The Good Thief

By Barry Connolly

Jerusalem, 33 A.D. It is the tumultuous final weeks before Passover. Excited pilgrims pour into the Holy City. Many hail a young rabbi preaching in the countryside as the promised Messiah.
In the wilderness south of Jerusalem, two wealthy and influential brothers have been robbed and killed. Their murders spark an aggressive search by Roman authorities to find and punish those responsible. Returning home to announce his engagement, a young Jewish man discovers his brother and sister dead --- innocent victims of the Roman officer leading the investigation.
The surviving brothers obsession with revenge will take him from the back alleys of Jerusalem, to a thieves den in the mountains of Judea, to a fateful encounter with the man he has sworn to kill. The journey will end with his crucifixion alongside Christ on Good Friday. Every Christian has heard of the Good Thief. This is his story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Aug 6, 2010
• ISBN: 9781450232883

Barry Connolly

Barry Connolly worked as a writer, editor and media relations manager for an international computer corporation before starting his own marketing communications business. A succession of bible study classes inspired him to write his first Christian historical novel, “The Good Thief.” His second novel, “On the Road to Damascus,” continues the story. He and his wife, Muriel, reside in Bethel, Connecticut. You can visit their website at www.connollyco.com.

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Prologue

The man leading the little donkey carried himself with a resolve born of maturity. Tall, with hands accustomed to hard work, his hair and beard were flecked with gray. A white cotton scarf about his head and long linen cloak had shielded him from the heat of the day. Now, with the cold of evening fast approaching, he pulled the cloak closer to him and lowered his scarf, wrapping the ends around his neck. With one hand, he firmly held the animal’s reins. The other gripped a sturdy oak staff. He pressed on, his sandals scraping against the sandy road.

Dark storm clouds, swollen with moisture, bloomed and spread in the distance. Within minutes a chilly breeze whipped around them. The man leaned into the wind and stepped up his pace. Seated on the gentle donkey, his young wife gathered her cloak about her and wrapped it protectively around the baby she carried in her arms. The woman radiated a calm strength, her hazel eyes framed by dark brown hair.

Strong gusts began to stir up swirls of loose sand from the road. It stung their eyes and clung in the creases of their clothing. The man pushed on against the gathering storm, toward a narrow valley just ahead, a canyon formed between two steep hills. If they were fortunate, he thought, the rocky slopes might provide a cave or partial shelter. The donkey lowered its head instinctively. The man and woman wrapped their scarves more tightly about their faces, leaving narrow slits with which to see. The baby nestled quietly against its mother, protected by the layers of her cloak and the warmth of her body.

The man had known this would be a difficult journey to make even in temperate weather. Now, with the winter season closing in and the weather increasingly unpredictable, it was even more arduous. They had already been on the road for several days. To reach the territory south of Judea and the region beyond Beer-Sheba into Egypt would likely take another week.

Travel was also more dangerous at this time of year. In winter there were fewer travelers on the less-patrolled inland roads between towns and settlements. The wilderness in Judea was a region where more than wild animals roamed. It was also infested with rebels and thieves—merciless killers who preyed on unprotected travelers.

He had just reached the entrance to the narrow valley when the first large drops of rain pelted their clothes and kicked up little clumps of dust as they splattered on the dry ground. The man hurried the donkey along, leading it close against the cliff walls. Desperately, his eyes searched for signs of a cave or other sheltering space in the rocks. Then, ahead and up to the right, he saw it: a shoulder-high opening the width of a man’s extended arms, midway up a section of limestone rock. A well-worn trail led up to the cave, indicating that it had been used before. He urged the donkey forward onto the rocky path. The woman gripped the reins on the donkey’s neck with one hand in order to better steady herself. With the other, she held the baby tightly.

The storm grew, accompanied by the low growling and rumble of thunder. Rain fell more heavily as the sky darkened around them. The opening in the side of the cliff lay just ahead. A dozen more steps and they reached the entrance. The man peered inside.

By the fading light, he could see that the cave appeared large enough to accommodate them. Moving quickly, he helped his wife and child dismount. Once they had entered, the cave opened with room enough to stand. He tied the donkey’s lead to a large stone inside the entrance. Outside, the rain lashed angrily against the cliff walls.

Toward the center of the cave, a neat circle of charred rocks bore testimony that a small fire had been built here many times. Along with the musty odor of damp earth and charcoal, the shelter had the familiar smell of sheep and wet wool, an encouraging sign that it was likely a safe haven. A fist-sized bundle of fine wool, a chunk of flint, and a pile of twigs and small branches had been left by a previous traveler. They were stacked neatly against the back wall of the cave.

The man began to build a fire while his wife sat nearby and nursed their son. He carefully arranged the tinder and dry wood in a small pile. A few strikes of flint against a flat stone and a shower of sparks ignited the wool tinder. With a few puffs of breath, the tinder erupted into a small flame that in seconds had spread to the twigs and thicker branches. The smoke from the fire curved gently upward, following a natural bow in the ceiling. It led to the entrance where the wind carried the soot and fumes away. Light from the fire flickered and danced brightly on the walls. The crackle and warmth from the little blaze was comforting in the midst of the fierce storm that now enveloped them.

Outside, the rain pounded harder. Torrents of water rushed down the rocks, streaming like a curtain before the entrance of the cave and pooling in the rocky path outside. The lightning became more insistent, illuminating the entire cave for brief moments in flashes of cold blue light. As the storm surrounded them, the crash and boom of thunder grew louder and more threatening. Wind moaned through the narrow canyon. Violent gusts blew splashes of rain through the cave entrance, soaking the sandy floor within. Fortunately, the center of the cave where the fire blazed remained dry.

As the storm raged outside, the man’s wife prepared a simple meal of dried fish and unleavened bread. It was accompanied by a strong herbal tea brewed in a well-used copper pot partially buried in the coals of the fire. After giving the blessing, the man and his wife ate quietly. When they had finished, he unpacked thick woolen blankets to help warm them during the cold night to come, lining the hard floor with one and layering those remaining on top.

The baby, fed and content, lay warmly wrapped in a small blanket a safe distance from the fire. The child murmured soft sounds, his intense blue eyes darting from the fire to his parents to the shimmering shadows on the walls around them.

The man busied himself with the fire. His wife finished cleaning the area where they had eaten and was now wrapping their food for safekeeping. They worked silently. Finally, the man turned to his wife.

You do so well, Mary, with the long journey and with caring for Jesus, he said.

It is an easy burden for me, Joseph, she replied.

Reaching up, she carefully tied their food sack high above the floor, wrapping its rawhide cord around a ragged protrusion in the cave wall.

The child and I only have to follow you, she said. I fear the real burden is yours, for we rely on you for so much. It is you who have done so well.

Joseph poked at the fire with a long branch and carefully placed more wood on the burning coals. Mary walked slowly to where he stood.

Know that I love you, she said softly. Her eyes held Joseph’s for a moment. Also know that God will not allow harm to come to us or his son. In everything that happens, he has a purpose. She smiled and gently squeezed his hand, then turned toward her son to see to his needs.

Joseph was a respected carpenter in the small village in which he and Mary first met and later had been married. She was a lovely woman of quiet grace and gentle beauty. Joseph deeply loved her and their son, Jesus. Before this journey they had been living in Bethlehem, to the north, the town of his father. More than a year had passed since the baby’s birth and they had become accustomed to the quiet routine of village life there.

Suddenly that had all changed. Three scholars from the eastern kingdom had appeared one day and said they had been searching for Jesus. They hailed the child as a great king, and brought expensive gifts. The visit by such prominent men drew considerable attention—and no small amount of envy—from their neighbors. Further, when the three visitors had first arrived in Judea, they had carelessly disclosed their mission to the ruler of the district—Herod the Great. The king was a cruel and jealous man who resolved to remove any possible threat to his throne.

Before the king could act, Joseph had been warned by an angel of God to take his wife and child and flee to Egypt. As head of his household, the responsibility for their safety fell on Joseph’s shoulders. He had quickly gathered his family and what belongings they could take with them. They were now on the long and difficult road south that found them this night in a rude shelter in the Judean wilderness. It was shelter, nevertheless, for which Joseph was grateful.

Your faith is so strong, Mary, as is my love for you, Joseph professed. How is it that God looked on me with such favor? Mary looked over at her husband and smiled.

Oh, Joseph, she said, taking in their primitive surroundings with a sweep of her arm, do you feel so fortunate to stay in such a fine inn? She smiled. They both laughed. Cradled in his blanket, and soothed by the warmth of the fire and the rhythm of the incessant rain, the child slept.

When Mary and Jesus were both asleep, Joseph propped himself against the wall of the cave and wrapped a wool blanket tightly about him. He kept his staff close by. It was a shepherd’s staff, the kind such men used to defend their flocks from wolves and lions while in the wilderness. It had a thick burled knot of wood at one end, making it a formidable club. A sharper end opposite could be employed as a lance. Joseph hoped he would not be called upon to use either.

Outside, the storm was easing and gradually moving on. The runoff from the hills continued to trickle down the face of the cliffs, plopping in small puddles. A chill breeze still gusted now and then through the cave’s entrance. The force of it fanned the small fire, causing little trails of orange sparks to burst and flare upward into the darkness.

It had been an exhausting day. No longer a young man, Joseph’s body felt the physical strain and emotional stress of their travels. The warmth and hypnotic flickering of the fire soon had its effect. Despite his best intentions to stay alert and stand guard, Joseph’s breathing became shallow and his eyelids grew heavy. In a few minutes, only the donkey remained silently on watch.

*       *       *

A few hours later, Joseph awoke to shrieks and howling in the night. Struggling to his feet, he fought to shake off the fog of sleep. Again, the screams split the night. It came from the valley outside the cave, but closer now. It was a sound he recognized and one that filled him with dread.

Hyenas! He knew packs of these vile scavengers roamed the Judean wilderness searching for carrion on which to feed. Loathsome animals, with misshapen backs and ugly ragged hides, their jaws had the power to crush and devour even bone. They were not often a threat to the living, but in winter months when food was scarce, packs might attack wherever they found weak victims and sufficient opportunity. The donkey strained against its bindings, braying loudly, its eyes wide with fear. Mary awoke and quietly gathered the still-sleeping baby into her arms.

The fire was only sputtering embers now. Joseph threw a cluster of branches on the hot coals. They flared, quickly filling the cave with light and heat—two allies to help discourage prowling beasts should they attempt an attack.

Mary, take the child and stay behind me, he warned.

Joseph reached for his staff and brought it in front of him. His fingers gripped it tightly. His body tensed in anticipation.

Outside the cave, the wailing of the hyenas grew louder and closer. Suddenly, Joseph heard different sounds—cries of a fierce struggle. Ferocious growling and angry snarling shattered the night and overpowered the shrieks of the hyenas. Minutes passed. The hyenas’ cries turned to whimpers. The whimpering faded into the night as the defeated beasts could be heard retreating into the hills.

Joseph began to relax his grip on the staff when he became aware of a scuffling noise and padded footfalls along the path leading to their cave. Dislodged pebbles skittered off the path and rattled down the side of the cliff. The donkey began braying again. Joseph braced himself for this new threat. In the flickering light of the fire, he saw outside the mouth of the cave the source of the donkey’s fear: first one, then a second and finally a third pair of piercing yellow eyes.

Three wolves—a larger male and two smaller females—stood at the cave’s entrance. Their coats were muddied and torn, their muzzles bloody. Holding their heads low, they sniffed the ground. The male stopped just outside the entrance of the cave, unmoving, glancing warily at the fire, then up at Joseph. The two females sat on their haunches outside, jaws open, panting. They made no threatening move, neither advancing nor retreating. Joseph moved forward boldly, heart pounding, shouting loudly and jabbing his staff at the wolves. The three held their ground. Joseph advanced further to confront the larger one facing him.

Wait! Stop! Mary cried out.

He hesitated for just a moment, but still held the staff tightly.

They do not mean to harm us, Mary said. See how they drove off the hyenas and now come here in peace.

Joseph was stunned. Could this be true?

I believe they were sent by God to protect us. Only have faith.

Joseph slowly lowered the staff, holding the large male’s eyes all the while. As he did so, the big wolf also relaxed. It sat back, jaws wide, its great chest rising and falling as it caught its breath. The two females rose quietly, padded into the cave and took up protective positions just inside the entrance. The male slowly followed. As Joseph and Mary looked on in wonder, the three wolves quietly circled around several times and settled down facing the opening of the cave. There they appeared to keep watch, licking their wounds, their eyes intently searching the night.

Still keeping a wary eye on the wolves, Joseph leaned the staff against the wall. Many minutes passed and there was no change in the wolves’ behavior. Even the donkey had quieted. Finally, he made a bed for himself beside his wife and child, keeping the fire between his family and the wolves. Mary moved Jesus close between them and together, in the warmth of the fire, and with the rhythmic panting and breathing of the animals, they fell into a deep sleep. Incredibly, their son had slept peacefully through it all.

When they awoke in the morning, with the fire only ashes and the amber glow of the rising sun brushing the cave walls, the wolves were gone.

*       *       *

The new day broke bright and clear, as it often did after a fast-moving storm. Only a few puffs of white hung in the intense blue sky and barely moved in the chilly morning air.

Joseph carefully loaded their belongings on the little donkey and together they made their way to the valley floor below. With a parting glance at the cave that had sheltered them during the long night, Joseph and Mary began the journey anew.

The road continued for several miles, bounded by long stretches of steep rock walls that were punctuated with twists and turns. The sun was high overhead when Joseph and his family finally neared the end of the canyon. It had been an anxious time. There were many hiding places in the rocks and bends in the road where robbers might easily have ambushed them. Joseph was relieved to leave that part of their journey behind.

For the past hour, the cliffs had been gradually receding and the road widening. Joseph found himself on the edge of a wide expanse. It was dotted with small hills and patchy grass, along with scattered boulders and broken stones. Here and there scrub plants and an occasional wild palm tree struggled in the arid and rocky soil. He proceeded cautiously, carefully surveying the land that stretched out before them.

About a half-mile ahead, the road they had been traveling met and branched with two smaller roads leading west. At this crossroad, a little island of green blossomed, a welcome oasis of shade created by a handful of palm trees. They were too far away to see clearly, but of this Joseph was certain: there was movement by the trees.

Joseph hesitated. The little donkey stopped. Mary looked up.

What is it, Joseph?

The oasis ahead, he replied.

Bringing his hands to his forehead, Joseph shaded his eyes from the sun and stared into the distance.

Someone is there. More than one person, I think. He lowered his arms and turned to Mary.

Hopefully, they are only travelers as we are. Once again we are in God’s hands. With a tug on the donkey’s lead, he started up again.

As they came closer to the oasis, Joseph was relieved to see that the group of people included children. It was a good sign. There was a man his own age, a woman and two young boys. There also was a large wooden cart with a white canvas cover supported by four wooden poles. The cart was leaning precariously to one side. One of the cart’s four wooden wheels lay flat on the ground. The wife and a younger son were camped in the shade of the palm trees, beside a small well that was defined by a ragged border of piled stones. Two donkeys were tied nearby and grazed in the shade. The father and his older son appeared to be examining the cart’s axle. They both rose as Joseph approached.

"Shalom, peace be with you!" the man by the wagon said in the traditional Jewish greeting.

And peace also be with you, Joseph replied.

The owner of the cart was shorter and heavier than Joseph, with sparkling gray eyes, a deeply tanned face and a ready smile. His full black beard was streaked here and there with gray. He wore a cloak of fine, closely woven linen, decorated with bands of dark brown and bright blue that ran vertically from shoulder to hem. His wife and children also appeared to be well dressed. Together, with the presence of a cart and two donkeys, it bespoke a man of substance—a merchant, perhaps, or a trader.

My name is Jehu, the man said. He gestured toward the woman and small boy. That is my wife, Miriam, and my youngest son, Dismas. And this, he said, turning toward the boy next to him, is my firstborn son, Aram. The boy nodded respectfully to Joseph and his family.

I am Joseph, and this is my wife, Mary, and our son Jesus. Joseph took the child from Mary and helped her down from the donkey.

Come, rest awhile in the shade, Jehu said warmly. He led them toward a grassy patch in the shade of the palms. Aram, fetch some water for our guests.

Mary seated herself and Jesus near Miriam and Dismas. The two women exchanged greetings. Dismas seemed fascinated with the baby. And Jesus, with an occasional giggle, appeared equally delighted with his new playmate.

You have certainly chosen a difficult time of year to travel, Jehu said. These are lonely roads—and not without dangers. A question was implied.

We travel to Egypt and must be there before winter sets in, Joseph answered. Still wary of strangers they might meet along the way, Joseph offered no further explanation.

There are very few travelers, Jehu continued. I myself have met only one other party—a caravan of five camels, as many horses and several wagons. They were headed toward the ports at Joppa. They did not appear worried about robbers because of their numbers. Jehu frowned and shook his head.

Still, I warned them, you can never be too careful. Not in these times… He wagged a finger for emphasis. But look at me. I talk too much again. A problem of mine, I know. Miriam tells me all the time.

As Joseph stood there, Aram came up to the two men and offered each water from a brown clay cup: Joseph first, then his father. After they drank, he refilled the cup and offered it first to Mary and then to the others. Joseph turned his attention to the broken wheel that lay on the ground.

You are having trouble with your cart. It was a statement rather than a question.

Ah, Jehu said in disgust, shaking his head and dismissing the broken cart with a wave of his hand. I should have replaced that old cart after our last trip to Jerusalem and now look, its axle cap is loose and the wheel refuses to stay on. I am cursed. I should never have set out on this journey.

Perhaps I can help, Joseph offered. I am a carpenter by trade. I could take a look at it…

Jehu lifted his eyes toward the heavens. God be praised! He placed his arm around Joseph’s shoulder. What remarkable good fortune! Here I am broken down on this deserted road and whom should Jehovah send to me but a carpenter! He took Joseph’s arm enthusiastically and guided him toward the wagon.

Please, come, take a look at my poor cart. Aram, make way for Joseph, let him see. Aram gladly stepped aside, wiping the perspiration from his brow with the sleeve of his tunic.

"And why do you make this trip at this time of year? Joseph asked as he bent down to examine the axle. Is it not also dangerous for you and your family to travel these roads?"

As he spoke, Joseph ran his fingers over an iron ring that held the large wooden wheel in place. A piece of wood—a wedge shaped like a key—that held the cap in place where it joined the shaft had fractured. As a result, the metal ring no longer held the wheel firmly but allowed it to wobble and eventually rotate off the axle. Joseph thought for a moment, sliding the ring and examining the broken wedge. Jehu began to speak as Joseph examined the cart.

I would usually not make this trip at this time of year. But two forces conspired to set me on this journey: business and family... Joseph interrupted Jehu for a moment.

Have you any tools—a mallet perhaps, also a chisel and a saw? I may be able to fashion a new wedge that will hold the cap in place.

Jehu called to Aram. Bring me the tool bag that’s next to the water barrel. The boy ran to the back of the wagon.

My brother Esau and I are business partners, Jehu continued.

He buys fine Egyptian cloth and also silks. These he ships by boat to the port at Anthedon. It is close to where my family and I live. Jehu seemed to enjoy talking about his business. He waved his hands excitedly as he spoke.

I transport the bolts of cloth to the market in Jerusalem four times a year. I have three stalls in the city. They are in very prominent locations, not far from the Great Temple, he boasted.

Egyptian cotton is the very finest, you know. It commands a very good price even among the Romans. Here Jehu turned away and spat on the ground. May they all be cursed, he said. Jehu paused for a moment, then turned his attention back to Joseph.

But I’ll settle for taking their money. Jehu smiled, exposing a mouth full of white teeth that gleamed against his dark skin.

Aram had arrived with a small burlap sack, its end wrapped around itself and tied with a strip of leather. As if he were uncovering a great treasure, Jehu carefully opened the sack and thrust his hand in. There was much clunking and clinking as he rummaged around. Slowly, he withdrew a worn wooden mallet, a small saw with several broken teeth and a chisel wrapped in rawhide. He looked hopefully at Joseph. Will these do? Joseph nodded.

Have you any sturdy pieces of wood about this long and this wide? Joseph estimated the shape in the air with his hands. Jehu stopped speaking for a moment, placed his hand on his chin and thought.

You might take such a piece from the gate at the back of the wagon.

Joseph found a suitable length of wood that could be removed and used for the repair. After so many days filled with uncertainty, he was relieved to have a task he felt confident performing. He set to work as Jehu went on with his story.

So, yes, it would be rare to find me on the road to Jerusalem with my bolts of cloth at this time of year. But Esau was able to make a large purchase at a very good price from his supplier in Egypt. It was too good an opportunity to pass up. In a few more years, he and I hope to finally have enough money to purchase land and start a vineyard together.

Joseph talked while he worked, thinking how best to cut the wedge so it would be strong and not split when he set it into the axle.

So you would not stay a trader? Has it not been a successful business for you?

It has been a good business, but I would prefer to work with my own hands and not spend my life on the road. A man should have such a profession, Joseph, skills such as you possess. His expression became more serious.

I intend to leave my sons with a fine vineyard—something they can pass down to their children. And my brother feels the same way.

Then I hope it is God’s will that your plans come true. Joseph braced the piece of wood against a stone and brought the saw blade to bear. Now, let us see if my poor skills are up to the task of repairing your wagon.

*       *       *

While the men worked, Mary and Miriam continued their conversation under the shade of the small cluster of palm trees.

Dismas busied himself playing with Jesus. The baby was fascinated with the spinning top that the boy had brought with him on the journey. Using the fingers of his right hand, the boy positioned the four-sided dreidel on a flat stone and, with a quick flick of his wrist, the top twirled away. It spun erratically around the stone, the brightly painted colors on each side a blur. Each time the top traced a different path, until it slowed, wobbled and teetered off the edge onto the sand—all to the delight of Jesus.

Look, mama, the boy exclaimed, see how Jesus laughs. He likes playing with me, mama. He gathered up the top to spin it again.

Mary could not help but notice that it was difficult for Dismas to grasp and spin the top. He could use only his right hand. His left arm was twisted and somewhat shorter than his right arm and had a noticeable tremor. There also was a deformity in his left hand that caused the fingers to curl inward.

How did your son injure his arm? Mary asked gently.

It is not an injury, Miriam said. It is a palsy he has had from birth. I was many hours in labor and it is only through the skill of the midwives and the grace of God that Dismas is alive today. Miriam shifted closer to her son and lightly touched his knee.

I thank God that the palsy is not more serious, but I know his arm often hurts and his fingers cramp because he is unable to open them fully. Although Dismas rarely complains, it troubles me to know he is suffering.

Mary took the woman’s hands in hers for a moment and held them.

Any mother would feel the same way to see her child in pain. But Dismas is a fine boy and he does very well, indeed. You are blessed to have him. Miriam smiled at Mary’s words and then folded her hands in her lap.

Yes, I truly am blessed to have him. And he seems to love the company of your son. She turned to look at Dismas.

When he gets tired, or is upset, the tremors can become worse. Some of the children in our village are afraid of him. But if they only get to know him, they see that he has a kind heart and is a good and loyal friend.

*       *       *