The Betrayal (18 page)

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Authors: Kathleen O'Neal Gear

BOOK: The Betrayal
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In the moonlight, the endless desert sands glimmered as though alive. But looks deceived. This was a sere land, wind-scoured and bitter. Outcrops of rock that had once jutted defiantly against the sky were now rounded, veined and ridged from the blowing sand. Here and there dunes lay in hollow crescents on the stony, deflated soil. Above it all, the pewter sky bore down with a relentless weight.
They followed an old caravan trail that headed north toward the city of Bersabe in Idumea. The horses' hooves cracked and popped on the desert pavement. Along the route, decaying bits of old wagons and broken harnesses lay strewn, as well as the refuse of many camps: charcoal, broken pot sherds, torn baskets, fragments of oil lamps. They'd even found three mostly whole clay cups.
Travel, however, was slow. The thin horses, half starved and stable-weak, struggled to carry double. Cyrus had been the first to drop off and start leading his animal, leaving only Kalay in the saddle. Next, Barnabas had dismounted. As he walked, Zarathan bobbed, half asleep, on the horse's back, the book bag cradled like a pillow in his arms.
Walking helped to clear Barnabas' head, though not the overwhelming guilt that tormented his soul. The dead faces of his brothers kept haunting him. And now others were dead at their hands. He had knelt, head bent in
prayer, as a man was gruesomely tortured within earshot—and done nothing to stop it.
Dear Lord, forgive me.
Cyrus matched his pace with Barnabas. “I'd like to hear about the Gate of Yeshua now, brother.”
Barnabas shot him a sidelong glance. Cyrus' voice had changed since that terrible night in the monastery. It was drifting back to a soldier's voice, growing harder, more demanding. Even his eyes had changed. They were no longer happy and half amused. They'd become green fireballs that burned anyone they gazed at.
Barnabas was deathly tired. His old body just didn't have the strength it had once had. He feared he wouldn't be able to relate the details in a coherent fashion, but he drew in a breath and began. “Around one hundred years after the death of our Lord, a church historian named Hegesippus began writing a history of the True Church. In his book, he recorded the details of the horrible death of
Iakobos,
or
Yakob
in Hebrew, the brother of Yeshua.”
Zarathan murmured groggily, “He was killed in the year 62, wasn't he?”
Barnabas shifted to look back at the youth. Zarathan's blond hair and wispy beard had a silver sheen. “Yes. Very good, brother.”
“What does Yakob's martyrdom have to do with the Gate of Yeshua?” Cyrus asked.
“This is a complicated story,” Barnabas sighed, “bear with me through the first part.”
“Of course, brother.”
Barnabas rubbed his eyes. They felt as though they'd been blasted by dust storms for days. “There had always been a dangerous rivalry between the family of High Priest Annas, or
Hanan
in Hebrew, and the family of Yeshua. Many books report that it was Annas who discovered Miriam was pregnant and ran back to the Temple to report that she had committed a great sin.”
68
“Annas was high priest during our Lord's trial, too, wasn't he?” Zarathan, proud of his knowledge, asked and lifted his head.
“No, though you are correct that there are references in the gospels to his being high priest during the trial, but those references are not correct.
Annas was appointed high priest by Praefectus Quirinius in the year 6, and removed from his office by the order of Valerius Gratus in the year 15. However, he remained a powerful adviser to Kaiaphas, and was still referred to as ‘High Priest,' though the title was clearly honorary. What I mean is that Annas remained very influential. In fact, all of his five sons served as high priest after Kaiaphas.”
Impatiently, Kalay said, “I want to hear about the Gate of Yeshua. What is it?”
“I'm getting there, Kalay,” Barnabas replied. “Ioannes reports that Yeshua was taken to the high priest's home by Roman and Jewish forces and interrogated. Also, the third and fourth chapters of Acts describe Annas' participation in the interrogation, a decade later, of Petros and Ioannes, who were arrested for healing a lame man at the Beautiful Gate of the Temple.”
When Kalay started to interrupt, Barnabas hurried to add, “Here's where the Gate of Yeshua comes into the story. It is Annas' son, also named Annas, who ordered the arrest of our Lord's brother, Yakob. The younger Annas had been high priest for only three months. One of the puzzling elements of Hegesippus' history is his assertion that Annas kept demanding that Yakob tell him what is the Gate of Yeshua.'”
Cyrus seemed to be thinking about that. He cocked his head, and his eyes reflected the moonlight. “Did Yakob respond?”
“Yakob said, ‘Why do you ask me concerning the Son of Man? He will come in the clouds of heaven.'”
Zarathan blurted, “That doesn't make any sense! Annas asked him what the ‘Gate' was and Iakobos answered that the ‘Son of Man would come in the clouds of heaven'?”
“It makes sense,” Barnabas said, “if you recall that our Lord told Kaiaphas practically the same thing just before his crucifixion: ‘You will see the Son of Man sitting on the right hand of power and coming with the clouds of heaven.'”
“But our Lord was quoting from the Book of Daniel. How does that answer the question about the Gate?”
Cyrus shifted the horse's reins to his other hand and frowned at Barnabas. “You mean that by quoting his brother, Yakob was refusing to answer the question. Just as his brother had refused to answer Kaiaphas' questions?”
“Yes, I think Yakob was, in effect, saying ‘I will no more answer your questions than my brother did.'” Barnabas paused. “They killed him for it.”

If
that's what he meant,” Kalay said.
“Yes, of course, we can't be certain, but that's my best guess,” Barnabas replied. “And I truly—”
“I have another guess,” Kalay said.
The men turned to stare at her.
She continued. “Iesous' name in Hebrew was Yeshua, and the Hebrew word for salvation is
yeshuah
. They're pronounced slightly different, but they might look similar when written down. Maybe Hegesippus couldn't tell the difference.”
Barnabas stroked his gray beard thoughtfully. “Then you think it's possible High Priest Annas was asking Yakob about the gate of salvation? Perhaps, though I find it hard to believe a Jewish high priest would ask such a thing. Surely, he believed he knew the path to salvation—and it did not involve Yakob's brother Yeshua.”
“Surely,” Kalay replied, “but I don't find it hard to believe that later Christians would put such words into a Jewish high priest's mouth.”
“Ah. Very true.” Barnabas nodded agreeably. He had noted many occasions in the ancient texts where that very thing had happened, particularly in relation to the gospels. “Yes, that's possible.”
Zarathan's face screwed up as though he found it unconscionable that Barnabas would actually agree with Kalay about something so odious, but he asked, “How did Yakob die?”
As he had many times, Barnabas imagined the scene in his mind. He could hear the screams of Yakob's followers as they watched from far below the Temple. “The Second Apocalypse of Iakobos
69
says that they cast him down from the pinnacle of the Temple and then seized him, clubbed him, and dragged him on the ground. For a time, while they reviled him, they placed a huge stone on his stomach. After that, they forced him to get up, dig a hole, and stand in it while they filled the hole up to his waist. Finally, they stoned him to death. Legend says he was buried in his family tomb somewhere near Jerusalem.”
For a long time, only the sound of the horses' hooves softly striking stone echoed through the night.
Cyrus asked, “Is that all we know about the Gate? Surely the Occultum Lapidem must have researched this over and over.”
“Oh, yes, many times. But to little avail.”
“The Hebrew word for ‘gate,'
sha'ar,
can mean many things other than gate,” Kalay pointed out.
“Yes,” Barnabas replied. “But “gate” seems to fit the best.”
Kalay gave him a disgusted look. “
Sha'ar
can also mean opening, doorway, entry, enclosure, passage.”
“The Yeshua Passage?” Cyrus whispered.
“Possibly,” Kalay said.
“As in a passage in a book?” Zarathan wondered.
“Or the Doorway to Yeshua,” Barnabas replied through a long exhalation. “It could be a theological reference. But I've always wondered if the reference isn't to one of the gates of the Temple.”
“Like the Beautiful Gate?” Zarathan asked.
Barnabas nodded. “Perhaps the Gate of Yeshua is the gate where our Lord entered the city the day he threw the money changers from the Temple.”
“What gate was that?”
“He entered through the eastern gate, then walked south and approached the Temple Mount through the Hulda Gate. But I know of no tradition that suggests either of those gates ever acquired the name the Gate of Yeshua.”
Donkeys brayed in the distance and they all tensed and looked to the west. The faint outline of trees whiskered the horizon. It was probably an oasis. Sounds carried very far on still desert nights.
Cyrus said, “Why would Pappas Meridias be hunting for this gate?”
“I do not know.” Barnabas rubbed his eyes again. His legs ached. It had been years since he'd been on a horse. “Church scholars have been trying to decipher the meaning for centuries, but have made little sense of it.”
“Yakob was the leader of the Jerusalem Church after the death of Yeshua,” Cyrus said. “After Yakob was murdered, who followed him?”
“The apostles selected Yeshua's brother Shimon to lead them.”
“That's curious,” Zarathan murmured from behind Barnabas.
“What is?”
“Petros was still alive when Yakob died. Why wasn't he selected as the new leader? In the Gospel of Maththaios our Lord says that Petros will be
given the ‘keys of the Kingdom,' and none of the surviving apostles wanted him to lead them?”
“I suspect that our Lord did not mean political power when he said the ‘keys of the Kingdom.' He meant that Petros would be given the spiritual knowledge to find the Kingdom inside himself. Don't forget that our Lord says in the Gospel of Thomas, verse three, ‘The Kingdom is inside you and it is outside you. When you learn to know yourselves, then you will be known, and you will understand that you are the sons of the living Father.'”
“So our Lord never intended for Petros to lead the Church?”
Barnabas shrugged. “It is well documented that after Shimon was crucified by Emperor Trajan in the year 106, leadership of the movement passed to the Lord's last surviving brother, Yudas, who was in his nineties.”
“So, four brothers in succession led the movement?” Cyrus asked.
“Yes, and his sisters, Mariam and Salome, probably played significant roles as well, unless they were hunted down and killed by the highest levels of the Roman government in Palestine, but we have no record of that.”
They continued for a time in silence, but Barnabas could see Cyrus' lips moving, repeating the words:
the Gate of Yeshua, the Gate of Yeshua …
Barnabas said, “If we keep this pace until tomorrow evening, we will reach the village of Gaza. There is a man near there who may be able to help us.”
Manahat
 
 
 
Careful not to wake the man who sleeps beside her, Maryam wraps herself in her worn himation, and takes her time stepping around the dark forms of the others who lie on the floor.
When she pads outside into the cool night air, I follow her, fearing for her safety.
The lamps of Bet Ani glimmer across the rolling hills. The city is so beautiful tonight, I fear it may stop my heart. Flute music, accompanied by the sounds of two different bells, drifts on the cool wind.
As I walk down the hill behind her, the cobblestones feel like smooth ice beneath my feet.
Maryam stares into the windows of the houses, and I suspect she is silently reciting the names of every child and dog, even most of the goats who live here. She has spent her entire life on this street,
70
except for a few years spent in Taricheae working as a renowned hairdresser to the wealthy, which is why many people still refer to her as the Megaddela, the hairdresser.
71
Maryam turns down another street, and walks with her head down, lost in some inner world.
I follow.
She prospered in Taricheae, but most of her money is gone, poured into
supporting Yeshua's ministry, though I suspect this does not matter to her. Yeshua has told us that the Kingdom is almost upon us. Soon, no one will need money or status. God will return to Zion to vindicate his people, to redeem Yisrael, and renew the creation. The exile will end.
When she stops dead in her tracks, and her shoulders heave, I call, “Maryam?”
She spins around breathlessly, trying to make out my face in the gloom. Tears dot her cheeks. “Yosef Haramati?”
72
“Yes. I saw you rise. I was worried.”
She wipes her eyes on her sleeve. “I thought a walk might ease my belly.”
“You shouldn't be outside alone. Let me escort you.”
I trot to catch up with her, and she says, “Thank you for protecting Yeshu tonight. If someone in the crowds had recognized him, and reported his whereabouts to the Temple, he could have been killed, as he almost was last Chanukah.”
Maryam shivers at the memory.
They'd made a clandestine trip to Yerushalaim so that Yeshua could pray in Herod's Temple. He'd been caught by Temple authorities in the Portico of Solomon, and they'd demanded that he state plainly whether or not he was the
mashiah.
It was obviously a plot to arrest him. Had Yeshua said yes, he would have been declaring himself king, and they would have arrested him for sedition. Instead, he'd told them that they couldn't believe because they were not among his sheep, whereupon they'd picked up rocks to stone him. Yeshua had fled back across the Jordan to their hiding place at Wadi el-Yabis, barely escaping with his life.
We stand for a time, side-by-side, gazing out at the golden city lights.
As night deepens, the lamps in the houses begin to go out and the starlight seems brighter, reflecting from the cobblestone streets, turning them into a tangled necklace of silver beads.
With tears in her voice, she says, “He wasn't supposed to have to do this alone. All of the prophecies said there would be two. ‘For the Lord will raise up from Levi someone as high priest and from Judah someone as king,'” she quotes from the
Testament of the Twelve Patriarchs,
and puts a hand to her mouth to still the cries that climb her throat.
I give her a few moments to gather herself, before saying, “Yes, I know, two ‘sons of oil,' two
mashiahs
to usher in the Kingdom.”
73
She whispers, “The murder of Yohanan was so unexpected.”
74
“There is still time,” I remind her. “If the calculations of the Essenes are correct the Kingdom will not arrive for another three years. Perhaps, before then, another
mashiah
will appear, and there will indeed be ‘two sons of oil' to bring about the End.”
“I pray it is so,” she murmured. “But what of the next few days, Yosef? Have you heard more?”
I let out a breath and nod. “Kaiaphas has sent word telling every Council member to be prepared to attend a meeting of utmost urgency. I suspect it regards Yeshua, but no one has said this. If it does, I will, of course, try to exert some influence on the course of events. No Council member wants to see him harmed, Maryam. If Rome tries to take action against him, the Council will do everything it can to keep him from disaster. The last thing we need with Pesach approaching is for one of the people's most beloved teachers to be arrested. If Rome wants a riot, that's the way to start it.”
She folds her arms tightly across her breast. “I don't know, Yosef. The Law forbids us to leave our homes on the holy days. If they did try to harm Yeshu on Pesach or on the Sabbath, who among us would be brave enough to violate the Law and go outside to object?”
“I would.”
She gives me a tearful smile. In a shaky voice, she says, “Yosef … can't you speak with Yeshu? Try to convince him to run away?” Her inner struggle is plain on her face. It makes my heart ache. “Just for a short time, Yosef. Convince him to return to the Galil where he's safe. Tell him whatever you must … perhaps you have a sick relative there who needs healing? He would run to help, you know he would.” With effort she steadies her voice. “I haven't much money left, but if there's someone you need to pay, to pretend to be sick, I can borrow from Yoanna
—

“Maryam.” She lifts her dark eyes to me. “I have already tried. Many times. He refuses to even consider it. He says he must be here. Now.”
“Yes, yes, I know. But I'm just
—

I fill in the rest. “Desperate. I understand, but perhaps he's right. Have you thought of that? Maybe he does need to be here for this Pesach. He's very wise. Have confidence in his judgment.”
A sudden chill leaves her trembling. She rubs her cold arms. “He's trapped, Yosef. Don't you see that? If he runs away, it proves he is not the Annointed One. His flock will accuse him of being a false
mashiah.

“There are other choices.”
“What choices?” Anxiety lines her face, as if she is haunted by a gnawing dread that will not leave her alone.
“He can stand up to Rome and explain that his kingdom is not of this earth. Rome is only threatened by earthly kings with human armies. He has neither.”
Somewhere a goat bleats, followed by the barking of a dog.
Maryam whispers, “Yosef, there's something I must discuss with you.”
“What is it?”
“I have one final favor
—
” Maryam turns sharply.
I jerk around to follow her gaze, and glimpse a man in the shadows to our right. He moves swiftly around the corner of the house and is gone.
“Do you think that was Kepha?” she whispers.
Her fear seems to shiver the very air we breathe.
“He was very tall. That's all I could tell. It might have been Cleopas, or even a Roman soldier. What makes you think it was Kepha?”
In a whisper, she answers, “Because he's always spying. Always listening.”
I take her by the arm and start back up the hill, not willing to wait to find out. “Let's return to our room, Maryam. It's too dangerous to stand out here alone in the darkness.”

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