The Secret Rebellion

By Martin Baggen

A young, rightful queen returns from exile to her homeland. Her mission is to reclaim her country from the grip of an oppressive foreign occupation. To achieve her goal, she must find a king.

Her quest leads to a charismatic and gifted man who possesses the ability to help her lead a nation to freedom. But the mission comes at a cost greater than anyone can predict, and the misunderstood legacy of their secret rebellion will endure for thousands of years. A failed political movement that gave birth to a new religion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBookIt.com
• Release date: Apr 26, 2016
• ISBN: 9781456619923

Book preview

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CHAPTER: 02/THE FIRST BOOK OF MIRIAM

The first time I witnessed this ritual, I do not think I understood the significance of its simplicity. Without the surroundings of an alter or a temple building, I am reminded that in those moments that I have truly felt a Godly connection, it has been in private moments. It is the primary reason I view these happenings while remaining hidden. I have come to love this small little lookout. It offers the perfect view of Yohannan's ceremonies at the river. It being a male ritual, I am certain that most who come here to be ordained by him would feel quite awkward if not hostile at the thought of a girl spying on the proceedings.

I have come to this lookout many times in the eight weeks since my arrival. Even though I am too far to hear every word clearly, there is no doubt that each oration is unique and from deep within. Not a recitation of words committed to memory. His words are not only heard, they are felt. At this place, we are a full day's walk from so-called civilized Jews who would consider   his words blasphemous. It is ironic that he would probably be safer in a crowd of Romans. They would have no understanding of his teachings. One of the few traits shared by Jews and Romans -- ignorance.

I am not homesick but I do miss my Alexandria. The River Jordan is hardly a substitute for the sea, but water is lifeblood no matter where or in what form it is, and I am grateful. If my ambition were to merely live in comfort and not want for any of life's essentials while avoiding the strife that confronts my fellow Jews, I would most assuredly not be here. Alexandria has been a safe haven for the majority of my life, but I now understand where home truly is . . . no matter how God-forsaken it may be.

For as long as I can remember, I would hear my elders say, With pedigree comes responsibility. Perhaps Yohannan feels some of that responsibility running through his veins. But he also possesses the passion of God. I cannot imagine groups of people walking miles to hear my words, and even get baptized into my system of belief. Such is the beacon of a new spirituality. A system that offers hope if people are willing to change their ways and ask forgiveness for their failings. Simple enough for an individual, but how does a single man baptize a nation?

With my Hasmonean blood, anyone with a knowledge of the past and familiar with the name of Maccabee would hold me in high regard. After all, it was the Maccabees, my ancestors, that stood atop the only autonomous Jewish nation. I remember my grandfather talking to me about living free. Controlling our own destiny. Living without fear.

All people should live that way; and indeed, all could . . . if they chose to have the courage. But now, the Jewish will is seemingly forever broken. The attitude of my countrymen is fearful, passive, and weak. The freedom that is a right for all citizens is a fast-fading memory. The Jews are divided and conquered.

Perhaps the strength of a woman is the answer. In spite of the sexist ways of the Jewish culture, I am inspired when I hear Yohannan address his followers in this all-male ceremony. They don’t come to follow me, they have come to follow God, Yohannan would always insist. It is that humility and faith that makes Yohannan all the more powerful. Unlike the priests and rabbis of the Jewish religious heirchy, he does not seek power for himself. He implores each man to tap into his own.

The true power is a man's personal and direct path to God. Were he to preach this sort of heresy in any temple of worship, he would be outcast, imprisoned, or worse. Only the Gnostics would be tolerant of such preachings. And like their Essene brethren, they maintain their distance from the rest of the world. Yohannan does not speak of his self-imposed isolation, cloaking himself in his faith rather than wave it like a banner. I have never understood religion. That may be the reason why it is so easy for me to see that Yohannan is changing the manner in which a man can attain a relationship with God; my thoughts are unfiltered by the church and the hierarchy of clergy, many of whom are in the pocket of Rome. Even more astonishing to me is the fact that so sincere and pure is Yohannan as the conveyor of this message, that he is ignorant of the growing influence he himself now possesses.

And that's where the similarities between he and those such as the Gnostics and Essenes end. Yohannan is adamant that he is a vessel of God and must share his spiritual insights with all who can hear him. His devotion and single-mindedness are clear to peasants and wealthy alike. More so than any priest, Yohannan is trusted by those hearing his words.

I cannot help but wonder what his visitors would think and feel knowing that Yohannan was descended from King David himself? How would all of Judea react? It must be known by all. It is the stuff of change if not revolution. And it may be the only hope a Jewish nation has.

CHAPTER: 03/A STRANGE ALLIANCE

The smokey-tongued flame of the oil lamp licks the cool evening breeze. When the intensity and direction is just right, the moving air makes a gentle hooting sound at the mouth of the cave. The current promises to bring a few hours' decent sleep to Miriam as she pauses in motionless appreciation to feel its invisible relief whisper against her body. Even on the banks of the river there is little respite from the heat. The thin ribbon of oasis that the watery vein offered was rarely up to the task of providing a comfort that compared to the cool ocean breezes Miriam had grown up with back in Alexandria. They made the days so much more bearable that the great city might as well have been a world away, in Paradise. A life in such a place would bring happiness to most adolescent girls. One certain exception would be a Hasmonean descendant living in a secretive exile.

It was a vibrant cosmopolitan atmosphere that refused to buckle to Caesar's Rome and the ultimate and tragic fall of Cleopatra. No doubt the Ptolemaic queen's scandalous relations with the Roman hierarchy made for a more delicate occupation of Egypt by Rome. It was true that Egypt suffered greatly during Cleopatra's rule because of her extended absence as she navigated the tumultuous political mess left in Caesar's wake. But Cleopatra's dreams for her Egypt were also tempered by the political and military realities of the day. Judea benefited from no such complexities. It was quite simple. Rome rules, Rome takes, and for anything left over, Rome kills.

Miriam admired the cunning and calculating of the last Pharaoh. Escaping from under the Ides of March, and years later ensnaring the brutish Mark Antony with a dazzling show of elegant seduction even though her country was impoverished. It was all inspired by her love of Egypt and devotion to her people. As a queen, in spite of her paranoia, she nearly saved her nation. Many would claim that she was able to at least preserve much of it. Egyptian vendors in the marketplace claimed that Cleopatra was no more beautiful to look at than any other of their women. But it was said that to whomever she spoke, they were thus in the lady's thrall, and would die for her.

Miriam couldn't pretend to have that level of influence, but the example was something to live by. At twenty-three, she could entrance if not enchant. Her eyes were large and offered a youthful look at first glance. In spite of her adolescent face, her expressions told their tale in the shadows that were slowly growing across her olive skin. The way her mouth took a long time to relax itself within the cast of her jaw when she spoke.

Taking up residence with a man outside of marriage was akin to prostitution. That she had convinced Yohannan they must look to a larger picture than their own earthly reputations was testament enough to her powers of persuasion. Further justification was the fact that the thousand-year-old cave, chiseled by the labor of Hebrew hands, offered the most comfortable and safe accommodation for the Alexandrian. Even though she and Yohannan were cohabitating, not one of the dozen or so men and women of the group questioned Yohannan's resolve and conduct.

Yohannan, she calls.

On the other side of the cave, the big man sat gazing unfocused and lost in thought.

Are people born to be ruled? Or are we all born into freedom then surrender it away until we are left as slaves? She waited.

The man looked back at her, shifting his camel hair tunic as he tilted his head to face her.

In terms of faith, Yohannan was shattering the usual ways of thinking, but his appearance was traditional if not primitive. His hair dangled far below his shoulders, his beard down to his chest. In the tradition of prophets and Elijah. His hairshirt, lashed by a leather belt, are designed for protection and durability with little regard for comfort. It provides a constant, if not moderately painful sensation to the wearer.

All these imaginary kingdoms and leaders are meaningless to God, Yohannan muttered. The voice is deep and comforting -- once heard, never forgotten.

Even though Miriam had accompanied Yohannan for nearly two months at his encampment on the banks of the Jordan, she was only occasionally certain of his sincerity when he engaged her in conversation. However, when discussion inevitably came around to the destiny of the Jews and the role of their faith, there was never a doubt.

How does one learn the way of his god if those ways result in him being put to a gruesome death? she quipped antagonistically.

In spite of their relatively brief time together, she was quick to grasp what would motivate Yohannan to speak and what would commit him to silence. Miriam was a woman, after all.

Yohannan understood, and more importantly, recognized when Miriam’s purpose was to probe and learn more about him. Yohannan knew that being a man of recognizable stature required many abilities he did not have. A willingness to open oneself for inspection, for one. At least those parts which could withstand the scrutiny of strangers or even followers. He was fully aware of the need for such attributes. He was equally aware that these were qualities that he would never allow to circumvent his faith. At least that was the reason the introverted, and usually self-conscious man could hide behind.

Yohannan was a contradiction in that he would stumble over his words when speaking intimately; but when fueled by his impassioned spirituality, he was fully capable of inspiring legions who had traveled on foot for days seeking renewal and strength -- and to find out for themselves if the whispers about the preacher from the wilderness were true. Could he help make sense of the world?

The contradiction -- the bashful orator -- so intrigued Miriam.

It's precisely because of that, that we must understand the ways of God. He has a plan for us. It is quite different from your plans, isn't it, Miriam? said Yohannan, doing as he so often did: answering a question with one of his own.

Sensing she had reached deeper into Yohannan than ever before, Miriam pressed the issue further. Do you believe in destiny, Yohannan? Is that the same as God's plan? What if God has chosen me to reclaim our country?

Yohannan’s face reveals a hint of surprise, then he exclaimed, Are you the Messiah, Miriam? I thought that was my job. After all, do I act like someone who has the blood of King David in my veins? You may be right. In spite of my birthright perhaps it should be you to unite us all. I must admit, it would be better than some of the bug-eyed lunatics running around claiming to be sent from heaven.

Yohannan’s quip inadvertently causes them both to begin laughing. It has become quite commonplace for personalities of all kinds to publicly proclaim their rightful title of Messiah. In many cases, the savior of the moment is quite inebriated, or otherwise in a curious mental state induced by the opiate that grows wild throughout the region.

Unless the disturbance caused by these outbursts rose to a significant level, the Romans would coax them out of public, or perhaps lock them up for a few hours. It was a rare example of predictable Roman restraint.

The thick tension between Yohannan and Miriam was temporarily dissolved by the humor, but quickly supplanted with a different emotion. Not anger or fatigue. Not even exasperation. The two now seemed enveloped in a sort of sadness, the man more so than the girl.

Yohannan's words, in a halting stream of consciousness rather than a statement, came more softly now. I am not a king . . . a trickle of the blood within me may have me borne of one, but it is ancient . . . what qualification is that to lead?

What do you mean, Rabbi? she pressed, approaching him.

He winces. I wish you wouldn't call me that. I'm the one who would rather banish your rabbi. Not be him. I cannot cast the pearls of my faith before unwilling strangers, or even those who have taken up the apostolic path, bless them. My faith knows no society, let alone country or king. The resignation in his voice hinted at a longing for the one-man society he had left behind.

As he is still unable to reconcile the powerful and righteous Man of God with the self-doubting and insecure preacher, Miriam finds herself in the awkward position of having to reassure and remind him of his achievements. Instinctively, she falls back to the source of her own inspiration: the wonderful tales of freedom she heard as a little girl.

It qualifies you to give our people hope, Yohannan. After thousands of years of being lost, we tasted freedom. I looked into my grandfather's eyes when he spoke of it. Wouldn't that be a noble enough cause to dedicate your life to?

The oil lamp flickers, struggling to stay alight. So be it. She will sleep in front of the sweet-smelling cedar fire, but not with their talk left undone. Not tonight.

Miriam moves over to him. The pause which follows seems like an eternity to her as she contemplates. Finally, she reaches to place her hands on his arm. For the first time, she feels the man's skin and her thoughts are sent fleeting for an instant, then she quickly returns to the moment.

"Every day you preach and ask people to believe in things that they cannot see or feel. I am asking you to believe in something that you can see and feel." Feeling in complete command of the moment, Miriam begins to glide her fingers along the back of Yohannan's hand.

Unable to confront the awkwardness of the moment, he turns away.

Miriam, you are born to be a queen, but I sometimes fail to see why I am here. What would God have me do? There must be a reason. And God has put you in this place at this time for a reason as well. Here I be, the man of faith and enlightenment; yet at night I dream of darkness and cold walls all around me.

Miriam persists. Yohannan, so much of God's plan has been put forth. It is right in front of our eyes. He gave vision to the prophets hundreds of years ago. Their words have said that this is the time that our leader will come to us. Yohannan, do you know what we have in common with Rome?

Yohannan turns and locks his inquisitive eyes with Miriam’s. Without pause, she says, We all await the arrival and leadership of the Messiah.

Perplexed, Yohannan mutters, What do you mean? The butcher-Romans accept nothing of us that has any meaning. His lower lip curls   in a curious way she has not seen before. The oil in the lamp is a bubbling afterthought, nearly gone. The Judean desert's turn from the sun is complete and night falls. Miriam listens to the man's tired voice. The prophets hundreds of years ago said that these were the Last Times. Our own generation, as the Ba'al Shem, and many others.

Defiantly, Miriam explains, The Messiah is more than a myth, Yohannan. My ancestors had the foresight to mandate recognition of a unifying leader of Judea. It’s myth here, but in Rome it is actually law! Certainly we can see that Rome rules us as lambs. We offer no resistance while our pockets are taxed and our harvests are stolen. Her small body rises and she begins pacing, continuing her private oration.

We have no leader. We are Sadducees, we are Pharisee, we are Essene -- but we are never all Jews, Yohannan! Our enemy isn't Rome. It's ourselves. The first day that we are unified as one is the first day of our independence. It should seem sad to all Jews that it is a Roman law that should motivate us to come together to purge our land of our occupiers.

After a long moment of silence, Yohannan, while impressed with Miriam’s knowledge and passion, replies, But we have no armies, no weapons. How could we hope to stand up against their might?

Abruptly, Miriam strides directly to the still seated Yohannan and lowers her lips to the big man's ear to whisper, You must have faith.

CHAPTER: 04/THE FIRST BOOK OF YEHUDAH

I am not someone that learns lessons from the past. If that were me, then I would have never allowed Yeshua to talk me into this foolishness.

You must come with me my friend, Yehudah, I can still hear him say. What if I need you and you are not there . . . how would you live with yourself? Quite damn well, I believe the proper answer should have been!

Why did not God make it easier on all of us and simply bestow my good friend with common sense instead of