Author: empower

  • The Gathering of the Eternal Five: A Council for Claudia

    The Gathering of the Eternal Five: A Council for Claudia

    Chapter 10

    Across the entire eastern sky a hazy line of golden light pushed the purple shroud of night gently away. A few dim stars twinkled here and there flirting with the brightening clouds. It was Onofrio’s favorite time. A time he cherished with his prominent God, Nature the god of all living things. No golden altars required. No priests in costly robes to instruct followers on how to praise nature’s promise of a fruitful day.

    He had several scrolls to deliver among them some for Pontius Pilate regarding the finished improvements to the water way. Now cleansed of rotting debris and widened to supply ample water to Yerushalayim. The fields already flourished in such abundance. He had scrolls to deliver to the Hebrew council pertaining to border line adjustments between properties they would have to address among themselves. The new military commander would be invited to Serou’s home for continued discussions regarding improvements to the military facilities. In all, Onofrio would have a full day mingling with the heads of power in the city of David.

    He dressed in light blue with a white leather belt over his outer robe. A new pair of black shiny boots graced his feet. He wore a white turban headdress with a blue ornament at the forehead. He only wore his wedding ring and a copper bracelet he was fond of. It was said to protect one’s health.

    His favorite two horses pulled his chariot with ease. They seemed to know where Onofrio wanted to go. He often spoke to them in transit and perhaps, they understood his missions and hastened to oblige.

    It was past midmorning when he finally entered Pilate’s outer chamber, a private place where he rested between cases. After a few minutes wait, Pilate appeared. He wore an elegant purple toga adorned with three inch wide symmetrical bands of Gold thread going from foot to shoulder. Very Impressive. He looked tired and overly groomed. His face brightened at the sight of Onofrio. After amiable greetings Pilate proceeded to his usual seat. Refreshments were soon provided and Pilate spoke in abbreviated sentences. “I’m so tired all the time. I need to go someplace and be by myself. Get away from these “Jewish gripes and petty quarrels.” He examined the scrolls and was seemingly pleased with what he read.

    “Serou is a remarkable individual. “Every concern is carefully addressed and neatly answered in sequence. Remarkable. It’s the badge of a brilliant mind. In total amiability Pilate continued non-sop.”My wife, Claudia will soon be here. I would like for you to meet her. You’ve never met my wife, have you?”

    Onofrio was momentarily displeased with the proposal pulled on him so unexpedctedly. He had other stops to make. But courtesy to Pontius Pilate took first place and so he answered courteously,

    “No sir. I’ve never had occasion to meet your wife, Claudia. I’ve been told she is a brilliant and lovely woman. I would be pleased to meet the lady.”

    Soon thereafter, Claudia made her appearance. She was truly beautiful. She had high cheek bones and sensuous lips. Her stride revealed an admirable elegance and she dressed in a light green gown with fine gold jewelry. Her lips were lightly tinted in a delicate shade of pink making her appear even younger. Her eyes were filled with a friendly glow and he could not tell what color they were in haste. Proper introductions were made and she sat next to Pilate. By way of apology, she looked at Onofrio and silently bid for a private moment. She caressed her husband’s face and spoke in a voice invented by angels, “I was hoping to find you resting. Has it been a busy morning?” Her concern had no place to hide. Before Pilate answered, her face lit up with a recovered realization and spoke in astonished tones.

    “You’re the young man known for building the cross on which Jesus of Nazareth died. Aren’t you? She was obviously thrilled by it.

    Onofrio had no place to hide. He had grown to despise the question but could not deny the wife of Pontius Pilate an answer.

    “Much to my regret yes Mam, I built the cross on which Jesus died.” Onofrio stated calmly taking a deep breath and looking for an escape route. He had no desire to rekindle painful memories. He swiftly became uncomfortable, apparent to Pilate and Claudia. She sensed his discomfort as if she saw visions wandering through his mind.

    With undeniable regret she reached to touch his hand and spoke with a warm and gentle kindness.

    “I’m sorry. I heard of your ordeal after the crucifixion. I have no desire to stir unpleasant memories but if I may, I’d like to ask you one question.” She saw his glassy eyes and felt a kindness toward him. Noticeably Onofrio bowed with visible reluctance. He could not deny a request by the wife of Pontius Pilate.

    She looked at her husband and cocked her chin. A signal he knew well to mean, “I’m going to do it. Whether you agree or not.” Then she beamed her eyes on the handsome young man before her.

    “I have every reason in the world to believe that our son’s presence before Jesus healed his club foot.” Again she reached to touch Onofrio’s hand.

    “Do you think that since He is now dead that our son’s affliction will return?” Glassy eyes never demand explanation. She was on the brink of tears. She had suffered much from Pilate’s attitude towards her for delivering unto him a crippled child. She could not bear to be castigated again for the same reason.

    For a fleeting moment Onofrio and Claudia Procula suffered a similar anguish. Onofrio took only a moment to think and clearly stated, “I cannot answer your question honestly. As much as I would like to ease your concern my answer would not be truthful. However, allow me to tell you this real to life story and perhaps it will give you strength to face the future. What I tell you now is verifiable truth. On our way to Yerushalayim not long ago, we rescued an old lady that was injured on the road. She had a swollen, black and blue ankle she claimed to have suffered with for years. We took her close to the market square where Jesus was healing multiple afflictions. Later that day we met the old lady and her ankle was healed. She told us that Jesus assured her that if her affliction returned to think of him and she would again enjoy the benefit of his cure. She promised to always think of him in order to keep the cure in effect. My dear lady Claudia, I do not know if it would apply to your son. I am not one to give you false hope. But from what I know and have seen, I say there is no harm in keeping that thought alive. I would dare to say that your son may be too young to think of Jesus very often. This leaves you and your husband to share the burden of that aspiration.”

    Through all that Pilate sat intently listening to Onofrio and logged it in his mind. Then he spoke again, “My wife and I disagree on how Pilo’s cure came about. I say Mighty Jupiter is the reason for my sons cure.” And he chuckled a bit as if to sting her harmlessly. Claudia was never one to accept being put aside as she promptly replied with an equal sting.

    “My dearest Lucius, let us not disagree on who is most benevolent to our child. Instead, you pray to your Jupiter and I reserve the right to pray to whom I wish. That way we both contribute to our child’s welfare. This tongue in cheek compromise could well be the only genuine peace in all Judea.”

    Her smile was clear acceptance of what Onofrio proposed. But in the process of all this Onofrio saw a way to even give Pontius Pilate a time off from his arduous tasks. Without effort he mustered his most diplomatic tone, “Sir, I have an excellent suggestion to make. I urge you to accept it.  The villa by the lake on Serou’s property is newly refurbished. It is even better now than it was before. It would serve you well to consider spending fruitful time there with the lady Claudia. You would be well away from “Jewish gripes and petty quarrels”. And he clicked his jaw twice and winked an eye at the mighty procurator. “My wife Senobia and I spend much time there. Last week we caught a nice size fish we grilled over an open fire and slept al fresco in a tent with the children. They loved it. Senobia and I dipped in the lake like children on holiday. There’s no one to bother us for miles. There are slave quarters in back that could see to your comfort.  There’s a fully stocked kitchen and the water well is close by. There’s also a large barn to shelter your horses with access to good grass and fresh water. It would please me immensely if you accepted my invitation.”

    With crimped eyes and chin in hand Pilate thought for a moment and commented, “We have children to consider you know,” and seemed pleased to accept the invitation by pensively nodding his head.

    Claudia tuned in with,” we have nannies to see about them, you know.”And so with no further ado, it was clear that the couple would avail themselves of such an inviting offer. A second honey moon was in a budding stage. Onofrio cautioned, “Tell only your most trusted associate where you will be. In case you are urgently needed.” To which Pilate bowed in silent acknowledgement.

    Serou had seriously suggested Onofrio move his family to the Villa by the lake. It was peaceful there and the children would adore it. Their household staff would find adequate accommodations and all would be comfortably happy. It was a gift from the Egyptian Onofrio had not decided to accept.

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  • The Gathering of the Eternal Five: A Tale Worth Repeating

    The Gathering of the Eternal Five: A Tale Worth Repeating

    Chapter 9

    And he said to them, “Do not be amazed;

    You seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was

    crucified. He has risen, he is not here.

    But go, tell his disciples and Peter

    that he is going before you to Galilee: there

    you will see him, as he told you.

    Mark 16: 6-7      NIV

     

    Having stood closely by as a guardian to their privacy Samuel was host to all that was said. He could not help but feel a certain wonder for these two women. He never imagined that women could possess such deep thoughts. It was a revelation he would not soon forget.

    Magdalene turned her robe inside out to a different color. Discreetly she left going in one direction while Claudia led Samuel to their surrey by an opposite route. On the way Claudia had to ask, “Did you get an earful of what we said?” It was petty and she knew it but she wanted to know if what they said was going to her husband’s ear. “I learned that women can surmise and shelter deeper thoughts than what is granted them by men. I was surprised but equally delighted that you two ladies share such a sisterly bond. I will consider that a lesson for me alone. I was not near enough to hear what was said, should anybody ask me.” And taking unprecedented liberty he looked at her directly in her eyes then smiled and blinked an eye at her. It was all Claudia could do not to chuckle under her breath. It was more than she ever expected from a young camel herder. She liked the sound of his loyalty.

    Two days of waiting finally put Samuel before Pilate to ask for leave. “Sir, I would like to spend some time with my father and sister.” Only a moment passed through Pilate’s mind as he swiftly answered, “Claudia has let it be known that she approves of your work ethics. She feels confident in your ability to handle and protect the animals, yourself and her in turn. See my paymaster and draw your pay, go visit your family for a week only. We will be going to Caesarea then and I want you nearby.”

    Before submitting them to record, historians will long debate the validity of some life changing events in the lives of Bernice (Veronica of the veil) and Mary of Magdala (Mary Magdalene).

    On her quest to recruit help from Emperor Tiberius she found herself attending a sumptuous feast in his honor. Food in excessive amounts, alcoholic drinks of infinite variety made for a grotesque display of unwarranted waste. Musicians played risqué tunes, dancing girls displayed their feminine attributes in betrayal of common decency. Sinful pleasures abounded in every secluded and not so secluded corners. Men were seen with young boys and women playing intimate games with each other. It was Rome at its gala best. Jugglers and acrobats fought for attention. Wrestlers and magicians lost favor among so many other pleasures so readily available. The stone canopy of the palace filled with odorous smoke from the torches was offensive to Mary of Magdala’s senses. She preferred the briny scented breezes of Galilee. It would not be Rome if an elegantly dressed woman did not appear with two cheetahs on a leach to sit imperiously on a high back chair and review the human circus before her. She was the wife of Emperor Tiberius and known as Julia, the elder. She surveyed Mary of Magdala keenly as Mary’s reputation had arrived long before her person. Women of Mary’s reputation had been known to disrupt happy marriages before. Her husband though not a young man anymore could fall victim to an exotic and well formed woman as Mary of Magdala lavishly displayed. It was rumored she used ways to revitalize weary soldiers of love. And where Julia could not allow a fleck of jealousy to show, she nonetheless made it difficult for Magdalene and her husband Tiberius to be close or alone. Already Magdalene’s visit claimed the attention of no less than three men anxious to share her couch in vain. This night, she seemed possessed with thoughts of her own. Sipping water from a golden cup she enjoyed the risqué tunes with impish smiles and kept time with a dainty foot. She had formally requested an audience with Tiberius and received no response. She was effectively not invited to this decadence but she had a case to present and would risk much to get results. Her families properties were at stake and all else she may desire could wait for a better time and place.

    On this night Tiberius was the model of sobriety. A messenger came to his side and eyeing Mary of Magdala with a tilted eyebrow pointed her out to the emperor. From across a field of debauchery, the emperor bid her come to him. Julia the elder adjusted her hold on the cheetahs and moved closer to her husband. Along the way for reasons Mary of Magdala could never explain, she picked up a fresh egg from a decorative chicken nest basket and toyed with it as she approached the venerated presence of the mightiest voice in all of Rome. Mary of Magdala had every conceivable reason to be nervous in such opulence and raw power.

    Introductions were made by the proper official and Magdalene’s letter given to the emperor. With significant disregard over such a petty request he placed it aside. Not too gently. He was annoyed by it.

    After giving her silent scrutiny from flank to flank and top to toe, he finally spoke, “Oh yes. You come from a land where carpenters walk on water and dead men get up and stroll away from the grave of their destiny, don’t you?” He said it in open mockery with a near chuckle under his breath, inviting others to join.

    And when evening came, the boat was

    out to sea, and he was alone on the land.

    And he saw that they were making headway

    Painfully, for the wind was against them.

    And about the fourth watch of the

    Night he came to them, walking on the sea.

    Mark 6:47-48   NIV

     

    Knowing full well that Tiberius referred to the resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth, Mary of Magdala prepared her most diplomatic answer. “Yes Sire. It is true. I was first hand witness to his death and I was there when he left the tomb and spoke to me the morning after.”

    Mary of Magdala was notably nervous as the emperor finally saw her toying with the glossy white egg in her hand. He spoke openly and not too courteous. “You have been deceived, young woman. You are the victim of a sinister plot. A scheme invented by demented and self serving minds. I repeat no man walks away from  his grave. Your low-born carpenter is not God enough to do that. Neither can he walk on water.”

    Mary of Magdala had by now recovered some of her self assurance and was empowered by the emperor’s disbelief, on the brink of calling her a liar. She had much at stake and must keep her wits in check.

    “All mighty Emperor Tiberius, I did not come all this way to insult you with lies. What I know to be is fact and what I have seen with my own eyes is not a fabrication, sir.”

    Unruffled Tiberius continued, “Your name is Mary of Magdala. Your exploits have reached my ear. I’ve heard many stories about you” and did not hide an unbecoming smirk on his face.

    “Not as many stories as I have heard about myself sire. It would take a herd of lawyers to prove any of them true. As you so clearly stated, I am a victim of demented minds for a separate reason.” Mary had regained her self-assurance and it was clearly visible. Not cocky but in a respectable stance and words carefully chosen.

    With certain pensiveness the emperor clearly stated. “Be your reputation whatever it is does not apply to your reason for being here. Your devotion to the resurrection of that carpenter is not likely to be true as that egg in your hand is not likely to ever turn red. Mary of Magdala opened her hand and before more than a dozen startled witnesses the egg in her hand turned to a blushing shade of red. Having seen countless tricks by would-be magicians the emperor was outwardly displeased with such a blatant display of disregard for his intelligence. How dare this woman of ill repute try a cheap trick on him?

    “Young woman, you stand close to raising my ire with such a trick.”

    Mary of Magdala raised her hands and tearfully exclaimed in near shock visible to all. “Lord, Tiberius, I am not a trickster. I only know what is true and now you have seen the miracles the man Jesus of Nazareth is capable of. My dear Lord, I would never attempt to make a mockery of your intelligence. The proof of his ability is before your eyes and delivered to you on your request. I do not know how this happened but, here I see another one of his miracles. Eggs have long been the symbol life’s rebirth, my Lord. His resurrection in the period of life’s renewal has to be mandated by a superior God. The father of Jesus of Nazaeth.   My own people have turned their backs to him and yet he was raised to heaven by a host of angels. Sire, my dear Emperor Tiberius do not shut the door to this miracle as I feel certain others will follow.” Mary of Magdala was a stream of painful tears before a growing circle of sobering guests all eager to disqualify the red egg. Equally struck by unprecedented awe, Mary of Magdala felt a gentle hand grip her heart as she fully accepted His message. Jesus, the Christ had spoken to her before. She took assurance that He was close by. No one had ever seen a red egg before. Tiberius had the egg confiscated. When no logical explanation came forth, he was forced to accept what he saw as a possible miracle. As the emperor, could he believe it was an invitation to alter his faith? Every God known to man has been jealous of every other God. He could well be jealous of that carpenter from Nazareth that walked away from his grave and rose                           to heaven escorted by a host of angels. It was no doubt, an impossible act to follow. Tiberius was a mortal man and was granted Tribunician power for life. It made him sacred and inviolable to other men. In effect he was a living God. He had the power to cut down any law devised by his most learned scholars. From his seat of power he could condemn the whole Hebrew nation to hell for castigating Mary of Magdala. If only he would. He clearly chose to disbelieve the shaded egg as being a Devine message. Judea was full of unexplainable tricks. Virgins don’t give birth and remain virgin. Two men walked away from their graves. First Lazarus then the convicted carpenter from Nazareth. Dead men do not rise to heaven escorted by angels. Never having seen an angel, he found it easy to discharge the thought as one more trick. He chose to accept what the written testimony reported, “It was somebody’s laundry caught up in the desert wind that made fools out of seemingly intelligent people. Not that dead carpenter.” Tiberius was an intelligent man not swayed by gossip and fairy tales. No one can truly say that he felt a twinge of reserved acceptance of what he saw and heard. Mary of Magdala presented her case intelligently. She was an educated woman with a keen grasp of court etiquette. Her reputation did not match her conduct on this occasion. She was seen expelling various attempts to win her attention. She remained aloof of the celebration in progress. She dressed in tones of creamy white and mellow green. A reserved array of glittering jewelry decorated her wrists and a fine gold chain favored her slender neck. Her hair was neatly arranged to present her face at full value with no pretense or grand exaggeration. She even                                            possessed a certain royal attitude in her stride and gestures. Tiberius was informed that an impressive carriage complete with proper escort brought her to the palace front entrance. She had a hand maiden attending her and she kept the maid safe from distractions. For which Tiberius granted her silent praise. But a ghost of her reputation stayed close by. Women of her vocation were known to be great actresses. This could well be the cleverest Charade he ever saw. Tiberius promised to look into her case and turned his attention elsewhere.  Mary had one more task to perform. One she had almost forgotten in her state of mind and near shock over the red egg.

    “My dear Emperor Tiberius, I have something special for you before I leave.” With obvious annoyance, he gave her a sidelong look with a tinge of contempt. She was overstaying her welcome. From her inner robe Mary of Magdala brought out a small scroll. It was a letter from Claudia to her grandfather. Politely yet clear enough for all to hear Mary made her statement. “I apologize sincerely for my absence of mind. I was so engrossed in my own mission I forgot a letter addressed to you from your granddaughter Claudia Procula in Judea.”

     

    An instant change in attitude along with a faint smile transformed the stone mask of Tiberius into a mellow face of anticipation. “You know my granddaughter, Claudia?” He asked in near surprise and disbelief.

    “We are best friends, sire. We had lunch prior to my coming here and she entrusted me with this letter for you.”

    Anxious hands received the scroll and swiftly rolled out the message. He read it slowly as if not to miss a word. Smiling he rolled it back and slipped it into his inner robe. He flayed his hands to discharge other people waiting to see the mighty Tiberius who was now a docile grandfather anxious to ask about the little girl that grew up behind the curtains of his office. He bid Mary of Magdala come closer and so did Julia the elder with both her cheetahs.

    “Tell me, how is she? I last heard that she now has three children and the two little girls look like their mother. Is that true?” He never gave her a chance to answer. Unbecoming the Emperor of almighty Rome, he was overly anxious to hear about his granddaughter and his great grandchildren. Rank and high position never deny the heart to love one’s family. “I hold a reserved spot for your miracle healer and escapee of his tomb, Jesus of Nazareth. As you well know. I have it on good report that my great grandson, Pilo was healed of his club foot by this tricky homeless carpenter. Is that true?”

    “Yes Sire. It is true. Young Pilo walks without restraint and is a happy boy. Marcella and Horatia both look very much like Claudia.

    Sire, Claudia has developed into lovely women. She has gained much knowledge since living in Rome. Pilate does not always know which little girl is which. It is much to your granddaughter’s chagrin that Pilate often calls his own little girls by the wrong name. But, I think he does it to get Claudia’s attention and squeeze a smile out of her. They’re a happy family, sire. The children rile their father by playing hide and go seek around his desk at home in Caesarea. Pilate wanted his son Pilo to enter the military to serve you, sire. Since the recovery from his club foot, I do not know where that decision is as of now. The boy mimics his father’s every move. Tutors come every day to instruct the children separately. I could tell by the look on Claudia’s face that she misses you. Her eyes were glassy when she spoke of you. I am not sure but I think she gave thought to coming with me and visit you.” Tiberius and Mary spoke at length with Julia the elder close by, keeping her cheetahs at close rein and even found joy in the report that pleased her husband. Begrudgingly Tiberius was forced to end the visit in lieu of other high ranking callers. As a passing note he said, “We should speak again. Hopefully soon.”

    Volumes of legendary stories would pursue the truth of these events. Tiberius had become a sick man and suffered much from unknown causes. He had been called to the attention of the miracle worker in Judea. But he chose to regard it as a homespun fabrication. A fairy tale to put children to sleep at night. None of those things had a sound base. It was impossible for him to accept a speck of truth in all he heard. His logic was often sound and gave much thought to publically accepting the words of the Nazarene which would denounce Jupiter, the God of his fathers and his people. Such an action would incite riots. Rebellion would ensue. Blood would paint the streets of Rome in flowing crimson. Armies would rise against their own brothers. The empire could be ripped in pieces and cause devastating wars. It was far wiser to be compassionate to the Jewish predicament. Judea was the smallest, least significant colony of the Roman Empire. His own people lived there now. A sizeable contingent of soldiers held the land in simmering peace. No, he could not envelop Jesus and his teachings into the fold of Roman thought. No one need know what he held in his heart. That was his alone.

    Accepting the life mode of the time, one must realize that news of an ailing Emperor would fan out in all directions. Rambling stories of cancers affecting his Royal person and rumors of worms infesting his intestines. It was even reported by travelers that the streets of Rome buzzed with Tiberius being plagued by a face full of pimples.

    Such voluminous news did not take long to reach the humble Bernice in faraway Judea. Tiberius was her emperor.  He was a sick man and she had a possible cure in her home. Friends and relatives were living proof to the miracles her head scarf delivered. A single look at the face of a tormented Jesus clearly imprinted on Bernice’s head cover was a miracle cure enjoyed by a number of people. On that ground Bernice would take a journey full of obstacles to reach Emperor Tiberius. She gave no thought to the hardships ahead or the reality that she would not be allowed in his presence. She did not accept the awesome certainty that the Emperor would cringe and refuse to be touched by her sweat rag. A kitchen towel she used over her head. Determined and empowered by unprecedented faith she set forth on an expedition from which she may not return. Her destination was the city of Caesars, all mighty Rome. Her mission was to bring a possible cure to the mightiest power of the known world, Emperor Tiberius.

    Her way to the emperor would be through the back kitchen door. Where slaves and the poorest of people clustered and fought for throw away food. Vendors and low class household personnel entered through these congested and filthy doors. It was her lucky day experienced house cleaners were needed to service the emperor’s quarters. She carried the precious mantle carefully wrapped under her clothes and eagerly accepted the task. A portly woman in charge of domestic help led the awe stricken Bernice to her assignment. She would dust, wipe, scrub and clean the hallways leading to the Emperor’s quarters. Walls of impeccable white embellished with bigger than life paintings of Rome’s past glory. An entire wall portrayed panoramic views of the Seven Hills of Rome. Romulus and his brother Remus being suckled by their foster mother wolf took up part of another wall. A separate alcove portrayed Julius Caesar and the Egyptian queen Cleopatra painted close to reality. It could be said that Cleopatra was not the epitome of feminine beauty. An opinion formed even by the less informed Bernice. On a large door leading to a meeting chamber hung a huge golden wreath with the letters SPQR boldly centered (Senatus Populus Que Romanus) in bold red. Such spectacular images of Roman power intimidated the humble soul of Bernice. How in the world was she to present her                           miracle sweat rag to the mighty Tiberius? Her Lord, Jesus must have been close by that day because suddenly the door swung open to a scramble of boisterous men in a rush. At a step down on the floor she saw someone in the crowd stumble and fall painfully on his twisted ankle.The individual cringed in need of help almost screaming in pain and doubled over to rub the injury. She saw her opportunity and took it. Weaving herself through the crowd, she squirmed her way to the fallen individual. She retrieved her precious mantle then allowed him to see it. In an instant flash of panic the man looked at her scarf then saw her. Perhaps dumbstruck by such audacity in his condition. As he made an effort to get up, he realized he was not hurt at all. His pain dissolved instantly. iHis He just had a bad Slip at the ankle and was in top form. The mantle swiftly went back into hiding. One man of keen observance saw what happened and summoned her come with him. She followed in fear knowing she had no choice but to obey the tall burly man. He was a close associate of Emperor Tiberius and brought Bernice to his presence. He spoke to Tiberius in whispers looking at the humbled and frightened woman with side glances. Finally he called her to come forward and spoke softly as if being courteous to someone of her class. “Are you Bernice from Judea?” he asked.

    “Yes, my lord. I am.”

    “Are you the woman who is said to possess a rag that heals people?” “Yes, my Lord. I am. It bears the image of Jesus of Nazareth and many people have found remedy to their ills by looking at the image. I came to Rome in hopes of having the glorious Emperor Tiberius look at itand hopefully cure him of his maladies.” Bernice, poor Bernice was so frightened she could hardly speak. “And how is it you know the Emperor suffers maladies?” he asked in true wonder. “Sir, it is common knowledge in Judea. And it came to me from various sources.”  The second man whom Bernice had not seen laid semi prostrate on a luxurious couch. He looked at her with tearful eyes and called her forth. From where she found the strength to obey, she did not know. She only knew that the mightiest voice of Rome called to her and Jesus had his hand on her shoulder.

    On her knees she approached the emperor and addressed him with all the courtesy she knew. “Sire, on this humble mantle is the image of Jesus of Nazareth. He was a healer and provider of many miracles in Judea. I did not know if his miracles followed him here. But, I tried it on a man that had fallen and had a serious bump on his ankle a few moments ago. I showed him the mantle and the man stood up unharmed in an instant. I did not know how I was going to reach you and give you the benefit of the cloth.” Her escort looked at Tiberius and nodded his head in compliance. Without a medical report it was obvious Tiberius was in pain. As if desperate for relief he bade her rise and come to him. Agony glistened in his eyes and the emperor looked like any other man in pain. Cautiously Bernice came to her feet, retrieved the mantle and allowed the image to show in clear light. Tiberius took a deep breath and clearly stated, “I saw that man’s face in a dream a few nights ago.” He looked at the image and only Tiberius could rightly say if he prayed to the face on the humble mantle. Could it really be a portrait of the son of God? Only Tiberius could confirm or deny his innermost feelings regarding his unorthodox cure. The mightiest voice of Rome felt the touch of the son of God and could not announce it publically. What he felt in his mind and heart went to the grave with him.

    Relief came in notable installments. Within days the doctors found no trace of his former condition. He summoned Bernice, now sheltered in a reserved location and relieved of duty as an honored guest. In top form he spoke in reserved whispers and abbreviated phrases. “Does your Jesus desire to return to earth and rule Judea as king of the Jews?”Seemingly his greatest concern was addressed first.

    “My dear Lord, his kingdom is one of kindness to others. His mission as I know it was to come to earth, be sacrificed and his sacrifice be payment in full for the sins of mankind. He never sought an earthly throne as you know it, Sire. His mission was to correct those that tell lies, steal from others, and disrespect their fathers and the law. To heal the sick and bring goodness to the forefront.”  The Emperor would not soon forget the miracle he recently hosted. He called to someone close by and gestured the person with a prearranged signal. A large leather purse was brought forth. No doubt containing more gold than Bernice would see in a life time. The person delivered the heavy purse to Bernice, who held it for only a second and returned it immediately. “Sire, I cannot accept payment for something I did not do. Sire, your gratitude is misdirected. You need to praise him that brought forth relief from your maladies. I am only a person delivering his request to bring you release from pain.

    “Your Jesus works in mysterious ways. He rejects the crown of kingship and refuses gold to feed you with. You are penniless and a stranger in Rome. Your wardrobe is close to rags.  How do you propose to get back home without passage on even the poorest ship?’

    “Sire, He devised a way for me to reach you and bring you comfort that you may conduct your business with ease. You know and I know that I would never be allowed in your presence. Let alone touch your royal person with my sweat cloth without a miracle in the working.”

    “You’re saying that this Jesus individual performed a miracle so you could be in my presence?”

    “Sire, if you have a better explanation I beg you share it with me.”

    He bowed and shook his head, “Have it your way. You’re welcome to stay in your quarters as long as you wish.  I’ll have someone see to your wardrobe and food. When you’re ready to go home, I will arrange passage for you.”

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  • The Gathering of the Eternal Five: A Charioteer for Claudia

    The Gathering of the Eternal Five: A Charioteer for Claudia

    Chapter 8

    Then Pilate took Jesus and scourged

    him. And the soldiers plaited a

    crown of thorns, and put it on his

    head and arrayed him in a purple robe;

    They came up to him saying,

    “Hail, King of the Jews!” and

    struck him with their hands.

    John 19: 1-3 KJV

    In an admirable toga of Roman design, the governor of Judea stood before his seat of power. For those that did not know him, he was the living symbol of Roman authority. Immaculately groomed he made an impressive figure demanding a bow of their heads. His shoulders held high, Chest well placed and his face the mask of cold indifference. His spotless toga of beaming white, the wide woven banners going to the floor bound with threaded gold converted Pontius Pilate into a Godly apparition. Those that knew him well, made ready for the first act of the day. Would he be the ruthless judge making cold hearted decisions or would he submit to a kind gesture and compromise with accuser and suspect for a humane outcome. Pilate had been a cold hearted soldier coming hard through the ranks to his present position. He could weigh out the outcome of his decisions and was known to compromise for a peaceful solution. He had done precisely that on countless occasions with the Hebrew council.

    Two distinctive looking men were obviously recipients of an acceptable solution to their problem. Thanks to Pontius Pilate. Shaking hands and smiling happily they made their way out of court.

    With only minor personnel lingering about Onofrio and Samuel stood dwarfed by the enormous court room. Pontius Pilate looked at Onofrio with blank eyes as if struggling to recognize him. Obviously his mind was still elsewhere. Perhaps he was still in that encounter with Claudia earlier this morning. Suddenly his eyes lit up and his automatic smile came into action. “Onofrio! And Samuel? Correct? My wife’s new charioteer.” He appeared delighted to see the young men.

     

    Samuel may well be a solution to his wife’s confiscation of his prize chariot and going out unescorted. Totally out of order and in complete surprise the Procurator escorted them to his private chambers. He gave orders for somebody to bring refreshments and transformed into the model of congenial hospitality. He asked about Serou with sincere tones in his inquiry then added, “Your foster father and I have struggled much with improving the water supply to Yerushalayim. You already know I admire the man’s working habits immensely and I don’t broadcast my praise too often. Please, give him my regards.”

    In an ambience of peace and congeniality the young men accepted refreshments and waited respectfully for Pilate to make the next move. Somebody was trying to run a brush through his hair while someone else was dusting off his elegant toga. Soon he waved them off with his hands in a clear sign of annoyance then stated, “I’ll call you when I need you. Tell whoever is waiting,that  I’m busy and will be for a good while. I have important business with these young men.” In that statement the business of Claudia came before the business of Judea.

    When they were alone he removed the toga and cast it over a nearby couch. “Hopefully you men will forgive me, but that rag is heavy and I have enough to carry around.” He was paunchy. His muscles looked saggy and his hands so carefully manicured looked out of place on him. His jovial manner rejected further inspection.  Smiling generously he asked Samuel, “Young man, I’ll ask you straight out and you may take time to think of your answer. There will be times when you may be in charge of a gold purse and my wife is known to be careless with valuable jewelry. Are you a trustworthy individual my wife and I can both depend on to guard these things?” And Pilate looked intently at the young man. He would gauge his decision by what the young man showed on his face.

    In less than a heart beat Samuel answered him looking straight into the eyes of the governor. “Sir, I would be a very foolish man if I did not honor what is yours and the lady Claudia’s. I would not embarrass my father by being dishonest with what is yours. Whatever you trust me with I will honor to the best of my ability.”

    Long years of weeding out liars and con men gave the procurator a unique advantage. He nodded his head in approval and accepted what he heard at face value. “I would not ask you to be a spy. I have people in my employ for that. My wife has made friends with a woman of ill repute. I have it on good authority that you and Onofrio visited that woman’s gathering a few nights ago. It is part of my business to know these things. If you decide to take the assignment and please bear in mind that you are free to decline my request.  As part of your duty I expect a full report of where you go. You would do me an enormous service if you consider that my wife’s welfare is top priority. That you may know and add importance to your decision, I love my wife. I do all I can to give and provide for her all she wants. Your information would help me grant her wishes and protect her. It is my husbandly duty and I take it very seriously.”

    “When would you like me to start, Sir?” was Samuel’s matter of fact reply with a nod of consent. “I will be going to my home in Caesarea later today. Find something to do and be here about mid afternoon. You can drive me there; we can get better acquainted on the journey. It takes two days to reach home and we’ll have to spend a night at a camp with my soldiers I keep on call. I’ll see you get proper instruction and set up your living quarters. I like your fresh haircut, your shaven face. You look very presentable, almost like a healthy young Roman.” He added smiling as he did not pass out praise very often.

    The governor’s official residence was the actual seat of Roman power in Judea. An opulent palace built by Herod the great, to honor Augustus Caesar sat by the sea. It was caressed daily by refreshing breezes, majestic views of hills and brimming ocean. The waves never ceased to change color before the wondrous eye. Purple and green to aqua marine. Shades of blue to challenge the majesty of the sky. It was often difficult to tell where ocean stopped and sky began. Countless villas in blinding white lodged against the cliffs like miniature bird houses. The castle was filled with luxurious accommodations. Pillars of flawless stone rose to reach the sky high ceiling. An open area in the center seemed big enough to hold camel races. In a far corner, a fountain flowed musically surrounded by lounging and active stone cherubs. Carved birds suspended by near invisible strings swayed in the breezes that were felt but not seen. The carved birds seemed alive and in motion. Magic, sheer magic. Separate areas filled with furniture to please the most sated demand. Couches filled with decorative pillows enough to support any posture.

    Large tapestries hung from floor to ceiling with art work of remarkable beauty. Mythological gods and busts of ancient heroes abounded. At the symmetrical center was a round highly polished stone base on which stood a larger than life statue of Augustus Caesar in a pose saluting the admiring crowds. In multiple shades of green indigenous plants surrounded the statue and kept at their prime by an expert staff. Several fashionably dressed visitors explored art works in awe and wonder. It was obvious some had business to conduct since they carried scrolls and tablets in their hands. Others were followed by servants or slaves attentive to their calls and demands. Samuel had to take a grip on himself and remain as calm as he could waiting to be found by someone in Pilate’s staff.

    He was near stunned by such opulence. Luxury and beauty he could not have imagined lay before his astonished eyes. His mouth slightly agape unable to speak he could only think of how far away he was from the humility and comfort of a camel trader’s camp.

    By invitation this place was visited by high ranking government officials, royal dignitaries and special emissaries. A generous crew saw to all maintenance matters and household necessities. An official staff kept the governor informed on who sought audience in person or favor by written request. Pilate planned to rely on his chosen personnel to keep his vacation time undisturbed and quiet. He wanted time with Claudia. He needed it. Hand in hand they would walk the beach at night.  He planned to have wine and edibles planted at a specific location for him and Claudia to find as if by accident. They would marvel at the stars and watch the moon peacefully waltzing on the waves. In the past he had often rolled a blanket over his shoulder and they had lain on it and listened to the music of the waves lapping on the shore. A few times they even slept there. It was a private world all their own. It was delightful to bathe together and wash the sand from each other’s bodies. Even Adam and Eve could not have had such wondrous times. He would retrieve that past with an added bonus. He would court his wife again. He would send her flowers. He would send poets and read to her. He would send musicians to sing and play by her window at night. He would send her boxes of inexpensive trinkets for her and their two daughters to play with. He knew she loved their two girls and spent precious times with them. He would win her heart with late night private dinners and splendid culinary delights she adored. He would work his fingers to the bone to have her forget that in his official capacity he was forced to lash and crucify her healer hero Jesus of Nazareth. He wanted her forgiveness and understanding that in order to maintain peace in Judea he was forced to comply with a decision he tried very hard to avoid.

    Through all his private concerns loomed the greater reality of the day. Disciples of Iesus of Nazareth were being rounded up and brought to Hebrew trial. There was no place for Roman interference in the Hebrew council’s religious arguments. In a semi joking fashion Pontius Pilate surmised that that these people loved to argue. It was inborn. It was abundantly clear that if all things were in peaceful harmony, they would argue about why it was. They were not happy that the words of Iesus still roamed the streets in amplifying echoes. The disciples were recruiting other disciples. They were like a bad weed that sprouted from even the poorest soil. The salt of the earth became the Hebrew council’s daily concern. The council’s reality was that Iesus was not their expected Messiah. What had been predicted did not match the appearance of Iesus. No God would allow his son to be born in an animal stall with a floor covered in odorous droppings. Stale hay and sweaty animals; speak not of the insects that dwelled in such an environment. The sons of every god known to man were born in respectable conditions. Their God would not disrespect their expectations in this manner. It was a clear sign that their sacrifices, the beliefs in their brand of an almighty God were being cast aside and this pretender invaded the place of the true son of God.

    They believed God would expect them to cleanse their own house. And yes, they had a right of feel mistreated, ignored and rejected. It was impossible for them to accept Iesus at face value. He was a thief, stealing away their paying congregations. He perplexed the masses with tricky miracles and they followed him entranced by his ramblings in parables they did not understand. And yet the crowds somehow knew that what Iesus said was right. The task became clear. The disciples had to be weeded out and removed from the land.

    From the growing inquiries, pursuit and persecution of the known apostles, Mary of Magdala learned to hide. Magdalene as she was now clearly called and her sister Martha, pooled their resources and provided food and shelter for the twelve disciples. They contributed heavily to promoting the lessons of the absent Nazarene. They knew not when or if He would ever return. Numerous reliable witnesses reported that Iesus was seen ascending to heaven escorted by angels strengthened their resolve. She, Mary of Magdala was left with the task of guiding the twelve far afield to recruit new believers. She would not allow them to forget that He entrusted them all with a mission and there was no turning back. For which they all suffered penalties in one form or another. Stoning, exile and crucifixion became a future to look forward to. And the Hebrew hounds never rested. They were determined to rid the land of these zealots without base and regain their status as the supreme representatives of God. The congregations had to be regrouped into an obedient mass to replenish the receding coffers at the temple.

    To further burden Mary of Magdala was a revelation that came in a distant, hazy dream. Had her mentor not suffered the penalties of the cross, men would be doomed to eternity without salvation. Sinners as we all are would provide a rich harvest for Satan. God sacrificed his only begotten son that man would have salvation was a plan Satan struggled to destroy. Mary Magdalene had been tempted by the follies of youth. She was accused of a sinful behavior that nobody could prove. She nonetheless lived with a label the accusers put on her. She would redeem herself and prove them wrong. That hazy dream became her beacon of dedication. She Maria Magdalena feared what the dream demanded. She was human and the salvation of mankind was a mandate belonging to the Gods. Not her, a female whose voice was rejected in a world dominated by self serving men. She had no godly powers to achieve what the dream demanded. Magdalene was accused of many things. It was a shame nobody accused her of being resourceful. It would be safe to say that she turned to her private source of Devine guidance. The Goddess Isis. If the Goddess could resurrect her brother twice, she might help Magdalene resurrect Iesus once. She did not expect the goddess to directly bring Jesus back to life. Magdalene would beg for guidance to bring the task to reality by her own hand. Selfishness has often been the bread of greed. Magdalene was not able to think that if her quest became reality, she would forfeit the salvation of mankind. Her pleas fell on deaf ears and her efforts to carry on the work of the Nazarene ever heavier to bear. Hiding apostles from the inquisition of the council became a nerve wrecking fox and hound game. Her time was consumed with the needs of the apostles and new recruits, there was no time left for herself. She became slovenly in her appearance giving the gossip mongers fresh fodder on which to feed. It was considered sinful to neglect oneself and Magdalene put the need of others before herself. She was often too exhausted to tend to her personal needs.

    No day went by that the council did not demonstrate some degree of success in eradicating the followers of Iesus.

    Through the tumultuous crowds of the trade center, Samuel drove the lady Claudia to the slave market. She received a note from Magdalene requesting they meet there. Although Claudia was pleased to have her personal charioteer, she was also wise enough to know that her husband would expect a report on where his wife went. She decided to test Samuel’s character by asking, “Samuel, is my husband expecting you to report on where I go and what I do and to whom I speak?

    Only a moment of careful thought passed and the young man replied to his mistress. “Your husband stressed that his primary concern was for your safety and well being. It is to that effect that I will adhere to his requests.” Claudia thought on that for a moment. Looking at him inquisitively she asked, “And how did he express his concern for my welfare?” “He said he loved you and did everything he could to make you happy. He said that it was his duty as your husband to keep you from harm.”I see nothing wrong with that. Husbands are supposed to take care of their wives. He wanted me to tell him where we went to improve your trips. Perfectly normal of any husband,” Samuel concluded with a degree of finality to the irksome inquiry.

    Pilate had related his inner most feelings for her to a total stranger and yet denied her the three little words she most longed to hear him say. Just the same she felt a tug at her heart. He confessed he loved her most likely knowing she would question Samuel and Samuel would speak the truth and Pilate would have delivered his message without him saying it. In spite of the Judean hardships, Claudia was a very attractive woman. Many admirers attested to that. Pilate was effectively letting the young man know that his wife was forbidden fruit. And to keep his hands to himself.

    A military escort on horseback along with chariots and foot soldiers made the trip to Yerushalayim. A special surrey with an excellent team of horses for Claudia’s comfort was a gift from Pilate. He saw the surrey driven by an expert far safer than a chariot driven by her. He had business with the Hebrew council and reserved special private time for himself.

    It was tax time. It was time when he needed his wits be sharp and his personal advisor(s) close by. There would be the usual bickering over the amount of taxes they had to pay. The number of lambs they possessed and how they should not be taxed since they were under age. It was a mundane task he hated. It was below his dignity as a seasoned warrior. That alone made him harder to deal with and more so when discounts were demanded.  Vast amounts of money were collected and counted then recorded from whom it was taken. It would take days to get it done and Pilate had successfully done it for almost ten years. Rome would be happy with the yield and so would Pontius Pilate.

    Claudia dressed in a regal full length gown of majestic blue. Her hooded over cape protected the elegant dress from collecting overloads of dust. Her hair was done in curls and swirls all around her head and golden bangles decorated her upper arms and wrists. She held a purse and looking at Samuel keenly with a tinge of a smile she asked, “Did he tell you that I lose jewelry all the time? And I might lose this.” And she plunked the heavy purse in his palm. He did not vocalize his answer he simply smiled and nodded like an innocent boy. The purse quickly found its way to a leather bag Samuel wore at his waist. They found a stable to house and care for their horse and surrey. Samuel out of a lifelong habit carried a shepherd’s staff as a walking aid and protection. Slowly, methodically they filtered their way through the crowd to the noisy slave auction. Claudia stood at the outer fringes of the crowd looking for someone. A hooded female form became her target. With Samuel close behind she approached her destination.

    Claudia had grown fond of calling her friend “Magdalene.” She called the name out in a mellow tone. And Magdalene turned to the familiar voice. The woman was actually stunning in broad daylight. Her complexion was golden tan, smooth as silk and warmly glowing. Her hair in sweeping stands to her shoulders was created to match her skin. Some people would call it a native tan with a golden caste. Her eyes matched to comprise a perfect analogous combination of feminine beauty. Two inverted graceful arcs were her lips tinted in a delicate shade of pink. She dressed in creamy white with a soft tan over robe and hood. Long slender fingers graced her hands visible when she put her arms around Claudia’s neck. There they held each for a few moments. Grateful in each other’s arms, like sisters long in absence.

    Hard to confirm back yard gossip suggested they were sisters at the temple of Isis. It was said they formed a strong bond by what the rules of the temple demanded of them. And yet nobody bothered to confirm or deny the rumor. In back yard comfort it was easier to invent or add to the stories. Their attraction to each other seemed to confirm what others had to say. Speaking ill of the wife of Pontius Pilate could have disastrous effects. Embellishing stories about their native daughter was less dangerous. It provided entertainment, snickers and a target for pointing fingers. It urged men to seek confirmation of the rumors in hopes of sinful pleasure.

    Magic happened when Magdalene found Samuel dutifully standing by. In near amazement she stated, “I know you. Where do I know you from?”Her face was a question mark as her eyes searched him for recognition.

    “We met at your meeting in Bethany. I’m to tell you about my trip to China on foot.”

    “Ah! That’s where I know you from. Yes. I remember now. There are so many new faces running through my mind. Yours escaped me for a moment.” Her voice had a tone of humble sincerity yet positive to the ear as she aimed a polite finger at him.  Young Samuel was momentarily dumbstruck to a noticeable degree. He was between two beautiful high quality women and could not find his voice. He didn’t know whether to attempt to shake their hand, bow or do what to be socially proper. The lovely Claudia smiled at his discomfort and gently nudged her friend. “Samuel is Pilate’s gift of peace. We’ve had words and I know it adds to his discomfort. This young man is a remedy to our discord. But tell me, what can I do for you? Why did you send for me?”

    “I wanted to bring some peace to your heart.” Magdalene clearly stated in a low mellow tone and looked at young Samuel. Was he to be forever present in her conversations with Claudia? Unsure, she gave Claudia an eye to eye signal and nodded to Samuel. The young man was a stranger in the area. He was unacquainted with current problems and being sent by Pilate made him a possible spy.

    “There’s a place I’ve visited across the square that serves good food. We’ll go there and we can talk.” Claudia promptly led the way with young Sam not far behind. The square reduced to streets and alleys going in various directions. Claudia chose one and they were soon in an open patio of numerous tables with guests and food al fresco. As to be expected a few masculine flies hung around examining the guests and possibly hoping to grab a purse or a free meal. Claudia requested a small private room where they would not be disturbed. The ladies were promptly escorted to a secluded table under a protective awning and seated with utmost courtesy. Claudia signaled Samuel to stand by in the not too distant shaded wall. Her only instructions were, “Keep an eye on us and you’re expected to pay for our meal.”

    Duty bound and curious Samuel stood his post. He was forced to smile when the ladies dropped their hoods to their shoulders and their faces were recognized. A servant girl came and dislodged their outer robes and draped them over their seats. Hushed whispers echoed around the patio and they were soon the object of everybody’s attention. Young Samuel thought, “The gossipers will have this story all over Judea by dawn. Claudia Procula and Mary Magdalene sipping wine all afternoon in some reclusive place in the back streets of Yerushalayim.”  It was juicy fodder for the gossip heads to double in size by nightfall tomorrow.

    A fairly descent looking man approached Samuel and stood by him for a moment examining the ladies now deep in conversation. “Who are those lovely female specimens? Are you their eunuch or just a body guard?” Not given to a quick temper, Samuel surveyed the man. He was well dressed and groomed. Rich boots at his feet and a sense of self assurance. Samuel decided not to challenge but answer the inquiry.

    One is the wife of the Procurator of Judea, Pontius Pilate. The other is her closest friend. Neither one are to be tampered with. Their body guard stands over there and Samuel nodded to a soldier that had faithfully followed them through the crowd. His assistant is standing over there,” and Samuel nodded to a second trooper silently stationed on the opposite side of the square. “Which one is Mary of Magdala?” The man continued his interest unperturbed.

    “I don’t know. Why don’t you ask one of the soldiers?  They will surely know.” Samuel’s cold response and distant look in his eyes discharged the man. Samuel was told that several men pursued the fair Magdalene, each with a reason of his own. He would not contribute to their goal. A familiar face came by and Samuel called out to the man to ask, “That stranger that was just here with me, do you know who he is?” The man craned his neck to catch a glimpse of the stranger in question and almost immediately responded, “Oh, yes. He’s one of the new people the Sanhedrin hired to search for the disciples of the Nazarene. The high priest wants to find them all and prosecute them  for rebelling against the council and telling people that this Jesus individual is the son of God, In effect stating that the Jewish Messiah has been to earth and is gone to heaven to be with his  heavenly father. Most likely the disciples of Jesus will receive heavy punishment for associating with what the council calls a false prophet. The Sanhedrin will not rest until they are all rounded up and done away with in one way or the other.” The man nodded his head as if satisfied with his story and bid Samuel good day as he walked away.

    An artificial smile betrayed her real concern when Magdalene looked at Claudia. “I don’t know where to start.”She finally said almost in tears. “We, my brother, sister and I have it on good word that the Hebrew council is seeking ways to find fault in our ownership, force us to sell or simply take over our properties. They seek ways to penalize us for associating with Jesus of Nazareth. They have hammered us to tell them how Lazarus came back to life after four days dead. It’s been brought to us that the council has considered assassinating my brother to discredit Iesus and his resurrection miracle.

    Because of our social position and background it is suggested that they seek ways to exile us from Judea altogether rather than kill us.”

    Shades of Claudia’s childhood Rome came to visit. That distant place of plot, ploy and scheme that time had faded sprung bright into Claudia’s mind. Like a fox in danger all her senses came to immediate attention. Magdalene and Claudia were sisters of the soul. The temple of Isis had been the adhesive that bound them to each other. The pain of one was the pain of both. She raised her regal chin and asked, “Tell me what you need be done and I’ll see to it.” There was no pretense or sounds of an empty promise. Claudia was a woman of her word and what she promised, she delivered. Two sets of hands met at table center allowing strength and mutual admiration to flow free from  one heart to the other. In tears Magdalene held tight to the hands of Claudia. She appeared to gather her strength into a knot to finally ask, “Will you please see into my future? Precious Claudia, have I become a victim of fairy tales and trickery while I search for a true love? Please tell me that you see my faith and dedication attached to a rightful purpose. I can survive exile, I cannot survive being wrong.” Claudia could rightfully be called a soothsayer. She was reserved where she used this ability and guarded it jealously. She  studied Magdalene closely and after a minute in thought answered her dearest friend “This may take a little time to put my words in order. Pease bear with me. That you may know, Pontius can be a cruel and cold hearted individual given cause. In turn he can be courteous, considerate and even kind. He castigated me something fierce when our son, Pilo was born with a club foot. He blamed me entirely as if he did not contribute to the boy’s condition. You already know I love my husband and I suffered his coldness immensely for a very long time. His distance and coldness was artificial because there were times when he would be his old self and bring forth his thoughtfulness. Magdalene, I wanted to redeem myself for my part in our son’s affliction. My heart was in constant turmoil because of it. I, like everybody else heard of Iesus and his miracle cures. I decided to take Pilo to Iesus. The crowd was immense that day. Every sick person in the world was there. The mob fought like crazy for a spot close to Iesus. I struggled hard for my position. Nobody knew me. I was in disguise. I was tripped or stumbled and was soon the carpet everybody stomped on. I was bruised on elbow, knee and hip with a small cut on my cheek when I hit the ground. Worse of all Pilo was gone. Eaten up by a frenzied mob. My dear Magdalene, I never prayed so hard in all my life. I prayed that Pilo would find Iesus and that Iesus would answer his plea. Yes, my dear friend I was in horror that I may have lost my son forever in that mob. When my despair was at its peak and had almost decided to get a soldier to help me find Pilo, my son, my dear beloved son came running out of the crowd to find me. No greater joy have I ever known than to see my boy running free of his affliction. I held him so close to my heart it made my arms ache. My son, our son was healed by the power of Iesus of Nazareth. The son of God. I cried tears that would not stop. Yes, my dear Magdalene your faith is well invested in this man. You chose from a heart without direction to channel your life to his.

    Claudia did not know how to deceive or invent lies. She tightened her grip on Magdalene’s hands, closed her eyes and bowed her head in a devoted plea. Long anguished minutes passed in silence and she finally spoke in a strange voice not at all like hers. “The deeds of wrongful men will condemn innocent lives to torture and pain. Corral your strength and dedication for you are destined to live far beyond your earthly time.” As though she woke up from a dream Claudia almost sheepishly smiled at her friend and loosened their hand grip. Magdalene looked at Claudia in unquestioned awe and she too had a sheepish smile. But Magdalene’s smile had a tone of gratefulness she did not invent. Words she spoke came from her tormented heart.

    “My dearest Claudia, I have so much to tell you. I am filled to the brim with what I have to say. I feel within my heart that I have been granted an honor, I don’t know if I can fulfill. I had been tormented by unsaintly things that filled my life. I was sick from them constantly badgering me.  Jesus is the Lord of my life. He has made me the primary herald of his resurrection because I was first at his grave the morning after his death. In shock I called him, “my Lord” when he appeared and spoke my name. I said, “Rabboni” as an expression of my reverent love for him. He forbade me to touch him as I wanted to attend to his wounds. But he said “no” because he had not ascended to heaven yet and soon faded away before my eyes. I was told to go find his brethren and tell them what I saw and was told to do. I was struck with awesome fear the whole time and yet a voice within caused me to be calm and listen well. Claudia my dear friend, I feel as though I have been touched by God himself. I feel compelled to do his bidding without question. I fear not what mortal men will do to me.  For I know now that God is with me. Disown their child as I am disowned, I am Jewish too, you know. Condemn me to exile, steal my properties and commit monumental perjury against me. These are the acts of sinful men in disguise as being holy representatives of a righteous God. I have some faults that Iesus healed me of. In my past, I would have sought sinful vengeance against my attackers. I am happy to say that with His help, I have overcome that blemish on my soul.

    I have been told by learned men that “Vengeance is mine saith the Lord.” What the council steals from me will become salt on the ruptures of their soul.”

    Love as we all know has countless avenues and trails on which it flows. Two ladies from distant worlds found ground on which to accept that magic to the soul, Love. Claudia, of deep Roman ancestry, granddaughter of the emperor of Rome, Tiberius. The master of the mortal world held her in such high esteem that he saw to her protection with a strong man in distant Judea. He saved her from the turbulence and undertow of court life in Rome.

    Mary of Magdala, whose family royal line could be traced to the life of David. She was the third child of Syrus and his wife Eucharia. A wealthy family with multiple means of income of which Mary was a recipient at the time of her father’s demise.

    Two ladies from distant horizons and different cultures drawn together by fate, destiny or heavenly plan. Each to serve a part in the unfolding story of the savior of mankind. Jesus now called the Christ. The Messiah had walked among men and some men chose to ignore, plot and scheme against him.

    Relieved and filled with a sense of joy clearly on her face Magdalene spoke. “I drew pleasure from him calling me, Magdalene. It was his way of making me special. He spoke to me for what seemed hours about all the things he told his disciples. He too had been to the temple of Isis and I have no doubt he learned something there. It seems evident in the way he spoke to me. Please forgive me; I’ve taken too much time talking about me. I have something special to tell you and perhaps bring some comfort to your heart. I sat in utter fascination when I heard you wrote a note to your husband beseeching him not to prosecute the Nazarene. Someone found the discarded note and could hardly wait to share the news with others. It took a brave heart to do such a thing. The governor is the ultimate law in Judea and he may be your most intimate companion but he is not allowed to listen to his wife’s opinions regarding the law. The Hebrew high priests do not have the power to execute an offender. Their attempts to assassinate the Nazarene failed three times. Once they attempted to push him off a narrow hillside trail to his doom. They tried to stab him in a crowd and one of the disciples foiled that scheme. Then they tried to hire an assassin and nobody took the assignment. That left only your husband as a candidate to commit murder. My dear Claudia, disguised in the most proper sense of the law what they did was still murder. My dear friend, I am told that you turned your heart to stone because of your husband’s decision. The council roused their henchmen to threaten revolt if the procurator did not comply with their demands. And yes, Your husband can be a hard hearted man when the occasion calls for such. But keeping the peace in Judea was a prime concern of Rome. To allow a riot to take place would add to the hardship of keeping Judea at peace. Adding fuel to the flame came when Pilate asked Jesus if he was king of the Jews. With his head bowed Jesus answered “they say that I am.” The Jews wanted Jesus dead and refused to accept him as the Messiah. For tormenting his rightful decision your husband ordered a rough plaque be placed at the head of the Nazarene’s cross. He did it out of stone hearted vindictiveness and to antagonize them that antagonized him. An eye for an eye, so to speak. He had that rude plaque written in three languages so no one could go uninformed. INRI translates to “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews”. And let us not think of the bloodshed a revolt could cause. Understand this, to wash his hands of the affair is not a Roman custom. It is a custom of our own people and he used it to declare an important point. He told them “Have it your way.” And conceded to declare the Nazarene guilty and condemn him to the cross. Claudia, my dear Claudia your husband never wanted to do that. You must remember that he held a reserved feeling towards the Nazarene for healing his only son, Pilo of his affliction. To allow a revolt would endanger you, the only star in his heaven. Your little girls Marcella and Horatia and your son Pilo. Can you not see that his concern had to be you and the children first of all. That my dear friend is an awesome declaration of love that needs no added words. The world condemned Pilate for releasing the known criminal Barabbas. While your husband had knowledge of where he would be. It is only a matter of time before Barabbas is host to his just reward. And your husband will see to that.” Magdalene reached out for Claudia’s hands and found them warm and moist. Claudia had a glassy haze over her pretty eyes and held hands firmly with her best friend. She crimped her lips and let the tears flow. Yes it was true, she had turned away from her husband’s attempt to rekindle their love. She knew he planned something special on their vacation time in Caesarea. She had planned to refuse his efforts and remain aloof.

    Magdalene still had things to say and so did. “I will be going to Rome soon. I will see the emperor Tiberius. I want him to grant authority to Pontius Pilate to intervene in my behalf if the council tries to  force us from our property and homeland. I would be glad to deliver a note or letter to your grandfather, if you so wish.

    And as soon as it was morning the chief

    priests, with the elders and scribes,

    and the whole council bound Jesus and

    led him away and delivered him to

    Pilate. And Pilate asked him,

    “Are you the king of the Jews?”

    Mark 15: 1-2 NIV

    With hesitant hearts the two friends parted. Each carried a sense of joy from giving to a friend as well as receiving.

     

    Pilate’s quarters in Yerushalayim were newly refurbished and many new pieces of furniture added. New attendants were assigned to care for him, his quarters and wife. Claudia was fed second hand gossip that her husband had acquired a mistress. And where at first, it bothered her terribly she rose above it. It was second hand gossip. It could be embellished to make her suffer. It was a ploy commonly used back home. Men had mistresses in Rome and anywhere else that their power exceeded their sense of honor. It was a thing men did to prove their manhood to others. It seemed necessary to them. She was the granddaughter of Tiberius and wife of Pontius Pilate and would not stoop to openly accept such lowly gossip. She would store it in her mind. In the meantime, she prepared a small celebration for two, in their private quarters. The finest wine the land could provide. Snow from the distant mountain tops delivered in protective canvas bags to last for days. She would use the snow to embellish his drinks and rekindle old memories of when he did the same for her. Slow roasted doves as he liked them. Basted with butter, lemon and garlic sauce. His taste had grown fastidious with so many culinary delights and Claudia would not be outdone. She found Pilate’s favorite chefs and bid them come to her. She asked they search their vast experience while serving her husband and provide a sumptuous feast for two. She asked they discharge their other obligations and concentrate on her request. And so they did. The wife of Pontius Pilate was a royal person not to be denied. She secured some fine Egyptian paper on which she wrote a short note to her husband. It read, “my heart is lonesome for you. I’ve prepared a celebration for you and I tonight.” Signed with two hearts entwined and the letter “C”.

    The once majestic warrior from the tribes of central Italy that won  her teen age heart arrived in hastened pace. His robes were somewhat tangled. The sash that held them in place appeared lost somewhere in his ample back. He had allowed a beard to grow and it showed flecks of grey as well as his receding hairline. He had made a hastened detour to freshen himself after a long day at his judicial seat. She saw his plight and shadowed eagerness. He had a right to wonder what his wife had in store. She had been purposely absent from his presence since the crucifixion. Not to look overly attentive, she  bid him a friendly nod of her head with a welcome smile. “How well you look. Have you had a hard day?” She asked. At a given signal musicians went to work. They played love songs he dedicated to her in a paradise where they once lived so long ago. She brought the children to see their father and visit for a short while. He sat in comfort on an easy lounge chair as she brought Horacia swinging by her arms and laid her on her father’s lap. She was Pilate’s favorite little girl. While he addressed his child with care Claudia kissed him on the cheek and softly added, “So glad to see you home.” Happy moments passed and she soon had the children’s nanny take them to their quarters.

    Once alone she poured wine for him and asked with a smile, “Snow or no snow?” The sound of loving laughter is music to the soul. She sat comfortably on his lap. One arm went around his neck and the other took his wine away to place on a nearby table. She tipped her head back and took a deep breath, ”I have a confession to make.” And his  heart stood still for several beats. Not like a royal child, she bowed head humbly and spoke directly to her husband. “I condemned you for crucifying the Nazarene. It has taken me too much time to fully understand why you had to do it. I was selfish and did not see the terrible position my husband was in, squeezed between the demands of Rome and Hell hole Judea. I have ignored my duty as a wife and treated you badly.  I ask you to forgive me. I am truly sorry I wasted precious time between us. I have no quarrel left with you over what is already done. Talk on the street is that Jesus escaped his tomb and was seen rising into the sky on a cloud and escorted by a band of angels. The Hebrew prophesies declared this would happen eons ago. All of that leaves you and I to put away  our differences and live well while we are honored guests of this world. I am a citizen of Rome and saw and heard much of the secret lives of honorable people. I was brought rumors that you have acquired a mistress.” He made an effort to say something and she covered his mouth. “Please, let me finish.  I say this to you as of now. I will not promise this will last forever, because I want your forgiveness for mistreating you. I am going to ignore what I’ve heard this time. I wish it were not true. And if it is, I will ask you this “Please donot let the dirt you pick up on the street tarnish the love you have at home. With that said, I wish to retire the subject and enjoy what I had prepared for us. I want to recapture a very wonderful time in our lives and I’m asking for your cooperation. As you can well see, I am trying very hard to overcome my Roman shortcomings.”

    A good wife is so many wondrous things. Among them, is being an ambassador to a happy reunion. For better or for worse.

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  • The Scarab and the Cross Preview

    The Scarab and the Cross Preview

    Here’s a preview of The Scarab and the Cross. It’s also available for Kindle or in print direct from Energion. Commenting on this post during the week of July 9-15, 2017 will enter you in a contest to win a copy of the book to be awarded during the following week.

  • The Gathering of the Eternal Five – Meet Mary of Magdala

    The Gathering of the Eternal Five – Meet Mary of Magdala

    Chapter 7

    Maria de Magdala, warm russet tones was her hair cascading in swirls to her waist as her crown of femininity. She often wore it loose to cover her shoulders and shade her curious eyes. Clear brown with a sparkle of intelligence and trained to explore everything within their reach. She had a semi-full face, not in a fatty sense, but simply as a feminine blessing. She was set apart by a flawless skin throughout in a delicate shade of glowing mellow tan. Her lips were often tinted with a rich berry stain causing men to sharpen their attention. Perhaps even wish to taste her inviting smile. Yes, she flirted. She was proud of her feminine attributes and was known to leave admirers craving lustfully for her attention. Graceful arms and long slender fingers she used to draw attention in stylish poses. Knowledgeable men would call her, “theatrical”. An aspiraing actress in quest of attention. Other men, the masters of opinions without solid base would think of less complimentary names to hang on Mary of Magdala. She knew the names they called her and all the masculine insinuations. The kingpins of malice did not look upon her intelligence near as much as they did her feminine attributes and financial assets. Selfishly they fantasized playing with her body and never gave thought to the treasures in her mind. Her social position was far more secure than most men in quest of a daily coin. Her inherited fortune was well known and various men made serious efforts to acquire some or all of her wealth by plot, ploy and scheme. And when she did not fall victim to their efforts gave spiteful men an even greater reason to invent names she did not deserve. A part of her inheritance was the Fortress Magdala on the Northern shores of the Sea of Galilee. It was more properly identified as a castle and not so much a military fort. It hosted a pickling plant for fish. It was a substantial industry that supported the region and Mary of Magdala earned a respectable percentage of the proceeds. Along with several other businesses on her property. It was a boat building and repair center and various other craftsmen related to the sea trade conducted their business there. Sail makers found favorable income from the location. Men looking for work were always nearby. Vendors of food, tools and supplies made daily journeys to that Mecca of industry plying their wares.

    Mary of Magdala knew well that marriage would deliver her fortune into her husband’s hands. She would be owned body and fortune and would develop calluses from fighting the bonds of matrimony. Marriage promised to be a torment and not a blissful union. No! She would not marry just anybody. An unselfish man to champion her interests for their mutual comfort would be difficult to find. The qualified men she knew of in Judea were all taken. Nobody gave thought to the possibility that her socializing ways were a search for the right man. It was obvious she ignored the scorn and names she did not deserve for a deeper cause. It would be fair to say that she had a right to think, “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.” When all her ill noted fallacies were counted one more fault could find a place among the gossipers. “Eat your heart out. Don’t you wish you were me?” Given an appropriate label would make Mary of Magdala “an intelligent woman far ahead of her time.

     

    We must not forget that Mary of Magdala was a cherished infant. Her father and mother were proud of her and loved her dearly. Their wealth afforded the means to provide for the child all she desired and or needed. It’s possible she rose to be a spoiled little girl. With such a lavish childhood she never knew to be otherwise. Being a girl never inhibited her quest for knowledge and she consumed her lessons with zeal.

    Typical of the wealthy and in due course she became a victim of extravagance in attire, food and the company she kept. She liked music and was known to twirl in compliance to a provocative tune. She attended countless banquets with notable people and was criticized for meeting her social obligations with exceptional enthusiasm. It was her place to attend and be part of the social scene. Without asking, all this was all laid at her feet. More importantly was the fact that her education and her views on life were reflections of parental guidance. Lessons tuned into her by her loving mother and father. The demands of the time forbade her parents to lead their child into a sordid future. Parental guidance was her parent’s quest in life. Mary went to the temple school where she socialized with girls her age and in that guarded ambience laid another portion of her education. Environmental training was not known by such a label in those days so long ago. But it existed nonetheless. Her childhood was programmed from several directions into a path of righteousness. Not a life of immoral sin.

    She became a woman of respectable knowledge in the arts, philosophy and history. She was an avid student of the works of the current daily Gods. The story of Isis and Osiris was an enormous fascination.  Throughout the ages young girls have been known to fantasize about such love stories and apply it to themselves. She imagined the love of Isis so deep as to call on all the available godly powers to resurrect her lover/brother. It was said that Mary of Magdala frequented the temple of Isis and people could only guess at the inner workings of that cult. She was human and had on occasion coveted items of interest to her active mind. She was female and could be jealous of other beautiful faces. And yes, she also suffered from vanity, she deserved it. She was attractive and men’s desire for her was clear testament to her beauty. It fed her personality without malice. Self centered men filled with inflated egos did not attract her attention. Badges of dubious honor decorating manly chests were simply toys the boys gained to acquire synthetic attention. Real men of honor did not need such credits on display. Mary of Magdala had been said to play a youthful romantic game or two. Although her history does not record such events it was inevitable. Like all of us, she responded to the biological urges of her developing body. She was attractive, she had money, she was young and the world was full of randy males of all ages. It is also wise to accept that the world was populated by women with the name, Mary. Among them was a woman accused of betraying her marital vows another was known to be a woman of the night and may have been spared from stoning by Jesus. Mary of Magdala had been raised to be home and account to her family when night fell.

    Worse than all that, the world was populated by men that would have their way at the expense a woman’s reputation and refuse to accept the thinking mind within her. Women were legal possessions of men, like his dog, his horse or his flocks of sheep. Not so, Maria de Magdala. Her father was a rich and respectable spokesperson in the wheel of government throughout Judea. He had wanted a son to enrich his family name with military glory. Instead, he was assigned a daughter Martha, a lively child with unlimited imagination. Her childhood quest for knowledge was the spark that urged her father, Syrus to educate the child beyond his own limits. He and the children’s mother, Eucharis programmed themselves to give their offspring the greatest gift a parent can give their children, knowledge. Then followed Lazarus and finally Mary.  Fiery oratories were often Syrus’ and their private tutors classroom lessons to his children. No child of his would grow up to be called a brainless dolt. It was a sound endeavor that would deliver wondrous results later.

    From her father Mary learned the power of self esteem. And she adhered to it for all her life. She turned away from baseless rumors whispered behind her back. Her visits to the temple of Isis were rich fodder for the gossip mongers. It was easier to invent rumors than it was to verify a fact. Testament to that effect remains unchallenged; she had a heart full of love and a mind with which to think. Her devotion to a given cause had no in between. Where she aimed her attention was a target achieved with no hesitation or reserve. Men of the time were not able to grasp that ability in a simple female. Few would ever know what a remarkable woman she was. Mary of Magdala. Magdalene, so named by Iesus of Nazareth. Even the Christ was yet to learn.

    At the demise of her father Syrus, his wealth was equally divided among his children. Parental efforts to educate their children was a benefit enjoyed by Martha, now the manager of their wealth. A responsibility that would have sapped their holdings considerably were it placed in a stranger’s hands. Martha was very careful in all matters of money. She was called frugal and even miserly, but her family interests were her prime concern and not public opinion.

    Dumbstruck by astonishment, unable to speak Samuel stood before a woman with a saintly glow. Her neat full length robe was a masterpiece of stylish folds. Her stride was a graceful glide and not a humanly pace. She put out her hand to Samuel and in that delicate grasp he felt her spirit flow into his like a welcome symphony of angelic whispers. She wore her hair to shoulder length and cleverly pinned to stay in casual swirls around her face, like a picture frame.

    “I heard of your good fortune in finding your father so long lost to you. I was fascinated by the tales of your trip to China. I always thought that China could only be reached by sea. I was even more fascinated to learn you actually walked to China. I would like to hear about all that from you.” Magdalene’s quest for knowledge had just flung the doors open to Samuel’s inquiry about Iesus of Nazareth.

    Like a business agreement they struck a silent bargain. Magdalene would relate her knowledge of the Nazarene and possibly recruit him to be a disciple while Samuel would recount his adventures to China. Volumes of knowledge have been exchanged by this method since the dawn of time. There remained an awesome obstacle. How was Samuel going to postpone his commitment to the Procurator of Rome because he was going to spend time with a woman of ill repute? Samuel had become a part-time audience of tavern scholars. Even though Magdalene did not convey even a speck of her reputation, the invented falsehoods were nonetheless there.

    As if she read his thoughts Magdalene injected a workable solution to a problem not yet heard. “Newly based with your family and most likely searching for a place of your own, feel free to call on me when your time is right and we’ll explore each other’s store of knowledge. I’m anxious to hear your adventures but I too have obligations I must meet regarding the works of the Nazarene. The poor must be attended and the sick must be made well. I have limited medical knowledge, but what I do know has proven surprisingly useful. I often ask the Nazarene to lead my thoughts in helping the sick. The people need to know about the kingdom of heaven and I must guide his apostles in that direction. But, you’ve made a friend and I look forward to our visits.”

    The way home was pocked with countless questions and new observations. This could not possibly be the woman so rudely spoke of on the streets. There was not a trace of sinful abandon on the face and actions of Magdalene, apostle to the apostles of the Nazarene. Samuel never had occasion to think of angels and saints or things of that nature. But without a closer more intelligent description, this Magdalene woman could be one of them or all of them. Her voice was crisp and clean and melodious with a semblance of humility and devotion. Her words were beacons of attention delivered in softly flow. It would take considerable time to adjust to his new image of Magdalene. Little did he know that her visits to the temple of Isis now served as a model for her to follow?  When speaking of god and godly deeds there need not be a storm to deliver a godly message. Her calm reached far into young Samuel. It reflected a deep seated devotion in a way not known to young Sam. It was her allegiance and faith firmly harnessed to the chariot of Jesus that Samuel was too far removed to fully understand.

    Not she with traitorous kiss her master stung,

    Not she denied him with unfaithful tongue.

    She, when apostles fled, could dangers brave,

    Last at the cross and first at the grave.

    Poet unknown

    She was the first herald of his resurrection.

    Maria Magdalena. Apostle of Jesus of Nazareth, the son of God.

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  • On Patriotism and Revolution

    On Patriotism and Revolution

    U. S. FlagIn a recent post here, Dr. David Alan Black wrote, “The humility of Christ doesn’t grant us permission on this Fourth to call out our fellow Christians for feeling patriotic or to harp about a revolution in 1776 that was probably at odds with Paul’s teaching about submission to civil authority in Romans 13.” In a post that I otherwise agreed with, I found myself wondering if my patriotism and attitude toward the American Revolution were wrong?
    When I read Dr. Black’s article, I was editing an article in which I had written about why “I believe that humility, dialogue, and a tolerance for those who disagree, working in a framework that stresses unity rather than division are so important,” and it is in this spirit that I offer up what admittedly may be a rationalization on my part, but is a defense of my views on these two questions.
    The question of patriotism is for me the easiest. We all are many things. I am a husband, father, manager, engineer, and author, just to name a few, and in the last few years have been blessed to add grandfather to that list. I do not see any reason patriot cannot also be on this list. For me the issue is not so much a matter of being, or not being, a patriot, but where in your list of labels patriot exists, if it exists at all. In my list of identifying labels the first and most important is Christian. In fact, for me, patriot, while it is there, comes much further down the list.
    This is important because if patriot comes at the top of the list, then nothing can challenge it, and it becomes my country right or wrong-type of patriotism, a patriotism that, historically, has been so problematic.
    My patriotism is also not a matter of reflex, habit, or just because I grew up in America. In fact, today, the cultural norm is the opposite. Today it is much cooler to be a “citizen of the world.” To be a patriot is frequently difficult as the cultural messages are far more likely to stress the flaws and short comings of the country than the good that it has done. Even one of the leading historians read in schools said in an interview that it would have been better if the country had never existed. Not surprisingly then, one of the key political questions, is whether the country will even remain as it was founded, or should it change to be something significantly different. In many respects, it is the same question faced in the revolution.
    Was the revolution wrong? Did it violate “Paul’s teaching about submission to civil authority in Romans 13?” This is nowhere near as easy a question as that of patriotism. On the one hand, if Paul could say what he said in the context of Caesar and Rome, wouldn’t it apply even more so against King George and England? Is Paul’s teaching a universal one that applies in all cases and every situation? Was Bonhoeffer wrong not to submit to Hitler’s government?
    These are not easy questions, and in one sense I am tempted to be comforted by the fact that I do need to directly answer them. If the revolution was wrong, the fault lies with those responsible. Today the civil authority I am under is the United States, independent of how it came to be. But, in another sense I do need to answer these questions, and while I do not see this as in any means clear cut, there are several factors that cause me to question how Paul’s teaching really applies in this situation.
    The first is that the American revolution was truly unique in many ways, and not just in its success. In fact, I believe it is these differences that led to its success and kept it from falling into the disasters of so many other revolutions most notably the French Revolution and the reign of terror that followed.
    While truly out of vogue today, one of these distinctive aspects was the Christian underpinnings of the revolution. While the revolution itself was far from a religious movement, as I detail in my book, Preserving Democracy, the intellectual roots come out of the Great Awakening. While downplayed by the now prevailing secularism, those in the revolution saw God’s hand behind many of the “coincidences” that allowed the revolution to succeed and that even some modern historians have labeled miraculous, though not accepting the theistic implications of the term. (For some examples from a theistic perspective, see The American Miracle, by Michael Medved).
    But none of this goes to the heart of Paul’s teaching. Still, even here, there is a unique difference and this difference can be seen in the question faced by those alive at the time: to which civil authority should they submit? When the colonies were settled, they were, for the most part, left to themselves. The thirteen colonies set up governments to rule themselves and these governments were the civil authority under which the colonist lived.
    This only started to change following the Seven Years War, as the King began to try and impose his will on the colonies. The civil authorities of the colonies attempted to seek accommodation with the King and it was only when that failed did they declare independence. Independence was not declared by a group of individuals seeking to overthrow the government. It was an act of “the Representatives of the united States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, [done], in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies.”
    This was a situation that did not, and could not, exist in Paul’s Rome. The key question was, must a people who had until then governed themselves, submit to King who had up to that point ignored them. Does the fundamental authority of government exist with the people, or does it reside with whomever happens to be the current King? This was not even a question in Paul’s time, where rulership was based, not on the authority of the people, but on raw power and who had it.
    For the colonists, the fundamental authority rested with the people and those who voted to declare Independence were acting as duly empowered representatives of that civil authority, a civil authority that had existed long before the then current dispute with King. Thus, in a very real sense, the “revolutionary” in this situation, i.e., the one who was trying to overthrow the status quo, was not the colonists, but the King.
    Ultimately the question of the American Revolution is: does political power derive from the people, or does might make right, and whoever has the power gets to do whatever they want. This is not just an abstract and merely historical question. It is a question that is still with us now more than ever and I do not think Paul’s teaching precludes me from taking a stance on this question.
    Elgin Hushbeck, Jr., Engineer, teacher, Christian apologist, and author of Preserving DemocracyWhat is Wrong with Social Justice?, A Short Critique of Climate ChangeChristianity and Secularism, and Evidence for the Bible.

  • Elgin Hushbeck, Jr.: Compassion?

    by Elgin Hushbeck, Jr., Engineer, teacher, Christian apologist, and author of Preserving DemocracyWhat is Wrong with Social Justice?, A Short Critique of Climate ChangeChristianity and Secularism, and Evidence for the Bible.
     
    There is little doubt that the Bible teaches we are to have compassion for the poor. Whether in the Old Testament and verses like Amos 5:11 and Zechariah 7:10 or the New Testament with verses such as Matthew 25:42-45, concern and compassion for the poor is a theme that runs throughout the Bible.
    As I discuss in my book, What is Wrong with Social Justice, I believe a key passage is to be found in 1 John 3:17-18,
    Whoever has earthly possessions and notices a brother in need and yet withholds his compassion from him, how can the love of God be present in him? 18Little children, we must stop expressing love merely by our words and manner of speech; we must love also in action and in truth.
    While it is pretty clear how we must love in action, how can we tell if we are loving in truth? True compassion is concerned with results. It asks the question, are lives actually improved? Actions that you take that make you feel better, that allow you to feel you have done something, but which do not actually make an improvement in the lives of people, cannot really be consider compassion.
    One example I discuss in my book is the issue of the minimum wage. Those opposing an increase are frequently labeled as heartless, and resistance is dismissed as resulting from corporate greed. Yet, as I write, “if one is concerned with the poor, there are several good reasons to oppose an increase in the minimum wage.”
    Recently this was confirmed yet again. The last time this issue bubbled to the top of the political discussion, several cities heeded the calls of compassion for the poor and increased the minimum wage. Seattle was one such city passing a law that increases the minimum wage over time to $15/hour.
    The Seattle Times reported approvingly, “Seattle City Council approves historic $15 minimum wage.” Seattle’s Mayor, Ed Murray, said “Today we have taken action that will serve as a model for the rest of the nation to follow.”
    In 2016 an early study, limited to single-establishment firms, seemed to indicate that while the law may have reduced employment slightly, overall it had the intended effect of lifting the pay of low-wage workers. In short, if you actually had a job, the minimum wage helped. But if you were one of those who were unable to find work because employers could not afford to hire you at the new higher wage, the law didn’t work as well for you.
    A study by the Harvard Business School analyzed 10 years of data on 30,000 restaurants and found that for every $1 increase in the minimum wage, restaurant closures increased 14%. In short, 14% more restaurants failed, causing both the business owners and employees affected to have incomes eliminated instead of increased.
    Recently a more compressive study commissioned for the city of Seattle and conducted by the University of Washington found the negative effects of Seattle’s increase went beyond those who either lost their jobs, or could not find one. The study found that while wages did go up, the average number of hours worked declined. The net result was that “total payroll fell for such jobs, implying that the minimum wage ordinance lowered low-wage employees’ earnings by an average of $125 per month in 2016.”
    In short, the minimum wage increase hurt those who either could not find work or lost their jobs as a result of the increase. It certainly did help those who remained employed and received the increase when their hours were not reduced. But even for those who remained employed, on average, hours were reduced to the point that the net effect was not an increase, but a reduction in wages of $125 per month.
    Now some are sure to argue that this reduction just demonstrates the greed of business owners. Yet the Harvard study shows the hard economic reality owners face less they go out of business. While, given our media culture that stigmatizes business owner as evil and greedy, it is easy to make business owners into stereotypes, stereotypes that can then be callously dismissed, this is hardly a Christian viewpoint, even though it is found among many Christians. The simple facts are that business owners are people and most business fail. Many that do survive struggle. Even large corporations have ups and downs. Just look at any list of the top corporations from the 1960’s and you will see a lot of names that today are shadows of their former size and importance, and many that are gone.
    1 John 3:18 says “we must love also in action and in truth.” As we do this we not only act, but we must act is ways that truly helps those in need. When it comes to social policy, the number of people affected is so large, the issues and dynamics so complex, that for any given policy there will always be some who are helped and others who are hurt, and this is not just an issue of rich and poor, but even among the very people we seek to help. Social policy is not immune to the law of unintended consequences, and true compassion is a compassion that goes beyond our intentions.
     
     
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  • Hold Them in Love

    (July 4, 2017) 10:46 AM Shot this pic in Dallas.

    You’ll notice that “community” is used instead of “church.” This is the high calling of the body of Christ, including your local church and mine: to live in community. (Some day I will stop using the word “church” to translate the Greek ekklesia. If people around me aren’t doing it, that’s no excuse for me not to try. An ekklesia is a group of people who have something in common as opposed to an ochlos, a “crowd.”) This illustrates something important for me. I am being lured back to the simple ways of Jesus. And I am finding the process so convicting. The humility of Christ doesn’t grant us permission on this Fourth to call out our fellow Christians for feeling patriotic or to harp about a revolution in 1776 that was probably at odds with Paul’s teaching about submission to civil authority in Romans 13. Oh my. This approach, it seems to me, is based largely on the habit of being negative — seeing only (or mostly) what’s wrong in our culture and even in our church culture. In Matthew 25, Jesus condemned those on His left not because of something they did but because of something they failed to do right. This is how simple the Gospel is. “Whatever you do for the least of these, My brothers and sisters, you do for Me.” In other words, Jesus is describing (as in the church sign above) a community, and a community that cares. If, on my website, I’m constantly calling out gays or liberals or Trump-supporters or Trump-haters, how can I ever expect to befriend them with a view to sharing with them the love of Christ? I’ve already alienated them. As my seminary evangelism professor once told me, “You’ve got to play the music, Dave, if you want to say the words.” We take our marching orders from King Jesus, and last I checked I don’t think He was asking us to defend homeschooling or eldership or a political brand. Believe what you want, but be careful of becoming apologists for your views. That’s the theme, by the way, of my little book Christian Archy. One example I used was pedagogy. Practice homeschooling if that’s your personal conviction (it was ours), but remember that other Spirit-filled Christians might view education differently, and you can both hold your convictions in love because you are in community, not pontificating from a keyboard. Following Jesus never comes with a permission slip to get up on our high horses. In their book The Tangible Kingdom, Hugh Halter and Matt Smay write, “People in America are not ignorant of Christianity…. They’ve seen so much of pop Christian culture that they have a programmed response to us: Ignore, ignore, ignore” (p. 125). Representing a kingdom alternative to the world does not require a boo-hooing of everything else in our culture.
    Well, Dave, isn’t it time you stopped preaching to the choir and got real? How are you going to change? After all, aren’t you the greatest of sinners? (Answer: Yes.)
    If I see a serviceperson today, I will thank him or him for their service without stopping to think (not even for a nanosecond) about politics. I will watch tonight’s fireworks and marvel at this Chinese invention. I will listen to Sousa and tap my feet. I will take a long walk. (I don’t need to be in “church” to experience God.) I will look for Him in a grandchild’s smile or in the reflection in a pond or in the scent of a gardenia or in feeding my puppy a treat or in taking a bubble bath. I won’t feel guilty that I live in a free nation. Instead, I will seek to leverage that privilege for Jesus. For starters, I will ask God to help me to make the most of every opportunity that lies before me both on the internet and at home, school, work, and every area of my life. I will ask Him to knock down a few of my defensive walls. Like Jabez, I will ask Him for broader horizons to share my faith. I will think long and hard about people I know who are not yet heaven-bound and will add them to my salvation prayer list and intercede daily for them. I will ask God to soften their hearts to the love and saving power of Jesus and to convict them of their sins. More importantly, I will ask God to make my life a light that points them toward heaven.
    Friends, the amazing thing is that it’s within our power how we will view this national holiday. With a snub we can create enmity; with charity we can work miracles, even the miracle of leading someone to the Savior. A put-down, even if it seems well-deserved,  might make us feel good for a while, but loving encouragement can heal a multitude of wounds. And boy could our nation use some healing right about now.
    So ….

    • Have your convictions.
    • Hold them in love.
    • Act civilly toward all.
    • Be Jesus to everyone you meet.

    It’s a tall order, but it’s not one-sided. “Remember, I am with you, day after day after day.” The Lord has big-time plans for Americans who, on the one hand, value their liberty, but who, on the other hand, leverage it for the Gospel.
    Happy Fourth!
    (From Dave Black Online. Used by permission.)
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  • Thomas W. Hudgins: Colossians 2:14 and The Certificate of Debt

    by Dr. Thomas W. Hudgins, professor, author of Those Footnotes in Your New Testament: A Textual Criticism Primer for Everyone and a translator of Dr. David Alan Black’s book, Aprenda a Leer el Griego del Nuevo Testamento.
    Certificate of debt? Record of debt? Debt? Written code? Handwritten certificate? Etc. What exactly did Jesus “cancel out”? What was it that Paul says was hostile against us? When we talk about this word as we are teaching through this passage, what should we emphasize and what should we not emphasize?
    I wanted to show you what some people have written in the commentaries concerning this word:
    John MacArthur writes: “Certificate of debt translates cheirographos, which literally means ‘something written with the hand,’ or ‘an autograph.’ It was used to refer to a certificate of indebtedness handwritten by the debtor in acknowledgement of his debt” (Colossians and Philemon, 112)
    Richard Melick writes: “Literally, the handwriting is a certificate of indebtedness written in one’s own hand. Taken this way, this means that there is a pronouncement that the personal note which testifies against us is canceled” (Philippians, Colossians, Philemon, NAC, 263).  (Read more.)
     
     

  • Ron Higdon: Grace and the Correction of the Sinner

    by Dr. Ronald Higdon, retired pastor and author of All I Need To Know I’m Still Learning at 80In Changing Times: A Guide for Reflection and Conversation and Surviving a Son’s Suicide.
    We have so much trouble with the word grace because it is such a wild and unpredictable word. Defined as “God’s unmerited favor” it seems simple enough – until in the divine economy it is put into practice.
    The book of Jonah concludes with our hero sulking under a withered bush angry over God’s failing to unleash his wrath on the city of Nineveh. Jonah, by way of a great fish side trip, finally preached his mandated prophetic message of judgment and was taken aback by repentance on the part of the king and his people. God’s grace won the day and the city was spared. But Jonah knew they didn’t deserve to be spared.
    When Jesus tells the parable of the workers hired at various times throughout the day to work in a vineyard, all goes well until compensation is dispensed. Those who worked only one hour all receive a full day’s pay. Those who worked all day expected a bonus but each simply received the agreed upon daily wage. They were furious. Those who had worked so much less didn’t deserve what the owner had given them. The parable ends with the question: “Are you envious because I am so generous.”
    The parable of the Waiting Father (we usually call it the parable of the Prodigal Son) has the surprise ending of a O’Henry short story. The younger son is welcomed home with the full benefits of sonship restored. The older dutiful son confronts his father about how unjust this is. His brother does not deserve the party that has been thrown in honor of his return. The parable ends with the father pleading for the older son to join the festivities but he remains outside the door because he knows his wayward brother has not earned what he is receiving.
    We might summarize these biblical accounts as a violation of what deep down too many of us really believe: grace should not go to the wrong people. It should not go to people who do not deserve it. Of course, we have made the decision about who should be on the receiving end of God’s favor and forgiveness. We unconsciously have drawn boundaries around God’s grace and only include deserving people – like ourselves. The biblical stories we cited are all illustrations of grace gone too far.
    The irony of this kind of thinking is that it belies the very meaning of grace. Grace is that which cannot be merited, earned, bargained for, or deserved in any sense of the word. And it doesn’t belong to us, it belongs to God who seems determined to keep coloring outside the lines of our religious thinking. In his hometown of Nazareth, Jesus’ first (and perhaps only) sermon ended in a riot with the towns people attempting to throw Jesus off a cliff. His heresy? He made heroes of the wrong kind of people.
    In the life and ministry of Jesus, God’s grace had no restrictions and no limits. No one was every told, “It’s not for you. Your kind won’t fit into the Kingdom.” From the scandalous theological conversation with the Samaritan woman at the well to the unheard of boldness in inviting himself to be a guest in the home of the tax collector Zacchaeus, Jesus just never seemed to be able to find anyone who shouldn’t be graced.
    Jesus must never have heard of “hate the sin but love the sinner” because he never began any of his encounters with the “undeserving” by condemnation. Even in the disputed encounter with the woman taken in the act of adultery, his words to her were the first like it she had ever heard: “Neither do I condemn you.” It seems to be he came at “correction” through the avenue of acceptance and grace.
    Almost all surveys of “outsiders” about what words they would use to describe Christians usually begin with the word judgmental. They never associate that word with Jesus. He never appears to have been afraid that people would believe he was “soft on sin.” Too often that seems to be the fear of those who want to be careful about how far grace and acceptance go. Jesus seemed to have the opposite worry: that God’s people would be too judgmental, too exclusive, too certain about who was in and who was out, too certain that they were the special ones who were God’s chosen and they could spot the unchosen a mile away.
    I have always believed that what will make heaven truly heaven is that no one will believe for a moment they deserve to be there. All will confess they are there by the grace of God. It is easy to say an “amen” to All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God and forget the important word all. None of us has any claim on God’s grace or forgiveness. They are his gifts to us for the receiving. And once they are received they are for the sharing. Everyone’s favorite verse, John 3:16, should spill over and include the rest of the thought in John 3:17: God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him. To follow that model, we can never begin with condemnation or correction.
    Does a word of correction never come? It seems to me that all of Jesus’ encounters with those deemed as needing correction, always began with their being graced by his presence and by his words. From that grace came salvation and healing and redirection of life. We can never do the correcting we feel necessary in another’s life. (Think how difficult it is for us to deal with those things that need correcting in our own lives.) Grace is always the necessary environment in which people find the place to begin the changes they know they need to make.
    Those who were heavy on condemnation, judgment, and correction never receive commendation from Jesus. I believe that when we are the bearers and sharers of the grace we have received, we will discover that correction finds it proper time and place. We remember: grace can never go too far. We are grateful every day that it went far enough to include each of us – and that was pretty far.
     
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