Mark: A Love Story

By George Truett Moore

MARK, A Love Story, is the life story of a young man who was a coworker of the Apostle Paul, and who was the author of the Gospel of Mark. His writing was the first account of the life and ministry of Jesus. As a resident of Jerusalem, he and his mother, Mary, were acquaintances of Jesus Disciples. Simon Peter called him my son. His travels took him from Jerusalem to Rome on the Great Sea under the care of the Master of the Sea. Marks story is an exciting one, a story worth telling.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 31, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483668567

George Truett Moore

THE REVEREND George Truett Moore, a native of South Carolina and a graduate of Clemson University’s School of Architecture, served in World War II as a Corps of Engineer Officer. He practiced Architecture until he entered the Lutheran Theological Seminary, graduating with “Highest Honors in New Testament Studies.” He was a Missionary Builder, Liberia, West Africa, and a Lutheran Pastor for over Fifty Years. He is an accomplished actor, having played the role of over twenty biblical characters. He is a well known writer. This book on the life of Mark, is his seventh.

Book preview

Copyright © 2013 by George Truett Moore.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2013912763

ISBN:            Hardcover                      978-1-4836-6855-0

                     Softcover                        978-1-4836-6854-3

                      Ebook                           978-1-4836-6856-7

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.

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

Rev. date: 07/24/2013

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris LLC

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

136593

Contents

Introduction

Prologue

BOOK ONE       Love at First Sight

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

BOOK TWO       Love Comes down

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven.

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

BOOK THREE       Love never ceases

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Epilogue

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated

with love and appreciation

to my wife of seventy years

Elizabeth Stevens Moore

whose encouragement, assistance

and helpful suggestions

enriched this writing.

Cover art by Elizabeth

APPRECIATION

My sincere thanks

To

Karen, Susan, Ingrid, and Penny,

For their willingness

To spend time and thought

In reviews and comments;

And to Elizabeth for the

Map of the Roman Empire.

OTHER BOOKS BY

GEORGE TRUETT MOORE

PREACHING IS DRAMA, Dramatic Monologues

THE SCROLLS, John’s Voice in the Wilderness

EXALTED FATHER, Abraham’s Journey of Faith

LUKE, Ambassador of the Word

DAVID, The Shepherd King

THE SLAVE, An Incredible Journey

Introduction

The second book in the New Testament carries a number of titles: Mark, or The Gospel of Mark, or The Gospel According to Mark, or According to Mark. Whatever the title, this book is unique in a number of ways.

Many scholars affirm the writing as the work of a man called John Mark, whose name is the combination of a Jewish name and a Gentile, or Roman, name.

Most scholars also agree that the Gospel of Mark is the first Gospel written, and that the other Gospel writers took much of their material from Mark. Some suggest there was another manuscript known as Q (source), written earlier. Mark’s Gospel was probably written around 55 A.D.

Scripture speaks of Mark, sometimes John Mark, as the son of a woman named Mary. She was a Christian woman of means. Her Jerusalem home was open to other followers of the Way, including Simon Peter. We have to assume she was a widow.

Mark’s only other relative mentioned in Scripture was a Levite named Barnabas or Joseph. He was either a cousin or an uncle, most likely an uncle.

Mark was involved in the ministry of the Early Church, traveling with the Apostle Paul and his uncle Barnabas. Mark and Barnabas went their separate way following a big argument with Paul and, for a time, Paul wanted nothing to do with Mark or Barnabas. However, there was reconciliation later. We don’t know where or when.

It is also suggested that Mark had a special relationship with Simon Peter, receiving much of his Gospel material from him. Peter spoke of Mark as his son.

Questions abound. Did Mark ever see or know Jesus? When did he become a believer, a follower of the Way? We know why Paul rejected him, but we do not know what brought them together again. Who was his father and what influence did he have on his son’s life? Why was he named John Mark, that combination of a Jewish and a Gentile name?

The final question! What happened to him? Traditions vary. Some suggest that he was martyred in Rome. One tradition suggests that he ended up as the first Bishop of Alexandria.

There is a story here, one worth telling, a story of faith, hope, and love.

Mark%27s%20map.jpg

Prologue

He woke up, not to a silence, an eerie silence. It was quiet, far too quiet. Earlier in the evening there had been noise, lots of noise. The streets had been filled with pilgrims celebrating the Feast of Unleavened Bread. It was an annual reminder that they were the people of the God who would, one day, set them free. He had done so once before, bringing them out of Egypt. Someday a promised Messiah would come!

His mother and her friends were always talking about messiahs. In fact, they had been talking about a new rabbi they thought just might be the one. He didn’t remember the name, but he wasn’t too impressed. The teachers of the law had predicted for years that a Messiah would come, and his own father had talked about such a possibility, but nothing had changed. It hadn’t happened. Anyway, life wasn’t too bad, in spite of the Romans. If you knew the right people, you could survive, just as his great-uncle, and his father, had survived.

Following the Passover meal he left with some of his friends without finding time to speak with his mother. Laughing and talking over a cup of wine, he was told about a rabbi coming into Jerusalem and disturbing the peace. That was earlier in the week, but no one had any details. There was always some fanatic claiming to be sent from God. This one, whoever he was, had come out of Galilee, and nothing good ever came out of Galilee.

At the beginning of the second watch he came home to get some sleep. Their plans were to leave early the next morning for the Salt Sea baths.

Yet, for him, it had been a restless sleep. He was wide awake. With nothing on but a light sheet wrapped around him, he moved quietly down the stairs and out into the dark and empty street. Seeing no one, he turned to go back inside when he heard voices, voices loud enough to attract his attention. Moving down the street toward the eastern gate, he could see the flickering glow of torches. Intrigued, he moved closer, but before he knew it, he was met by a mob of shouting men surrounding a man bound with ropes. He could not make out the figure in the center, but he assumed it was a prisoner being taken toward the lower city. However, before his curiosity could be satisfied, one of the men reached out to grab him. Frightened by that move, he broke free, leaving the sheet in the hands of the man. Rushing naked back up the street he slipped in through the side door. Out of breath, he stumbled up the stairs. The noise prompted a question from above.

Son, is that you? What are you doing up at this hour of the night?

Catching his breath, he responded with a Yes, mother, it’s me. I had gone down to get a drink of water. Please! Go back to sleep. Everything is fine.

As he tossed and turned, trying to get back to sleep, he wasn’t so sure that everything was fine. He couldn’t get that street scene out of his mind. Who were they bringing in under guard at this hour of the night? He had a strange feeling that this was not the end of it. He was right.

Sleep finally came, and just before the sun was breaking through the morning mist, he dreamed. He was standing on the deck of a ship being tossed from side to side. He didn’t know where he was, but he was frightened.

BOOK ONE

Love at First Sight

Chapter One

Under a dark, almost black, sky, suddenly split by a shattering bolt of lightning, Joel took a deep breath, a sigh of relief. The last bale of wool had been stored safely. The final leg of the 1500 mile journey to the warehouse above the Tiber River was completed just in time. Oxen-drawn carts, moving slowly inland from the port at Puteoli, had brought bale after bale of the precious cargo up from the ship over a two-day period.

This final day had been a trying one, a stormy, threatening-rain day. Joel’s sigh of relief came as the huge doors were closed, just before the sky opened to a heavy downpour of blowing rain.

The wool had been loaded many days before onto a large two-mast vessel sailing out of Joppa. The ship belonged to Joel’s uncle Hermes, who resided in Rome. His uncle’s family was one of the prominent Jewish families accepted in the heart of the Roman Empire. He was a merchant and a weaver of woolen garments, including fine togas, tunics and coats. Rome, with its bitter cold winters, was an excellent market for warm clothing for both the Roman legions and the general population.

The cost of the long voyages on the Great Sea was offset by accepting additional cargo of hides, grain, lumber, pottery, and olive oil belonging to other merchants. From time to time the vessel would be carrying official documents and letters. The cargo, other than the wool, would be sold at a profit in the Roman markets. Hermes was wealthy, and that helped in a city where wealth opened doors.

It had taken years for Hermes to reach that level of wealth and influence. As a young man he had sheared the family’s sheep, and had bought wool from their neighbors living in the hill country of Judea. Once he had as much as he could afford, he transported the bales to Rome, where he and a few others, Plebeians from the Guild of the Weavers, wove the wool into garments. His first goal was to own his own vessel, transporting not only the wool, but all sorts of cargo belonging to others. Finally, he was able to do so. He had his own ship built and rigged for sailing on the Great Sea. In Rome he expanded his weaving and dyeing facilities, turning all the work details over to hired workers. Once his nephew, Joel, was old enough to handle the gathering and the shipping, Hermes stayed in Rome, busy developing an expanding market.

Although Hermes was not a Roman citizen, he was welcomed into the society level of the Patricians. Some of his associates and neighbors had given him the name Marcus Flavius, and no one questioned his background. That was of greater importance now, considering the current political climate. The Roman Empire was finally experiencing a peace it had not enjoyed in a hundred years. Gaius Octavianus, great-nephew of the murdered Julius Caesar, was Emperor. After the death of Julius Caesar, Marc Antony and another General had formed an alliance, ruling Rome for a time. Marc Antony was married to Octavianus’ sister, but he deserted her for Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt. Octavianus declared war on Antony and Cleopatra, defeating their fleets in a decisive battle. Within a year Antony and Cleopatra had committed suicide and Octavianus was declared Emperor by the Roman Senate. He was given the name, Caesar Augustus, and was given power over Rome’s religious, civil and military affairs. His rule would continue for almost forty-five years.

Toward the end of Caesar Augustus’ reign, Joel was more concerned with the warehouse doors. As soon as they were closed he and the workers dashed over to the enclosed shelter at the end of the warehouses. Armed guards, as well as the warehouse workers, were there. Valuable cargo attracted thieves. The security men were members of the Praetorian Guard. Hermes had made sure they were given woolen garments as a gesture of friendship. Centurion Gaius, head of this particular contingent was most grateful, making sure Hermes’ property was safe.

It was almost evening before the rain stopped. As the clouds began to break up, there was a brief glow of a sunset in the west, but it would soon be dark. Joel was concerned. His uncle had promised an escort, but it had not come. Joel had no desire to strike out on his own, walking the distance to his uncle’s home. That would be foolish and dangerous after dark. Even in the day it was not a good idea.

According to the hourglass sitting on the makeshift desk in the shelter, an hour passed and Joel was really concerned. He had been offered a slice of bread and a cup of wine, but he had declined the bread. It was stale. He wished he had declined the wine. It was bitter, tasting more like vinegar. Some recommended such wine for deadening pain, but Joel’s only pain was his impatience over the delay in getting to his uncle’s home.

There was something else, something that came up in his idle moments. He missed his family; parents and sister. There was an older brother, one he had not seen since Joel was quite young. The brother, Barnabas, was a Levite living on the island of Cyprus. He needed to find time to look for him someday, on one of the port stops at Cyprus.

He missed his friends with whom he had attended the synagogue school. They had played together and they had hunted together. He missed the hills and open valleys of Judea. He missed his small village of Emmaus. Rome was too big, too noisy, and too evil.

It took Joel some time to realize a deeper yearning. He missed his place of worship back home, the little synagogue set in the valley on the edge of town. From an early age that was a part of his life. Their Rabbi, Joiakim, was older now, but loved by all. He was like a father to Joel. There was a synagogue in Rome, but his uncle seldom talked about going. Joel had attended as often as he could when in Rome, but Hermes always had an excuse. The synagogue was small, and sometimes the attendance was slim, but Joel felt it important to attend, worshipping the true God. The gods of Rome were pagan gods. They had nothing to give anyone.

There was his concern over the matter of wealth and power. Rome operated on such things. If you had wealth and power, you were accepted in the highest level of society, the Patricians. You might not be liked, but you were accepted. The wealthy lived on the upper levels of Rome’s seven hills. Most citizens lived on the crowded streets nearer the river or on the outskirts of the city. All was a far cry from his home village of Emmaus where one’s status was not a problem. You respected your elders and the local Rabbi. All were friends looking out for you and your needs.

Joel did have money, more than he had ever had growing up. His uncle was generous, grateful for Joel’s willingness to oversee the purchase of wool back home, as well as transporting it and the other items going to Rome. Joel turned his wages over to his parents each time he returned home. He didn’t have any idea as to how much he had, and he wasn’t concerned. All his travel and living expenses were covered by his uncle. Someday he would be able to have his own home, marry and raise a family. Traveling to Rome would be a thing of the past.

The sand was almost halfway down on the next turn of the glass before someone arrived, but it was not Joel’s escort. It was the Centurion, Gaius, checking on his men. Joel explained his situation and asked for help.

My friend, I have a problem. My uncle was to send an escort, but it is long overdue. Either Uncle Hermes has forgotten me, or his men went elsewhere. Could you help me?

Gaius smiled and nodded his head.

Your uncle seems to have too many things on his mind these days. I’m sure he has forgotten. I’ll send two of my men with you. I just hope you haven’t missed the evening meal. The food at your uncle’s is the best. I know!

Joel returned the cup of wine, thanking the men for their help. Noticing that Joel had only tasted the wine, one worker laughed.

You should have finished the wine. It would put hair on your chest.

Joel’s retort came from his friendly relationship with the warehouse workers.

I’m trying to grow hair on my face, so that you will respect us, the Jews. I don’t think your wine will help. Where are your beards?

He waved his hand in appreciation and after a long walk and climb up the far western hill of Rome, Joel was ushered into his uncle’s home. He found him engaged in conversation with two well-dressed strangers. Hermes, seeing Joel entering, jumped up and rushed over to greet him.

My apologies! I let the time slip up. But come over and meet two friends, both newly-elected senators. They are interested in our woolen business.

The two men, older than Hermes, were introduced as Claudius and Fortunatus, cousins. Both, as Joel learned, were wealthy merchants. From the conversation Joel knew their interest was in the wool trade, something they probably controlled under the permission of Emperor Augustus. Uncle Hermes was doing his best to please them.

The dinner was excellent, served in courses of fruits, nuts, melons, meats and sweet breads, along with some excellent wine. Hermes’ wife, Mara, was the hostess, directing the servants in their serving.

Both Mara and their young daughter, Dorcas, greeted Joel and introduced him to another girl. Mary, a young lady several years older than Dorcas, was a friend. She was the daughter of close neighbors who had returned to their home in the town of Lydda. She had stayed behind at the insistence of Mara and Dorcas. She would be a companion and mentor for Dorcas, at least for a time.

The men sat at one end of the table, and the others sat at the other end. Once the main course was served, all three, mother, daughter and friend, retired to the family room. The men would be free to talk business matters. Mara made sure the men were comfortable, instructing her servants to provide for any requests of food and drink.

Gaius was right. The dinner was delicious, as always. Joel, knowing that he was not needed in any negotiations concerning the wool trade, bowed to the men and left the room. He was tired and would retire to his room as soon as he could. He did want to visit with his aunt Mara, Dorcas and Mary. He wanted to catch up on all the news and he wanted to talk with Mary whose home was in the village of Lydda. He was interested. She was not only an attractive young lady, but her home was not too far from his. Perhaps his parents knew her parents. He joined them in the family room.

As Joel entered, Mara stood up. Coming forward she embraced Joel again.

"I know you must be tired! After such a long voyage and busy days here, you have to be exhausted. We do apologize. Hermes gets so involved with his business that he forgets what time it is, or whether it is day or night. He does have the chance for a new contract, the largest ever.

But let’s sit and talk about other things. We were worried about you in this bad weather, but you said that all the cargo was safe and dry. Is that so?

Yes! The rain held off just long enough for us to store the last cart of wool and close the doors. We had the largest shipment ever, at least since I’ve been working for Uncle Hermes. If he gets a larger contract, there should be plenty of wool. We have been blessed.

Mary spoke up, asking another