Yada

By Michael Joyce

This novel is an apocryphal or speculative account of Jesus coming to know God's place for him in the world. The protagonist sits alone outside the cave where he has retired to pray, fast, and cajole God for an answer to the question "What is God's will for me?" During the cold desert night, he reflects on the first thirty years of his life to see if clues to answer this question might lie hidden. The narrator chronicles events, thoughts, doubts, fears, and questions that have led Jesus to this point in his life. Since many of these experiences and concerns are common to mankind, the reader, like Jesus, is led to the conclusion that trust in the divine inner voice, which is planted individually in all men and women, provides both the spiritual peace and the fortitude necessary to do what our Higher Power's will for us is in the world. The title Yada (Ya ÄŽah) comes from the Hebrew word meaning "a desire to know." Yada is where it all starts.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 26, 2018
• ISBN: 9781643007137

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Yada

Michael P. Joyce

ISBN 978-1-64300-712-0 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64300-713-7 (Digital)

Copyright © 2018 Michael P. Joyce

All rights reserved

First Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Covenant Books, Inc.

11661 Hwy 707

Murrells Inlet, SC 29576

www.covenantbooks.com

Preface

Many have undertaken to draw up an account of the things that have been fulfilled among us… (Luke - Chapter 1, Verse 1)

The title, Yada (Ya Ďah), comes from the Hebrew word denotatively meaning a desire to know and connotatively the several other meanings concurrently implied. Yada is where it all starts.

Chapter 1

The Cave

He saw a mass of black outlined into the shape of a man by the overpowering brightness of the reflected desert light outside the mouth of the cave. He thought at first it was the vision he had longed for. The hunger, thirst, and dizziness from self-denial faded in a moment of pure ecstasy as he thought that, after so long, what he had looked for most of his remembered life was about to be revealed.

He came to the cave community time and again during the previous three years with the hope that through complete separation from the outside world, through prayer and fasting, through the discomfort of inadequate, torturous clothing, through the preaching, admonitions, and discussions with others trying also to discern, he might find a purpose, a mission that would ease his restlessness.

The caves, carved by wind and water from the rock of an ancient mountain range, were located in the great desert east of his homeland. Like the pot marks that ravaged the faces of some who suffered the itching disease, the sharply sloping rocks of the old mountain face were filled with dozens of shallow openings—black spots on the layered sandstone. These indentations seemed to bubble out rather than cave in as they stood in such contrast to the sameness of the camel tan of the rocks. A wild, savage, and hard place this was. It naturally attracted those trying to detach themselves from the familiar out of religious zeal. Some others came there to hide when the world attacked back for the political crimes committed against it. For a hundred years or more, this latter group had abandoned this particular group of caves to a small group of ascetics who wanted to abandon completely or for a time this world to get a glimpse of another.

The wild men who now occupied the caves came from a variety of classes and life callings. They were of all ages. Each was at a private place in his path toward hoped-for discovery. They were really a group in name and convenience only. No one was the designated leader or a devoted follower. Though they shared a common culture and set of basic beliefs about life, God, and the cosmos, mental adherence to a strict doctrine was not required, unlike among the Essenes and other more indoctrinated groups who called the wild places of Palestine their home. Each hermit stayed alone in his cave most of the day and all through the night, waiting and praying. They came together once a day to share the meager supplies left by visitors along with notes and verbal requests that these men pray also for some special request, healing, or atonement, which the visitors were too busy to pray for themselves. These requests came also from those who believed they were too lowly in the sight of Yahweh to matter much. The holy men did relay these messages and pleadings to heaven along with their own.

The cave dwellers did, around their one daily meal, discuss what they thought it all meant—history, Scriptures, natural forces, a restless soul, death, and nothingness. Some quoted from Scriptures as it was remembered. Others would agree or disagree with the speaker’s memory or conclusions or both. A few wealthy individuals had shed their other earthly belongings, but not copies of treasured scrolls. They brought these to the caves to read over and over, also permitting other members of the cave community to borrow and read for themselves. A very few brought with them writing material so that they could have a permanent record of what God revealed to them in the caves. These private thoughts were often also circulated. In addition, the personal thoughts of those not possessing writing materials were sometimes recorded by those who did have these.

They did talk and discuss and debate and reveal much at this common meal. The conversation was spontaneous and sometimes seemed inspired. No man was leader and the others disciple, though a few individuals seemed further along in their journey and most listened more intently to what they had to say. It was also acceptable for a man to just listen and not contribute. As if by common consent, when there was a collective exhaustion, the meal conversation was only about simple things, pulled from an individual’s previous life—sometimes humorous, sometimes sweet and touching to the heart, sometimes just factual. Periodically, an individual would forgo the common meal in hopes that the matching of the physical hunger and thirst with the spiritual one would bring the vision. The meal sharing of bread and drink and conversation and longings was the only regular element of common life, bringing some degree of satisfaction to physical, social, and spiritual hunger, but never enough.

Living a simple life, there was not much need for a division of labor or related work. They took turns collecting and storing the gratitude of visitors and preparing, to the degree that it was necessary, the common meal. By threes, they also took turns walking to and from the spring, located some distance from the caves, to secure a supply of water. Though portage of heavy clay water jugs might have been considered a chore by outsiders, it was generally viewed as a welcomed task when each man’s weekly turn came around. Usually, the same three companions made the trip together, unless the addition or departure of one of the cave dwellers rearranged the order. Men became a little closer to one another during these walks, continuing the conversation of the common meal or introducing a new topic that was on the mind or heart of one of the porters. The long walks often encouraged the men to converse at a level of openness and self-revelation that he might be uncomfortable or hesitant to lay out before the entire group. Each, often it seemed, carried a burden on his soul, in his mind, in his heart much heavier than the water jars. Through the private and intense conversation these men had on the water trail, the knowledge of what they shared in common, a desire to know fully, provided something of a balm for the souls of these spiritually restless men. The particular insight offered by one, even if it did not directly apply to the question or longing of the other, gave these companions hope that they might transcend and continue to transcend at a higher and higher level the limitations of existence in this world to glimpse another.

The shape at the cave’s entry made noises that the man could not immediately understand until he began to come back from the half-conscious state where his mind was.

Faster, are you coming to the meal? it said.

The man in the cave recognized then that this was not an angel sent to lead him or assure him or wrestle with him. He came quickly back to his stone burrow in the side of a mountain. He again was exhausted and hungry and disappointed.

Faster, are you coming to the meal the man at the cave entrance said again.

As a private joke between them, the speaker called this cave dweller Faster because he attempted to use this means more than his comrades to connect with God.

Nothing again, Matthias, Faster said as he started to rise up from the place where he had been sitting.

White light filled his head, and dizziness overcame him. He dropped down, resting his back on the cave wall. Matthias hunched down and moved into the cave. Once inside, he was able to stand semierect in the cramped interior. This cave, like his own and those of the rest of the hermits, was big enough for only one man, two at the most when both hunkered into the curved recesses of the interior. The cave had no furnishings, only a cloak bunched together to form a pillow at one end of a flat, somewhat smooth place where the inhabitant slept. Some of the cave dwellers brought with them scrolls, extra clothing, mementos, and other treasured or utilitarian items. But not Faster. He brought to this cave little more than came with him into this world.

Let me help you, said Matthias. You need some food and water. No use killing yourself. You’ll never find out anything when you are dead. Matthias did not believe in a personal afterlife. He and Faster had discussed this many times in the past.

Dropping to one knee, Matthias helped his companion move into a crawling position. The cave interior was not wide or high enough for one man to support another to walk. Faster slowly crawled to the entryway, stopping at the entrance overpowered by the light of the sun though it was already slipping to the other side of the bluff on its way to setting. He had been three days in the cave, and his eyes needed to adjust. Matthias waited patiently for his friend to again emerge into the world at his own pace. Faster cleared the remainder of his body from the mouth of the cave and, crawling to one side, seated himself on a rock to attempt to regain some strength. His head was pounding; his stomach ached, and so did his heart. He was without physical energy or spiritual as well.

Matthias brought himself into the sunlight and stood looking at his companion. Faster was covered in a fine tan dust from hair to foot gained when he rolled around in the cave during one of the convulsions he usually experienced when he fasted like this. His long curly black beard was dust encrusted and matted. His gaunt face made him appear much older than the little over four Jubilee cycles he was. Like the rest of his tribe, he was shorter than many of the Gentile races. Though worn down by the hard life he made for himself in the caves, he was still muscularly built, resulting from many years in the building trades. He reminded Matthias of one of those small but incredibly powerful donkeys so common in their land. Deceptively, though not much bigger than a dog, a load could be piled on the beast’s back, which would ruin the spine of even the strongest man.

Let me get you some water, Matthias said.

Not waiting for a response, he went along the path worn out of the steep side of the ancient mountain a hundred steps or so to the flat area in front of a large cave that served as a central repository for the group.

Is he coming? asked one of the hermits who had gathered in the common area in front of the cave.

Eventually, replied Matthias as he dipped a cup into a wide mouth vessel to retrieve the water. He said he didn’t get anything this time either, Matthias said to the man who had inquired. This man, named Simon, was the third of their water group. Walking more deliberately on the way back, Matthias carefully carried the cool cup to his friend.

Faster welcomed the temporary absence of Matthias as it usually took him a little time to come back into this life from the prayer state, especially when he had fasted for a few days. He was experiencing tremendous pain in his head; and now his body—all his joints and muscles—also wanted to join the chorus of pain. The pain helped Faster focus on the here and now. Some of the dizziness left him, and his eyes were growing accustomed to the light, though he still found it helpful to shield them with his hand from direct exposure.

He continued to sit on the rock in front of the cave. In that cave, he reflected, he had prayed as hard as he could. He had begged as hard as he could. He had suffered physically, mentally, and spiritually all that he thought he could bear. Yet he had received no message or even a hint of a message. This Yahweh of his people could be so frustrating. God could ignore the pleas for deliverance for several generations, then astound the people with miracles when they thought all hope was gone. He calls us his people, then lets us become like orphans, Faster thought. God calls me in my heart then will not tell me that for which I am wanted. The return of Matthias brought an end to the consideration of this recurring theme.

The water offered a mixed blessing to Faster. It cleared the chocking dryness from his throat, and its coolness helped quell the fire in his head, but the pressure of it as it entered his stomach reminded him man could not exist on water alone. His innards were hit with a spasm, which caused him to bring his knees up and chest down until he was in the womb position. Eventually, this passed, and Faster felt strong enough to speak. Nothing again, he said to Matthias. Nothing but my questions; no answers, he said aloud to himself. I think this place is not where I will find it. Yahweh is on this mountain, I know. I can feel the Presence around me all the time, but there is a wall I cannot get through. I envy you and the others who can talk with him. I talk, but nothing. I think that perhaps I should try another way before this torture inside drives me to stop trying. It has happened that way to some people I have known.

Think about that later, said Matthias. Now you need some food to get your strength back. Is your head clear enough to join the others if I help you?

Passively, Faster permitted his fellow to raise him to his feet and assist him to where the others had gathered. Matthias seated him on an unoccupied rock located on the edge of the flat area and brought him some bread that had been prepared for their evening meal. Faster ate the bread in small bites, swallowing it with water, which Matthias kept refilled in the cup.

None of the gathered hermits directed any questions or comments directly at Faster. They knew that if he received anything meant to be shared, he would be compelled to tell them. If he received nothing, that was between him and God alone. They talked about several topics during the meal—some mundane, some esoteric. Faster did not follow much of the discussion, however. He was much too engaged in his own internal dialogue. When the meal ended, he continued to remain seated there, sometimes thinking, sometimes just blanking out his mind. Matthias stayed with him for a while as did Simon in case he wanted to talk. Faster did not want conversation at that point.

As the fullness of night came and the temperature fell to an uncomfortable level, Matthias and Simon led their companion back to his chamber. He protested that he wanted to continue to sit out and look at the stars over the desert when they tried to get him to enter his cave to retire. He assured them that he would be all right sitting alone and that they should be the ones getting some rest after being burdened taking care of him all evening. Simon entered Faster’s chamber to retrieve the cloak, still folded as a pillow. The troubled man thanked them for their concern and wrapped the plain brown wool cloak around him as Matthias and Simon departed for their own caves.

Faster looked up at the black firmament with its many pinlike pricks allowing the brilliant light on the other side of the inverted bowl to shine through. At least that was how some explained the night and stars. He did not know for sure what occupied the sky day or night or how they were arranged and ordered, but the magnitude of it filled him with awe. A force so much greater than even the most powerful king, a builder so much more clever and knowledgeable than those who built the wonders in the cities he had seen or those he had heard about, a being beyond the comprehension of the most devoted priest or wisest philosopher put all this together and kept it in perfect operation. Was it really possible that One so great and vast and mighty could care about one as insignificant as a ragged and beaten man sitting on a rock in the desert? he asked the night. Is it really possible that this Power beyond comprehension wants me to do something for it? he asked. The questions were there always, but nothing again.

Chapter 2

The Cradle

He reflected that it seemed to have begun with his mother—the stories she told him throughout his life about his history and that of his family, the role of providence as she believed it had unfolded through the years.

She said that he had not come into this world as had other children. His father did not say anything to challenge her stories. In fact, his father did not say much regarding who he was. He treated him like the other fathers treated their children. He loved and taught him how to get along in this world and took him to synagogue. Like a good father, he whiled him with stories about the past of his nation and discussed in detail the intricacies of his profession, teaching the child secrets of the craft that had been passed from generation to generation. Though he was older than the fathers of many of the child’s companions, he played active games with him, and they both especially liked hide-and-seek. He taught him about the birds, animals, trees, and other plants and how each could be used for some purpose by man. His father was a presence, not threatening or remote like in some families. He was there when needed and could make a boy laugh most of the time.

It was the boy’s mother who set the tone for his life. She told the boy that from the time of his conception, she knew he was created for a special purpose by the Almighty. She did not tell him how she knew this. She told him his parents believed they should offer their first child to God. His parents had no more children, so he became the only focus of his mother’s life. She told him over and over, from the time he could remember, that he was dedicated and reserved for some purpose that only God knew.

His father did not comment on the circumstances surrounding the announcement of his impending birth. He did tell the boy that he was not born in the village in which they now lived. Soon after they were officially married, the boy’s father and mother moved to a small village in the south near Jerusalem so that the father could practice his trade in the capital city. There was much building going on in the city—Gentile merchants, wealthy Jews, and the priestly cast and their court all attempting to turn the dusty city into a suitable place to conduct business and serve as the seat of religion during festival and pilgrimage times. In addition, many of those who ordered the world believed places that for centuries had been adequately arranged now had to be transformed to reflect, though never equal, the grandeur of Rome. At the same time, life was getting more difficult for woodworkers and builders in his native village. People were leaving smaller villages for more opportunities in the cities being renovated by King Herod and built from scratch by the Romans. Less people meant less work. The boy’s grandfather still practiced the carpentry trade in their home village, and there was not enough work for all.

That was the explanation offered by his father for the fact that he had been born in a different part of the country. His mother added that it was God’s will that they move and included a cryptic statement because people would not understand the ways of the Lord. The boy never understood this part of his birth story for most of his life and could not get, despite asking for it many times, an explanation from his mother. She told him he would understand what she meant in God’s good time as would everyone else. His father was equally silent on this matter.

Though they moved again before they settled into what he would consider to be his hometown, the boy remembered some parts of his early life. His first home was a cave to which a wooden front had been added to keep out dust and the gaze of passersby on the road leading to the capital. The area inside was high enough for a man to stand in most corners and in length and width spacious to permit the location of a table and benches and two beds, one large and one smaller. There was also space around the perimeter for the storage of trunks, baskets, and baggage, which contained their clothing and possessions. Cooking was done outside, but two oil lamps were suspended from the rock overhead to light the interior. The purification of body, clothing, and eating and cooking instruments was accomplished at a nearby stream. The place of refuse and waste was also not far away with the prevailing wind direction blowing away from their living area. The small boy remembered the home as rich with the smell of earth and the shower of dust and small rocks that fell to the stone floor when a heavy cart or galloping horse passed near the cave.

The neighborhood was composed of similar structures inhabited by other workmen and their families. In fact, his parents considered themselves lucky, as they reflected on these days, because many families arriving for employment could not get such a structure and lived in tents along the side of the road. These baked during the hot season and were drafty and cold during the winter. The boy’s father knew a wealthy man for whom he worked several times in the past on houses, farms, and buildings throughout the country that he rented. Several of these, near their ancestral home of Bethlehem, the boy’s father had repaired and expanded over the years. In fact, it was this man, on a visit to his properties in the North, who suggested to the boy’s father that he come to Jerusalem for the plentiful work available there now that he was to be married and would need a regular and better income.

When the boy’s parents made the decision to leave their village, they sent word through one of the wealthy man’s stewards that they would appreciate assistance in finding a suitable place to stay outside the capital. The cave home was arranged for them when they arrived.

You were born in that cave during the year of the counting, his father told the boy. There were a multitude of people in Jerusalem for this and for work and business opportunities, he continued. We were blessed that we had a patron who made one of his dwellings available because many people had to sleep out in the cold. Men get used to the elements if they are brought up to work in the fields or the trades, but women are trained for inside chores. It was especially hard for some of the women and children and even little babies. On particularly bitter nights, and it seemed to be especially cold that year, your mother and I would have those with very young children and newborns come inside our home to spend the night. What he gives must be shared. That is how we say thank you to our Creator, his father concluded.

We had many visitors in those days, his mother would add. And they all fawned over you. Not just local common people like us, she continued. One evening, what did I see at the door with your father but a man dressed in the rich robes of a Zoroaster priest. Dark blue like the eastern sky just after sunset the robe was. It was made from the fabric people from the Far East make. I touched it and found it to be as slippery as the polished stone walls of the temple. It is a robe only the very rich can afford. The robe had pagan symbols of his religion made of the same material except in red around the bottom. The collar was of the fur of some beast we could not name. The priest had been on his way to Jerusalem to seek information from those who study our sacred scrolls to answer some question his own religion had posed for him. On the way, he had become ill with the breathing malady. Your father found him along the side of the road in great distress with another cold night coming on. The other workmen coming home just walked by him, but not your father. He brought this old sick man to our house though he knew that our neighbors would not view this as acceptable for a good Jew, especially with those ungodly markings on his garment. ‘We are all pilgrims,’ your father said, ‘and just as we would appreciate help from others when we need it, regardless of who they are, we should give it, regardless of who they are.’ The man was indeed fortunate that he fell under the protection of your father as others would have taken his robe to sell, for it would bring a great price. Perhaps the symbols on it were thought by some to bring bad fortune to anyone who might take it. Who knows the mind of the dishonest? Regardless, I had concerns that his illness might be of the spreading type that could have been passed on to you, the boy’s mother continued. But I felt in my heart that God wanted us to take this man in. So we did, and when he got better and departed after a few days, he left several gold coins. We refused at first to take payment for our generosity, but he insisted, saying that if we wouldn’t take it for ourselves, to take it for the baby, as one never knows what the future holds for a child, greatness or obscurity, and what resources may make the difference in its life. They never saw the man again his parents said and often wondered if his journey had ultimately answered the questions he had brought from his homeland.

The boy could not remember the visit from the stranger but had seen the coins his mother kept in the wooden box his father made, which contained the revered and prized possessions of his family. They were there with letters of introduction his father used when attempting to procure work and the symbolic rope used during the wedding ceremony to bind his parents together. Also, there was a small brass tube containing a rolled piece of parchment upon which was written a Scriptures verse. The family never opened it to reveal its contents but touched it during certain holy days as part of their ritual.

The box contained a small pebble that wind and rain had freed from the wall of the great temple. His mother had picked up the stone the day that he was dedicated to God, she had told him. Within the time prescribed in the law of his people, his parents had taken their newborn to the temple for the presentation ceremony. On the way into the grounds, an ancient woman approached them and asked to see the baby. The boy’s parents were initially hesitant because they did not know this woman nor did they see any reason she should pick them out to approach from the dozens of other parents who brought their babies to the temple. Besides, it was well-known that the temple environs tended to attract those who were crazy or otherwise possessed. The temple seemed a magnet for these strange people. At first, the boy’s parents were concerned that the old woman was one of these and might do harm to the child because she was dressed in a soiled and torn widow’s dress covered in ash. Her hair was cropped in the fashion of one doing penance and was very thin as if it had fallen out on its own or had been pulled out. Despite her wild appearance, something in her eyes told them she was still a creature of this world. They stopped in response to the woman’s request and folded back the cloth covering the infant’s head, which also served to protect the delicate young skin from the harsh sun. It appeared to them, the boy’s mother later told him, that the woman’s cracked, leathery, and ancient face, for a moment, was restored to that of a young woman. Upon seeing the child, she praised God for allowing her to see what she had sought to see for most of her adult life. She raised such a ruckus in her delight that she attracted the attention of the temple attendants and guards who immediately surrounded her and pushed her toward the entrance to the complex.

This one is a little off but pretty harmless, said one of the guards as they increased the distance between the baby’s family and the women.

Just before they pushed her out the door of the Court of Women into the Court of the Gentiles, she yelled to the parents that they were both blessed and cursed to have brought into the world the child of God.

Rather than being taken back by the encounter with this woman, the boy’s mother found that it confirmed the view she already had; that is, some way this child was special. She told the boy this story many times as he grew up. She used it as one of the reasons she and the boy’s father had, later on the day of his presentation, dedicated him and his life to Yahweh.

On the day you were marked, we asked the priest to offer you in a special way to the Lord because you are from the Lord, she explained to him when he asked why he did not have the hair on his temples cut and had to say special prayers when the other children his age had only to play. This was the same response he received from her when he complained that he had to include Yahweh in all he did now and in the future while other children were free to dream of a future of their own making if they desired, even if the chance of it coming true was remote.

On the way out of the temple, the boy’s mother saw on the ground a small corner of one of the blocks that the throngs passing through and the forces of nature had worn loose. She picked it up and kept it in the box to remember and remind.

The boy, of course, did not remember this or the circumstances of his coming into the world or most of the other symbols his mother told him about. His memories of early life were of the small room they called home, of sunlight streaming in through cracks in the door when it was closed and of people going by it, to and fro,