The Galilean Secret: A Novel (40 page)

Gabriel threw up his hands. “How can I be sure? You’ve told me what you saw and experienced, but honestly . . . it’s hard to accept.”

Her eyes remained locked on his. “Then you must see for yourself.” She took his arm and guided him toward the street.

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

GABRIEL STIFLED QUESTIONS HE DARED NOT FACE AS HE FOLLOWED JUDITH TOWARD JOSEPH OF ARIMATHEA’S GARDEN. They hurried through Jerusalem’s crowded streets, dodging pilgrims headed home after Passover. Their future depended on what the tomb revealed. Skeptical of her story, he didn’t say a word. What if she were lying? If Jesus’ body were still in the tomb, he could never trust her again.

She led him into the garden. A cold chill crawled up his spine. She moved confidently, as if she owned it, jaw firmly set, lips pursed so tightly her cheeks twitched. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, captivated by her resolve but certain he could not stay with any woman given to deceit.

He approached the hillside below Golgotha and caught his first glimpse of the tomb. It was indeed open. He froze in disbelief. She glanced at him, grabbed his hand and broke into a run. He resisted, but she yanked his arm so hard that he was compelled to follow.

She led him inside the tomb. The morning sun was shining in, illuminating the ledge where Jesus’ body should have been. But Gabriel saw only a linen shroud on the ledge, along with some wrappings and a cloth napkin folded neatly at the far end. He drew back, terrified. “Something is very wrong.” He rushed to the entrance of the tomb and cautiously peered out.

She followed him. “How do you explain it?”

“Someone must have stolen the body, or the Romans may have moved it to discourage Jesus’ followers from coming here.”

“Why would they have left his grave clothes behind?”

“They wanted to make it mysterious so that everyone would wonder what happened.”

She threw up a hand. “That makes no sense. The Romans crave peace. To raise questions about Jesus’ body would only stir up controversy.”

Gabriel went back to the slab where the grave clothes lay. He wanted to believe her, but his mind raced with questions. “Criminals don’t think logically. How can we understand their motives?”

She moved between him and the slab. “You’re not thinking logically either. The miracle is not only that Jesus’ body is gone but also that he appeared to me and the others. We saw him with our own eyes. He spoke to us, we felt his presence. In order to refute that, you’d have to say we all had delusions at the same time. That’s highly unlikely.”

Gabriel stared at the grave clothes, unable to move or speak. He understood her point, but accepting it would mean he would have to believe in a miracle. As much as he wanted to believe and to continue their relationship, his mind rebelled against the idea. Then, before he realized what he was doing, he reached out and touched the wrappings. Their thin, tightly woven fabric felt rough against his skin. He stared at the ledge, mesmerized, unable to turn away from its emptiness or to release the shroud.

Warmth surged through every fiber of his body. He smelled hibiscus mixed with the gingery scent of the embalming spices—the sweetness was intoxicating. He could no longer tell where his fingers ended and the shroud began, as if his skin had become part of the fabric. It seemed that his mind and body were merging with the earth of the tomb, the sweet spring air, the dusty floor, and with Judith too.

He sensed that someone unseen was with them, and that this presence was part of him and he of the presence, filling him with peace. The experience was like passing through an ocean storm in a small boat when suddenly the winds grow calm, the rain ceases and the cresting waves fold down into themselves to become a sea of glass.

She was not lying. Something miraculous had happened to her and the other women—he could trust that now. The evidence of her joy, combined with his own peacefulness, convinced him that Jesus’ resurrection was, in some mysterious way, true. This Galilean rabbi who had unlocked the mysteries of his soul, this healing counselor who had taught him the meaning of forgiveness, this radical prophet who had been crucified and buried, was with him still.

Gabriel turned, took Judith in his arms and held her. Neither said a word. She surrendered to his embrace, turning her head and laying it against his chest. He rocked her back and forth, his eyes closed, the words of her letter repeating in his mind:

I want to laugh and cry with you, and nurse you when you are sick, and hold you when you are scared. Most of all, I want to be your friend, until one of us closes the other’s eyes.

His throat grew tight. He leaned back and measured her through watery eyes. She was weeping too. In her tears he saw sincerity and knew he could love her—and her child, always.

He lowered his head to kiss her, but before their lips met, footsteps clattered outside the tomb. He stepped back, seized her arm and pressed a finger to his lips. Whoever was out there might not like their being inside. He moved to the back of the tomb and, holding her tightly, braced himself for the worst.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

THE STONE ON THE FAR WALL FELT SHARP AGAINST JUDITH’S SHOULDERS. This morning had been full of surprises; now here was one more. Had the other women or the disciples followed her and Gabriel to the tomb? Had word about Jesus’ resurrection spread so that people were coming to see for themselves? She heard not only footsteps but also several thuds, as if someone’s belongings were being dropped on the ground. What could be happening? She looked at Gabriel. He shrugged, perplexed. Two men were talking.

“Let’s seal the tomb right away. Pilate doesn’t want the Nazarene’s friends snooping around and telling stories.”

“Then Pilate had better silence the guards who were here earlier. They’re saying that an earthquake rolled the stone away. Then they saw a bright light and heard voices.”

“One of them told me something even stranger. Apparently several women arrived at dawn to embalm the body, but it was gone.”

“Let me check inside. With all the rumors, it’s hard to know what to believe.”

As soon as the conversation ended, a Roman soldier appeared at the tomb’s entrance. Judith held on to Gabriel, shocked by this turn of events. When the soldier saw them, he drew his sword. “What are you doing here? This tomb is closed by order of the Roman governor, Pontius Pilate!”

Gabriel stepped forward. “We came to check on our friend’s body. There are rumors that it had been disturbed.”

The soldier thrust out his sword. “You can see that there is no body here.” He shook the sword threateningly. “Stay where you are.”

Judith saw that the soldier was stocky, with broad shoulders and wide-set eyes. She studied him intently and recoiled in disbelief, recognizing the man. Longinus! She met his gaze and refused to flinch. Under her breath, she whispered to Gabriel, “I know this man.” Gabriel glanced at her incredulously and held his ground, not saying a word. She had heard rage in Longinus’ voice and seen hate on his face, but the longer she studied him, the more his hardened features seemed to soften and a glimmer of recognition appeared in his eyes.

She decided to take a risk and stepped toward him, letting go of Gabriel’s hand. “You remember me, don’t you?” she said, stopping a few feet from him.

He shook the sword again. “Why would I remember you?”

“Because my friend Mary and I confronted you at Golgotha when you took her scroll. Your name is Longinus, isn’t it?”

When he heard her say his name, Longinus lowered the sword. The tension drained from his pudgy face. “Yes, I remember you.” He sounded almost apologetic. “I can’t believe you’re here. Everything is different now.”

“What do you mean?”

A shout came from outside: “Longinus, what’s taking so long?”

“I’m coming,” Longinus said, motioning Judith and Gabriel to follow him. Then he whispered, “I’ve been searching for you.”

She walked out of the tomb, puzzled by Longinus’ statement, her hand in Gabriel’s. The other soldier, a younger, taller man, saw the three of them emerge and drew back, wide-eyed. The soldier reached for his sword, but Longinus grasped his hand and prevented him from drawing it. “You won’t need that, Marcellus. I know this woman. She and her friend came to pay their respects to the Nazarene. All they found were some linen wrappings, and they didn’t disturb them.”

Marcellus backed off, shaking his head. “They’d better not have disturbed anything.” He stepped inside the tomb, glanced around and came out. “If we neglect our duty, Pilate will have our heads. Now help me move the stone back to cover the entrance.”

Longinus laid his sword on a canvas bag of supplies next to the entrance; then he crossed over and joined Marcellus in trying to roll the stone. The stone would not budge. Longinus asked Judith and Gabriel to help, but even with their added strength the stone remained immovable, so Longinus ordered Marcellus to get more soldiers.

After Marcellus left, Longinus picked up a satchel that lay next to the bag of supplies. Judith stood with Gabriel and waited. Longinus finally came over and peered at her. “I have the scroll in here,” he said, holding up the satchel. “I have been wanting to return it to your friend. Is she the woman called Mary of Magdala?”

“Yes,” Judith said.

“Will you take it to her?”

“Of course.”

“I would like to go with you . . . to meet her, if you would let me.” Judith stifled a cry of joy and waited for Longinus to continue. “I will tell you why.” Longinus removed his helmet and wiped the sweat from his face. “When I got home after the crucifixion, I read the letter. It was as if Jesus of Nazareth was speaking to me, and I couldn’t get his voice out of my mind. The remorse I felt for his crucifixion . . . well, it was unbearable.” Longinus stumbled on the words, his voice choked and faltering. Judith put a hand on his shoulder, and he went on, “I could not sleep that night, and I cried out in agony for forgiveness. A deep peace came over me: I knew I must return the scroll and meet the woman to whom it was addressed. I also knew I could never be cruel again.”

Longinus wiped at his eyes. Judith embraced him and said, “This morning Jesus appeared to some other women and me; now I have seen inside the tomb, and I know that the same man who was crucified is alive again.”

Longinus shook his head skeptically. “This is too unbelievable.”

Judith let go of him, silently agreeing. But it was true. She had sensed extraordinary power in Jesus. He was a healer not only of people’s bodies but also of their souls. His disciples had found this healing. Even Dismas, in his dying moment, had been healed. Now her eyes were bright with tears as she fully realized that Jesus had offered healing to the man who had presided over his suffering and death. “You must fully surrender to Jesus, Longinus, and you, too, will believe.”

Longinus reached into his satchel, withdrew the scroll and handed it to her. “I’ll start by returning this scroll; then, if you and your friends will have me, I will do all I can for the cause of the Nazarene.”

Judith told him how to get to the upper room and promised to meet him there, to introduce him to Mary Magdalene that night. She hugged him before taking the scroll and leading Gabriel away from the tomb. She held out the scroll and said, “In this letter Jesus has given us the secrets of love and relationships, but the story of his struggles with Mary Magdalene and Judas will be lost unless someone writes it down. I intend to be that writer. The story affected you and me and Dismas so profoundly. I must share both the pain and the healing, that others may know that grace is real—the greatest of God’s miracles.”

The sun suddenly appeared, radiant in the cloudless sky, waiting until that moment to show its true glory. She breathed in the bracing fresh ness of spring, delighted in the earth’s awakening. When she and Gabriel reached the edge of the garden, he stopped and wrapped his arms around her. “I will provide you with the papyrus and the stylus at my store. Perhaps you should also record the name of our baby. What do you suggest?”

Silent for a time, she finally looked up and said, “I’m hoping for a boy, and I would like to name him Reuben, after my brother. May he grow up to be a man of peace.”

They began to walk away, but after a few steps she turned and glanced back at the open tomb. It was the loveliest of sights, the large rectangular opening surrounded by a garden ablaze with color.
They can seal the entrance,
she thought
, gripping the scroll firmly, but no stone can keep Jesus buried now
. She turned to Gabriel. “Will you stay with me always?”

He kissed her forehead and tightened his arms around her. Just then a flock of doves took flight nearby, a flurry of wings lifting them into the endless canopy of sky. “Until forever,” he said.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

Qumran at the Dead Sea

One year later

JUDITH ROCKED HER FUSSING BABY IN HER ARMS, STRUCK BY THE CONTRAST BETWEEN HIS UNTAMABLE ENERGY AND MARY MAGDALENE’S DECLINING HEALTH. Holding Reuben to her breast, she fought to banish from her mind images of Mary’s swollen and fever-ridden body. The disease Mary had contracted several weeks earlier while working among the crippled and infirm had progressed quickly and mercilessly. But Judith didn’t want to remember how this extraordinary woman looked on her sick bed. Mary had left such a mark on her and on so many others. Judith wanted to remember her as vibrant and stunning as she had been when they first met.

Along with Judith’s marriage vow to Gabriel, her promise to Mary Magdalene to hide the letter was the most sacred pledge she had ever made.

Now she had to keep it.

Reuben fussed and finally latched on. The rising sun cast Mount Nebo as a silhouette against the orange-red of a Qumran dawn. Gabriel was packing up their supplies and belongings after a restless night. Soon they would start the long journey to Antioch in Syria. There they hoped to escape the persecution led by the fanatical Saul of Tarsus in Jerusalem.

The persecution had begun after what had come to be called the day of Pentecost, when Peter and the other disciples proclaimed the gospel boldly, and many believers were added to their number. They met secretly in one another’s homes, praising God, breaking bread together and caring for the needy. But whenever they preached in the name of Jesus, Saul threatened them with death.

Judith hoped that she and her family would find safety among the believers in Antioch, but before they could continue their journey, she needed to finish feeding her baby. She nursed him and pondered the promise she had made to Mary Magdalene as she lay dying. On her deathbed Mary had sent for her. Judith could still see the dark circles that ringed Mary’s half-closed eyes, the jaundiced skin and the heaving of her chest as she labored for her last breath. Mary revived a bit when she recognized her and, propping herself up on her elbows, pointed to the scroll that Judith had returned to her.

“You must care for the scroll,” Mary said. “It contains the only words Jesus ever wrote to me. The Romans want to be rid of him forever—if they knew about the letter, they would seize and destroy it. You must hide the scroll for future generations.” Mary gasped for breath. “And there’s something else you must know. Before Judas took his life, he left a note in the upper room for me. I wept when I read it, as I often do when I think of Judas. . . . I buried the note in the most fitting place I could think of—the Cave of Gethsemane, where Judas betrayed Jesus. When you write the story, as you have promised you will, you should mention the note, and that it’s buried in the northeast corner of the cave.”

Judith gently patted Mary’s heaving chest. “Please, you must rest.”

Mary lay back, gripping Judith’s arm. “I will rest only if you promise to take the letter. You must also write the story of what happened between Jesus and me and Judas so that others can learn from it. You must hide these writings so that, in God’s timing, they will be found when the human family most needs them.” Mary was sweating profusely, her words interrupted by bouts of coughing. “Do you promise?”

“Yes, I promise. I will write the story on the same papyrus and hide it where no one will find it for a long time.”

Even before Judith finished speaking, she had decided on the perfect place: Qumran. It was fairly near the city and secluded enough so that the scroll would not be found soon, but accessible enough so that it would eventually be discovered. She bent to tell Mary Magdalene, but her breathing had stopped and she was still. Judith held her hand for a moment, and said a prayer of thanksgiving for all that Mary had been to her.

Now Judith needed to keep her promise and bury the scroll in these forbidding hills, which were as rugged and parched as she remembered, as well as make peace with her past. After Reuben finished nursing, she covered herself and set him down. The tall ceramic jar that contained the scroll lay at her feet. She removed the scroll and opened it, carefully laying aside the strips of linen in which she had wrapped it. The papyrus had aged somewhat and appeared soiled in places, perhaps from the fingers of the many believers who had read the letter, along with her diary entries. She admired Jesus’ handwriting one last time.

Gabriel had lit a torch and was burying the dying embers of the campfire. She studied him, awed by the strength in his features. Had it not been for the letter, she could have been crucified with his brother, and she feared that Barabbas, whom she had heard was organizing a new uprising with the Zealot leader Menahem, son of Judas the Galilean, could still meet that horrific fate.

She put the thought out of her mind. The time had come. She rolled up the scroll, placed it in the jar and sealed the top. With one arm she picked up Reuben; with the other, she took hold of the jar. Gabriel grabbed the shovel that he had brought from home and, torch in hand, led her toward a cliff above the plateau on which they had camped.

Up a narrow ledge, they made their way into a cave cut into the craggy rock. Once inside, she set down the jar and held the torch as Gabriel began to dig a hole. He stabbed at the dusty ground with the shovel, loosening the hard-packed earth until the hole was deep enough for the jar. When he had placed the jar in the hole, they used their feet to cover it with pebbles and sand. “It will be a long time before anyone finds the scroll,” he said, satisfied.

She pressed Reuben against her breast. “I only hope that by the time someone finds it, the world will have learned Jesus’ way to peace.”

Gabriel left, but Judith stood for a moment, staring at the spot where the scroll was now buried, along with her past. It had been a long journey back to Qumran. She had touched depths so low that few people return from them alive, and those who do are changed forever. Her failures had shown her how powerless she was to heal herself. Only because of Jesus and Mary Magdalene was she among the living. With their help, she had begun to forgive herself.

She ran a hand over Reuben’s bald little head and offered a prayer of thanksgiving that in him and Gabriel she had found the true meaning of love. The discovery was a homecoming, a return to everything noble and endearing in life. She prayed that whoever found the letter would share it with the world, that future generations could be healed and grow into the fullness of their creation in God’s image.

She peered into Reuben’s large eyes, which were the color of molasses. They would always remind her of Dismas. She pressed Reuben’s face against her cheek and shuddered as she considered what she would tell him about his father. She wouldn’t emphasize his life as a Zealot, but rather how, in the end, he had asked for Gabriel’s forgiveness and pleaded with him to love his wife and child.

Her future lay with Reuben and Gabriel. But she would never forget Dismas’ crucifixion, his dying words and Jesus’ reply, “I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in Paradise.” She repeated these words out loud, kissed Reuben and followed Gabriel into the morning.