened.

There could be no doubt. Yeshua would rise to power for all to see.

I WILL GLORIFY my name again…

I cannot begin to describe how elevated I felt in the wake of those words over the next three days. Not just I, but all who had heard. Saba, Stephen, Arim, Mary, Martha, Lazarus…the disciples, though I didn't see them after returning to Bethany that night.

No one knew quite what it meant, but there was no end to speculation.

A great mystery had swarmed us, and we lived in the hope of its imminent revelation. The staggering power of Yeshua, who had spoken to the storm and walked on the sea of trouble, was sure to invade the realm of this world even as that voice had.

Every passing day was one more in which harm might be done to the children in the desert, and yet I knew I would receive the power for their salvation here.

Then I would rush to Shaquilath and show her.

Then the serpent in Dumah would be crushed.

Then our children would be swept up in the arms of their mothers, and I would kiss the cheeks of my precious lamb. Together we would find Eden, led by Talya. As Saba had said,
a child will lead them
.

I did not see Yeshua during the next two days, but I didn't need to. His word that my son would not die, even as he would not die, was certain.

I did not see Yeshua, but I heard. And everything I heard pointed to the manifestation of the Father's glory. Yeshua did not merely speak of the Way; he showed us that Way in everything he did.

I heard…that when he emerged from his solitude the next day there was undeniable authority in his eyes. He walked as one who could not fail.

I heard…that he showed his power by cursing a fig tree so that it would bear no more fruit. The tree then withered, showing that he did not want those who followed him to place such value in the fruit of this world. It could not compare to the fruit of his vine—the glory and power of the Father's realm.

He turned to Peter by that wilted fig tree and made the extent of that power clear:
If anyone says to this mountain, go throw yourself in the sea, and does not doubt…it will be done. Whatever you ask…believe that you have received it and it will be done.

Again, such power for those who believed.

To believe was the key! And I knew in my bones that one could not believe in Yeshua and also hold
any
grievance for
any
reason in the face of
any
storm, because to do so only exchanged one's faith in the Father for faith in the storm. This rendered one powerless to find peace.

The withering of that fig tree showed both his power and the obstacle to that power. My faith was like a torrent. I had no doubt that I could do this and become like Yeshua, able to heal and love and move any mountain.

I heard…that he went back to Jerusalem and straight to the temple courts. But this time his intentions were utterly clear. Because this time he overturned the tables of the money changers, drove out the merchants with a cracking whip, and stood in the way of all who would bring goods into the temple.

Again he made his meaning clear.
My house will be called a house of prayer for all nations. But you have made it a den of robbers.

Was it not the way of all earthly religions and false prophets to seek their own gain on the backs of their followers?

I heard…that when asked about taxes, Yeshua said,
Pay to Caesar what is Caesar's
, for Caesar's image was on the coin. And
pay to God what is God's
. And I thought, I am made in the image of the Father, so then I will pay and sow myself to the Father and let the Thamud and the world have what is theirs. They, like me, would reap what they sowed.

I heard…that the people were amazed by his teaching and authority, and the religious leaders were terrified by it. That a great gulf was dividing Jerusalem. And yet those who hung on Yeshua's words were too many for the religious leaders, who now tested him whenever he showed himself.

I heard many other accounts, and they all pointed to the same thing: a great storm was coming. We all knew it. We didn't know what it might look like, but one thing was certain: from the thunder of that storm, the glory of the Father's realm would be made known.

I could feel it in the air.

But all of that shifted on the afternoon of the third day.

I was with Saba, alone in Martha's courtyard. She and Mary had gone to the orchard for fruit when Yeshua's inner circle returned to Bethany that night. During the days his disciples went with him to Jerusalem or kept watch as he retreated to be alone on the Mount of Olives.

Miriam, the mother of Yeshua, would arrive the next morning for Passover, and the women had been like birds building their nest, anticipating her arrival. Mary in particular was deeply taken with Yeshua's mother, because Miriam had shown her great compassion, just as she had comforted me in Nazareth two years earlier.

Saba, who dutifully remained near me despite my assurance that I would be safe with Mary, had returned from the hills with an armful of firewood. He'd kept to himself through those days, lost in contemplation of that thunder in his own heart. And perhaps still lost in thoughts of what it meant to hate one's wife to love her.

The gate was suddenly thrown wide and I turned to the clatter. Arim stood on the threshold, beaming like a sheikh who has taken a new bride.

“I see it!”

Stephen stepped in from behind him and strode into the courtyard, eyes bright. “He sees it!”

Their excitement was infectious.

“What is it you see?”

“This power to move the mountain,” Arim said, marching in with a finger in the air. “I too can have it, and I will.”

There, full of wonder, my young Bedu brother still wore his new boots to impress Mary.

I smiled. “Oh? Then tell me.”

Arim glanced at Saba, who stood from the woodpile and walked toward us.

“Tell them, Arim,” Stephen urged.

“I am blind!” Arim cried.

I waited for more, but he was fixed by this statement alone.

“This is how you see? By being blind.”

“No, my queen. But one must first
see
that they are blind! You see?”

“You see?” Stephen said. “Tell them more. All of it.”

Arim paced now, sticking a second finger in the air as if to count what he'd learned from his teacher.

“My inheritance of eternal life is this glory we heard on our return from Jerusalem: the eternal realm of Yeshua, in which his power becomes our own. The power to do as Yeshua does. To be great mystics who can heal and calm the storm and walk on water.”

Arim paused, then went on, shoving a third finger into the air.

“In order to inherit this eternal life for
this
life and become a water walker who needs no sword nor even a single harsh word, I must see the world as it truly is, with clear vision. But a veil over my eyes hides the world of light and power. Thus, true vision beyond this veil is my greatest need.”

He was right, I thought. It was as Yeshua repeatedly taught. But Arim didn't stop there.

“It is as Saba says…” His eyes glinted with daring and he snapped up his fourth finger. “To abide in Yeshua, one must surrender!”

Arim made a fist.

“Then, and only then, will I command the storm!”

Hearing it again, that easily forgotten Way seemed so simple.

“Surrender what?” Saba asked, eyes now on Stephen.

“Everything,” Arim cried, sweeping his arms wide. “The whole world!”

“Everything,” Stephen said, grinning. “Yeshua has said always, give up this life to find true life; hate your life to find the eternal realm; take up the cross even every day; hate even wife and son and mother. Call no man on earth father.”

“No man!” Arim said, thrusting out his thin fingers. “For your true Father is in heaven, which is within and at hand even now.”

Stephen stood like a proud teacher. “There are two worlds—the kingdom of the Father and the world of mammon. You can have faith only in one. You can serve only one.”

“Hate the world of mammon and the law of the world to see and love the other,” Arim cried, jumping onto the bench beside Martha's table, spreading his arms wide, eyes bright. “All the world has placed its belief and hope in the laws of the world and Moses and mammon and wife and children, rather than putting their faith in Yeshua and his kingdom of staggering power!” He was speaking as much with his hands as his mouth. “But you can serve only one master. Surrender the other. Put it to death, as he says.”

“Deny yourself for his name's sake,” Stephen said. “Surrender your name, which is your identity, for his instead, and so find his life! True life! Rivers of living water! Then move the mountain.”

“Then heal the leper!” Arim cried. “Knowing the body is not master and is to be held of no account!”

They were trading words back and forth, teacher and student. I knew that these were Yeshua's sayings, but I wasn't so sure about their interpretation.

“And what does it mean, to deny yourself?” I asked. “Surely, I am still a mother.”

“Are you? Yes, in the world of mammon, but even Yeshua says all are his mother. If a son has many mothers, then a mother has many sons not born of her womb.”

“And so I am to hate my son?” I felt irritation swell in my breast.

“With man it is impossible,” Arim said, reciting what Stephen had taught him. “In the Father, all things are possible. Only in this way will we be like him and have this great power. You must hate—”

“Stop it, Arim!” I was surprised by my outburst. “Are you a mother to suggest I should hate my son?”

He stepped back on the bench, pale. Then stepped down to the ground. “No, my queen. I did not mean…”

He glanced at Stephen, who'd lost his smile in the face of my eruption.

“Isn't that the way of the Gnostics?” I pressed. “Don't they teach that this life is evil?”

It was Saba who rescued us.

“No, not like the Gnostics, Maviah. You misunderstand. In the same way the world doesn't understand true love, it doesn't understand Yeshua's teaching on surrender. He doesn't teach that this world is evil. He teaches us to love all, mostly the outcasts. To hate only means to hold of no account, as Arim says. To have no attachment to mammon and food and your own body and son and father and wife and all the world. This is what he teaches. That you should sever your faith in the things that command you in this life, and instead place your faith only in the Father's realm. Then all these things will be added to you, because you hold them of no account.”

“Of course,” Arim said. “This is what it means. Even if they try to kill Yeshua, what does this mean? Nothing! He speaks of his death, but this means nothing.”

I stared at him, stunned. “His death?” The thought horrified me. “Where did you hear this?”

He blinked, perhaps fearing another outburst from me. “It was said by one of the inner circle in passing.”

“No…No, that can't be—”

“No, Arim,” Stephen interrupted, casting him a corrective look. “This death he speaks of is only a figure of speech! Yeshua will not die. He has overcome death!”

“There will be no death,” Arim said. “It is only a figure of speech. The death he mentions is only a death to all that enslaves.”

“You will see,” Stephen insisted. “By overcoming this world of illness and death, he is no longer subject to it. He's no longer mastered by his body. And he will prove it by escaping death, otherwise all he has taught is thrown into question.”

But a fear had taken root in my heart. I thought of the sadness in his eyes, the lines on his face, his bold maneuvering in Jerusalem…

“What did they say, specifically?” I asked Arim. “About his death.”

He glanced at Stephen but received no support.

“That he would be handed over to the authorities and killed.” Arim hesitated. “But as Stephen says, this is only symbolic. He is saying that even if he were, it would mean nothing, because he holds no account of his flesh. But no man can touch Yeshua.”

“No man,” Stephen said. “It is only symbolic. Have no fear. In the end, he will triumph for all to see, no matter how it looks to the eyes. This I swear to you, Maviah!”

“Yes,” I said. “Yes, you are right.”

But a hundred thoughts crowded my mind, and a chill washed over my body. What if they were wrong?

More was being said—something about mastery of life—I wasn't listening.

Yeshua could not die! All that I knew and hoped for would be destroyed. I knew he wouldn't die, of course he wouldn't. But what if?

Panic lapped at my mind, and I turned away so they couldn't see my face, sure that it would betray my fear.

In the fog of my heart, a new thought sparked to life. What if I had been drawn to Jerusalem for more than Talya, my lamb? Was not Yeshua the good shepherd? What if I had come to serve him as well, so that he could serve my lamb?

Like a lamp struck in a dark room, I suddenly knew.

Herod!

Stephen said that Herod had come to Jerusalem from his palace in Tiberias for the Passover. The king would hear me. If he knew I was here, he would even seek me out, for I had outwitted him once. And Herod had the power to protect anyone in his kingdom.

He a king, I a queen…

Yeshua's words came to me:
You will know what to do.
Was this not what I knew to do? My heart pounded.

I turned and saw that Saba was staring at me while Arim went on, pacing.

“Saba…” I said.

The gate creaked behind me and Saba looked to it. And by the look in his eyes, I knew. By the sudden stillness, I knew.

Yeshua had come.

I spun around. Yeshua stood at the courtyard's entrance, watching us beneath his mantle.

His face sagged from lack of sleep, and his hands hung by his sides, tired. His eyes were full of the same glory I had felt when the Father spoke, but I imagined him filled with sorrow.