The Lord Wept: Part 1: the Disinherited Nation

By William K. Schultz

The Great Jewish Revolt Against Rome was a first-century tragedy whose effects still resonate today. Timeless themes that still plague the Middle East region and the world -- ethnic conflict, religious fanaticism, social upheaval, and the clash of civilizations -- made their baleful appearance in this bloody conflict fought from 66-73 CE.

The Jews struggle against the Rome of Nero Caesar was part of the age-old battle of human kind to establish a society of justice and freedom in the face of the tyranny and exploitation of a great empire. It is also a story of the deeply fractured and corrupted Jewish nations bitter struggle with itself over issues of wealth and poverty, law and governance, collaboration or defiance, while seeking to order its society according to its unique laws and customs. An intense religious atmosphere infused the Jewish drive for freedom, and the deep religious ferment associated with their struggle had a profound influence on the subsequent development of both Judaism and Christianity.

The trilogy The Lord Wept brings to life the swirling events of the Jewish nations attempt to free itself from the Roman Empire. Its characters are largely drawn from actual personages of the time, and the action adheres closely to historic events. The Disinherited Nation, the first novel of the trilogy, is set amidst the chaotic events of the year 66 when the revolt erupted. The action centers on a pair of nationalist Jerusalem aristocrats named Ananus and Eleazar who attempt to seize on what at first was an uprising against a corrupt and oppressive governor named Gessius Florus in order to establish an independent but conservative Jewish regime. Their endeavor is overwhelmed, however, by a bloody social upheaval that goes beyond their control in which the revolutionary leaders Simon ben Giora, Menahem ben Judas, and Eleazar ben Jair seek to create a radically new Jewish society. Amidst the turmoil the elderly scribal-scholar Jochanan ben Zacchai, who espouses the peace-loving teachings of his master the great Rabbi Hillel, tries to head off what he views as the Jews quixotic and ultimately suicidal drive for independence. He reluctantly starts to think the unthinkable -- what will happen if the revolt is crushed and the Jewish nation destroyed.

The novel is furthermore the story of the Roman client and ally King Herod Agrippa II who, while carrying on an incestuous affair with his sister and co-ruler Berenike, attempts to restrain Roman brutality toward the Jews in sincere belief that the destiny of the Jewish nation lies in subservience to Caesar and to the Herodian family. He almost loses his kingdom and his life in the process. Featured also is the Roman general Cestius Gallus, the powerful governor of Syria, whose reluctant decision to crush the Jews leads to the mauling of his army and his own death.

Drawn into the middle of these events are the early Christians, an unimportant sect reeling from the recent execution of its principle leaders and the vicious attack of Emperor Nero. While the Christians of Jerusalem -- who still view themselves as Jews -- agonize over the upheaval in which they are engulfed, a young Greek named Luke arrives in Judaea on a mission of scholarly research. His mission will plunge him into the middle of the violence of the revolt. It will also lead him to become romantically involved with the lovely Rachel, the daughter of his patron.

The Disinherited Nation ends with an amazing Jewish victory over Rome and the attainment of a temporary independence for Israel. The subsequent novels of The Lord Wept trilogy, to be published shortly, will carry the story through to the revolts bloody denouement, the destruction of Jerusalem and its temple and the crushing of the last spark of Jewish resistance at the desert fortress of Masada

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 18, 2006
• ISBN: 9781469115825

William K. Schultz

Author William Schultz brings a background of military and strategic analysis stemming from a career in the U.S. intelligence community as well as a life-time interest in classical antiquity and in the Bible to the writing of The Lord Wept trilogy. After leaving his intelligence career he devoted more than eleven years of research and writing to the production of this sweeping series of novels of the Jewish revolt against Rome. Educated at Georgetown and Maryland Universities, he lives with his wife in Silver Spring, Maryland

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Copyright © 2006 by William K. Schultz.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2006903408

ISBN:      Softcover      1-4257-1267-3

ISBN:      Ebook      978-1-4691-1582-5

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

The Scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of Churches of Christ in the USA. Used by Permission. All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual contemporary persons living or dead or events is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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Contents

Foreword

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Author’s Endnote

Endnotes

Foreword

This is the story of the Jewish nation’s attempt to free itself from the Roman Empire nineteen hundred years ago. The Jews’ struggle is part of the age-old battle of human kind to establish a society of justice and freedom in the face of the tyranny and exploitation imposed by a great empire. This story is also that of a nation at war with itself, of an Israel deeply riven by different visions of what the Lord expected of his people and fighting bitterly over questions of wealth and poverty, law and governance, collaboration and defiance. What happened in Judaea at that time will have an indelible impact on the history of the Jewish nation and its religion. It will also have a profound effect on the development of the nascent Christian movement.

As our story opens, Judaea had become a splendid province, wealthy and prosperous, after more than a century of Roman rule. Jerusalem was an impressive city and its temple a magnificent ornament of the Empire. The gifts and offerings of the thousands of pilgrims who came to worship at it imparted a wealth and magnificence to the city that was unequalled until modern times.

However, beneath the surface Judaea was troubled place, deeply divided between Jew and gentile, rich and poor, city and country. In this, their own country, the Jews felt themselves under siege. They inhabited only the interior districts of the province while Syrians, Phoenicians, and other gentiles—whose ruling classes considered themselves to be Greeks, the dominant culture of the time—possessed the rest of it. Traditionalist Jews feared that the unique laws and customs their one God had bestowed on them were fundamentally threatened by the onslaught of Greco-Roman civilization. Jewish society itself had fractured under the impact of Roman rule into a corrupted and deeply-divided social order. At the top was a small, wealthy, and factionalized elite of hereditary priestly aristocrats, nobles, land owners, and members of the Herodian family of client rulers. Some of them were enthusiastic collaborators with Roman rule; others hated it. All, however, were dependent on Roman arms to guarantee the stability from which their wealth and position derived. At the bottom were the downtrodden peasants of the villages, the impoverished majority of the population who eked out a penurious existence under a corrupt and extortionate government. Traditionalist in outlook and ground down by the burden of taxes, debt, and exploitation, the peasants directed their resentment equally at their Roman overlords, the gentiles of Judaea, and the rulers of their own nation. The desperation of their condition drove many of them to banditry. Others flocked to popular prophets who promised to show them signs of the Lord’s deliverance. Many flowed into the cities and towns where their numbers swelled volatile urban mobs.

Many Jews retreated into a world of strict piety and meticulous observance of the law. Some tried to come to terms with Roman rule while maintaining their laws and customs in their own communities. Many, however, waited with excited impatience for the great day of the Lord, seeking miraculous signs that God would soon come to begin his reign, that he would send his anointed one or messiah to inaugurate the great cosmic drama of the end time.

It was the spring of the year 66, the twelfth year of the reign of the extravagant and tyrannical Nero Caesar and the one hundred twenty-eighth since the Roman conquest of Judaea. Throughout the Empire resentment at Nero’s corrupt and extravagant misrule was simmering, and rebellion was brewing beneath the surface in many places. In Judaea there was an air of expectation, a belief that something great and terrible was about to come about. Strange stars had been seen in the heavens, and men told of witnessing armies march about in the clouds and of hearing mysterious sounds in the temple at night. Even gentiles talked of a prophesy, widely circulated, that a new ruler of the world would soon arise in Judaea.

Dramatis Personae

Romans

Legatus Propraetor Gaius Cestius Gallus: As governor of Syria and commander of its four-legion garrison, Cestius Gallus is the most powerful Roman official in the eastern part of the Empire. However, he lives in dread of his imperial master Nero, and fears that he will share the fate of his friend and colleague Domitius Corbulo, Rome’s finest general and the hero of the recent war with Parthia, who had been murdered at the instigation of the Emperor at the beginning of the year. Cestius’ principle security concern is with the powerful Parthian Empire just over the Euphrates River border with which peace has only recently been concluded. In fact, Cestius had come out to Syria four years before in the midst of the grave crisis when the Parthian King Volosgeses had mauled two Roman legions and torn the frontier wide open. The affairs of turbulent Judaea to his south are only a troublesome distraction in which the Legate is loath to involve himself.

Prefect/Procurator Gessius Florus has ruled as governor of Judaea for two years. Gessius is typical of the corrupt, depraved officials that Nero has sent out to the provinces. Although the Jews had suffered under a series of atrocious governors, they regard the misrule of this one as an order of magnitude worse. With Gessius accepting bribes to look the other way, banditry is flourishing, and law and order in the province has deteriorated from its already low level. Almost from the moment of his arrival, Gessius has lusted after the treasure that was reputedly amassed in the Jerusalem temple.

Jews

Marcus Julius Herod Agrippa II styles himself as the Friend of Caesar and the Great King even though he has never met Nero and rules only a little tetrarchy or mini-state that includes parts of Galilee, Gaulanitis (the Golan), and some other districts in southwestern Syria. He also has been granted the right to appoint and remove the High Priest, a right he exercises frequently, although he tries to cultivate the Jerusalem aristocracy by selecting his candidates from within its ranks. Agrippa is a Roman-educated great-grandson of Herod the Great and a protegee of the previous Emperor Claudius. He is a humane, cosmopolitan man who has waited over the years in increasing frustration for Rome to restore him to the rule of the entirety of Judaea which his father, King Herod Agrippa I, had briefly possessed. He is convinced that only his family has the requisite knowledge, background, and experience to bring effective government to the turbulent province. He is a bachelor thirty-nine years of age.

Berenike, Agrippa’s sister, serves as his co-ruler and consort. Thrice married—widowed twice and divorced once—Berenike at the age of thirty-eight is wealthy in her own right, astute, and ambitious. She is capable of resolution and courage and will do whatever it takes to secure the position of her family. She is rumored to be highly lascivious. In particular, it is said that her relationship with Agrippa is more than that of an affectionate brother and sister.

Philip son of Jacim commands Agrippa’s army. He is the head of a colony of Jews settled in the turbulent, bandit-infested Syrian district of Batanaea. They are called Babylonians because they had only recently returned from Mesopotamia, and they furnish a key cavalry force to the king’s army.

Costobar, a minor but wealthy member of the Herodian family looks out for the king’s interests in Jerusalem and heads up the pro-Herodian faction in the city.

Noarus is a strange fixture in the king’s court. He is a member of the royal family of Emesa (Homs, Syria), a wealthy and important caravan center whose ruler Agrippa wishes to cultivate. Since, the rulers of Emesa are hereditary priest-kings of the ancient Syrian sun god Elaga-Ba’al, this Noarus is in the odd position of being a priest of Ba’al within a Jewish court. While posing as a loyal friend of the king, he nurses an ancient hatred of the Jews while watching for an opportunity to advance his own family’s interests at Agrippa’s expense.

High Priest Matthias son of Theophilus is the latest of Agrippa’s appointees to that office. As High Priest he is officially head of the Jewish nation and the leader of a Jerusalem government that exercises a circumscribed authority over the Jewish parts of Judaea. In reality, he is a weak, inconsequential man, overshadowed by the many former High Priests in Jerusalem.

Ananus son of Ananus heads a vehemently anti-Roman and anti-Herodian but socially conservative faction among the Jewish aristocracy. He is the uncle of High Priest Matthias, and reigned briefly himself as High Priest four years before. An astute politician keenly sensitive of the limits of what he can do within the confines of imperial rule, he nevertheless nurses a burning vision of freedom for his country, a freedom, however, that has little place for unsettling revolutionary ideas that threaten the established order.

Eleazar son of Ananias, a young priestly aristocrat closely associated with Ananus, holds the powerful office of Temple Captain and Prefect of the Priests which gives him control of day-to-day temple operations and its security force, the temple guards. It is ironic that while he is a vehement anti-Roman and anti-Herodian nationalist, his own father, ex-High Priest Ananias son of Nebedaeus, is the leading exponent of getting on with the Romans among the aristocracy. This Ananias is reputedly the richest man in Jerusalem and is a master of its turbulent and corrupt politics.

Some members of Jerusalem’s elite are cognizant of the need for reform and are willing to consider innovative, even radical ideas. Among them is the priestly aristocrat Eleazar son of Simon who holds the lucrative office of a temple treasurer. He is beginning to develop a revolutionary-minded following whose members call themselves Zealots.

Among the younger generation of the Jerusalem aristocracy is the twenty-nine year-old Joseph son of Matthias. Highly educated with a degree of cosmopolitanism unusual in Jerusalem, the young man is an advocate of accommodation with Rome. He has a taste for scholarship and is especially interested in history. He is now returning from Rome where he had been assigned to a sensitive mission.

Uneasily watching and pondering on developments in his country is the elderly and respected scribal-scholar, Rabbi Jochanan son of Zacchai. Long ago Jochanan was a pupil of the revered and influential Rabbi Hillel whose peace-loving philosophy he still propounds. Jochanan advocates accommodation with the Romans but fears that the corruption of the elite and the fanaticism of the revolutionaries is heading his country toward a catastrophe.

Biding their time organizing, training, and conducting terrorist attacks, is the revolutionary organization of the Tzadikim, the Righteous Ones. Dedicated to a radical vision of their nation under the rule of the Lord, two kinsmen Menahem son of Judas and Eleazar son of Ja’ir work in Jerusalem to develop an urban base for their movement. Another Tzadik, Simon son of Giora, believes that the true source of revolution in their nation lies in the peasantry of the countryside. Their enemies call the Tzadikim daggermen or sicarii after the curve-shaped knives they were said to employ for assassinations.

The Followers of Jesus of Nazareth

With little influence on events, the new sect is reeling from the recent execution of its leaders: James, called the Righteous One, who had been executed in Jerusalem, and Paul of Tarsus and Simon son of Jonas, called the Rock (Cephas/Petros), who were slain in Rome during Nero’s brutal crack down on their community. Their movement is also deeply split on philosophical and theological grounds. On the one side are believers grouped around its Jerusalem assembly (ekklesia/church) headed by Jesus’ family members including his cousin Simeon son of Clopas and his surviving brothers Simon and Judah who continue to view their lord as a Jewish figure very much within Jewish tradition. On the other side are the mostly gentile converts following the teachings of Paul of Tarsus and others who view their movement as something going far beyond the confines of Judaism and the strictures of Jewish laws. The Jerusalem believers call themselves Natzoreans (or Nazarenes), a name that refers to the passage in Isaiah that, "a shoot (netzer) shall come out from the stump of Jesse," while the gentile ones are starting to identify themselves with the Greek word Christianoi (Those of the Anointed One).¹

An active assembly of believers also exists in the procuratorial capital of Caesarea. It is headed by an apostle of Jesus named Philip whose principle assistants and co-leaders are his remarkable daughters Deborah, Judith, Leah, and Rachel. In the spring of the year a young man named Luke, a Greek convert from the Syrian capital Antioch and a trained physician, has been dispatched by the Christian community in Rome on a mission to Judaea. Arriving for what he believes will be a task of scholarly pursuit, he will be plunged into the middle of the Jewish revolt.

Chapter 1

In the Macedonian month of Dystros in the spring of the 12th year of Nero Caesar a ship called the Raven made its way south along the coast of Judaea, a light, following breeze barely lifting its single red-and white-striped sail. As the crew members bustled about at their tasks, two passengers stood in the bow staring intently forward, straining to catch the first glimpse of their destination, the city of Caesarea, the province’s Roman capital and chief port. The first of the travelers was Luke, a clean-shaven man of about thirty years of age clad in a gray, belted tunic with a brown cloak thrown about his shoulders. The other was his servant and companion, a short, stout lad called Triptolemus.

Luke watched intently for the first white smudge on the horizon that would mark the city’s approach. As he stared, the breeze freshened, tousling the hair of the two companions and billowing out the sail. Luke glanced at the passing shoreline and imagined how it looked to his ancestors when they first journeyed to this eastern coast from their stony homeland in Greece. They had settled in the Syrian capital of Antioch, a new city whose citizens considered themselves Greeks, the bearers of a superior culture in the barbarian lands of the East. Luke’s father was a merchant who had amassed a modest fortune from trade throughout Syria, Phoenicia, and Judaea. He was fluent in both Greek and Aramaic and even had some halting Latin, accomplishments that he passed on to his son. The father had also dedicated Luke to Askelepios, the god of healing, and had arranged for his education as a physician.

However, as he stood watching in the bow, the young man reflected on how far behind he had left father, Antioch, and Askelepios. Luke and Triptolemus had left Rome six weeks before as virtual fugitives. They had been hidden on their patron’s estate for nearly two years in fear of their lives while the Preatorian Guards hunted down the members of their sect. Their brotherhood had been decimated by the crucifixions, burnings, beheadings, and the ravenous beasts that the Emperor had decreed for them, and few had been left alive. Now their patron and protector had arranged for them to be sent to Judaea. Fearful of being denounced as they made their way through Italy, Greece, and Asia Minor, they maintained a quiet and unobtrusive demeanor. When engaged by a fellow traveler, they committed only bland and noncommittal comments to the conversation. However, as they put miles of land and sea between themselves and Nero Caesar, they had begun to breath a little more easily. Nero’s war on their sect seemed to exist only in the capital. In the provinces they discovered that people had little interest in his assault on the brotherhood and, in fact, were more likely to shudder at his excesses. Nevertheless, Luke and his servant remained cautious.

He thought ahead with some trepidation to his mission in Judaea, a province with a reputation for strife and lawlessness. Even though his mission was to be one of study and research, he knew that he was stepping into a foaming cauldron. Greeks and Jews were at each others’ throats, and the Jews themselves were ever prone to erupt at anything they thought to be an insult to their customs. The Roman governor often could barely maintain order. His old master, who had been among those slain by Nero, had told Luke that even their own sect was bitterly divided. He knew he would need all his patience and humility to navigate in the province’s swirling currents. Do all things without murmuring and arguing, he recalled the old man as saying. Be blameless and innocent, children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation.² He thought on his master’s words and how they would apply to his mission in these crooked and perverse times as he searched the horizon for the first signs of the city. He planned to stop first in Caesarea where there was active assembly of which all membrs of his brotherhood who were aquainted with it had spoken highly.

We’ll see Caesarea within the hour, another passenger joined the pair in the bow, interrupting Luke’s thoughts with his comment. This third man had come aboard at Ptolemais, one of the many ports that the Argus had put into for the night as it followed the coast line south. That morning he had struck up an acquaintance with Luke, and the two had exchanged a few pleasantries as fellow travelers who would share the confinement of a small ship. Luke, as usual, was circumspect, but was uneasily at how he had aroused the man’s interest. He recalled that he had introduced himself as Joseph son of Matthias, a Jewish priest from Jerusalem. The tassels that he wore on his cloak confirmed that he was indeed a Jew, and the fine linen of his tunic and the delicate embroideries on his cloak marked him as a man of substance. This Joseph gazed at the passing shoreline for several moments and then motioned to Luke and Triptolemus.

The land of Israel, my country. Joseph’s Greek was fluent but accented. He was a tall man, powerfully built with a neatly trimmed beard. He had earlier told Luke that he had traveled to Rome to assist several priests from Jerusalem who had been sent to trial before Caesar, and he was now returning to Judaea.

I expect that you are happy to see your country again, Luke observed politely.

Yes, it has been three years since I left for Rome, Joseph replied. I was shipwrecked on the way out and only with God’s help was my life preserved. In Rome I was fortunate to make the acquaintance of the noble lady Poppaea, the Empress. She was able to assist me with my legal business and help get the priests that I was representing spared by the Emperor Nero. Luke stiffened at the mention of Nero and cast a quick glance at Triptolemus.

Is this your first visit to Judaea? Joseph asked, ignoring Luke’s unease.

Yes, my patron entrusts me with business in Caesarea. Afterwards I may travel to Jerusalem.

You will like Caesarea, Joseph observed. "Herod, our former king, built the city. Our Procurator resides here. However, many of us Jews don’t like it. We think it has too much of what we call idolatry. We only worship our one God, you know, and thus we don’t like places with too many temples and such.

Yes, I am aware of that, Luke replied evenly, trying not to reveal that he too viewed the temples and shrines of the gods with distaste.

Most Jews prefer our old capital, Jerusalem. Joseph paused and looked to the shore for a few seconds, watching a white-walled village pass.

Yes. I’ll be glad to get home. I’ll journey on to Joppa and then take the road to Jerusalem. That’s my home, you know, and I am anxious to return. He then turned to Luke and smiled. While you are here, I urge you to visit Jerusalem. You will never really experience our country, unless you see our city. Most Jews think it is a holy city. We think our God dwells in its temple. The temple’s quite impressive; many Greeks come to visit it.

Indeed, I would like to see Jerusalem while I am here. I will certainly try, Luke replied blandly. You said that you had been shipwrecked. That must have been quite frightening?

Yes, on my way to Rome we struck a thunderstorm in the Adriatic, and the ship went down. I was lucky though because the storm passed quickly and the sea calmed. I was saved, but I had lost all my baggage. I arrived in Italy with only the clothes I was wearing. However, some Jews took me in. They loaned me money until my father was able to send more to complete my business. In fact, one of the men who helped me was an actor named Aliturius. As fortune would have it, Aliturius was much in favor at court. He was able to introduce me to Poppaea, Caesar’s wife.

What was the lady Poppaea like? Luke asked, I understand that she was very beautiful.

Was. She’s dead now, you know. They say that Nero kicked her to death in a drunken rage.

So I heard.

I found a certain sadness in her. Nero’s an abominable man, sinful and accursed before the Lord. He murdered his wife, his mother, and his tutor to possess her. When the two attained their desire, there was little joy in it. Poppaea immersed herself in religion—superstition would be a better word. She particularly interested herself in our Jewish religion. That’s why she took an interest in my affair with the priests . . .

Look, there it is, Caesarea! Joseph interrupted himself and pointed ahead. Luke and Triptolemus squinted where Joseph had pointed and soon made out a white smudge on the horizon, the haze above it slightly grayer than elsewhere along the land. Soon towers became visible as well as several other ships making for the harbor entrance.

Excuse me, sir, Triptolemus spoke up for the first time, Begging your pardon, but we should see to our baggage. We will arrive soon, and we have some packing to do.

Right, Luke replied and turned to Joseph, excused himself, and bid the blessing of the Almighty on his journey. Luke then followed his servant toward the stern where their baggage was sprawled across the deck.

Joseph watched them depart and fingered his chin thoughtfully. They were a curious pair that had aroused his interest. They were secretive; in fact, they seemed to be hiding something. It was strange that they did not have that loud-mouthed volubility that Joseph found so irritating among the Greeks. On the contrary, they were quiet, reserved, and, most curious of all, had not invoked any of their many deities. Their parting wish for the blessing of the Almighty was unusual for the Greeks. Could they be God-fearers, followers of our religion, Joseph wondered. He had introduced himself as a Jew and a priest. If they were acquainted with the one God of Israel, why, he asked himself, would they wish to hide that from him?

Joseph pondered this question for a few moments until more critical thoughts pressed on his mind. He recalled the disturbing letter from his father that had caused him to finally break away from Rome and return home.

Old Matthias—a man of some wealth, an eminent priest, and a member of the Sanhedrin—had written to his son in alarm. Judaea was tottering on the edge of catastrophe. The land was full of desperate, hungry men; everywhere were bandits, false prophets, and charlatans; Jerusalem had become a sea of corruption, bribery, and murder. The priests were fractious, the city was dominated by gangs, and the Roman authorities were indifferent. The new Procurator Gessius Florus was even more ignorant, corrupt, and bigoted than his predecessor, who was bad enough. Joseph had smiled at this letter for he knew that Matthias was a pessimistic old man who always seemed to perceive catastrophe just around the corner. Nevertheless, it did make Joseph realize that he had stayed long enough in Rome.

Alone now in the bow Joseph gazed ahead at the approaching city. More of its gleaming white buildings were emerging from the haze. The two huge moles that enclosed its harbor and the Drusion Tower at its entrance were now visible. Shortly afterwards he discerned the massive Temple of Augustus and Rome that seemed to float above the city. Alone now and with little need to make himself agreeable to the pair of Greeks who had just left him, Joseph looked at the approaching city with a grimace of disdain. Magnificent as it was—and he certainly appreciated the gleam of gold and the glow of fine marble that was now visible on its great temple—it was a Greek city full of monuments to the gods of the goyim, false gods whose idols should have no place in the land of Israel. He again gazed at the shoreline where an aqueduct knifed its way through the fields toward the city. In the bright glare of the sun the land seemed peaceful, dreaming, and fruitful. Joseph, however, sadly shook his head, realizing that he was looking at land where the goyim now dwelt. Ashore on the coastal plain, it was all Syrians, Phoenicians, and Philistines, the polyglot people who now fancied themselves to be Greeks. The Jews, Joseph reflected, were far away, back in the hills. Narbata, a provincial little place, was their closest town. Joseph thought again about his father’s letter and was filled with foreboding as he watched the gentile shore of what should have been the land of Israel pass by. At length, he turned and walked back to the stern where his servant Ishmael waited for him among their baggage.

Late in the afternoon of that day Luke and Triptolemus made their way along the Dora road toward the Jewish quarter of Caesarea, stopping from time to time to ask directions. A porter hired in the harbor after they had debarked from the Argus followed them leading a donkey on which they had tied their packs and bags. Finally, in a place where the narrow, teeming street widened into a tiny square with a fountain in its center, their destination was pointed out—a low, modest house that presented a blank wall to the street. Luke approached and knocked. After several minutes the door swung open and a young women peered out.

My name is Luke, servant and client of the most excellent Theophilus of Rome, the young Greek began formally. We seek the home of Philip of Bethsaida. The young woman was at first flustered at Luke’s awkward formality, but then answered in the same manner.

This is the house of Philip. I am Rachel, daughter of Philip. Luke then straightened himself and took a deep breath.

The Anointed One has risen.

He has risen indeed, the Lord’s name be praised! Rachel replied, providing her half of the recognition sign used by the followers of the little sect of Jesus of Nazareth. Now knowing that the visitors were fellow members of the sect, she laughed and held out her hand. Visitors from Rome! Come in, come in. My father will be overjoyed! You are staying with us?

I had hoped so, otherwise we could stay at an inn.

Heavens no, Rachel replied, trying to bustle the three inside. My father will insist on you staying. We will have much to talk about. And who are your companions? she said holding out her hand to the other two.

This is Triptolemus, my servant and companion, Luke replied. And this is the porter who has brought our things from the port. Let us unload our bags and pay him so he can get back.

Certainly, certainly, just bring your bags inside while I call my father. She looked past Luke to the porter, Will you have a some wine with us before you go back? The porter was startled, since Jews were not in the habit of inviting Syrian laborers to eat or drink with them. His first thought was to refuse. However, the sun was hot, the day had been long, and the young woman’s gaiety was infectious. He accepted.

Rachel showed the three where to put their baggage and then hurried off to find her father. She soon reappeared tugging an old man, about sixty, possibly seventy. He carried himself erect although a slight paunch bulged beneath his tunic, and a shiny crown rose above the wisp of white hair around his ears. Luke straightened up and recited his salutation, while Rachel laughed to herself.

Sir, I am Luke, servant and client of the most excellent Theophilus of Rome, he paused and then uttered, And a servant of the Anointed One. I bring the greetings of Overseer Linus and of all the Assembly in Rome. The old man extended his hand.

I am Philip, follower of Jesus who died but now lives, he replied hurriedly, a bit flustered at the formal greeting. Welcome, welcome. Pardon us, we are a little confused. I could hardly believe it when my daughter said that you were at the door. Philip joined his daughter in trying to bustle his visitors inside. Suddenly, he stopped, his countenance darkening.

You said Linus; Linus was overseer? What’s happened to Simon? Luke at first did not understand the Hebrew name, but then realized that Philip was speaking of Petros, the Rock.

He stopped and spoke slowly and quietly, Dead, sir, executed by Emperor Nero. I’m afraid I bear terrible news. Our community has been almost wiped out. Most of the Christians are with the Lord; only a remnant remain here in the world. Philip sagged, and the sparkle seemed to drain from his eyes. After a few moments he straightened up.

And Saul?

Also dead.

You bear a heavy burden. Regaining a little of his animation Philip reached for the bags again, But come inside, you need refreshment. Let’s get you settled, and afterward you can tell us what has happened.

At the same time high in the Judaean hills overlooking the road to Jerusalem eighteen men lay hidden among the boulders and scrubby trees intently watching a caravan on the road below them. They were tough, wiry men burned brown by the sun who were clad in the rough wool and leather of the ame ha’eretz, the men of the land, as Judaea’s peasantry was called. However, the presence of weapons—spears, swords, slings, and bows—marked them as fighters, and their hands tensed around those weapons as they stared at the caravan. Near the top of a hill from which there was a good view of the road their leader Simon son of Giora crouched among the rocks, deciding whether to attack. It wasn’t much a target, he calculated. Twenty heavily burdened donkeys, four armed guards beside the drovers, and a handful of travelers toiling along on foot. He decided to let it pass. It looked like the caravan carrying provisions, grain, and oil to which some pilgrims had attached themselves, and it did not seem to have any of the targets—Romans, officials, or tax collectors—that he was looking for.

Let it pass, he called to his son Jephta and motioned to his other men to abort the attack. The men who were hiding among the boulders relaxed, as the caravan, that never knew that it was so close to being assaulted, continued on its way. Simon propped his spear against a boulder, unbuckled his sword belt, and sat down in the shade, drawing up his knees. He reached into his sack and pulled out the remains of a loaf of bread.

Blessed are you, Lord our God, who gives bread to all flesh, he muttered before starting to absent-mindedly chew it. He took a sip from his water jug and looked up as his son Jephta approached and crouched down next to him. Simon was a heavy-set, swarthy, bearded man with gray flecks beginning to invade his unkempt hair. The son was a more youthful, thinner version of the father.

Do you think any Romans will come along? the young man asked.

Don’t think so. Don’t see them much in the hills anymore. They let the bandits have the run of the place. Simon did not like the bandits, though he scarcely sympathized with their victims—the wealthy and the powerful who for the most part were getting what they deserved. But bandits engaged in aimless butchery with no purpose or aim, and that was sin. Simon himself was a warrior, a revolutionary, a Tzadik, a righteous one, who took up arms to fight for the Lord. He looked about at his warriors, his little army of the ame ha’eretz scattered among the rocks with their few arms. He gave a bitter laugh in recognition that his army was scarcely more than a bandit gang itself.

Simon finished the bread and then propped his hands behind his head and stared up at the sky full of roiling, angry, late-afternoon clouds. He seemed to hear a mighty wind, the tramp of marching men, the blare of trumpets, and the clash of weapons. Surely, he thought, they portended that the day of the Lord was approaching.

He reflected on his life, thinking all the way back to his home in the village of Gerasa in the Acrabene district. He was the youngest of three boys in his family, and thus with little to inherit, and being a pious yong men, he came to the city to study the Torah. In Jerusalem he managed to attach himself to a scribe named Isaac who guided his studies while he supported himself on the few shekels his father managed to send as well as on the wages of an occasional odd job as a laborer. When his father died, his brothers, who had inherited the family’s stony fields, had also tried to send him some money. However, one died, and a series of bad harvests drove the other into debt. When he couldn’t pay off the debt and the thirty-percent interest it bore, he lost his land, and his wife and child were sold as slaves. The day after the sale the villagers found him hanging from a tree.

Simon never went back to Gerasa after that. With much difficulty he remained in Jerusalem where he completed his studies, married, and supported himself by taking on students himself and by teaching in the synagogues.

In his studies he had become acquainted with the great prophets of Israel, Amos, Hosea, Isaiah, Jeremiah, and the others. The Almighty had sent them to cry for justice and implore Israel to turn away from its sins and abuses—the wealth of the rich, the corruption of the temple, and the degradation of the poor. Amos cried against those who sold the poor for a pair of sandals and Hosea pronounced destruction on those who plowed wickedness, reaped injustice, and eaten the fruit of lies. Simon laughed sarcastically at the thought of himself as a pious, young scribe. But he had learned something then. He realized how much a whore Israel had become. Like Hosea’s wife, Gomer, Israel was a whore sunk in corruption. Tax collectors sucked the blood out of the land, money lenders cheated the poor, and the chief priests held out their fat hands for tithes and offerings while peasants starved and families were sold off to the slave dealers.

Back then Simon had even thought of becoming one of the Pharisees who kept aloof from run-of-the-mill mankind in order to cultivate their piety, as many other scribes did. He thought that they pointed the way for the regeneration of Israel through study of the Torah and meticulous adherence to its commandments. They even fashioned new ones—a fence around the Torah they called it—to ensure that no man through ignorance could transgress what God had ordained. However, he recalled sadly that he was repelled by the Pharisees’ complacency and snobbery. They looked down on the peasants and laborers and their world of sweat, filth, and toil. They taught that a man could only become wise through study and that, of course, required leisure and wealth. An am ha’eretz might know his plows and beasts but could not attain wisdom. How can such a man become wise or righteous? they used to laugh. He spends all day pushing a plow, and all he can do is blather on about sheep and goats, if one tries to engage him in conversation. Where is wisdom and righteousness in that?

Yet he had to admit that the scribes and Pharisees did possess some wisdom. They taught how God had chosen Israel out of all the nations as his own people, had made a covenant with it, and entrusted it with the Torah of truth. They also taught how the Lord will come at the end of the age to establish his kingdom. The dead would be resurrected, sinners punished, and the righteous given the reward of eternal life.

It was the teachings of Judas of Galilee in which Simon had come to believe. This Judas had lived sixty years before at the time when Caesar had decided to take Judaea away from Herod Archelaus and make it a Roman province. When the Romans decreed a census to count up the wealth of their new province, Judas and his friend Zadok had raised their voices against this humiliation. For this they were tracked down and crucified. Yet their movement did not end, and the Romans were never able to completely stamp out their followers or their teachings.

We have no ruler but God, Judas had proclaimed and taught how it was an abomination for sinners, evil doers, or the goyim to usurp the rule of the Lord. A righteous man was compelled to both kill or be killed to ensure that none but God was the ruler of Israel. Eternal war must be waged against those who would usurp God’s place at Israel’s head. Fellow Jews, even one’s own family must die if they accept the rule of sinners in place of that of the Lord. A righteous man must be prepared to die himself, to see his village, his family, indeed his whole country perish in order to call no man but God as Lord. Such righteousness would have its vindication at the end of this sinful age when the Lord himself would come to establish his reign, to raise the righteous ones who died for him, and to give them their place in his great kingdom.

Simon thus became a member of the Tzadikim, the Righteous Ones, the secret group of men who treasured the words of Judas of Galilee in their hearts and who planned, conspired, and struggled for the day when none but God would be acknowledged as Lord in Israel.

Simon again glanced about at his men hidden among the rocks and trees. Jephta and a few others continued to stare down at the road while the rest sprawled about at rest, their weapons propped beside them. The Army of the Righteous! he muttered to himself in a contemptuous sarcasm. He glanced up to the heavens again where the roiling clouds were beginning to part to reveal an intense blue.

The mark of God is upon the righteous that they may be saved, he sighed to himself the psalm the Tzadikim used as a sort of anthem.

Famine and sword and pestilence shall be far from the righteous,

For sinners shall flee away from them as men pursued in war.

But they shall pursue sinners and overtake them,

And they that do lawlessness shall not escape the judgement of God!³

They did pursue a few sinners, Simon reflected. They even cut down a former High Priest right in the temple’s courts. He was a sinful man, that Jonathan son of Ananus, a false priest who collaborated with the Romans while growing rich off the poor. That had sent a scare through the chief priests and nobles, a real uproar, he laughed to himself. They call us daggermen, sicarii, and think we did nothing but go around with a knife concealed in our cloaks to do murder and mayhem.

Father, look, slaves! Jephta whispered as he dropped beside his father.

Where? he demanded.

Down there on the road, Jephta pointing to a chained-together slave gang that had made its appearance. It was being driven to the east, toward the gentile cities on the coast.

Looks like about thirty with four or five guards, Simon murmured as he stared down calculating.

Do we attack? Jephta asked excitedly.

I think we can, he whispered to himself as he formulated an attack plan. "Jews sold to the goyim, we have to! Get the men together here, we have to move fast. But don’t let them see you."

That evening back in Caesarea, Philip’s family was having its evening meal with Luke and Triptolemus. As it was a warm day, they were dining on the flat roof of the house where there was a breeze and a slight tang of the sea. The seven persons present were seated around a low table finishing the meal of bread, smoked fish, olives, lentils, oil, and wine as night descended.

My daughters are supposed to be prophetesses, Philip observed as he dipped a scrap of flat bread into the oil in front of him. My wife died years ago leaving me with our four girls, the old man continued. Not having any sons, I thought I was cursed above all men. His eyes twinkled slightly, and an impish smile played on his lips as he glanced at the four women who had started to frown. However, a remarkable friend convinced me that four girls weren’t the mark of the Lord’s displeasure. I taught them as if they were boys." Luke looked from one to the other of the four. The oldest was Deborah, a tall, angular woman in her mid-thirties in whose dark hair the first strands of grey were appearing. Judith and Leah were both about thirty. The former, the second-born, was short and rounded. The latter was tall like Deborah, but softer with a fuller figure. Rachel, the youngest, was a slender woman in her twenties with long, fine, black hair.

I taught them the Torah and the good news of the Anointed One. That was when we were living in Shechem in Samaritis. People there thought that Satan must have addled my brains to do such a thing. However, we persisted. My daughters are all now fluent in both Greek and Aramaic, and we all know a little Latin besides. The four women smiled softly and irritably to themselves. They had heard the old man’s description many times before

When the Lord brought us to Caesarea after our work in Samaritis, we opened a publishing business to support ourselves. One of us reads the text of a book a client brings to us while the others copy it out on fresh scrolls. We’ll show you in the morning. Do you know the book of the Wisdom of Jesus ben Sirach?

I’ve heard of it.

We’re working on that now. You’ll find it interesting. Philip paused to sip his wine and nibble at a piece of fish. The sky was darkening, and Rachel went downstairs to fetch an oil lamp.

Besides making our living, he continued, we gain knowledge since we encounter many books of wisdom. We usually make a copy for ourselves and have managed to amass a modest library.

Rachel came back up the stairs carefully carrying a lighted oil lamp, shielding the flame from the breeze with her free hand. Triptolemus hastily scrambled to his feet to make a space for her to place the lamp on the table. The sky was turning to the deep, blue-black of night, and the first stars were now faintly visible. A parapet which ran around the flat roof shielded the lamp from the breeze, and the languorous flame cast a soft orange glow on the seven faces around the table while the rest of the roof top was in obscurity. Leah refilled Luke’s wine cup and mixed it with water as Rachel seated herself. The old man resumed.

Most importantly, the five of us work together for our congregation here in Caesarea. We have both Jews and gentiles, quite a respectable Assembly. My daughters keep us functioning by taking care of the correspondence and serving as messengers and teachers. They can preach and expound the scriptures as well as any man. The people do not know quite what to make of my girls. They call them prophetesses; that is the only thing to which they can relate my daughters. Alas, however, I have not found them husbands.

Father, that is ridiculous! How could we carry on our work if we were married, Deborah protested but with little vehemence. This argument apparently had been played out many times in Philip’s household. You knew quite well what Saul said when he was here—it is well for people to be single.

Philip chuckled, I think you girls would confound old Saul. He really was quite conservative; he said women should be subservient to their husbands. Thereafter Philip’s face suddenly darkened. He put down his wine cup and spoke gravely.

Luke, I realize that you have had a long journey, but I have to ask you what has happened in Rome. We have heard reports of a catastrophe, but we have heard nothing from Rome itself. Now you say that Simon and Saul are dead.

The table fell silent as Philip’s family focused on the young Greek. Luke slowly drained his wine cup and paused while he considered how to begin. He started by telling of the great fire in Rome and of how the wretched people who had been burned out of their homes murmured of how Nero himself had the fire set.

They said he wanted to clear away the old city for his building schemes. Nero sensed that these rumors were dangerous and tried to squelch them by blaming some one else. He choose us Christians. You know, sir, all the stories they tell about us, how we’re atheists and unpatriotic, how we supposedly hate all mankind. Philip nodded.

With the people distraught and looking for somebody to blame, it was not hard to stir up the crowds against us. There were arrests, tortures, and then more arrests. Soon the executions began, crucifixions, burnings, the animals in the arena. You know the blood lusts of the crowds.

I’m afraid I do, Philip replied.

I do not know exactly what happened. Triptolemus and I were hidden at the estate of my patron Theophilus outside of Rome with other members of our congregation. We had little news of what was happening. There are so few of us left! So many had been killed.

Simon and Saul?

Yes, they had been caught and executed. Simon, I’m told died on the cross. Saul—I always knew him as Paul—was executed in prison, beheaded I hear.

So Linus is your Overseer, now?

Yes, Luke then broke off his narration. Silence surrounded the little group huddled around the flickering oil lamp. A few cries from the street and the light rustle of the wind intruded in the gloom. A full moon had risen casting its pale, silver light on some slowly moving clouds. Philip looked down into his empty wine cup and idly moved it across the table. Leah silently poured more wine into Luke’s cup and then added the water while Judith poured more oil into the lamp. Luke continued.

Paul was under house arrest most of his time in Rome. He did have one hearing after two years but his case was not resolved. He was remanded to house arrest, neither freed nor condemned. However, he was able to live in his own house, to preach, to receive visitors, and to correspond. Our Assembly was a good one. We were a cross section of the Empire—Jews, Greeks, Asians, even a few Romans. We were artisans, shopkeepers, slaves, freedmen, even some of the wealthy. Paul—Saul, wasn’t very active because he was under arrest, but I helped him maintain contact.

You were close to him, weren’t you?

Yes, I was, I even was his secretary and handled his correspondence for a short while.

I had gotten to know Paul quite well, Philip said after another short silence. You knew he stopped here for several days on his last trip to Jerusalem. Afterwards, he was held for two years in the Preatorium while our Procurator tried to figure out what to do with him. I was able to visit him several times.

Yes, I know. Luke replied. Paul spoke often of your generosity. In fact, that is why I determined to visit you first on my mission here to Judaea. Luke paused and then spoke in a more formal tone.

Sir, if you will allow me, I would like to reveal why I am here. Our Assembly in Rome has sent me here on a specific mission. I will need your help.

Yes, of course, Philip replied. The four women looked questioningly at him and stirred as if to clear away the meal. Can my daughters hear what you have to say? Philip asked.

I prefer that they do. I believe that they will be of great assistance to me. Luke then began.

Our losses in Nero’s attack caused us to reflect. Paul and Simon were no longer with us. We worried that as others who had known the Lord fell asleep, their knowledge would die with them. It is important as time passes, to preserve the sayings and writings of our great men, those who knew the Lord and experienced his gospel. After Paul had gone, we realized that we had copies of of many of his writings. He had left many scrolls, letters mostly. My patron, Theophilus, spoke to Linus about them. He was concerned that they be not just the possession of our own little decimated community in Rome. He believed that they should be delivered to the Assembly in Jerusalem, so that they can be made available to all our brotherhood throughout the world. Theophilus and Linus choose me to carry copies of the scrolls to Jerusalem, to deliver them into the hands of James the Righteous. I’m to deliver them to any other congregations I encounter.

We have to tell you, Deborah, the eldest daughter, spoke up quietly. We have our own tail of woe. James is dead. He was stoned to death in Jerusalem four years ago. Luke did not immediately reply. He lowered his head and looked at Triptolemus.

We did not know, he whispered almost to himself. Since Nero’s persecution we have become cut off. It hardly seems possible. Paul had disagreed with James, but always respected his leadership. The world’s enmity has no bounds.

The High Priests secured his execution, Deborah explained. A new High Priest named Ananus went after James as a way of going after all his enemies. But he went too far. Even the Pharisees spoke up for James, and the Romans thought that Ananus was getting too independent. Only they are suppossed to condemn people here. They got Ananus removed." Luke looked down at his empty wine cup, pondering this news.

Who’s is in charge in Jerusalem now? he asked.

They elected Simeon as their leader. He is Jesus’s cousin, the son of his uncle Clopas.

Luke, I must warn you, Philip interrupted. Saul’s letters will get a cool reception in Jerusalem. The brotherhood up there is very conservative. To them, Jesus is not much more than another prophet. Many of Paul’s ideas are not particularly welcome. Luke merely grunted at this news.

Yes, Paul told me about some of his disputes with James. He also wrote about them in his letters. Nevertheless, I am determined to go on to Jerusalem, more than ever."

Do you know that when he was here, Philip continued, Your Paul told me that the Law, the Torah, was a curse, and all those relying on it were accursed! I remember his exact words, ‘the curse of the Law.’ He chuckled to himself. Such talk won’t make you any friends in Jerusalem. No wonder he caused a riot in the temple! A curse, such talk!" Philip looked at Luke with a grin spreading across his face.

I have a second task, Luke went on, changing the subject. One that will involve far more work and one in which I really need to ask your help.

Yes.

My commission is to seek out those who knew Jesus, to look for writings, letters, or other reports, and to compose an account of Jesus’s sojourn on earth, his death, and his resurrection. Luke looked the four women and then at Philip looking for a reaction. Philip, however, stared distractedly over the parapet and down to the street.

An ambitious task, a worthy task, he murmured to himself. Luke went on.

They decided on me to do this because I speak both Aramaic and Greek, I also know some Latin and served as Paul’s secretary. Theophilus has entrusted us with money to cover our expenses In fact, he has been quite generous. That is why we are here.

Before we answer, let us ask ask you some questions. You’re a Greek, but seem to know some of the customs of the Jews. Who are you? Where are you from? How did you get to be a member of the brotherhood? Luke broke into a slight laugh and glanced at Triptolemus by his side.

A fair question. A fair question, indeed, he replied. We could be here for a long time,

Briefly.

Of course, sir. How shall I begin? he murmurred to himself. Let’s see. Let’s start this way.

As you said, I am a Greek and I come from Antioch.

In Syria? Philip asked with a tone of encouragement.

Yes. My father is a merchant, and we are a well-off family. I have an older brother who will take over my father’s business. I was trained as a physician.

Indeed, we didn’t know.

Yes, my father thought I could make a good living in the world that way. Although I learned a lot about how to set bones and treat wounds, I soon realized that we know little about sickness itself. My teachers talked a lot of nonsense about the balance of humors in the body, but they seemed to know little about healing. I was also an idolator. Like most physicians among the Greeks, I worshipped Askelepios, the god of healing.

At length, I came to realize that there was little purpose to life, at least as the Greeks understand it. We have many gods and festivals and temple. Every city has its god. For the Greeks there is a world of gods and a world of men. The gods have there own concerns and care little about the world of men. Yes, one can cajole them and try to buy their favor with a sacrifice, but in reality the gods are indifferent to our problems. For the Greeks, one is born, ones lives, and one dies, and one goes down to the underworld. That is the truth of existence—we come from nothing and we return to nothing. That is why we have so many bizarre superstitions like worshipping Isis or trying to get initiated into mystery cults. Luke paused and looked at the six faces staring at him. Forgive me, he smiled. I ramble. I’m not answering your question.

Not at all, please go on, Philip said.

I did find one comfort. I became acquainted with the God of Israel. I started attending prayers at a synagogue of the Jews, and I came to know a God who was the ruler of the universe, who bestowed a law of truth. I acquired knowledge, but not yet faith at that time. That came when I met Paul, I mean Saul—forgive me, when I met him, he had come to use his Roman name almost exclusively. I met him when he came to teach at the synagogue. He told me about the Anointed One, how he had come from God, suffered and died for our sins, overcame death, and offered us salvation. Paul told me how he himself had experienced Jesus after he had returned from the dead. He gave me baptism.

That was ten years ago. Later I came to Rome when I heard Paul was there. I became his companion and secretary for a short time during his last years. I practice as a physician to support myself.

Do you ever get back to Antioch? Rachel, the youngest daughter, asked.

No. I’m alone in the world now. My mother is dead, and my father has disowned me. He thinks my forsaking the gods was the grossest impiety.

And your companion here? Philip asked, indicating young Triptolemus.

I was always a Christian, as were my parents, the lad spoke up. My father was a freedman, a former slave. Triptolemus paused and seemed to be suppressing something. He glanced at Luke. He’s dead now.

His parents were both killed by Nero, Luke added.

Accursed of the Lord! Philip hissed. I’m sorry.

Both of us are alone, now. That’s why we are friends and companions.

Thank you, Philip said simply and glanced around at his four daughters. They all nodded at him. Good, he went on. We will be glad to help you with your mission. In fact, we will be honored to be of assistance. We will help in any way we can. But let me warn you about Jerusalem again. My own relations with the Jerusalem brothers are a little bit strained. That is why I like it here in Caesarea. It is freer, less tradition-bound. However, when I go up to Jerusalem, I bridle my tongue. We’ve stayed on speaking terms with the Jerusalem Assembly. I must confess that I admire them in many ways. They lead very praise worthy lives, and they take good care of their poor and their widows. It’s true that they love and honor Jesus. But . . . Well, they find Paul’s teaching bizarre. The idea that Jesus could supersede the Torah—that is beyond belief in Jerusalem.

What, sir, do you believe? Luke asked. Philip gave a laugh and started to push away from the table.

"Luke, it is late, and you have had