Joshuah Ben Ya'Akob Ben Gennesaret

By Geoffrey Scott-Baker

Joshuah Ben Ya'akob Ben Gennesaret , better known to the world as Jesus Christ, is sitting alone in a small candle lit room high on the plateau of Masada during the mass suicide of 73AD. Old, tired and distraught that his people should be driven to this bloody end the octogenarian commits the story of his turbulent life to parchment. He tells of his childhood and the ministry that took Palestine by storm, his failure to ignite rebellion against the Roman occupation, how he cheated death on the cross, and his travels into northwest India before returning to Masada to die. This fictional autobiography relates a tale of hope, triumph, love, violence and finally regret from a failed prophet whose all consuming love for his God brought light and healing to thousands but ultimately destroyed his life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: May 4, 2011
• ISBN: 9781447695936

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Author

Prologue

I am Joshuah Ben Ya’akob Ben Gennesaret, born in the town of Gennesaret, just south of Capernaum on the western shore of the Sea of Galilee in the Kidron Valley. I am a member of the Hasmonean tribe, one of the Joarib, the most senior of the tribes of Israel; my father was a priest of the temple and my mother was Mary, first born child of Joachim and Anna. It is the eve of the Sabbath, this 14th day of April in my 79th year, and the Romans are preparing to invade our fortress here at Masada, on a high plateau near the Dead Sea, where we have resisted them for over three years. During the final hours allotted to me before my life is ended I am writing down the story of my life so that generations to come will know who Jesus Ben Gennesaret really was and what part I played in my people’s long, bloody fight against the Romans.

My people have been here for almost seven years since the time that several thousand Zealots over ran Masada and massacred every single Roman soldier in the garrison. It was a significant victory for them as Herod the Great had stolen it from the Hasmonean tribe, and now they had stolen it back from Herod’s successors, the Romans. They then used this fortress as a base from which to spread rebellion and mayhem throughout the country in an effort to restore the throne of Israel to its rightful owner, to the inheritors of the Davidic line, that is to myself and my family. We have not seen a Jewish king since Herod stole the throne of the Maccabean kings over one hundred years ago, and even when he died the Roman grip on our lands meant that no Jewish king would ever be allowed to even exist never mind rule. Unfortunately these attempts were led by the most fanatic of the Zealots, a man called Mennahem, grandson of Judas the Galileean, who became so entrenched in his quest that he seemed to forget all reason and began to act more from emotion than strategy. He even began to style himself as King of Israel, a title to which he was at best a pretender at worst a fraud. The end came when he decided to attack Jerusalem itself with the intention of not only driving the Roman invaders out of our Holy City, Jerusalem, but also of claiming back the Temple in the name of God. If only I had been there to temper his foolishness given that I had tried to do the same thing over forty years ago and was nearly killed for my trouble. But I was in Capernaum at that time and only heard about their total defeat, and his resulting death in battle, several days later. By then it was too late to do anything other than keep a low profile in the wake of the massive backlash that resulted from Mennahem’s actions. The survivors were led back to Masada by one of Mennahem’s more level headed Lieutenants, Eleazar Ben Jair, who eventually became my confidant and a source of great emotional strength whenever I needed it during the dark times.

My family managed to survive for two more years before the situation became so dangerous that we risked being discovered by the Romans or betrayed by a spy. We also heard that refugees from Qumran had just fled to Masada because they had heard that General Vespasian was on his way to do mass slaughter amongst the religious community there. So we packed up everything we owned and made our way one night towards Masada where we stayed for the remaining four years until today. During that time there was almost continuous war, with the Romans laying waste throughout our lands, from Dan to Beersheba as I later heard, reinforced by legion upon legion sent by Rome to quell the Jewish rebels as they called us. Between that time and now we must have lost almost a million of our people with I don’t know how many more enslaved. Jerusalem, a name that ironically means place of peace, was laid to waste and our holy Temple almost totally destroyed. If you want some idea of just how evil and determined the Romans were to eliminate us, they have spent over three years, a Legion of 6000 troops, and we estimate some 15000 Jewish slaves in an effort to remove less than a thousand Jews from Masada. They could have just surrounded us and waited until our supplies ran out, but this was not sufficient to meet their needs, they needed to destroy us. To them it was a personal matter and so long as there were rebels still alive within these walls, they had a mission, I would almost say a holy quest, to actively seek us out and eradicate every man, woman and child as one would destroy a nest of rats in a grain house.

Procurator Bassus has died since then and Flavius Silva, a ruthless experienced Roman Commander, has taken his place. He and his army are now finishing what Bassus started, that is the final subjugation of the Jews throughout Judea. Having killed many thousands of my countrymen in the process he has now turned his attention to this final pocket of resistance at Masada. Not content with destroying us he has built a wall around the entire perimeter of Masada to ensure that none of us will be able to escape. Not that we would stand much chance, as there are only two ways of entering the fortress and Silva has both of them heavily guarded. What does he think we are going to do? Fly over the ramparts like eagles and then run off into the desert like the fox? Not content with making us prisoners he has also constructed a vast earth bank outside of our walls, two hundred and fifty cubits high, on a rock platform that we call the White Promontory. Upon this bank he has positioned a war machine, a tower plated with iron, from the top of which his soldiers have been firing darts and stones at our people up on the ramparts. His design was clear, to keep us away from the edge so that we could not raise a defence against the battering engine at the base of the tower. By means of this device, though with some difficulty, he managed to breach the walls three days ago. Luckily Eleazar, our military leader, disciple of Judas the Galileean and commander of the Sicarii, made preparations and built a second wall behind the first to thwart Silva’s efforts. Because of lack of time and materials Eleazar made this wall out of wooden beams and earth which, though not as solid as the original, was more resilient against the blows of Silva’s battering ram. The more he battered the wall, the more compacted the earth and wood construction became. Whether from experience or lack of patience Silva decided not to continue battering his way through this greater resistance, but instead ordered his soldiers this afternoon to throw multitudes of torches into the construction. Being made mostly of wood it burned with a mighty flame, but to Silva’s alarm the wind from the north blew the flames down onto the Romans, making a great threat to their terrible war machines. Their alarm and our celebration were short lived as this evening the wind suddenly changed to the south and drove the conflagration deep into the wall such that it is now on fire throughout its entire thickness. Knowing that God is helping them, the Romans have retired to their camps, rejoicing, and we believe they will attack us again in the morning at first light. By then the fire will have exhausted itself, leaving a breach through which the Romans will rush in their hoards, weapons in their hands and blood on their minds. We would not be able to hold them off for long, and the bloody slaughter would see most of our number, almost a thousand in all, slain by the Roman swords on the Sabbath.

With this outcome in mind Eleazar and I met with the elders two hours ago, and after very little discussion we agreed that the inevitable outcome was death. Almost a thousand of us, barely half of them fighting men and youths, against the six thousand Roman soldiers below who would attack in less than twelve hours on the one day, the Sabbath, when they thought we would be most vulnerable. They were partly right but I know that our warriors would have fought bravely regardless of the terrible retribution they would inevitably suffer in the next world. But then again, why should we defile the holy day with wholesale murder when there has been so much amongst my people this past seventy years? Why should we desecrate the tradition we have held in covenant with God for so many centuries, even though God seems to have turned his back on us at our time of gravest need. He did not keep us safe in this fortress even though it was considered impenetrable, and He changed the wind to blow against us when it was so perfectly set to scatter our enemies. Whatever sins we have committed against God I cannot imagine, but they must have been grievous for Him to allow the murder of a whole nation; we will soon know why, and I shall ask him personally.

We knew that we would have to overcome much resistance from some of the less robust among us, for who in their right mind would easily agree to commit suicide, and we were not disappointed. Some were afraid for themselves, not caring about the greater good but only fearing for the pain, the unknown or the retribution they might suffer at God’s hands for this self-slaughter. Others, mostly those with children, were afraid for their loved ones and the suffering they might have to bear if their slayer was not swift enough with his sword. Others thought that our lengthy, spirited resistance would instil some kind of respect in the Romans, a kind of mutual admiration between warriors, which would result in a peaceful amnesty if we surrendered. At the other extreme some of our people were almost zealous in their desire to deny the Romans the pleasure of the kill, and were eager to leave this world and join their God in his heaven. To bring everybody into line, for we needed all to agree otherwise we would risk dissenting elements opening our gates in the middle of the night, an inspired speech of great persuasion would be needed. In my younger days I would have stood before them and expounded the message of the Lord as we used to do when were preaching the ministry. These days I am too bent, too tired and too old to make the kind of impression that we needed to persuade over nine hundred men, women and children to submit to the sword. On the other hand Eleazar was young, committed, full of energy and much respected by everyone, even amongst the elders of our community.

He emptied out a wooden box of green vegetables, inverted it to make a step, and gaining at least half my height again from it, began to harangue the crowd. He first of all turned on those amongst the number who were crying and lamenting their fate, taunting them at their lack of courage and virtue. He played upon their fear of dying by reminding them of how they would depart this world at the hands of the Roman soldiers who would be neither considerate or merciful. Not caring if they killed us cleanly, left us lying on the ground bleeding to death, hung us writhing in agony upon the cross, or had us tossed screaming into the remains of the fire outside of the gates. He then played upon their sense of history, reminding them of what our forefathers had taught us, the laws from God passed down to us over the generations, and how the spirit is liberated when it is freed from the burden of the physical body. He then turned to the families and by dint of sheer inspiration began to address the children directly, talking to the parents in reality, but knowing that if the children were persuaded then the fears of their parents would be allayed. Death, he said, was not an experience to be afraid of, but was instead an exciting journey into heaven to meet their God and play with the angels in paradise. He asked why they should be afraid of mortal death in this world that would bring such joy in heaven when they were not afraid of enjoying a peaceful sleep that did no more than bring them back to this earthly existence day after day. Then he turned to those who were wavering and played upon their sense of national pride by comparing the tribes of Israel with the religious practices of the countries to the east. How is it, he said, that they are so confident of immortality, and a spiritual life beyond, that they allow their physical remains to be burned after death. Are we, he asked, the chosen people of God, less than those people who were not so favoured, who were not given commandments as God gave Moses, or who were not led to freedom from Egyptian tyranny across the desert? Are we so lacking in faith, so cowardly, that we cannot shed the shackles of our mortal existence in the sure and certain knowledge that we will soon be joining our Lord and Father in heaven?

By this time he had worked himself into such a frenzy that I thought he would soon be spouting fire from his eyes and blasting all the winds of the desert from his mouth. He recounted all the horrors of slaughter and death that had been wrought upon the Jews by the Greeks, the Syrians, the Egyptians and the Romans. He listed the tens of thousands of our fellow Jews who have been tortured and murdered by races who we knew were our enemies and nations whom we thought were our friends. You could almost see the entire crowd shudder and cringe as Eleazar described each atrocity in great detail, too much detail for my liking. He talked about not despoiling the memory of those who had fallen in battle before us, and produced an angry cry from the crowd when he reminded them of the destruction of our holy Temple in Jerusalem three years ago. I could see our people becoming increasingly enthusiastic to cheat the Romans of their pleasure, to pass on into the next world in our way, in our time, and with dignity. I could see them talking amongst themselves, prodding and pointing, gesticulating and waving as Eleazar poured forth a torrent of history, philosophy, religion, chauvinism, love for our God and hatred for our enemies. Within minutes they were eating out of his hand and slowly began to dissipate back to their homes to prepare for their next and last great adventure in this mortal world. Eleazar didn’t seem to notice, he was so carried away by the occasion and rhetoric; I grabbed hold of his sleeve and almost had to drag him down from his box before he realised that he had achieved his object many times over. It seems strange now to think that we were so happy that our people had been persuaded to join in this great tragedy of Jewish history when under normal circumstances we would have been devastated at the prospect.

So it was that our people decided that there had been enough killing and suffering, we no longer wished to be submitted to the pagan's blade and be despatched to our God by foreign hands, our women and children thrown into slavery or worse. What had all those lives, given so freely during our unsuccessful rebellion been for? Why should we now give even more blood to the Roman armies to devour as the lion does the lamb? Without God’s support and protection our death is unavoidable, so should we not finish our mortal days in a way that at least will leave us with an honourable end, to be forever written about as a monument to the history of the Jewish people? The finish we have chosen is one which only the sands of time and the final judgement of our Lord God will decide as being right or wrong. After the gathering Eleazar and ten of his men, who were selected by casting lots, prepared to end the lives of everyone within these walls who had not already died by their own hands; it was an emotional time and some of the Council immediately took their own lives as the burden of guilt for our defeat broke their last reserves of strength and spirit. I made my way to my room to prepare myself before God and to arrange the few last comforts I would need to see me through the night before Eleazar finally comes for me and my remaining family.

As I sit here now, at the beginning of my task to commit this record, the slaughter has already begun and the murmurs of final farewells, embraces and prayers can be heard all over the city. The last lives to be taken will be those of myself and the few remaining members of my family, twenty-five in all, who have not yet died in the many rebellions that have failed so miserably over the years. Afterwards, to try to avoid any possible acts of revenge or humiliation on our mortal remains, these writings and the bodies of my family will be sealed in a secret cave along the cliffs. It is enough that the bodies of our people will be left exposed to pillage, but at least the Romans and their followers will not be allowed the satisfaction of ravaging the last members of the Royal Family of Israel. This done, Eleazar and his men will set fires to ensure that nothing of value will be left to be looted by our enemies, and then finally go to their rest by their own hands.

So here I am, in my last few hours, writing the story of my life for future generations, the biography of the last King of Israel of the Davidic line. It is late afternoon and I do not have much time so I will have to keep my story brief, and therefore I apologise if I leave anything out that you feel should have been here. But I am confident that you will forgive an old man who sees badly, writes slowly, and from time to time will have tears in his eyes as he remembers those he once loved who are no longer here.

Chapter 1

Birth, Heritage and Childhood

I was born in the town of Gennesaret, near Capernaum on the Sea of Galilee in the Kidron Valley, a member of the Hasmonean tribe, one of the Joarib, the most senior of the tribes of Israel; my father was a priest of the temple and my mother was Mary, first born child of Joachim and Anna. Before I start on the events of my life I would like to make some note of the circumstances of my mother’s birth, my own, and that of my cousin, later known as John the Baptist.

My mother’s father was a shepherd and senior of the Hasmonean tribe of Judah; a devout man who used to give large portions of his flock to the poor and needy of his village as well as to the Temple for sacrifice. He did this from the time he was a young boy looking after just a few sheep right up until the time day he died at a great age by which time he had one of the biggest flocks in his district. The people in his village used to say that the Lord had seen his good works and made his sheep fruitful as a reward. When he was about twenty years of age Joachim took a wife called Anna, daughter of Achar who was also of the tribe of Judah and therefore of the family of David. Unfortunately, although his flock was fruitful, the marriage was not and they had no offspring for over twenty years. So desperate had they become that they even promised that should their first offspring be a girl they would offer her to be one of the Temple Virgins as soon as she was weaned. One day the Lord must have heard and smiled upon them because Anna did eventually become pregnant, although unfortunately neither Joachim nor Anna knew it at the time.

One eventful day as was his custom Joachim went to the temple, and as he stood there waiting to make sacrifice some young upstart priest called Ruben approached him and in no uncertain terms told Joachim that he was not worthy to be in the temple as he was barren and therefore despised by the Lord. Joachim was so embarrassed by this public admonition that he immediately ran out of the temple with tears running down his face. He was too ashamed to go home, so instead he gathered his shepherds and flock together and went straight away to their mountain pastures. Word of his action reached his wife who was distraught at the news, and as she fell prostrate on the ground she called out, God, isn’t it enough that you make me barren without also taking my husband from me? I don’t know where he is, or even if he is alive or dead. Why do this to us Lord? You let the birds in the trees bear offspring. You let the fish in the sea multiply. You even let the accursed serpents have young who crawl on their bellies in the dust. They all rejoice in their young ones Lord, and you know that from the first day of my marriage I have promised my first borne to serve in the temple. So why do you deny us the gift of fertility? Anna’s exaltation went unanswered for she remained alone and Joachim did not return from the mountains. If that was not bad enough Anna also became sick with a mysterious illness. Every morning when she arose from her bed she became instantly nauseas and had to empty her stomach in a corner of the garden before she could partake of any breakfast. This sad state of affairs went on for five months before a passing neighbour, an old woman of the village, spotted Anna bent double retching and asked what was wrong. Far from being concerned a great smile spread across her old, wrinkled face and with great excitement she told Anna that her sickness was in fact the Lord’s way of announcing her pregnancy! After so many years Anna took this news with much disbelief until the old woman described the symptoms that Anna would have noticed over the past months; this being of female matters I shall not comment further. Suffice to say that having been at last convinced Anna despatched her neighbour’s son to give Joachim the miraculous news.

The youth took several days to find Joachim as he did not know exactly where the flocks would be grazing after so many months. Luckily he spotted a great mass of sheep in the distance and assumed correctly that Joachim would be nearby. Upon seeing him the youth called out to Joachim that he should go back to his wife straight away as she wanted to see him urgently. Joachim made it clear that he did not want to return to his village or his wife. Why do you not want to return to your wife? the youth asked. Because I although I have been married twenty years it has not been the will of God to give us children. Not only that but I was also driven from the Temple in shame, so why should I go back to Anna having been so cast off and utterly despised? No. I’m going to stay here with my sheep and continue to provide sustenance to the poor, sacrifice for those who believe in God, and the rest I shall have my servants take to my wife for her maintenance. The youth, in spite of his younger years, became very angry with Joachim. I have seen your wife crying and lamenting your absence almost every day since you left Joachim. Now, when she needs you most, you are still thinking only of yourself and not of her. She needs you Joachim because she is pregnant. The Lord has smiled upon you both and she is now expecting your first child. So go back down that mountain and return to your wife immediately. Joachim took a few seconds to absorb what the youth had told him and, whether in joy or shock, fell to the ground as though struck down by some unseen hand. So deeply had he fainted away that his servants thought that he had indeed died and began to offer up prayers for his soul. The noise and lamenting that was going on around him must have been great indeed because Joachim slowly awoke and