The Galilean Secret: A Novel (25 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Roman Times

JUDITH STOOD BEFORE NICODEMUS BEN GORION’S DOOR, TERRIFIED THAT HE WOULD HAVE HER ARRESTED AS A THIEF. But he was her only hope. She had broken every rule of etiquette, not to mention the commandments against lying, stealing and dishonoring her father and mother. What could she say to the people whom she had hurt if she went home? Perhaps someday she would find the courage to face them, but not yet. Not until her heart began to heal.

She had wandered Jerusalem’s streets, the jewelry box tucked firmly beneath her cloak, and slept one night in a secluded alley. Now, after a second day with nowhere to go, she decided the time had come to return the box and the letter it contained. She could also warn Nicodemus about the Zealots’ plans, and perhaps he could prevent the deaths of many people, including the rabbi called Jesus.

Night was falling and the light of the rising moon barely penetrated the gloomy darkness. She prayed that Nicodemus had not retired and would open the door himself. Through the window, she saw a lamp burning in the back of the house. She got up her courage and knocked. Her rapping might wake the neighbors, but she didn’t care.

Someone stirred inside. Footsteps approached. “Who’s there?” a man’s voice said.

“You don’t know me, but I must speak to the Pharisee named Nicodemus ben Gorion.” Judith forced herself to sound bold. When the door opened a crack, she saw an older man with a long white beard. Dressed in a brown robe of woven camel hair, he peered suspiciously at her.

“I am Nicodemus,” he said. “What do you want?” She lifted the jewelry box from under her cloak and held it out to him. An expression of amazement rippled across his broad, slightly wrinkled face. He opened the door and reached for the box. “Where did you get this?” He took the box and opened it. When he saw the scroll inside, he glared at her, then closed the lid and invited her in. A plump woman with rosy cheeks was standing in the expansive courtyard, wearing a white robe and holding a candle. “This is my wife, Esther,” he said, pointing toward the woman. “And what is your name?”

“My name is Judith of Jerusalem.”

He stepped back, his jaw dropping. “I know who you are.”

Judith heard surprise in his voice and feared that it also contained rage. “Yes, you do, although we have never met.” She glanced around and remembered the first time she had entered this man’s house—as a thief. Overcome by shame, she felt as though the walls of the courtyard were closing in on her. She stifled the urge to scream or run away and searched for the right words, but knew there were none. “How I got your jewelry box is a long story.” She paused, fidgeting nervously. “Unfortunately, it’s a story of deceit. I know you are a kind man. I have come to throw myself on your mercy.”

Nicodemus shifted his weight, staring at her dirt-smudged face and disheveled clothes. After a moment’s hesitation, he led her into the house, into the dining room, its tasteful wall hangings a sharp contrast to her ragged appearance. He offered her a seat at the long table. His wife brought in a blanket, draped it over Judith’s shoulders and asked if she wanted a cup of water.

“Yes, please,” Judith said, not having had a drink for hours.

Esther returned with two cups of water. She placed them on the table and lit a candle. Then she said goodnight and left the room.

Nicodemus sat down next to Judith and cleared his throat. “Very well. I’m listening.”

She hesitated, her lips trembling. If she told the truth, would he yell at her? Throw her out of the house? Have her arrested? She felt short of breath, tempted to tell lies. Then she peered into Nicodemus’ aged eyes and saw compassion. “My husband and I broke into your home and stole the box, along with some other items. No one was here when we entered, but you came back when we were still hidden.”

Nicodemus appeared shocked. “How could you rob me right under my nose?”

Judith tensed as she recalled the deserted streets and the house as quiet as a tomb. “It was the Sabbath. You returned from the Temple with Gabriel. As you know, I was betrothed to him before I ran away with his brother. I heard every word you spoke, and when your wife called you to her sick friend’s house, we fled.” Judith paused and bit her lip. “It was because of how you counseled Gabriel, and because of the letter, that I decided to seek you out.”

Nicodemus opened the box, removed the scroll and unrolled it. “Jesus warned that mysterious things would happen to the letter. He told me not to worry, but I did, of course.”

Judith glanced at the storage chamber, aghast that she had crouched behind its purple curtain as a common thief. She fought the urge to cry and turned away. Condemned by her actions but helpless to change them, she grasped for any shred of hope. “It’s because of Jesus that I am here. When I was hiding, I heard you explain to Gabriel what it means to be created in the image of God, and how Jesus saw that image as both male and female.”

Nicodemus peered at her, eyes flashing. “I was trying to help Gabriel. After what you and Dismas did, he was in despair. The more I shared with him about the letter, the more hopeful he became.”

She stared at the fine grain of the tabletop, blinking back tears, her hands shaking. “I’m glad you helped Gabriel. He’s a good man and didn’t deserve to be hurt.” She struggled to hold her voice steady. “Now I’m the one who needs help. I eloped with Dismas to get justice for my brother, whom the Romans killed. Dismas is a Zealot, and I thought I loved him. Now I know it was all a terrible mistake.”

Nicodemus sat perfectly still, listening, which only added to her nervousness. She tried to hide the tremor in her voice. “When I saw one of the Zealots die, I questioned their violent ways and wanted to leave, yet I had no option but to stay. I kept hoping Dismas would change.” She paused and summoned the courage to continue. “Not until I read the letter did I realize what a mess I had made. The letter gave me the strength to leave. Now I want to know more about this Jesus of Nazareth—and Mary Magdalene too. I came here hoping that you would teach me—and forgive me.” She lowered her eyes.

Nicodemus reached for her hand. “It took great courage for you to come here. I can see that you are sincerely sorry, so yes, I do forgive you. But you need something more—God’s forgiveness. When you receive that gift, you will learn to forgive yourself. The letter calls this process being ‘born anew.’ It begins when you surrender your heart to Jesus.”

“I would like to meet him.”

“I’ve received word that he is coming to the city to celebrate Passover. I will ask if you can join us. It would be good for you to meet some of the women who follow him, especially Mary Magdalene.”

Judith wanted to speak, but the words wouldn’t leave her throat. If she revealed the Zealots’ plan, Nicodemus might misunderstand and see her as an enemy, a plotter of evil. Now that Nicodemus had forgiven her, could she risk alienating him again? What if he turned against her? No, she had to do what was right and act to stop the violence. “Tell Jesus to stay away from the Temple. The Zealots are planning an attack there!”

Nicodemus turned pale. “So Gabriel was right about the danger. I tried to get a message to Jesus, but I see I’ve failed. Unfortunately, I only know where Jesus will celebrate Passover, not where he is staying now, so I have no way of getting another message to him. We must pray. Since there’s nothing else we can do, I’ll bring you some dinner and then you must get a good night’s sleep. The women will know more in the morning.”

Judith feared she would sleep little until Jesus was safe and she had received God’s forgiveness. She had no choice but to wait and see what would happen. When Nicodemus brought her a dinner of bread, fish and cheese, she ate ravenously. “One thing I have been wondering,” she said. “Jesus wrote the letter to Mary Magdalene, so why did you have it?”

“I was supposed to deliver it to her,” he said. “Mary doesn’t know that you stole the letter, and I don’t plan to tell her.”

As Nicodemus led Judith to a small guestroom, she thought,
This Passover will be like no other
. He said goodnight, and she lay down and tried to sleep, but sleep would not come. Staring into the darkness, she couldn’t control the racing of her mind.

To her surprise, she began to feel queasy. She sat up and took several deep breaths, thinking she had eaten too fast and hoping the feeling would pass. Instead it grew worse. Suddenly overtaken by nausea, she leapt out of bed and vomited. At first she blamed the stresses of the day or perhaps a sickness. Then she thought of her monthly period, usually so regular, and began to perspire.

No, it can’t be!

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

AS MARY MAGDALENE PICKED HER WAY OVER THE ROCKS, JUDAS ISCARIOT’S WORDS RANG IN HER THOUGHTS: “If you choose Jesus over me, you will both be sorry.” Beyond the rocks she could make out a narrow stream below a sloping hillside. The impact of the words nearly made her fall. She paused to regain her balance, then stepped gingerly, bending low and moving from one stone to the next.

Earlier she had helped to set up camp along the road from Jericho to Jerusalem. In the morning Jesus and his entourage would enter the holy city; in preparation he had gone off to pray. This was her last chance to speak with him alone. She steadied herself and lurched forward as twilight began to fade toward darkness.
In Jerusalem, he will have no time for me. I must find him.

She fixed her gaze on the rugged hillside and kept moving toward it. A spindly olive tree stood beside the stream. The tree’s crooked branches reminded her of her own misshapen life, of why she must speak with Jesus. Her breathing was growing labored.
Why do I love him so?
He wasn’t handsome like Judas. His features were quite ordinary, his appearance gangly. Yet when she gazed into his eyes and listened to his wisdom, she felt a powerful oneness with him.
It must be because he has such depth and heart, qualities I’ve always cherished in a man.

Mary came to the end of the rocks and glanced back. In the murky light she saw someone with a torch bounding toward her. Not wanting to be found, she sped up her pace, nearly leaping now from stone to stone, her eyes straining against the encroaching darkness. She thought she had left camp undetected. Now all she could hope was that this man would see her quickened pace and realize that she wanted no company. But when she looked back again, the man was almost running, gaining ground fast.

Now she ran too, trying to get away. Carelessly, she jumped from a large stone to a smaller one and her foot slipped, causing her to land on her side, scraping a hip and an elbow. Sprawled on the sharp-edged stone, she struggled to catch her breath. She could see that whoever was carrying the torch was muscular and slightly taller than medium height. When his face came into view, she recognized him and sighed.

It was Gabriel ben Zebulun.

He sounded breathless. “Mary, are you all right?” He held out a hand. “I woke and noticed you weren’t in camp. I got worried and came searching.”

She took his hand to pull herself up. If anyone would understand her need to speak with Jesus, it was Gabriel, but she felt hesitant to tell him her concern. “I’m glad it’s you, Gabriel, and I appreciate your coming after me, but . . .” She trailed off and examined her elbow, relieved to find only a few scrapes. “I need to talk with Jesus alone.”

Gabriel held the torch close and peered at her suspiciously. “Couldn’t you wait for him to return to camp? What could be so urgent?”

Embarrassment rose in her cheeks. Gabriel had rescued her once before. Because of his kindness and strength, she felt comfortable confiding in him again. “You may be the only man I would admit this to, but I must tell Jesus about a problem I’m having with Judas Iscariot.”

A frown creased Gabriel’s forehead. “I spoke with Judas earlier today, and I don’t trust him. I understand why you may have a problem with him.”

“To be truthful, Judas frightens me,” Mary said. “I did something foolish: I let myself get too close to him.” She looked away, drew a breath to collect her thoughts and then went on. “After you found me in Samaria, I returned to Jesus, and when I confessed that I loved him, he said he couldn’t marry me because of his mission. I was lonely and befriended Judas, but now he wants more of me than I can give him. He’s angry that I rejected him. I fear he may be jealous of Jesus and take revenge on him.”

Gabriel sat on a large boulder and motioned for her to do the same. “Judas claimed he knew where my brother and my betrothed were hiding. He agreed to tell me, but only if I promised not to deter Jesus from going to Jerusalem.” Gabriel paused. “I finally gave my word, because I have no other way of finding Dismas and Judith.”

Mary empathized as she listened and took in the vast night sky, which seemed to mock her smallness. The sighing of the nearby olive branches in the breeze sounded like a mournful chorus. She measured her words carefully but decided that she must speak. “Judith has betrayed you to your very soul, Gabriel. Why do you want to see her again?”

He shook his head with resignation. “I can’t let go of her any more than you can let go of Jesus. She owes me an explanation. Perhaps if I get one, I can stop dwelling on the pain.”

“If only it were that easy. Jesus tried to explain the incident with the prostitute to me, and it only made matters worse.”

“But I think you would feel differently if you would read the letter he wrote you. Nicodemus shared its insights with me, and I found them very helpful.”

Mary thought for a moment before speaking. “The letter is the farthest thing from my mind right now. When I told Judas that I didn’t love him, he made what sounded like a threat. I must warn Jesus to be on guard. Judas calls himself a disciple, but I believe he could be the rabbi’s worst enemy.”

Gabriel held the torch out to her. “Take this, find the rabbi and I’ll look for Judas. He probably has little understanding of women. I know it won’t be easy, but the truths in the letter have given me much to share with him.”

Mary thanked Gabriel and took the torch, its oily scent wafting in the breeze. When he was gone, she continued down to the bank of the stream. She waded across, the shallow ripples barely covering her ankles, the water cold against her feet. Nothing moved on the stony hillside, but she found a trail and began to follow it. Not far from the stream she saw a lone figure sitting beneath an olive tree halfway up the gentle slope. It was a man, silhouetted against the fading light. She drew closer. His eyes were closed, his legs crossed beneath him, his hands folded on his lap.

Jesus.

She hurried toward him. “Rabbi, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I must speak with you.”

Jesus opened his eyes, startled. “Mary.” He stood and embraced her, his strong arms firm yet gentle. A tremor ran through her at his touch. “Come with me,” he said.

She followed him down the hillside. “I must talk to you about Judas Iscariot.”

He stopped, a knowing look in his eyes.

She hesitated, embarrassed to tell him what had happened; then she gathered her courage and said, “I . . . I grew too close to him.” She swallowed and forced herself to go on. “I quickly realized it was a mistake and told him so. Judas knows how I feel about you, and I fear what he may do to you out of jealousy.”

Instead of becoming upset, Jesus’ eyes filled with compassion. “Do not worry about me. My concern is for you.”

Mary felt her heart leap, grateful for his understanding. “If you really care about me, you would let yourself love me, as I love you.”

Jesus became very still. “I never rejected your love, Mary; I have received it as a treasured gift. But I am choosing not to express my love for you physically, and I am asking you to do the same, not because I don’t love you, but because I must fulfill a different calling.” He took her hands in his. “Be assured that loving you has changed me in ways I never could have imagined. I thought I understood love, but you taught me how much I had to learn. We cannot marry, but I am a better man for having loved you.”

His words made Mary feel as if she were dying inside. How could she get him to change his mind? If he didn’t, how could she accept that they would never be married? The thought was too heavy to bear, so she gave a dismissive laugh. “You are the wisest man I have ever known—what could I teach you about love?”

The wind picked up. Jesus didn’t answer right away. Instead he took the torch and led her down to the dry riverbed, which cut into the hillside. She could hear the wind whistling softly, but she was protected from the chill by the canyon’s high walls of dirt and stone.

Jesus stood a few feet away and said, “My yearning for you forced me to examine my desire. I thought I understood why men and women are so powerfully drawn to one another. As it is written, God ordained that they multiply and fill the earth.” He moved closer but didn’t touch her. “Now I know that our yearning is the same as Adam and Eve’s—the yearning not only to multiply but also to restore our lost oneness. I needed to withdraw from you because I was beginning to expect more from you than a woman can give a man.”

Knowing that they might never be one, she said, “Most men need a woman to feel complete. Is that so wrong?”

“Of course not.” His eyes flashed with an intensity that was fiery but controlled. “Marriage is a gift from God and should be honored and celebrated. In order for a marriage to fulfill God’s will, the husband and wife must enter it in a healthy way. In my case, I was in danger of losing myself in you, and that wouldn’t be good for either of us. I said no to my desire because I knew I couldn’t marry you and remain true to my mission.” He paused and drew a breath. “But I will always be grateful for your helping me to grow. I am humbled by the power of my longing for you and how tempted I was by it.”

Fighting back tears, she wondered why he couldn’t both love her and follow his ministry. “I still don’t understand. Why would it be wrong to surrender to love?”

Jesus placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “What you want from me, you must find within yourself, Mary. Sometimes the deepest, truest love is not consummated but savored as friendship. You will only understand this when you become fully unified and honor both the female and the male within. Then you will be happier than you have ever been, and you will be a strong woman.”

Mary frowned and said in a trembling voice, “I would rather be weak and have you.”

Jesus cupped her face in his hands. “Oh, Mary, please understand. You don’t need a man to give you an abundant life. You will find that life when you discover your inner abundance. Then, if you choose to love, you will marry a man who is truly good for you.” He stepped back and took her hands in his. “I have a special mission for you. The male disciples want power over the women, but you must not give it to them. You must nurture your harmony within and proclaim the gospel out of that unity. Then you will be a powerful witness to God’s love, and you will be revered by men as well as women. You must encourage the men to preach the gospel in a way that brings men and women together, because they do not yet understand unity, and they are afraid of it. Only those who find the depths of love become fearless.”

Mary walked past him to the entrance of the gorge and listened to the word
fearless
echoing in her mind. The word contrasted sharply with the image she had of herself. Since childhood she had organized her life around finding a man to provide for and protect her. But Jesus was describing a woman who could manage these challenges herself, inviting her into a new way of seeing herself and the world. A swirl of wind whipped up some dust and blew it toward her. She covered her eyes with her hands. When the dust cleared, she said, “I don’t know where I will find the strength you’re talking about.”

The wind began to die down, and the night grew quiet. The glow from the torch played gently on Jesus’ face as he said, “The Spirit of God is more powerful than you can imagine. This power lives within you. Surrender your heart in prayer, and the power will be yours.”

Jesus’ words challenged her to shift her focus away from him and onto an unknown part of herself. Perhaps her dream of love would come true but in an unexpected way. Sitting on a large boulder, she said, “I feel closest to God when I’m with you.”

Jesus raised his hand as if to bless her. “I hope you will seek that closeness always, for it is the source of harmony and strength.”

Mary wiped beads of sweat from her forehead. She couldn’t deny that she needed both qualities. If she had embraced her inner harmony and strength, she would have left Jonathan the first time he hit her. But she was terrified of being without a man so she had tolerated the abuse until Jonathan put her on the street. Her involvement with Judas Iscariot was even more dangerous. How could she have been so foolish as to get involved with this violent man? Standing, she acknowledged the answer. Her deep need had made her vulnerable to him, and by scheming to make Jesus jealous, she had put both herself and the rabbi at risk.

She took in the subtle radiance that shone in Jesus’ eyes. Her breath grew short as she said, “It’s hard for me to accept that we will never be together, but I know I must. You have grown, and I’m happy for you even though that growth has cost us our love.” She felt shy and small in his serene presence, a presence that modeled the person she hoped to become. In losing him, perhaps she could find herself. She rose up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. “Only a great rabbi could have your insight into God and life. I shall become the fearless woman you want me to be.”

Jesus took her in his arms. “No matter what happens, Mary, our hearts will always be together. And never stop making God your first desire, for in doing so, all good things will come to you.”

His arms felt comforting, but now she understood him not as a potential husband or lover but as a wise friend who had helped her to understand herself. It finally made sense. With every breath she promised herself to seek the fullness of God’s image within. She stepped away, knowing that she was finally letting go of her desire for him.