The Making of the Lamb (2 page)
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the Lamb
A N
OVEL
B
Y
R
OBERT
H
ARLEY
B
EAR
Eirth Publications, L.L.C.
Rockville, Maryland
Copyright © 2014 by Robert Harley Bear
All rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, inluding photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system—with the exception of a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review—without the written permission from the publisher. For information, contact the author through
www.makingofthelamb.com
.
Published in the United States by
Eirth Publications, L.L.C., Rockville, Maryland
Printed and bound in the United States of America
April, 2014
Trade Paperback ISBN 978-0-9893138-0-3
Hardcover ISBN 978-0-9893138-1-0
Kindle ISBN 978-0-9893138-2-7
Cover Design: Peri Poloni-Gabriel, Knockout Design
www.knockoutbooks.com
Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication
(Provided by Quality Books, Inc.)
Bear, Robert Harley.
The making of the lamb / a novel by Robert Harley Bear.
pages cm
LCCN 2013958128
ISBN 978-0-9893138-0-3 (pbk.)
ISBN 978-0-9893138-1-0 (hardcover)
1. Jesus Christ--Fiction. 2. Jesus Christ--Messiahship--Fiction. 3. Jesus Christ--Crucifixion--Fiction. 4. Jesus Christ--Travel--England--Fiction. 5. Historical fiction. 6. Biographical fiction. I. Title.
PS3602.E2478M35 2014 813’.6
QBI13-600310
To all the donors who have registered to give life-saving bone marrow at Be the Match Foundation,
marrow.org
. Without this incredible act of generosity by an anonymous donor a few years ago, this book would never have been completed. If you ever donated anonymously, perhaps you were the one who made this book possible.
Since 2004, Robert Harley Bear has studied late Iron Age archeology, writings about druids from Irish legends to the annals of Julius Caesar, biblical history, Roman history and stories and legends of the missing years of Jesus Christ.
Robert Harley Bear is an attorney and an information technology consultant. In 2005, he was baptized at St. Paul’s Parish, K Street, in Washington, DC, where he remains an active parishioner to this day. He taught the high school confirmation class for several years.
And did those feet in ancient time,
Walk upon England’s mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God,
On England’s pleasant pastures seen?
And did the Countenance Divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here,
Among these dark Satanic Mills?
Bring me my Bow of burning gold;
Bring me my Arrows of desire;
Bring me my Spear; O clouds unfold!
Bring me my Chariot of fire!
I will not cease from Mental Fight,
Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand;
Till we have built Jerusalem,
In England’s green and pleasant Land.
Words by William Blake, 1808.
Set to music by Sir Hubert Parry, 1916.
Part I - The Journey to Britain
Chapter 1 - What to Do About Jesus?
Chapter 3 - A Problem with Prophecy
Chapter 4 - A Perilous Passage
Part II - Growing in Wisdom and the Favor of God and Man
Chapter 9 - The Secret of the Lord
Chapter 10 - Of Lepers and the Law
Chapter 11 - A Chariot and Some Prodigals
Chapter 14 - The Path to Calvary
Chapter 16 - Dark Satanic Mills
Roman Gaul and Celtic Britain (Map)
What Our Savior Saw from the Cross, James J. J. Tissot
Tunic Cross Icon, Robert Harley Bear
If you wish to refer to a printed copy of the maps and other illustrations, you may download an Adobe Acrobat file from this link and print it out:
http://www.makingofthelamb.com/maps
O
h, Vanity! Why do you stir this humble scrivener to pose these imaginings as answers to such mysteries of faith? Can pen and ink depict the beauty of those prehistoric Isles of Wonder or the cosmic forces of the Tor? Can they render the nuanced utterances, in language now lost, of the
Tuatha Dé Danann
or the Fisher King? Can they recapture the druids’ arts or the boisterous gatherings in Iron Age Celtic halls?
Most challenging of all: can they hope to paint a living picture of the adolescent Jesus, as he walked the green hills of Britain, grew to manhood, experienced his own humanity, and came to terms with the fate that awaited him?
It begins with a legend committed to writing during the Dark Ages. In about A.D. 600, Pope Gregory dispatched Augustine of Canterbury to preach the gospel to the Germanic tribes that had invaded Britain. But there, among the native Celtic people, Augustine encountered an existing branch of Christianity that had been isolated from Western Europe since the collapse of Roman rule two centuries before. Augustine wrote to Gregory what the bishops of that Celtic church had told him:
…In the western confines of Britain, there is a certain royal isle of large extent, abounding in all the beauties of nature and necessities of life. In it, the first neophytes of Catholic law found a church constructed by no human art, but by the hands of Christ himself.
The legend holds that Jesus was brought to Britain by Mary’s uncle, a trader in tin and known in Scripture as Saint Joseph of Arimathea, the wealthy man who buried Jesus in his own tomb.
The Knights of the Round Table searched for the Holy Grail throughout Britain. Some might call them mad. Why should the cup from which Jesus drank at the Last Supper be there, of all places? But the Arimathean is linked to that quest, too; legend credits him with bringing Christianity to Britain shortly after Christ’s passion, perhaps bringing the cup with him and hiding it there to be sought.
The legend was still alive in William Blake’s time, for him to put to verse:
And did those feet in ancient time,
Walk upon England’s mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God,
On England’s pleasant pastures seen?
To this day, you find the legend throughout southwest Britain. It is depicted on the banner of Pilton Parish, set forth on the website of the St Just in Roseland Church, and mentioned in the history posted inside the Church of Saint Lawrence in Priddy. The town seal of East Looe depicts Jesus and the Arimathean arriving on a boat in the course of one of their trading missions for British tin. According to the legend, what grew to be one of the largest monasteries of Britain was founded by Saint Joseph in present day Glastonbury on the spot where Jesus built that first church. Although the monastery was dissolved by Henry VIII, its ruins still dominate the center of the town.
And yet, this legend might bear witness to a truth far more ancient still. The bishops assembled at Nicea in A.D. 325 decreed that there was no time when the Son was not. They pronounced his substance to be the very same as the Father’s. They affirmed, quite rightly, that he was begotten of the Father before all worlds and not made. For Jesus was there as the divine Word even as the Father began the work of Creation by separating the light from the darkness. He was with God. He was God, and all things were made through him. In him was life, which was the light of men, and the light shined. So it was written.
However, so too was it written that when the time was ripe, he put aside his divine dignity and became flesh to live among us. He did not come with manifest power and glory or even as a great person, but rather as a helpless baby with a fully human nature born to a poor household in a ravaged land.
His earthly parents nurtured him as his humanity required. As a boy of twelve, though knowledgeable beyond his years and fully aware of his divine Father, his wisdom and favor with God and man were not then complete; rather, it was written that he went on to grow in that wisdom and favor. His human nature would have become more reconciled to his divine nature that also abided fully within himself. Maybe it was then that he accepted his destiny to suffer on the cross as the final and perfect sacrifice for all.
Perhaps, in that way, it can be said that the Lamb might have been made.
Allow me now, mere scrivener that I am, your patience to pray. As this prologue turns to the culmination of the incarnation, I put aside my feigned omniscience and give voice to the thoughts, words, and deeds of the players who play their parts, each blinded by their own vanities, desires, and limitations of mortal frame, save for one now grown back into true omniscience.
The Garden of Gethsemane outside Jerusalem, A.D. 33, during the reign of Tiberius, second emperor of Rome
Their darkest hour is now at hand. Even the most steadfast will find their faith sorely tried until the morning of the third day.
They had come to Jerusalem in triumph less than a week before, greeted by the waving of the palms. His disciples and followers had seen Jesus work many miracles, even raise the dead, but no matter how he tried to tell them that his time for leaving would soon be at hand, they only comprehended the good news they wanted to hear. The power of his teachings and miracles made them expect nothing but more great wonders.
Oh, Father, any ordinary man, knowing what I know, would just keep walking. The temple guards will not be here for an hour. The Mount of Olives is such a small rise, and I have ample time to escape to the other side. I could have such a wonderful day tomorrow with Mary, Martha, and Lazarus in Bethany.
But I am not an ordinary man. I am your Son! Father in Heaven, I made the choice to accept this path so many years ago, and ever since, with every step, I have lived, I do live, and I will live in tomorrow’s pain.
Jesus stopped with his disciples at the garden. He bade them stay, and he walked forward with Peter, James, and John. He told these three, “My soul is heavy with sorrow. Please keep watch.”
He went forward another few yards and threw himself on the ground.
Abba, Father, all things are possible to you; take away this cup from me. But, let it not be my will, but your will to be done.
Jesus got up and went back, and he found Peter, James and John asleep.
See, Father. See how all now take a hand in my death. Not just the Romans or the Jews or even Judas now betray me. Even my closest disciples cannot stay awake for one mere hour. They will blame themselves for the weakness of their flesh, but is it not you and I who tire them?
They are now truly baptized in my death, and that is good. All can be baptized, and all are forgiven.
Twice more he prayed. Twice more he went back to those sleeping disciples.