CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

THE ENDLESS STORY

Time is a relentless task master that takes no holidays. The story of Jesus would be a guest at countless backyard discussions by friend, kin and convert alike. History making personalities would enjoy their lives and leave behind versions of those fateful days. Story tellers and time would embellish, reduce and re-tell the story to fit their needs. When all is said and done, no other story has ever been told in so many languages, in so many lands by so many campfire story tellers and renowned scholar alike. We must remember that in due process many of the true facts of the day changed by legitimate translation. Alexander the Great ordered all Hebrew works be converted into Latin. Translation, folklore, legends and tradition claim their birthplace from altered versions of the facts.

The lives of personalities around the Nazarene deserve their place in history highlighted for the modern reader. This humble author makes an effort to touch on those not to be forgotten individuals. Renowned astrologers went beyond the surly bonds of earth to give the mother of Jesus and two of her faithful companions an eternal place of honor. No greater shrine could be provided anywhere or by anyone. Within the star studded constellation known as “Orion’s belt” glow three bright stars in triangular formation.  They are recognized  by many nations as “the three Marys. Mary His mother, Mary Magdalene and Mary Salome.

Jesus called his mother “the perpetual virgin.” She never remarried. The offspring of her husband Joseph from his previous marriage were her only children. The apostle John took care of her near the city of Ephesus until Mary decided to brave the Hebrew persecution and moved to the home she inherited close to Gethsemane. History itself is unsure of the precise location of her demise. Some even say she went to meet her fate in Bethlehem.

She walked through the valley of the shadow of death with no fear. For she knew God was with her. In her sleep the angel of the Lord came to visit the Virgin Mary once again. Gabriel informed her that her mission on earth was complete and that she would soon pass through the portals of life into the realm of heaven. Magically and without being called from near and far the apostles all gathered at her bedside until her final hour. It was said she died on the ninth hour of the day as her only son did. The exact year remains in debate, it is 48 or 49 A.D. (Anno Domini) It is written that Jesus came to his mother in her final hours advising her not to worry. Scholars and historians would argue for countless years as to the exact location of her death. It is properly recorded that her body was wrapped in linen and installed in a wicker coffin then placed in a prepared grave by faithful apostles.  From there her body vanished. It was said she was ascended to heaven transformed from human to cherished angel and to dwell in many hearts.  Proof remains positive since her body was never found. A shrine to her life was built from her former home in Ephesus and another close to Gethsemane. They have become magnets for pilgrims that come from all over the world to pay homage to the mother of the son of God. The humble Mary of Nazareth.

Pontius Pilate served in Judea from the year 26 to 36 A.D. Rome grew displeased with his service after his Roman sponsor died. He was recalled to Rome in dishonor by Emperor Caligula and was castigated for his brutal handling of an unruly crowd of pilgrims at Mount Gerizim. Emperor Caligula banished him to Vienne in Gaul. The subsequent fate of Pilate and Claudia remains a puzzle of fact and fiction. Some even say he and Claudia finally accepted Jesus as the savior of mankind and there are shrines and locations attesting to it as fact. Unclear records state that the most famous of Judean procurators died in the year 39 A.D. of unknown causes. Some claim suicide, others argue for natural death. His call to Rome left Judea in lawless disarray. It would take time for Rome to appreciate the qualities of their ‘Praefectus”, Lucius Pontius Pilate. Elevation by Rome to the status of Praefectus remains a high level honor shared by very few. In 1962 proof of such recognition was discovered by archeologists in Caesarea, the former home and headquarters of the procurator of Rome in Judea. A limestone block somewhat damaged but legible read :

S Tiberievm

(PO)ntivs Pilans (Prae)ctvs Ivda(ea)e

( Pontius Pilate “Praefectus” Judea)

In a process of arduous elimination the procurator of Judea became Marullus. No amount of effort would ever equal the examples of Pilate. In his youth he accepted his position as a third class knight from central Italy but fought and won his way to far greater honor.

It remains safe to say that Claudia was a prophetess of Jesus. She attended lessons at the temple of Isis and learned much of what Jesus practiced. She was a close friend of Mary of Magdala from which other vital lessons were learned. She suffered from an ability to foresee the future and wanted relief from the agony it often produced. Over all she loved her husband. He was her teen age idol, her teacher, her protector, her companion in countless happy times and the father of her children. For better or for worse, where he went, she followed.

While Pilate was sitting on the judicial seat, his
Wife sent him this message: “Don’t have anything to
Do with that innocent man, for I have suffered a
great deal today in a dream about him.”

Matthew 27: 19 NIV

Heroes and heroines are not born from empty titles but from valiant deeds. As an honorable citizen of Rome, Claudia invited danger by her obvious devotion to a penniless carpenter from Nazareth. Rome was entirely too high and mighty to accept a mother’s gratitude to that penniless carpenter for healing her beloved son’s club foot. She displeased her husband by dismissing his God Jupiter, as a worn-out illusion of times gone by. The son of God was gathering his strength daily from faithful believers and there is awesome power in faith. She experienced that faith herself when she searched for Jesus to touch her son. Her infinite gratitude was her reason for retelling all she knew about the Nazarene to any one that would listen or ask.

With Pontius Pilate gone the Hebrew council strengthened their efforts to exile Lazarus, Martha and namely Mary of Magdala, Apostle to the Apostles of Jesus Christ. Like it or not, the Hebrew council had to accept what rang from so many tongues. Jesus, the Christ. The Christian movement was growing rapidly and nobody could stop it. Five women placed their faith and devoted their lives to Jesus and were in fact the first to be called “Christians.” Followers of the Christ. It was a life threatening time to oppose the angry power of the Hebrew council. Many lives were painfully sacrificed for nourishing the growing faith in the Nazarene.

At the summit of his pain, five women stood at the base of the cross on that fateful day. The magnitude of their faith could feel the soul of Jesus rising from his body to dwell in his father’s home.

The effort to exile Mary Magdalene and her family ceased to be a religious issue. It was their properties that attracted more than one greedy ambassador of unlawful schemes. They complained grieviously to the new procurator that Pontius Pilate had turned his back to their legal claim to the properties. No record was ever found of Tiberius instructing Pilate to intervene in their stealing Mary of Magdala’s family properties. The council claimed the family was guilty of Blasphemy and demanded they be deported. In due process and the right amount of gold invested in the new procurator’s comfort, their wish was granted.

In the year of our Lord 42 A.D. Lazarus, Martha, Magdalene, Bartholomew, their uncle Joseph of Arimathea among others were cast to sea in a boat without sails, rudder, food or water. Oh, they suffered, they suffered greatly but plans for their lives were not complete yet. Their craft was guided close to the mouth of a river called, the Petite Rhone. At that location an ancient village called “Ra” was inhabited by reserved and cautious people with little regard for settling strangers. The village “Ra” became home to the group. Their father Syrus had not raised his children to be lazy. Lazarus, Martha and Magdalene were soon preaching and doing what they could to ease pain and bring comfort to the young, sick and elderly. With time and considerable effort they won the populations trust enough to listen to their words and accept their works of charity. The village would later be named “Notre dame de Ratis” Our lady of the Boat in honor of Magdalene of Galilee. She lived and did the work of Jesus in the vicinity of saint-maries dela Mer in the area of Camarquais. Within these historically noted places Mary of Magdala lived as a stranger with no friends and in poverty. Her wealth was consumed by charitable works in Judea and the remnants devoured by the scheming Jewish elders. It is written and physical evidence exists that Mary of Magdala, was named Magdalene by Jesus since he exalted her above other Marys, she was unique. He paid honor to her devotion to him as well as his disciples.

Solitude took charge of her life and she withdrew to a cave high in the Saint-Baume Mountains. There she meditated and communed with Jesus while angels provided spiritual sustenance on which she existed. The year of her death is uncertain. Her place in history is guaranteed by her devotion and contribution to the birth of Christianity in France.

And, if our faith had given us nothing more
Than these examples of all womanhood,
So mild, so merciful, so strong, so good,
So patient, so peaceful, loyal, loving, pure
These were enough to prove it higher and truer
Than all the creeds the world has known before.

Words by the American poet, Longfellow

With admirable effort and intestinal fortitude Lazarus rose to be a high level leader of the Christian movement. He was granted permission to lie at rest in Bethany. A shrine in his name is visited by thousands every year enriching the Jewish coffers considerably. Civilian visitors, ministers and pilgrims from all over the world visit the site yearly. It has been rightfully said that Lazarus returned to Judea in glorified triumph to rest in peace.

Mary Salome, the unbeliever never reached the grade of disciple. She was nonetheless a dedicated supporter always willing to serve the  needs of the men that followed the teachings of the Nazarene.  She was the faithful wife of Zebedee and had a home and husband to tend to. Therein rested her prime responsibility and a married woman could not be allowed to follow a group of men that often camped out in the wilderness. Her two sons John and James became known disciples of Jesus and history honors their place alongside the Nazarene as their mother wished.

Bernice, the pious Jewish woman never had ambitions for a seat in the halls of glory. It was whispered in private corners that she suffered from a bleeding disorder for a number of years. When she finally decided to appeal to Jesus for a cure she was not able to reach him. Jesus heard her lament before she spoke of it and turned to assure that her malady was resolved. That act of kindness from Jesus gained her complete devotion. At the crucifixion she was shoved by the mob to the forefront of the bloody drama. Seeing Jesus so brutally penalized brought agonizing pain to her as well. She braved lance and shield to render Jesus some help and could only wipe his face with her head scarf. Sweat, tears, blood, dirt and stones covered the face of the son of God. Adding torment to this were the vile insults from cold hearted individuals. Some of which would even spit on a helpless man dragging a cumbersome cross at the end of his strength.  Brutally she was shoved away from the convict into the maddened crowd. Roman soldiers could care less for a Jewish woman past her prime. The discovery of the image of Jesus on her head scarf came later, in the comfort of her home. Bernice deserved more than a merit badge for her courage. Discovering her veil contained the healing power of Jesus is well documented and people were healed by viewing the sacred image. History records that Emperor Tiberius owed gratitude to the head cloth of a Jewish woman since her sweat rag healed him also. That object of reverence is said to be kept and guarded by the Church of Rome. Time pays homage to her devotion and effort to help the son of God. She is revered as “Veronica of the Veil” by Greek translation to this day.

Salome daughter of Herodias was instrumental in the beheading of John, the Baptist. Her possible visit to Golgotha granted her peace of mind and she later answered to the marital call of Philip, the Tetrarch of Ituraea and Trachonitis. The marriage did not last long, Philip was old and it made gossipers laughingly happy to say that “Salome was too much woman for such an old man”. Along came Aristobulus, son of Herod of Chalcis. Wealthy, healthy, handsome and able to meet the physical demands of a sensuous young woman. They had three children attesting to that as fact. Profiles of their children appeared on gold coins of the time. History favors the famous dancer with a near clear record of her entire life. Her presence at the crucifixion is likely but not historically proven.

For reasons ranging from self-serving, (false reports for money) erroneous leadership and greed the Hebrew council continued to hound the followers of Jesus. Volumes of atrocities against early Christians colored the pages of history in vivid red due to Hebrew accusations. Shimon was his real name later known as Shimon Peter and finally just Peter. He too was an apostle to the remaining apostles and a leader head to new converts.

Peter would suffer much from the Power of Emperor Nero, a domineering Roman with demented illusions of greatness. By plot, ploy and scheme Nero was convinced that the maladies of Rome all stemmed from the Christian movement, a cult of ignorant low class individuals with no real value to society. The Hebrew council could reach far and deep to install thoughts and ideas in fertile minds. Then pave the way to reality with gold in hand. And so it is written that Peter, now a high ranking official in the Christian movement would be brought to trial during Emperor Nero’s time. Some people argue that Peter was jealous of the adoration Jesus received in life and for dying in such a unique way. Others would claim that Peter’s devotion was without blemish. It was rumored that Peter stated “no greater honor could befall him than to die as his lord and savior did.”  Others would say that he claimed “not to be worthy of dying as his savior did.”

To which twisted Roman minds had an instant solution. “We can fix all that, so you may be honored even more.” The Roman mentality was capable of inventing torturous ways to execute a man. Peter being crucified upside down would be child’s play to a sated Roman mind. Deprived of all worldly possessions he followed in the death example his Lord and savior left behind. Near nude his hands and feet were secured to crude timbers and left to bear his cross alone. Roman documents attest to its reality and record the year of Peter’s death upside down in Rome as being the year c 64 A.D. Little did the Romans know that the name Peter in the Hebrew language means “Rock.” The “Rock” of Jesus continues to fulfill his mission even today.

The glory of Jesus is everlasting. Partly due to victories won without sword, lance or shield. The personalities of five women in this work emphasize that their only weapons were faith and devotion. Two powerful elements when poised in a unified direction. Essentials that can change lives, alter paths, Bring joy to injured hearts and strengthen the soul. They are treasures left to us by Jesus.

Physically strong and mentally keen Onofrio  suffered  much emotional  stress from his tugging wish to lunge forward into field near and far to retell the story of Jesus. He suffered painfully from a common human weakness. He could not bring Senobia or his children with him. His family was raised in great comfort without the hardships of a road life. A camel herder’s camp, sleeping on the dirt, fearing snakes and scorpions, going to sleep hungry without a midnight snack were all hardships Onofrio could not put his family through. He could not bear it if his wife and children were hungry. He cringed to think of the lovely, devoted Senobia suffering through his quest. Knowing she would suffer her hardship in silence and stand by his side always proud to hold his forearm. Chin cocked high, she would tolerate and endure. The ever shifting sands would transform her lovely face into a mask of hardship. Equally so, his children would age before their time. He castigated himself fiercefully for his lack of faith that God so loveth the dove of the field that he provides for them as God would provide for him and his family. He only knew the comfort his work provided and the reality of here and now. Being that he still feared God’s revenge.

No, he could not do that to his family. Fate and time were plotting against the once young man from distant Iberia. Senobia’s father, Tremiyo was now an old man struggling to stay alive. He would suffer immensely if his daughter Senobia and the near grown children all went away suddenly. His wife Camia had died and the old man lived with memories of her and his previous wife, Sintia. No, Tremiyo would not live long if he was suddenly alone. Adding burden to his fading quest would be the pain and suffering Senobia would endure knowing she had abandoned her loving father in his hour of greatest need

Only ever so briefly did he harbor thoughts of going alone. But, he could not live without Senobia. She was his right arm, his left arm and the light that brightened every day of his life. The very thought of going without her brought unbearable pain to his heart.

But, he could not discharge Jesus from his mind and heart. They lived together as one and yet as far apart as heaven is to earth. On occasion Onofrio would stop a stranger and always found ways to channel their conversation to his day at Golgotha with the son of God, Jesus of Nazareth. With his family he often traveled to gatherings honoring Jesus. He lathered his soul with what he heard and could never find justifiable reason not to contribute his day at the crucifixion to the assembly. He invested his heart and soul to his place before an audience and in all he did and as hard as he tried, he was never satisfied with his contribution. There was always something more he wanted to say. He wanted to rip out his soul and show it to the congregation so they may also feel his closeness to Jesus. The guilt he harbored from building the cross received added support with his recent failure to go afield and broadcast the works of the Nazarene. And from his silent suffering he seldom knew peace.

Time was parading past their lives in hastened pace and people would someday turn away from what he spoke of on the street corners of Yerushalayim. As so many other sidewalk ministers he would be regarded as a rambling old man with nothing better to do. And it offended him greatly when someone would toss an unwelcome coin to him. Did they not know that he was Onofrio el Segundo de Iberia, adopted son of one of the richest men in Judea? Serou Master of public works, now deceased and Onofrio was his sole heir.

Always close to home and near Senobia. Never a lack of reverence cast a shadow on his heart. He shamed himself severely for putting worldly comfort before the work at hand. Those of you that read this story will find comfort in knowing that Onofrio, el Segundo de Iberia and his lovely Grecian wife Senobia live on as the perpetual couple united in faith to the works of the Nazarene and their unfailing love. They live today in the hallways of your mind by a different name. They may be your next door neighbor or someone you know at work reincarnated to deliver a message to your heart. Where the Scarab of Egypt and the cross of Christianity met was the birth place of their love. It was Yerushalayim, the cradle of miracles.

And they found the stone rolled away from the tomb
and when they went in they did not find the body.
While they were perplexed about this, two men stood by
them in dazzling apparel; and as they were
frightened and bowed their heads to the ground the men
said to them, “ Why do you seek the living among the dead?”

Luke 24: 2-5

                                 Away

I can not say, and  will not say,
That He is dead— He is just away.
With a cheery smile and a wave of his hand,
He has wandered into an unknown land,
And left us dreaming, how very fair
It needs must be, since He lingers there.
And you — O you, who so wildly yearn
For the old-time step and the glad return,
Think of him as faring on, as dear
in the love of there as the love of here.
Think of him as the same, I say;
For He is not dead — He is just away.

James Whitcomb Riley  1849-1916

The End ?

And so dear brothers and sisters,
we can boldly enter heaven’s most holy place
because of the blood of Jesus.
By his death, Jesus opened a new and
Life giving way through the curtain
into the most holy place. Let us go
into the presence of God with sincere
hearts fully trusting Him.

Hebrews 10: 19-20   NLT

Clavenia, wife of Serou and devoted scholar was more than just delighted to share her knowledge with such illustrious guests as Lucius Pontius Pilate and Claudia Procula.

“Herein, I will retell a story with two endings. People of all convictions scoffed at the prophecy of Jesus when he foretold “the temple will be destroyed and rise again in three days.” People expected the stone temple to fall apart and paid no heed to Jesus being the temple of God’s words. Jesus was falsely tried, brutally lashed and nailed to the rude timbers of a Dogwood tree. As you said. At the moment that Jesus died, the veil at the temple was ripped in half. Those present all concluded that the tear occurred from top to bottom indicating the force that ripped it was God sent direct from heaven.

The high priests had multiple reasons to fear the wrath of God.  First an angry tempest attacked the land making treacherous rivers from harmless trickles. An earthquake shook the world violently and God discharged the sun from duty for hours. The ripping of the veil at the temple was God’s way of saying “your services are no longer required.” The blood of Jesus cleared the way for all people to commune with God. Jesus’ death opened the doors of heaven through the torn veil for all people of righteous heart and their sins were paid for in full by his death. One could easily say that the ripping of the veil was God’s way of saying, “I’m tearing up our contract.” Three days later, the temple of God resurrected and was seen rising into the sky escorted by an angel. Jesus was gone to be with his heavenly father.

The holy of holies was a separate compartment within the temple where the ark of the covenant was stored. The veil was an immense carpet. A hand woven work to isolate the ark from all eyes. It was precious in that God ordered it be made of Acacia wood and lined with pure gold throughout. The gold embellished chest contained three items most precious to the Israelites. Perhaps even four.  I will take liberty to say that first of all, it contained fragments of the tablets containing the Ten Commandments given to Moses by God for his people. The rules by which God wanted his people to live. No other set of rules has ever been declared by the parade of Gods men have worshipped throughout time. While lost in the desert and near starvation the Israelites grumbled much and God listened to their pitiful sorrows. Some had barely enough strength to put one foot before the other. They were hungry, thirsty and they slept on the dirt every night. They had a right to fear wild beasts, scorpions and poisonous snakes. Swirls of ominous buzzards followed them daily in eager anticipation. Death has an odor attractive to vultures, the eaters of carrion. Their strength reserve was used up and they had none left to worship their liberator. But on a certain morning, God spread across their eyes a sweet resin type bread to save them from starvation. In bits and pieces the fungi type product of heavenly magic spread out for them to harvest. The Hebrews called it “Manna” which means “What is it” in their language. They existed on “what is it” ‘til they reached the land of Canaan. They were ordered to  eat this bread in the mornings ‘til they were filled, and so they survived. Moses commanded a portion of this manna be saved in a jar for posterity. That jar is supposedly stored within the Ark of the Covenant along with the rod of Aaron, the brother of Moses. The rod of Aaron was a simple shepherd’s staff worn smooth from much use. But endowed With Godly power, the same as the staff of Moses. Faced with rebellion, Aaron placed his rod upright and from it sprouted fresh growth and blossoms. The growth is said to have produced sweet edible almonds for those that remained faithful to God and a bitter product for those that sheared away.” Clavenia’s voice had developed an emotional rasp and rose to pour herself some of Senobia’s wine mixture. She had to wipe an emotional tear from her eye. After which she addressed her foster son, Onofrio.

”I find infinite wonder in your story of how a persistent little cream colored blossom made so many valiant efforts to survive. I remember vividly you re-telling that experience. It was from the limbs of a dogwood tree that the beams were fashioned for such use. The little four pedal flower sprung out of the timbers you used to built the penalizing cross. The stub from which it sprouted became a reference point when you searched the beams the Nazarene struggled with. It helped you accept that His cross was the one you built. Don’t you think it’s amazing that your chosen beams should sprout little four petal flowers as the cross has four beams and the rod of Aaron should bear fruit for the faithful and bitterness for others? I wonder what these two instances mean. Your four petal blossoms and the almonds of Aaron?”

Admiring his wife’s oratory Serou was magnetized to Clavenia and clapped his hands lightly in admiration as well as the accuracy of her story. Although her story was abbreviated and without the usual story teller’s embellishments it focused on other miracles surrounding the infamous crucifixion. The Hebrew God Yahweh was putting on a convincing display of Godly power. (Pronunciation can vary from neighbor to neighbor- Yahweh or Jehovah.)

“Leave us not forget,” Clavenia continued, “The Ark of the Covenant was covered in pure gold in and out. A king’s ransom in gold lay behind a cloth curtain without a strong body of guards to ensure its safety. The ark had changed hands from conflict before. After a battle the Philistines took the Ark back to their capitol city of Ashdod as a prized trophy of war. They placed it in a temple with their god named, Dagon. The following morning the statue of Dagon was found face down on the floor. They did their repairs and reinstalled their god in its rightful place. The morning after the statue was found demolished. Torn to shreds as if in anger. Unconvinced the Philistines moved the Ark to several of their cities and every city where the Ark was taken got struck by plague. Hundreds of people died for just looking at the Ark. After six months the Philistines returned the Ark to the Israelites along with some very expensive gifts. Gladly they got rid of the killer trophy. The Philistines paid a heavy price for their victory that proved to be a defeat. King David suffered also from improper care of such a Godly object. The Ark was kept heavily covered and prevented all eyes from seeing it. To lay eyes upon it meant instant death with no regard to friend or foe. King David gathered special talented workers to weave the security curtain that protected the object of Godly power from view. It’s called “the temple veil”. An added miracle is that when the veil was ripped apart, it opened a door for all people to praise God openly in the tabernacle and atone for their wrong doing, according to Hebrew belief,” Clavenia concluded.

With Senobia close to his side, Onofrio chose to contribute his thoughts to the learned gathering, “There will no doubt be countless explanations to the miracles we have all seen and know to be fact. I came to be in this place penniless, homeless and worse yet no memory of my origin. I have explored the miracle of my present state and have concluded that Nature had nothing to do with it. It had to be the governing power of Jehovah that put light in my eyes to pass along the works of the Nazarene.

I see in the lessons He left behind much work that needs to be done. At one time I wanted to travel to my homeland in Iberia and tell the story of my day with the son of God. That thought does not leave me. There are times when I feel commanded by a greater force to pursue that thought. I am weak, in that I see the security of my family and the worldly comforts of their lives as a responsibility I owe them. I fear my family would suffer in the process of my calling and I am forced to retreat. As for the almonds of Aaron and the blossoms on my cross, they are reminders of the awesome power of resurrection when Mother Nature unites with God.” The never ceasing mind of Serou made note that Onofrio had for the first time said, “the blossoms on my cross.” A true sign of healing lament with public announcement. He had grown to love his adopted son as a faint smile creased his weathered but timeless face.

Senobia in her naïve innocence posed an interesting question, “What happened to the mother of Jesus, the virgin Mary, after her son was elevated to heaven?“

Her father, Tremiyo chose to address the question, “Mary of Nazareth was given to the apostle John by Jesus from the cross. “Behold thy mother.” He told John. Almost in the same breath, he asked his mother to accept John as her son. “Woman, behold thy son.” In the simplicity of that arrangement, Mary became a permanent guest in the house of John. He saw to all her needs as he would for his own flesh and blood mother. He had begun ministerial work in Anatolia in the city of Ephesus in the Asian province, where he had a comfortable home. The Hebrew council stepped up their persecution of the Nazarene’s disciples. However, their efforts to cleanse the land of the words of Jesus had a reverse effect. Every day more and more people are joining the movement loosely called “Christianity” after Jesus whom many now considered to be the Messiah or by translation “the Christ.” In that light, John chose to take the mother of Jesus to Ephesus where she would be safe from the misguided minds of the Jewish council. Countless people have suffered high penalties by the Jewish council and still enlistment continues in rapid fashion.

The council thought all this is a passing delusion by ignorant minds with no proper religious guidance. They labeled the words of the Nazarene as a preposterous doctrine with no bases in reality. Even though more than a thousand people had seen Jesus rising to Heaven with angelic escort. Futhermore nobody found his body in a worldly tomb. They posted a reward to anybody that found where the body was hidden and prove it’s the Nazarene.

As they were looking on, he was lifted
up, and a cloud took him out of their
sight. And while they were gazing into
heaven as he went, behold two men stood
them in white robes and said, “ Men of
Galilee, why do you stand looking into
heaven? This Jesus, who was taken up
from you into heaven, will come in the
Same way as you saw him go into heaven.”

Acts of the Apostles 1: 9-11  NRSV

The night had reached its mature hours and the congenial group began to think of bed. Moon and stars showered their heavenly glow on earth as happy guests made ready to go home.  Each took with them a feeling that God had been among them. But not before Serou the knowledgeable Master of public works over all Judea made a final declaration. “In all the realms of men, No greater promise exists than to reside in heaven in the company of a righteous God.”

For where two or three are gathered in my
Name, there am I among them.

Matthew  18:20  ESV

Onofrio and now his son Horacio, knew no other time of day more favored than early dawn. Night slowly surrendered to the glow on the eastern horizon. Immature clouds flirted with the last shimmer of fading stars. Amber, gold with blushes of pink and receding purple comprised a festive collage announcing the birth of a new day. Birds already scavenged and pecked at the grasses for an early breakfast. Onofrio read a volume of instructions left by Serou as his assignment for the day. In between bites and sips of breakfast, he mentally plotted a route through his work.

He was not surprised to find a separate note from Serou instructing the young man to strengthen his invitation to Pilate by visiting the procurator. Serou had gotten word originating from within Pilate’s household staff that he planned a celebration to honor his marriage to Claudia. What better way to celebrate the occasion than with a secret rendezvous as their second honeymoon, in total isolation.

It was rumored that they argued and slept in separate quarters. Separate meals were prepared and delivered to different locations. In spite of it Pilate proceeded with his plans and it was clear he wanted to reverse their plight. Caesarea, the official home of Pilate would not provide the privacy required to mend their marital discord. Now a week at the villa by the lake was an even better escape from the taxing demands of his office. Serou’s invitation could not come at a better time and both agreed it was a place to reinvent their love.

To always be correct and precisely on time was Serou’s badge of honor. He basked in the light that shone on his dependability. Friend and business associate alike all knew Serou would always be right on cue. That he should know of Pilate’s marital strife was simply one of the news items that daily came his way. It brought joy to Serou’s sated heart that his foster son was growing keener to his plans and often embellished the older man’s efforts as is expected between father and son. They became a pair of minds directed to the same objective.

The villa was given a thorough examination and all things put in top order for imminent guests of secret identity. A rumor was allowed among the slaves of Serou stating that the guest was a foreign dignitary on business with the Jewish council. (It had a shade of truth, if questioned.) Extra precautions were taken to prevent curiosity seekers from invading the privacy of the honored guests.

It was late Friday afternoon when the expected carriage arrived at the villa, escorted by a small party of essential personnel. Onofrio and Senobia were there to greet their guests. They had grown to accept the villa as their home away from home and to be gracious hosts.

Onofrio had a trusted person escort arriving hired help to the kitchens and their accommodations for the duration. Horses and carriage were sent to barn and pasture. Onofrio now experienced to a degree portrayed an amiable guide showing the illustrious Pontius Pilate around the villa and surroundings. While Claudia and Senobia quickly found easy refuge and amiable conversation in so much scenic beauty and extensive gardens. Senobia having heard passing stories of Claudia’s clairvoyant ability invited her guest to the little temple by the lake and there Senobia explained, “I love this location. It is a place to let your prayers float free. I adore the solitude and yet the nearness of home and safety. I hope you find as much joy here as I have. You must know that you and your husband are welcome to stay as long as you wish. A week of this splendor may not be enough. My husband said Pilate was overloaded with Hebrew concerns and looked very tired. I truly hope you find a way to come back so we can talk more. There is so much I wish to know about life from your position. Within the protected circle of my life, I have nothing to wish for, but I would like to know more about the world beyond my home. I would love to hear stories about your childhood with your grandfather, the emperor Tiberius. And what life is like living in Rome. Is it true that all the women have a personal hair dresser and they all have their own clothes designer?”

Claudia considered the questions and politely answered her young admirer, “That only applies to women living in the upper circles of society. Rome like Judea has its share of the poor and needy. I will think of it and put together a good view of what you ask.”

A platter of fruits and edible tidbits was carefully covered and waited for the arriving company. Soon followed by jugs of wine in cut down barrels packed with snow from the distant mountain. After an abbreviated visit Onofrio and Senobia left the guests to find their comfort.

Senobia loved to ride the chariot with her husband. But it blew her hair apart and she would hide behind him with her arms firmly around his waist, her face tightly pressed into his back and cheered wildly from every bump. At heart, she was still a little girl and loved to be thrilled. More so, the time alone with the man in her life. And there were so many hideaway places along the way. Isolated garden places carefully pruned and suspected of having been designed for lovers, perhaps by a young Serou.

The following afternoon a chariot casually rolled up to a guarded entrance. It came by a secluded route from the lake. On board was an extremely attractive woman dressed in a shimmering turquoise flowing gown. An elaborate head cover protected her from the sun, wind and constant swirling dust. She wore gloves to help hold the reins firmly and protect her hands. For reasons only the Gods must know, Claudia seemed not to age. Instead a mellow grace surrounded her personality like a glowing veil. Her beauty did not suffer the wear of time. Her delicate features became more defined as though magnified by magic. She was Claudia Procula come to visit young Senobia, wife of Onofrio de Iberia. By courteous ritual she was lead to Tremiyo’s home and was not surprised to find the residence of the Stewart of the house of Serou to be a near palatial domicile.  Her companion was a stout man in his middle years, a living portrait of imperial power. He wore a faultless white robe with Purple and gold bands on his sleeves like a Roman senator. His graying hair was tied with a fashionable leather thong at the back of his head. He had dark brown eyes that seemed to penetrate the objects of his attention. Although near portly, he still conveyed an impressive figure of virile manhood. They were cheerfully laughing childishly as if sharing a good joke. It was her ability to find every pot hole on the way that caused his mild critique and their joint amusement. “You almost bounced us out of the chariot more than once”. You seemed to be in a rush to find the next pothole. When I saw you missed one, I came close to having you go back and dash across it just to keep a perfect score.” He was cheerfully saying between guffaws. He had finally taken the reins, installed her between his arms and found as many potholes and road bumps as Claudia, only to laugh more. It was a contagious and joyful laughter stemming from happy hearts.

Scurrying like busy ants servant and slave alike were called to double clean the receiving room for such illustrious guests. In haste Tremiyo double checked everything in one passing glance and hurried to dress appropriately for the occasion.  He briefly urged his wife, Camia and Senobia to do same.

In due course Tremiyo stood ready to receive royal company. Proper introductions were made all around and Claudia immediately called out to Senobia, “You were right. The little temple by the lake is perfect for private prayers. And I came to see you, so we could talk some more.”

The Gods have always been good at uniting compatible hearts. With proper ado the ladies separated from the men, now deep in conversation. ”I wish I had known you were coming, I would have prepared a feast for you to enjoy,” Tremiyo stated by way of apology. Pilate’s hands went up in waving motion pleading to cease. “No, Please. No! I am tired of official dinners, State receptions, Ambassadorial celebrations and all that. I came because my wife wanted to see the young lady Senobia. Call your staff off. There is no need for special preparations. I would be happy with a cool place, some simple bread and wine. Some amiable conversation free of Hebrew troubles. You’re not Jewish, are you?” He asked Tremiyo as if fearing to offend his host.

Pleasant conversation found comfort in Tremiyo’s large patio. Fresh cloths materialized over outdoor tables, torches to repel insects and candles converted the patio into a pleasant receiving room.

Cheerfully Senobia and Claudia materialized like a pair of teen age girls filled with happy moments. They had been to wishers paradise, a wondrous place of manicured gardens, flowing fountains, flowering bushes and a temple like structure for peaceful meditation. Scented by  so many blooming plants it was a place to release one’s troubles into the winds or onto the lap of a favorite God. In this place even the night singing birds found reason to croon and chirp until sunrise. Therein the ladies took a few moments for personal meditation. Each had ample reason to thank their Gods for the blessings in their lives.

From their day at work Serou and Onofrio came to join the unexpected gathering. Shortly Serou found himself without a mate and left the group to bring Clavenia to the unexpected visit of Pontius Pilate and his wife Claudia. Such an unprecedented visit could not be ignored. From afar yet near servant and slave alike found places to observe the gathering of such illustrious people as Pilate and Claudia.

Respectfully yet in childlike manner they all stole peeks at the gathering. It was fresh gossip to fill their days for weeks to come. Clavenia wife of the Master of public works Serou was properly introduced to Pilate and the beautiful Claudia. Clavenia in unexpected reverence did a royal curtsy to the honored guests that brought raised eyebrows from the receiving couple. No greater sign of respect existed. And Claudia was indeed royalty. That very fact was an event Senobia and Clavenia would hold dear to their hearts for life.

Discreetly Tremiyo found ways to instruct personnel to maintain refreshments and edibles available in unpretentious manner. Fulfilling conversation rambled through all the customary subjects to finally settle on current events surrounding Judea. An unavoidable subject since it maintained headline status for so long affecting the entire population.

In sheer innocence and hesitant of brotherly correction Senobia asked a leading question. “Has anymore been heard about Mary of Magdala?” Pilate answered the questions with a spicy tidbit in hand and spoke while chewing, “She came to me not long ago. She fears justly that the council is plotting to exile her and confiscate her family’s properties. She has been to Tiberius pleading that he command me to intervene. Since I have not received official word from the emperor, I am not allowed to intercede in local affairs. I commiserate with her plight but there is nothing I can do for now.”

Claudia intervened and looking directly at Senobia and her brother  sitting nearby she quietly stated, “My grandfather is a very busy man.

It is an enormous task to rule over such a vast territory and so many people of different views. If he promised to look into Mary of Magdala’s plight, he will do so. I sent word to my grandfather asking he honor Mary of Magdala’s request. One must realize that these things take time and Rome is a world far away. That all of you may know I consider Mary of Magdala my friend. I requested my grandfather pay special heed to her plight.”

Samuel joined the impromptu gathering and after some thought aimed a question at Claudia, but not before he bowed respectfully and asked to speak. Receiving a nod of approval he looked at his sister and asked,

“Why is Magdalene talked about so much as being a sinful woman? The accusations seem directed at her being a prostitute?” Samuel had avoided speaking of his passing acquaintance with the woman of such ill repute. Claudia gave thought to the question and in due course gave a view of her friend Mary of Magdala, now known as Magdalene. “Magdalene had ample reason to reject unwanted suitors. It was said that some men seriously plotted to marry her for the wealth her properties provide. She suffered from seven purely human faults and was supposedly cured of them by Jesus of Nazareth. With wealth in abundance, she pursued a time to dance, drink and enjoy the benefits of her social position. It was men that found her conduct unbecoming a lady and to a degree rightly so. If it’s a sin to drink too much? She sinned. If it’s a sin to harbor anger at those that cause injury to your pride or body? She sinned. If it’s a sin to covet the wonders of the world? She sinned by being jealous of other pretty faces. In anger she may have raised her fist and called her critics an ugly name or two.  Then rest assured she has sinned. But through all I have known of her, she would never sell her body for a pittance. She never needed money earned in such a degrading manner.” Claudia looked at her husband who had been attentive to her every word and clearly stated, “that you may know it from me, I wanted answers to my ability to dream of things before they happen, I attended the temple of Isis with Mary of Magdala. Some things I foresaw brought me much discomfort and grief.  I often postpone sleep not knowing what my dreams will reveal.  I suppress my fears to speak of what I see in my dreams. I spent time with Mary of Magdala and we shared our problems and together sought answers to our troubles. We studied ways to bring comfort to the less  fortunate and to be kind to those in need. And yes, we drank wine together and shared secrets of our inner lives.

She wanted to find a righteous man to share her life and good fortune with. She feared being forced into an unwelcome marriage and be used as a mere stepping stone to wealth. Prostitute is a curse word thrown at her by greedy men when she did not comply with their self serving plans. She had a right to youthful love. Just like I fell in love with you as a young girl, my dear Lucius.“ She patted his hand and gave him a loving look then continued. “Magdalene suffered through youthful deceptions from ambitious suitors. When her expectations were denied, she turned sour on the world for a time until she found a greater calling for her life. She is practicing what she learned from ancient scriptures welded to the works of Jesus. She’s working with dedicated men to bring a change to this sinful world. If she ever calls on me for anything, I will do what I can to comply because I know in my heart that she is a good person. No matter what anybody says? I know from a dream that historians will not forget her name.” She cocked her chin at her husband indicating, I am going to do it whether you agree or not. Claudia never forgot she was the Granddaughter of Emperor Tiberius of almighty Rome. Claudia had won her audience including Pilate who clapped at her softly in obvious esteem. Rekindled admiration glowed in his eyes. Serou looked at Onofrio and raised his eyebrows as if to say “they’ve made up.” Senobia. Beautiful, wonderful and impressionable Senobia looked at Samuel and said to him by way of apology, “I will never forget that the first casualty of truth is always gossip. Hearing what lady Claudia just said paints a more favorable image of Mary Magdalene. I like her better this way. It matches what you describe from you meeting her at Bethany the other night.” Again Samuel made a bid to address Claudia. She accepted his youthful respect and nodded at him with a sincere smile. “Do you know if it’s true that when Mary of Magdala went to see your grandfather, she made an egg turn red in her hand?” Before the blink of an eye Claudia answered the young man emphatically, “Yes! I had a letter from my grandfather who recited the incident in great detail. Magdalene went in quest of help to fend off the governing body’s plots against her property. In the process she brought up the subject of the Nazarene’s resurrection. My grandfather refused to accept that a dead man can walk away from his grave and be elevated to heaven by an escort of angels. My grandfather said that such a thing was as close to happening as the egg in her hand was to turning red. No sooner had he said it, that the egg blushed into an undeniable shade of red. Scholars all made an effort to prove how the trick was done to no avail. Magdalene was near faint since the miracle was as new to her as it was to my grandfather. However, she refused to be called a trickster as my grandfather accused her. Instead she stood firm

against the mightiest voice of Rome and challenged my grandfather to give her a better answer than the resurrection of Jesus being a true and undeniable fact. She urged him to consider the egg transformed into his personal wish before his very eyes as proof of the Nazarene’s miracles. Pawpaw was not happy but, his scholars were baffled and it mystified the crowd into murmuring silence. It took an enormous amount of courage for Magdalene to stand alone and defend what she had seen and knew to be true. She was last at the cross and first at his grave, as the first herald of His resurrection.  She is now an apostle to the apostles of the Nazarene. She explains in great detail the words of Jesus. The real sinners are those that raise falsehoods against her.”

WERE NOT THE SINFUL MARY’S TEARS

Were not the sinful Mary’s tears
An offering worthy of heaven,
When o’er the faults of former years
She wept —- and was forgiven?

When bringing every balmy sweet
Her day of luxury stored,
She o’er her Saviour’s hallowed feet
The precious perfume pour’d;
And wiped them with that golden hair
Where once the diamonds shone:
Though now those gems of grief were there
which shone for God alone.

Were not those sweets, now humbly shed—
That hair– those weeping eyes—
And the sunk heart that inly bled—
Heaven’s noblest sacrifice?

Thou that has slept in error’s sleep,
Oh, wouldst thou wake in Heaven,
Like Mary kneel, like Mary weep.
“Love much” and be forgiven.

Thomas Moore, 1779-1852

Serenely the early evening dropped a gentle veil on the private gathering. Stars began to make their presence known and on the far horizon a pale moon announced its ritual journey through the heavens. In amiable comfort not commonly found, all present were drawn to ask questions and contribute what they knew. Within this gathering were people that had near to firsthand knowledge of history makers living their place in time. The lady Clavenia, a grateful attendant and privatgely instructed scholar bowed to Claudia and commented how pretty she was.

Claudia had attained a notable refinement often the result of delicate care. She blushed by the unexpected compliment and brought a smile to her husband. “I agree, Claudia has grown more beautiful with time. She has conquered time and made time grow old instead of her.” With infinite care Clavenia continued her version of the current story. “Your grandfather has been recipient to more than one demonstration of the  Nazarene’s miracles. Tiberius was invited to look at the head scarf of a humble local woman named, Bernice. wherein was the image of the Nazarene at the peak of his suffering. Within days of viewing the woman’s head scarf, your grandfather’s suffering came to an end. He woke up one morning feeling better than ever and his physicians could not explain why. They were counting the days to his demise. Bernice is reputed to have wiped the face of Jesus of his sweat and blood on his way to Golgotha. Afterwards in the privacy of her home, she discovered the image of his face on her headscarf. It shocked the poor woman half to death. How could that be?  She immediately brought attention to the miracle for all to see. Viewers soon discovered that the image would show clear in lighted conditions and fade into darkness away from the light,” Clavenia said in obvious wonder. Tremiyo took this time to speak, “ Someone that had been to her home claimed that the image became visible only in the light. She explained it as another of Jesus’ miracles. “Come unto me and know the light. For I am the way. Away from me, know the darkness of your life.” That was the woman’s interpretation and I put faith in it since the scarf has cured other people as well. Including Emperor Tiberius, who is surrounded daily by physicians of the highest calibre. Some of those physicians would kill to get their hands on that sweat cloth. It’s called a sudarium in Latin, meaning sweat cloth. People are calling it a veil but it remains a sweat cloth, a kitchen towel, no matter what it’s called. When the Greeks have their way in translating all Hebrew works, the name Bernice will most likely change to Veronica of the Veil. And history will know her as such.”

Men respected and refused to speak openly of feminine illnesses. So it rested on Camia, wife of Tremiyo and known medic of all maladies to add volume to the story of Bernice. “She suffered from a bleeding disorder without resolve for about twelve years. When she finally gathered the courage to speak to a man about it, there was only Jesus she could confide in. She struggled painfully within the brutish crowd to reach him and could not. She prayed to only touch the hem of his garment and knew it would heal her problem. Instead, before she said a word to Jesus, he turned and assured her that her malady was resolved and so it was. From that miraculous relief of her illness, she installed full faith in the Nazarene. The day of the crucifixion was unfathomed torment for her among others.” And she looked at Onofrio before continuing. “Bernice braved shield and lance to bring comfort to her savior, Jesus. She sneaked past the guards to finally reach him. She came unprepared and only had a head scarf to wipe the blood and sweat from His face before a guard caught her and rudely shoved her aside. Bernice deserved the title of hero but nobody gave it to her. Only history will grant her recognition for her devotion and courage. She will be known as Veronica of the veil when Greek translations go into effect,” Camia concluded with a tone of authority before so many better informed guests.

“It’s an extraordinary selection of women that have chosen to champion the cause of the Nazarene,” was Pilate’s reflection. “One of my social observers (Nice word for spy.) brought me a story that could alter the pattern of a person’s faith. A woman named Mary Salome was the aunt of the Virgin Mary by marriage.  She was no one special, just an ordinary woman doing what all women of her social class do. However, she harbored strong convictions regarding her faith. When she heard that the wife of Joseph had given birth to this Jesus individual and remained a virgin after the delivery she was irate that such an obvious falsehood should be passing around.  It was a disgrace to her family. She did not wish to be folded into the laughing stock of the community. Two people would be responsible for broadcasting such a obvious lie. The mid-wife that delivered the child and the mother that consented to spreading such a clear falsehood. Deeply incensed she decided to confront the so called virgin with the story. Boldly she forced herself into the home of Mary of Nazareth. Equally bold she demanded that the young girl show herself. How embarrassing it must have been for a teen aged girl to go through such a degrading examination. Most especially by a near family member with stone hearted intentions. Mary Salome was there to discredit the young girl and selfishly preserve her family name. No concern for personal emotions or future results. Mary of Nazareth was a virgin student at the temple and a scandalous story regarding her and a centurion named “Panterra” made the gossip rounds. Should such a rumor be true, Mary of Nazareth was hardly a virgin before or after the birth of her child. History would record the incident as nothing more than a young man’s wishes pointed in the wrong direction.

With unwarranted authority Mary Salome stood waiting for the young girl to position herself for this rude invasion of her most private. She was no doubt still in pain from the delivery ordeal. Equally so, she had a right to be frightened and intimidated by the forceful Mary Salome. Young Mary feared she was on the verge of being stoned to death. It was the fearful penalty suffered by those that told lies.

Mary the virgin had angelic apparitions come to her before, namely the angel of the Lord, Gabriel. It could be safely said that perhaps during this crisis, Gabriel found a way to fortify the strength of the young girl cowering fearfully in her own home. Mary Salome coldly proceeded to the task at hand. She used her finger to verify the obvious expectation. But her digit was denied entry. The birth canal was sealed as expected of a virgin girl. At the instant she made that discovery and before she announced it, her intruding hand withered into a horrifying disfigurement. Her fingers were gnarled and only force could return them to normal where they would not remain. It was said, she screamed in agony as pain claimed a place in her torment. She feared her hand would fall off at any moment.

Such a show of Godly intervention would take time to penetrate the deeply seated beliefs of Mary Salome. When she finally accepted the miracle birth and the results there after, she asked the heavenly father of Jesus to forgive her lack of faith.  With her faith rechanneled her hand returned to normal. She became a follower of the apostles at a later time and spread the words of Jesus to all that would hear her. She pleaded with a developing Jesus to allow her two sons to join him in heaven. To which Jesus responded, “that will be decided by my heavenly father”. At an old age she continues to glorify the virgin birth and the savior that walked among men.  Jesus, the son of God.” Pilate was not fond of declaring Jesus, the son of a God. With so many unexplained miracles floating around Judea, he had begun to slowly accept the possibility. It’s difficult to straighten the twisted limb of an oak tree. Pilate’s faith was oak tree strong and instilled from childhood. He was committed to the power of all mighty Jupiter, A God for all people.

Cooling breezes prevailed and the gathering refused to separate from such serenity and enlightening conversation. There were many rumors floating around loose and it was nice to hear some fact based versions of current events. Discreetly Tremiyo had personnel provide edibles closer to being dinner. Wine was replenished without the slightest disturbance. Soiled dishes were quietly gathered and fresh linen towels and dinnerware provided for the guests now confronted with dinner. The gardens beyond the patio provided a delightful fragrance adding a finishing touch to dinner, candle light and good company.

Without being asked a group of resident musicians made their presence known. From a secluded corner they played love songs familiar to everyone present. It added charm to the undeclared celebration. No doubt this musical group would net a handsome dinner tonight.

Claudia had a thin gold band partly hidden under her hair from which hung a series of little gold ornaments around her head. As she spoke or moved the feminine knick knacks shook sparkling highlights on her charming face. Undeniably the scent she wore was from the orient as was the white feather fan she used to casually discharge a pesky insect or two. She took a deep breath and held her husband’s hand then looked at him before she spoke directly to Onofrio.

“I have no wish to torment you by revisiting your ordeal with the cross. But, I would like to share a story that happened at the site of the crucifixion on that horrifying day. As the tempest broadcast its arrival from the distance, I was caught up with a trio apparently coming to witness the inevitable. It was a girl crying in deep hearted throes. I went to help her, if I could. I then recognized who she was. It was Salome the step daughter of Herod Antipas. I met her at a dinner Ponti and I attended. The second person was her mother and the third was tall and appeared strong so I guessed it was a guard or chaperone.  All three were robed and hooded in disguise. I approached her and she recognized me. In deep lament she came to me. She extended her forearms from under the heavy sleeves and asked me to see the blood stains of John the Baptist on her forearms and chest. The skin on her forearms was flawless as a teen ager so deserves.  There were no blood stains there. I could not see into her blouse.

“I was instrumental in the beheading of John the Baptist. I have nightmares of him calling me from his grave. His blood stains on my body will not wash off.  I came to ask his cousin to forgive me for my part in John’s murder. I hoped he would heal me of the bloodstains. But, I’m too late. Jesus is dead.” And she went to weeping in loud painful echoes coming from within her “God, please forgive me, Please.” I was unable to help her and felt her grief effect me. Since I was unable to help, I simply stood by and kept my eyes on the unfolding scene at the top of that rocky knoll. I saw Mary of Magdala with other women torn in sorrow and joined in grief. I did not know Mary’s companions and decided it was not the proper time for introductions. Then I heard a joyful scream coming from my afflicted young Salome. It was hysterical joy such as I have never seen or heard. The sky was turning into a furious shade of black and it was beginning to rain. Lightning and thunder broke the day into a frightful show of heavenly power. I was scared but felt obliged to stay. “Look! Look! Jesus has healed me. The blood of John the Baptist is gone. Look! My arms are spotless.” Salome pulled open her heavy robe to look at her chest. And almost cried with joy. She jerked her blouse down to examine her breasts and cried out in jubilation. “They’re gone! The blood stains of John are gone.” She was on the verge of dancing with glee. Her mother came and made a quick examination then covered her breasts from a few gawking men nearby.

Enfolded in her mother’s arms she was led away by the tall chaperone in their company. I clearly heard her last exclamation, “They’re gone, mama. The blood stains are gone.” And they dissolved into the receding crowd. It gave me tremors that at this place where pain was king and all dignity dissolved, Salome the teen age dancer found so much joy in being forgiven.”

When the centurion and those who were
with him, keeping watch over Jesus,
saw the earthquake and what took place,
they were filled with awe, and said,
“Truly this was the Son Of God!”

Matthew 27:54

Claudia had not released her husband’s hand. And spoke to him directly with a visible gleam in her eyes. “In all that pain and sorrow, I feared wholeheartedly that since Jesus was dead or close to dying, I would suffer again your cold indifference towards me if our son Pilo’s affliction returned. And that you may know it from me. I prayed with all my strength to the suffering Jesus that it not happen. I could not stand it to have you discharge me from your life again. This may not be the proper place to say it but, I love you so deeply that I would forfeit my life if I lost you.” Such a public declaration could not be ignored by almighty Pontius Pilate, supreme judge and governor of all Judea. “That will never happen again. I promise!” Pontius Pilate said in a soothing voice as he took his loving wife closer to his heart and simply held her there after a long breath. Onofrio and Serou nodded at each other as plotting accomplices would do to indicate “mission accomplished”. Claudia and Pilate were at peace and there was no doubt a second honeymoon on tonight’s agenda. Relieved and seemingly happy Claudia continued.

“I saw you, Onofrio. You had fallen and your clothes were a muddy mess. Your face had bled and you appeared disoriented or confused is a better word. I did not know you well enough and it would be improper for me to come help you.” Claudia seemed relieved to have told her experience at Golgotha.

“Before you go on, Claudia. Where was I, while you were at Golgotha?”My dear Ponti, you were up to your elbows in “petty gripes and baseless quarrels”, as I’ve heard you often say. Jesus was lashed, crowned with thorns and crucified. Barabbas was celebrating at a local brothel.  You were bogged down with the duties of your office, my love. I had to know what would be the end result of my dream. I dreamt that a tragedy would occur if you prosecuted the Nazarene. Every effort I made to reach you and warn you not to prosecute him went in vain. The guard was doubled and they refused to give me ground, even knowing I was your wife.”  Claudia and Pontius had a captured audience; each wide eyed and fully focused. “You very well know that women are not allowed in the presence of a presiding judge. Since I was almost physically forced from your attention, I wrote you a note. I urged you not to have anything to do with this innocent man, Jesus. He was an innocent man that did not deserve a heavy penalty. I had suffered a great deal in a dream about him. I feared harsh retaliation upon you if you penalized him. Later, I learned how heavy a burden you

were carrying with the Hebrew council dead set on crucifying the Nazarene and putting the burden of guilt on you. My dear Pontius Pilate, I castigated you severely for falling victim to their insidious plot. I’m sorry my love, I gave no thought to the awful  burden Rome puts on you. My dream may have to do with Rome castigating you for setting a known criminal like Barabbas free and crucifying a street healer on a Godly mission.”

The audience barely touched the dinner before them. What passed between Claudia and the mighty hand of Rome captured their attention. The listeners anxiously waited for the next scene to unfold as they would an act in a theatre.

“There was no intention to deceive you by attending the crucifixion. I was torn by the decision to crucify him and was compelled to see his sentence to the end. I felt an obligation to him for healing our son Pilo of his affliction. Had I been able to do it, I would have gone to him and done what I could to relieve his pains. As it happens, there were four women drawn to his presence and lamented heavily at his last  breath. Each bewailed in torturous grief when the light of life left his body. It was raining heavily and frightful thunder boomed from various locations. I felt anger coming down from the skies and then I saw Mary of Magdala, she was at his feet and she kissed them with rivers of tears and rain running down her face. Her clothes were already soaked and her hair in total disarray. I had to be close to my friend and went to her side. I held her close to me and I felt pain from her grief. She loved the man that resurrected her brother and gave her freedom from her human faults. Only then did I realize that the mother of Jesus was at the center of this assembly of grief. Her relative Mary Salome held her gently passing on what comfort she could. I remembered her from a previous encounter on the streets of Jerusalem. The pious woman Bernice was the fourth bearer of grief. In that circle of unfathomed sorrow I became the fifth victim. I was on the outer circle but I was accepted as an equal member. Never had I felt my very soul cry as it did while I was there with them. Their sorrow had no boundaries. It was enormously deep and unmeasured. Logic lost its grip on me, as I realized I should go to my chariot and make my way home in the middle of that horrible storm. But I did not want to leave my friend and only she had the presence of mind to tell me that I should be with my husband. He needed me close by and she left me to be with the mother of Jesus. I did not like being discharged like a child sent to bed, but she was right. I left that ugly place  of boundless sorrow to find you in an unreachable foul mood. I made an effort to console you, but you would not receive my efforts.”

Claudia said all that with her attention riveted on Pilate like a confession. He nodded up and down in pensive acceptance. “It was a terrible day for me also. I washed my hands of their sinister plot and foul demands more than once. It is not a Roman custom to do so. It is a Hebrew tradition. I was angry at their sordid disregard for real justice. I was also aware that they had roused the crowd to near riot if Jesus went free. Barabbas was guilty without question and they demanded he be liberated. I made a puny effort at vengeance, when I ordered the plaque to go over the Nazarene’s head. It was retaliation for the council’s effort to prove my weakness before their multitudes. They openly said, “We’re going to have things our way, no matter what.” And they challenged the rule of Rome through me. The letter’s I N R I would forever remind them that far greater powers than they, proclaimed the Nazarene to be “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.” They were extremely incensed that I should make such a statement and demanded I remove the plaque. I was tired of being their mouse, while they played cat. I summoned the commander of my honor guard to stand close to me. They saw I was revving up my anger and that anger put fear in them. And so I told them, “I have written what I have written with absolute finality.” They knew then that they had pushed me to the brink of calling out the troops and wipe them off the map. It was tormenting for me to remain calm in the midst of so much hatred. “I saw the sordid weakness of man, nailed to the cross by human blindness. Those that demanded his crucifixion knew not what they did”. (Martin Luther King 1929-1968.) I was revolted by their sense of justice. The Nazarene was only guilty of upsetting their religious routines and healing the sick with such power as no one can identify. Be it magic tricks or the will of some little known God, trying to prove himself. The magic was done and history will long remember the miracles performed by this saintly man.”

EASTER HYMN

Christ the Lord is risen to-day,
Sons of men and angels say:
Raise your joys and triumphs high,
Sing, ye heavens, and earth reply.

Love’s redeeming work is done,
Fought the fight, the battle won;
Lo! Our sun’s eclipse is e’er;
Lo! He sets in blood no more.

Vain the stone, the watch, the seal;
Christ hath burst the gates of hell!
Death in vain forbids His rise;
Christ hath opened Paradise!

Lives again our glorious King:
Where, O death is now your sting?
Once He died, our souls to save:
Where thy victory, O Grave?

Charles Wesley. 1707-1788

Claudia still had Pilate’s hand in hers and she raised it to her lips and kissed it. She knew from years of experience by his side that he was slowly accepting Jesus for what he was, the savior of mankind.

“Only you, silently know the torments Rome has put you through. Our time in Judea has been painful to us both. Now, look at what we’ve done. We have bored our hosts with tales of our own.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

YERUSHALAYIM  BY ANOTHER NAME

“That is not true. You had us all at the edge of our seats,” exclaimed Clavenia with her eyes full of sparkling anticipation. Looking at Onofrio she silently pleaded to add her voice to the evening.

“As I told you in a recent conversation. Judea is truly the cradle of miracles. That an unexpected tempest of such magnitude arrive at the precise moment of his passing is not a mere coincidence. That the earth shook and split open to swallow human victims is the work of an unhappy God. It is a mighty power that can discharge the sun from duty in the middle of the day. Then drop the blackest cloak ever seen over a vast region. The crack of thunder resonated from the bowels of earth like repeated echoes of heavenly fury. Bolts of terrifying lightning attacked the earth like vengeful strikes from heaven. What Godly power can demand that nature release such a horrifying storm and unleash a reservoir of hard driven rain upon the land? The time is near at hand when the world will wake up and acknowledge the power of Yahweh, the heavenly father of Jesus.”

And through all those fearsome things Onofrio you, walked through the wrath of God. You suffered a self induced penalty because of your sense of righteousness. Five ladies were swept to His presence by a greater power. They were silently commanded to be there and absorb some of his agony. The pains they all shared and yours as well, gave the Nazarene a degree of relief to fulfill his mission. All these things and others I do not know about were choreographed by the heavenly father of Jesus.” There can be no other logical explanation.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN:  HE DIED – TO LIVE AGAIN

MARY MAGDALENE AND THE OTHER MARY

Our Master lies asleep and is at rest:

His heart has ceased to bleed, his eyes to weep;

The sun ashamed has dropped down in the west;

Our Master lies asleep.

Now we are they who weep and trembling vigil keep,

and wrung heart in a sighing breast,

While slow time leaps, and slow the shadows creep.

Renew thy youth, as eagle from the nest;

O Master, who hast sown, arise to reap;

No cock-crow yet, no blush on eastern crest:

Our Master lies asleep.

CHRISTINA ROSSETTI, 1830-1894

Through family gatherings in back patio comfort, Barroom chatter, back fence gossip spreaders and caravan news carriers, the stories of Jesus of Nazareth traveled to all ears that welcomed what they heard. In multiple languages and storytelling methods His life story became known to all that listened then re-told it like an echo throughout time. It was the season of life’s renewal over the earth. A world commanded by almighty Nature to rekindle the roots of olive and cypress trees alike. As a child awakening from a long sleep the entire world beamed with joy from the glorious rebirth of life all around. Nature restored the green blush on withered grasses into life once again. The white lily would rise once more from its enfolding tomb and bring joy to all by its resurrection. And like the lily rose from its moldy crypt to the life renewing sunlight, Jesus went from his grave to be with his father in heaven. Those with long memories and witnesses to the countless miracles of the Nazarene grew even stronger in their convictions by the numerous sightings of Jesus by reliable citizens. He was now regarded as Jesus, the Christ. The Messiah had lived among them, had endured the plots, ploys and schemes of men then died to rise into the kingdom of heaven. In his wake he left behind the only method by which man could find salvation from his sins. He left the keys to heaven in everybody’s hand.  Many worn out Gods and old faiths were thrown aside and from their worn out rubble emerged the birth of Christianity. The flawless white lily came to life.

Then there were the disbelievers that came in droves to discredit the miracle of his return to life. It became a joke passed on by callous hearts that cautioned people to hold on to their clothes tightly. For if a gust of wind grabbed their garments, they could be mistaken for a rising Jesus.

By so many efforts to discredit Jesus even the faith of his disciples suffered erosion. It was rumored that a reward was offered by the governing council to anyone who could find where the corpse of Iesus was hidden. Clearly stating by such an offer that they did not believe he walked out of his grave and was escorted into the sky on a cloud led by an angel. Others testified that money was offered to those that would discredit his miracles by offering logical explanations to how His tricks were done. People were rounded up and questioned severely regarding their miraculous cures. They searched for one person to admit they were not sick in the first place. They sought someone to say that his cures were a charade for publicity. They did it with malice and stone hearted effort to find no such individual. They sought false witnesses and found none, more than once. His disciples were hounded wherever they went and often found safe haven in burial caverns to escape the Hebrew council’s relentless pursuit. They branded Jesus a false prophet, a blatant trickster that stole away their congregations. The carpenter from Nazareth had dared to disrupt their profitable endeavors at the temple of God with his feverish tantrum. He was responsible for the loss of costly goods and money lost to his overthrowing of the money changers tables at the temple. To top it all he insinuated he was better and more righteous than the entire priesthood. He accused the Hebrew council of wrongdoing and misleading innocent people. He accused them of converting the house of God into a den of robbers. His behavior was a signed warrant for his death.

Members that disagreed were cast out then sworn to secrecy. The carpenter had to die. Exile would not suffice. Many old members of their flock did not return to their religious leadership. Although their plotting was done in utmost secrecy, it was nonetheless known who would plot against the carpenter. Some members of their flock were silently displeased with their twisted sense of justice. It was clear to the man on the street that the carpenter with healing miracles and lessons coinciding with the laws of Abraham and the words of Moses was the target of the Hebrew council. Some members of the high level priesthood were so money hungry that a suffering citizen had to pay dearly for a simple prayer said in their behalf, as though their prayers had genuine medicinal value.

And through all this they sought out the disciples of Jesus to castigate them and ensure that the works of the Nazarene were not repeated. The disciples were branded as outlaws and from there, a type of bounty hunter was born. Informers became co-workers of vigilante groups seeking to profit from the capture of the disciples of the Messiah. Mary Magdalene became a deeper subject of interest to the council. The Nazarene’s resurrection of her brother Lazarus was still a sore subject among some of the Hebrews in power. The cleansing of her spirit by the Nazarene was much talked about. She would be a stout devotee since it was also rumored she harbored a personal affection for Jesus. She was known to repeat many of his lessons in secluded corners and whispered voices.

She, Martha and Lazarus were respectable high society members and to openly attack them would raise anger from the population. Mary Magdalene owned the castle Magdala and from several endeavors surrounding her property she reaped a handsome return, an          enviable handsome return. Her brother and sister owned large portions of property in Jerusalem as well as Bethany. Their adherence to the works of the Nazarene and their display of that devotion dubbed them outlaws and their properties a prize to capture.

The scattered disciples fought to remain unknown and the more they hid and suffered the more their faiths eroded. Their devotion waned and rightfully so, without a leader to regenerate their trust they wandered aimlessly often seeking shelter to be denied. They went hungry and some people demanded a price to keep their silence. They knew their fate would be equal to that of Jesus, or perhaps stoning for repeating what was considered the blasphemous works of the Nazarene. They were human and frail of spirit without Jesus.

UNBELIVING THOMAS

There was a seal upon the stone,

A guard around the tomb:

The spurned and trembling band alone

Bewail their Master’s doom.

They deemed the barriers of the grave

had closed over Him who came to save.

And thoughts of grief and gloom

Were darkening, while depressed, dismayed,

silent they wept, or weeping prayed.

He died; – for justice claimed her due,

Ere guilt could be forgiven:

But soon the gates asunder flew,

The iron bands were driven;

Broken the seal; the guards dispersed,

Upon their sight in glory burst

The risen Lord of Heaven!

Yet one, the heaviest in despair,

In grief the wildness was not there.

Returning, on each altered brow

With mute surprise he gazed,

For each was lit with transport now,

Each eye to heaven raised.

Burst forth from each the ecstatic word –

“Hail, brother, we have seen the Lord!”

Bewildered and amazed

He stood; then bitter words and brief

Betrayed the heart of disbelief.

Days passed, and still the frequent groan

Convulsed his laboring breast;

Then round him light celestial shone,

And Jesus stood confessed.

“Reach, doubter! Reach thy hand,” He said,

“Explore the wound the spear hath made,

The font by nails impressed:

No longer for the living grieve,

And be not faithless, but believe.”

Oh! If the iris of the skies

Transcends the painter’s art,

How could he trace to human eyes

The rainbow of the heart;

When love, joy, fear, repentance, shame,

Hope, faith, in swift succession came,

Each claiming there a part;

Each mingling in the tears that flowed,

The words he breathed— “My Lord! My God!”

I believe.

THOMAS DALE,  1797-1870

No such doubts reclined at the home of Tremiyo. There a stronger faith found comfort. The hysterical proclamations that the Nazarene was seen rising to heaven were simply echoes of prophesies long known and now glowing in reality. It was added stone and mortar to the faith that dwelled in the home of the faithful servant, Tremiyo. And his family followed suit. Samuel quickly learned not to voice any unfounded observations he may harbor regarding Jesus.

It was here that Serou chose to speak of a subject lying near dormant in his mind. Almost apologetically he looked at his foster son and quietly asked him if he should relate what he saw Onofrio discover by entering the tomb of Jesus. Not knowing what Serou would say, but confident in the older man’s wisdom, Onofrio conceded with a silent nod of his head.

“It was the first day of the week following the weekend that tormented and put Jesus in his grave. Monday morning, I decided to take Onofrio for a ride I thought would help mend the frightful weekend he spent sick and suffering nightmares. As we came through Yerushalayim, we met with huge crowds of panic driven people.  It seemed hysteria ruled the day and there was no end to it. “He has risen, unbelievers beware Jesus is alive. He has risen as foretold and was seen rising on a cloud into the sky”. “He has risen,” was the universal call. Not accustomed to Accept hearsay hysteria and with Onofrio’s consent, we drove to the site of His entombment to confirm the rumors for ourselves.

In fearful hesitation, my son stood facing the tomb and I saw the few people loitering around, frightfully slither away when he entered that forbidden place. I stood by the entrance and could plainly see what Onofrio was searching for. We both saw the shelf cut into the wall and on it was a large dark stain. It had to be the dry blood of Jesus since the tomb was newly hewn, never been used before. I saw him run his hand over the dark stain then looked at his fingertips to confirm the blood stain was dry. He looked for smudges on the low ceiling left by an oily torch and found none. A burned out candle stub left behind by those doing such perilous work at night? And there was none. I could almost read his mind when he frowned while carefully looking around his feet. He looked for scuff marks on the dusty floor left by those struggling with an inflexible corpse. And he didn’t find any. It had rained heavily and not a muddy foot print was found. Not even a blade of grass caught on a sandal and left out of place within the tomb. As hard as he tried he found no evidence of human intervention and yet the body of Jesus was gone. Posted guards served four hour shifts and confident that no one could move the stone without an alarming sound rested in comfort. A guard struggling for sobriety and smelling foul claimed the disciples of the Nazarene slipped up and forced the sealing stone back up the slight incline and locked it in place with numerous stones without making the slightest sound.  I could see Onofrio’s sense of guilt come back from the false solution. Then a near sober guard added that an apparition of some sort came from the sky and with ease and calm enough to shame the puny strength of men gently pushed the sealing rock away from the opening. The apparition dressed in blinding white then added insult to injury by calmly sitting on top of the stone. The apparently seasoned soldier then added that as hard as they tried to stand up to the apparition, they were immobilized until all was done and Jesus was going into the sky. Then stated with sober resignation, “and there’s not a damned thing we could do about that.”

With obvious reflection Serou stated in his diplomatic tone, “I have carefully removed all the physical possibilities and concluded that to move the massive stone up the slight incline without a grunt or a moan to wake up the guards would be impossible. That leaves only one conclusion and I for one am convinced that Godly intervention is the only answer. And to that statement several heads nodded in agreement.

Here Onofrio chose to speak. “Part of me felt relieved that Jesus was taken unto heaven on a cloud as so many people reported. I felt that Jesus was home with his heavenly father as countless people said. But it did not discharge my sense of guilt. I feared vengeance from God for building the instrument of his son’s demise. In a way I cannot explain and in a recent dream I feel a closer bond to Jesus of Nazareth. I want to believe that Jesus and his heavenly father have forgiven me for my part in His death and yet a tinge of guilt and fear still simmers within me. I will tell everyone what I saw at Golgotha and found within the tomb ‘til I die. It is something no one can take from me. My day with the son of God and I will relate the fact that I found no evidence of human intervention within his tomb leaving only the obvious conclusion.”

Impressed the semi-disbeliever son of Tremiyo, Samuel found room in which to reveal his thoughts. “Knowing your affection for truth, I believe what you say. Since carrying the inflexible corpse of a grown man without making a sound would be extremely difficult. I would say  almost impossible in that small confinement. And Onofrio found no evidence of human intervention. Then experienced grown men state that an apparition came from the sky and pushed the massive rock aside with an easy push can only be the work of a God sent emissary. People will long search for an earthly explanation when the truth shines bright before their eyes. We will all go to our graves knowing that we have lived with the son of God as our neighbor.” Then looking at Claudia Procula, he declared openly, “Sometime in the future I will look up this lady disciple of Jesus, Mary Magdalene and perhaps join her group to bring the facts of what we know to other disbelievers. Such stories could pay my way to China, someday.”

The villa by the lake had been a revered place for Serou. It was where he brought his virgin bride Clavenia for their honeymoon. Here they languished in joyful pleasure for long hours and deep into every night. When their palatial home was finished, Clavenia was reluctant to move away from a beautiful place that brought so much joy to her heart. Nothing on earth could replace the happiness she found at the villa by the lake. Serou found ways to abbreviate his time away from her by using key personnel to fill in where he left off and still claim credit for an assignment well done. Without ever dreaming of it, here she was queen of the realm and every day her king proved it with flawless devotion. She preferred the isolation at the villa by the lake to the masquerade that often paraded through her new home. She despised it when she would see a guest slipping a spoon or fork under their clothes. It was her husband’s business that attracted so many people seeking favors, business opportunities or just a free meal with wine.

Serou had soon regretted letting centurion Clemidius reside at the lakeside villa. But he chose to keep the centurion close at hand to learn his habits and the intentions of Rome. The centurion’s tenure at the villa served its purpose and the damage done to the home had been paid by Rome. The grounds were landscaped anew and replanted with indigenous trees and numerous flowering bushes. A smooth stone walkway lined with blooming plants now led to a small summer pavilion. Red clay shingles domed the circle of white marble columns with inviting benches therein. It was a choice location granting far away vistas, gleaming waters, serenity and could well serve as a place for the gods to come pray. On their weekend visits to this restful hideaway, Senobia preferred to pray at what she called the “little temple by the lake.” She liked to see the moon dancing on the water and the stars wiggling in the ripples created by the breeze. It was refreshing and peaceful here. It was also a place for lovers. A place to build memories that could last a lifetime.

When Onofrio informed his foster father that he invited Pontius Pilate and the lady Claudia to come spend some time at the villa he did not meet with Serou’s immediate approval.

“What in the world prompted you to do such a thing? I have that place in mind to be yours and Senobia’s as a happy home like it was for me and Clavenia. Eventually Tremiyo will be willing to see you and your family move into your permanent home. You can’t live with your in-laws forever, Onofrio.”

“Father, I saw Pilate in dire straits. He was wrestling with what he labeled “petty gripes and foolish quarrels.” He yearned for relief from that situation and I thought my invitation would serve him well and strengthen our relationship. He’ll only be here for a week end or so. He and Claudia have been having spats. We could serve to mend their discord.”

Serou hawkeyed his foster son while pensively nodding in silence as his face gradually brightened with newly discovered approval. He slowly saw favorable results from mending their marital dispute while they were guests at his villa.

CHAPTER Thirteen

And behold, there was a great earthquake;
for an angel of the Lord descended from heaven and
came and rolled back the stone, and sat upon it. His
appearance was like lightning and his raiment white
as snow. And for fear of him the guards trembled and
became like dead men.    Matthew 28: 2-4     NIV

And when the Sabbath was past, Mary Magdalene,
and Mary the mother of James and Salome, bought
spices, so that they might go and anoint him, And
very early on the first day of the week they went
to the tomb when the sun had risen.
Mark 16: 1-2  KJV

And they found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they
went in they did not find the body. While they were perplexed about
this, behold, two men stood by them in dazzling apparel; and as they
were frightened and bowed their faces to the ground, the men said to
them, “Why do you seek the living among the dead?”
Luke 24: 2-5  ESV

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

The early evening was blessed with cool breezes coming from the desert. A late spring rain brought the smell of wet earth as a welcome balm to the purple canopy of sparkling stars. The children all found cozy places to nap peacefully close to their parents. Onofrio insisted on Senobia sitting next to him as he related his painful journey from Golgotha on that fateful day. Carefully he guided his thoughts into words,

“The way to you was riddled with fearsome flashes of Godly fire and the resounding booms of thunder. My horses spooked and I fought them for control. But, I was strangely weak. Then I remembered a saying among sheep herders, “When lightning strikes, the sheep do not look at the lightning, they look to the shepherd for guidance.” I got off the chariot and walked between my horses talking to them and calling them by name as I stroked them until they calmed down. I vaguely became aware of my sodden clothes dragging by my belt. Together we faced the perils of the journey ahead. I could feel their hearts flutter from every clap of thunder. Slowly they braved the elements and like soldiers on duty obeyed my commands to get us home. The rain continued in gushers from a fearful black sky.

The clouds looked like obese wrestlers shoving and pushing each other for dominance. In frightful hesitation I listened to the beastly roar of the wind and thought it sounded like the devil’s choir.  I felt certain that God was hounding me and it sent awesome fear coursing through my mind. I saw small gullies become angry torrents of muddy water filled with dangerous debris. I saw homes destroyed when the earthquake cracked the earth open. Animals and citizens swallowed in angry gulps. People suffered injuries while others grieved for loved ones lost to the wrath of God. Scenes of death and destruction came in instant flashes of vibrating lightning. Devine fury was the master of the day and I suffered from an enormous headache. I struggled to keep control of my senses as I feared falling off the chariot. I shivered and shook and by vision blurred several times as I urged my faithful horses to get us home. I drove directly to the barn behind your home and could not unfasten my frightened animals. I barely made my way to your front door. My legs felt heavy and I thought it was because of my drenched clothes. In a silent room without décor I found all of you in devotion to the father of the one I helped crucify. The God named “I AM”. I became filled with fear that if God sought me to avenge his son he would surely strike all of you for sheltering me. My legs turned to ice and I was immobilized. I struggled moving away from you to save you from the anger of a vengeful God. I was on the floor propelling myself on my buttocks to create a safety zone for all of you. I clenched my teeth and put all my strength to pushing myself away from all of you but I was frozen in place. Suddenly and without warning, I could not speak and my world went black and silent. Only for a flashing second did I think that God had surely found me and I was truly dead.” Onofrio took a pause from his compelling story and therein Senobia asked to speak. “You were in a frightful state. I thought your eyes would come out of their sockets. Your voice was not your own, you screamed and yelled in tones I never heard before. You were fighting something or someone and I could not help you. It tore me to pieces when I came to your aid and you yelled at me like an angry animal and viciously pushed me away. Father said you were drunk but somehow I knew you were not. It frightened me terribly when you went limp and surrendered to whatever you were fighting. We were sure you were dead and only Camia was convinced otherwise. Father and I brought you to safe place and a pair of workers came to clean you up. You were unconscious and covered with mud and blood. Your clothes could not be salvaged and were given to slaves. You yelled at me that “God would strike me dead for loving the killer of His son.” I prayed He would not then you went blank and limp  again. You seemed to be looking at something in your coma.” With Onofrio’s forearm in her grasp she waited to hear him speak.

Having found his voice Onofrio continued, “In fluid motion I sailed unto a landscape of scalding sand and drought. Through a black and  fearsome world tongues of hellish red and yellow fire shot to the sky from startling places. I walked through the burning coals of an enormous furnace. The air was grossly hot and I could hardly breathe. Sprigs of white, four petal flowers began to sprout all around me. Hundreds of them, even thousands as far as my eyes could see. Only to quickly wither and die. As they withered, they slowly froze. In this hellish inferno? The petals on some of the flowers melted into teardrops. Blue and silver and glistening teardrops. The heat seared my senses torturing me without mercy. I fought to escape the hellish fires that raged within me. Then peacefully I drifted on mellow breezes before an endless sky of soft cooling blue. Traveling through time and space to gently settle on soil my feet had not touched since childhood. My home soil, the soil on which I was born. My father Horacio, my childhood mentor and only living God took me by the hand and in silence we walked to a nearby stream. Delighted and relieved I saw crystal clear water roiling musically over stone and fallen branch. The stream settled into a soothing, silent pool of arabesque tranquility. Overhead was a luxurious canopy of bright and muted green bathed in glowing sunlight and gently waltzing to a musical rhythm only a zephyr can make. A gentle mountain scented breeze brought the mellow fragrance of ripening wheat. The combined odors joyously filled my senses. No, it was not ripening wheat still in the field. It was the smell of harvested wheat on a wagon going home pulled by good hard working horses. It was golden, mellow, cool harvested wheat on a wagon on which I rested my tired arms. I was a little boy again. Comfortably sleeping, secure in the knowledge my father was close by. Without warning the wheat ignited and I was burning on the wagon going home. I screamed in torment. In a flash I knew that the agony Jesus suffered was far greater than my own. In precise detail I relived every moment I spent with Jesus on the cross I built. Then from somewhere or from nowhere my mother, Maria Elena touched my face with both hands in a gentle, soothing slide. I rose to walk with her hand in hand to a grass covered knoll and there she laid down and went to sleep. She laid in peaceful slumber as the sun glorified the end of the day with a marvelous display of stunning colors. And I felt my soul cry. I felt a cold hand grip my heart. My eyes filled with tears and I could not see.  My father took me to the nearby stream and gently dipped my entire body into the silent swirls of melted snow. I did not mind being so long under water nor did I suffer to breathe. I felt released from all the emotions that tormented me. From the depths of the pool I could clearly see my father holding me. Then, it was not my father. It was Jesus. Was it Jesus? NO! It was not Jesus. I broke in sheer panic to realize it was the father of Jesus that came to drown me. I struggled frantically to rise from the water and finally my father helped me and spoke as we walked away. His voice was clear and unquestioned, “Be a righteous man and all you seek will come to you.” Together we walked from that cooling pool and my mother’s grave. For now I knew, she was a voice in an angel’s choir. We sat on a grassy knoll overlooking the gentle stream and my father laid back to gaze into the infinite sky. His face was bathed in golden sunlight. His hazel green eyes were like sparkling jewels. His amber colored beard glistened with little drops of water that looked like tiny diamonds. His eyes peacefully surveyed the endless sky while silent birds floated gracefully by like silent kites. I was filled with love and peace such as I had not known since I was a boy. I joyfully basked in the cream of unity. I was home. I was home with my father close by. A raging fire broke out. The trees were suddenly ablaze. The underbrush became an inferno of twisting, swirling red and orange spikes consuming the vegetation in violent, blazing gulps. Yet my father lay silently appraising an endless sky of flawless blue. I saw limpid, fleecy clouds meandering in slow motion across an endless serenity. I felt the heat of the fire raging across the baptizing pool and I was in sheer panic, searching for an escape route. It was the peace and absolute tranquility conveyed by my father that calmed my fears down. Horacio laid in comfort and totally immune to the violence beyond. Through my uneasy calm I heard my father speak again, in that clear fatherly tone I heard so long ago. “The storms of men will be countless. The peace that heaven provides will always be one.” Horacio de Iberia rose to his enormous height. Like a child I looked up to my father. When our eyes met, I felt a silent delivery of love promised for eternity. Strangely I felt a sense of unity from my dip in the cool and silent pool. A pool I somehow knew existed close to my home. I realized my childhood was gone forever. It was a dream that long ago existed now blown away by the heartless whims of time. I also knew my mother and father no longer walked among the living. I labored to overcome an enormous sense of loss and finally I could not restrain myself and I cried out in heart tearing agony. When my grief was at a peak my father touched my shoulder and softly spoke, “come home, boy.” Together we walked down a long familiar path to the front door of our home. I was filled with happiness to see our cottage and I looked back to the fire. All that remained was the charred carcasses of trees that had a remarkable resemblance to the torsos of men. I felt cool entering our cottage. But I was hungry. I could hardly wait to eat. My mother was busy before the great fireplace. I smelled bread baking in the side oven. Delicious waifs of mother’s cooking filled my senses. I was wild with anticipation. Mother looked beautiful. She was graceful in her stride going from place to place in her domain. She had a loving face and a smile that made me smile with her. Her voice contained musical notes in my mind. It made me happy to hear her speak. The walk with my father, the cottage, the big fireplace, the odor of bread baking in the side oven, my mother’s cooking and I was home. At last I was home where love reigned supreme. My father held my mother close to him in front of the fireplace as little flecks of light began to break before my eyes, like tiny fireflies on a pleasant moon filled night. Horacio and Maria Elena were in a loving embrace as they began to slowly dissolve before me. I wanted to rush to them and stop the progress I knew was taking place. But I could not move. I remained galvanized to them, regrettably knowing oblivion would claim them and they would soon fade away. And I was an orphan child in pain.

When I woke up, there was my darling, Senobia. Faint and distant at first then came clear as though out of a far away mist. Her beautiful bluish green eyes showed lines of deep concern. The touch of her hand to my face was a magical elixir that made me grateful to be here. This was my home now and I was home. The fragrance of her being aroused masculine feelings I thought were lost to me forever. She slipped her arm behind my head and urged me to sit up. I saw through her pretense that my medicinal bandage was not offensive as she struggled to hold her breath and not move away. I was shocked to learn it was Monday. I had been sick, filled with hellish nightmares and heart filling dreams ever since last Friday.