Читать книгу Time - Alan Sorem - Страница 11

After supper a well-bathed Yohannon retired to the garden with Yeshua. The garden, a long rectangle of land, was shared with the family whose house adjoined it at the far end. The garden consisted of fruit trees, olive trees and long rows of spring vegetables. Wooden benches were placed beneath three of the trees and the two men found their way to the bench that shielded them best from the warm glow of the setting sun.

“So, kinsman,” Yeshua broke a brief silence in which they both contemplated the beauty and the bounty of the garden, “what has brought you to the north?”

Yohannon’s eyes danced as he turned, “You have not changed! Well, I will get to the point. First, your mother’s cousin, after whom your sister is named, is in declining health. She has attained an age of eighty years, blessed be the mercies of the Lord, and she has given me messages of condolence to bear to your mother.”

“You are her only child. If these are her final days, why have you left her?”

“The wives of priests who remember my father Zechariah are attending to her. She is well cared for. And I expect to return home before she passes to our Lord’s heavenly kingdom.”

“But this talk of going to the Essenes. Surely you knew of her condition?”

“Yeshua, sometimes there are more important things than family.”

“I cannot imagine.”

Yohannon gazed at the garden and smiled. “I think you will.”

Yeshua looked at him and spoke sternly. “With my father’s sudden passing I am responsible for this household. I cannot imagine forsaking my mother. And you! You have no brothers or sisters as I do.”

“Following the path that the Lord has set for me is the highest responsibility.”

“Have you forgotten the admonition of the Law? Honor your father and your mother.”

Yohannon was quiet for a moment and then spoke. “I have wrestled with it. The will of the Lord is an even higher admonition.”

“And you, a mere mortal, presume to know the specific will of the Lord?”

“Kinsman, I walk about as you do; I sleep and eat and my bowels move. Yes, I am mortal.”

“What then? Are you at last decided on following in your father’s steps and training for the Temple priesthood?”

“No, Yeshua. I revere the memory of my father but I will not follow his path. At least, not in the Temple.” Yohannon shifted on the bench and looked directly at Yeshua as he continued.

“I know from past conversations that you are a person of great insight and wisdom. Even the Essenes know of you.” He smiled. “Mention of your name as my kinsman helped my entry into their community.”

Yohannon became serious. “Now I will tell you why I speak as I do. But first, a question. Do you have visions?”

Yeshua almost laughed at the question but he saw that Yohannon was serious. “No. My father had holy dreams. I, too, have dreams, some of them very strange and vivid indeed. But I regard them as phantoms of my mind, brought on by overwork or its converse, concern about whether we again will find customers for our work when times are slow.”

“How is the work these days?”

“Very good. We have a backload of orders. Yaakob and I are catching up for the time lost at my father’s passing. Today we finished items of furniture and began the assembly of a new cart.”

“I am glad for you. But let me return to myself. Of late I have visions. Not dreams, but rather things I see in the course of a day, as though suddenly a familiar place is bathed in radiant light and I discern something behind what is in place in front of me.”

Yeshua smiled. “Perhaps you also are overworked at times, or worried, and your ‘visions’ give you relief from the press of daily affairs.”

“No, no. They can be very real indeed.” He paused, considering. “I will tell you in truth about my most recent vision. It came a week past while I was with the Essenes. One day, while yet again purifying myself in the room of the pool—before the midday meal as I recall—suddenly the far wall was transformed into a mist. As I watched, stupefied, the mist quieted and I saw myself standing in the middle of a river. People of all sorts lined the banks on both sides. There were priests of the Temple in impressive garments; there were women of high degree in their finery and also women in simple clothing of house or farm; and there were shepherds and fishmongers and merchants.”

“Quite a sight, kinsman.”

“Indeed. But there was more. In my own voice I was speaking loudly to them. ‘In the wilderness prepare the way of YAHWEH, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.’”

Yeshua sucked in a great breath. “You dare to use the Holy Name? Take care! When the holy scrolls are read aloud in the synagogue, ‘Lord’ is always substituted.”

“But it was not I here and now who was speaking,” protested Yohannon. “It was I in the vision.”

“A thin difference,” replied Yeshua. “It is still sacrilege.”

“Wait, there is more.” Yohannon’s voice throbbed with excitement. “In the vision I cried out with a loud voice, ‘The glory of YAHWEH shall be revealed, all the people shall see it together, for the mouth of YAHWEH has spoken.’”

Yeshua rose and moved to the other end of the bench. “This is blasphemy!”

“No. The prophet Isaiah’s words,” Yohannon noted primly.

“Indeed,” Yeshua replied through pursed lips. “I am quite familiar with Isaiah’s words.”

Yohannon nodded and smiled. “Yes. You are noted for your knowledge of scripture.”

“Enough of your flattery. Besides your irreverent use of the Holy Name, were there other happenings in this tale of a vision?”

“I spoke more words from the prophet. Many more. Then the mist swirled and faded away and it was simply the wall of the room again. Exhausted as if by some great exertion, I fell backwards into the pool. Those who were near me lifted me up quickly. I questioned them discreetly for fear that they would think me crazed but they had seen nothing except my collapse.”

He glanced at Yeshua. “I tell you truly.”

“In this place with the Essenes. Had you been fasting?”

“No.”

“Were you taken by a fever in the days before?”

Yohannon shook his head.

“Long walks of meditation in the heat of the desert?”

Another headshake.

Yeshua sighed. “Had any event prompted this vision? Word from your mother? A visitor?”

“None of that,” Yohannon replied. “But there is more. At first I was troubled by what had happened. Like you, I thought the desert air might have prompted the vision.

“After a sleepless night I sought out the leader and told him I had decided to withdraw and return to my mother. He agreed, and that very morning I set off.”

“Going to Yerushalayim?” Yeshua asked.

“That was my intention. By the river route to avoid bandits on the roads. I reached Nehar ha Yarden and followed it south. And then I saw something amazing.” He paused and his face brightened as he looked at Yeshua.

“Another vision?”

“No, no. Even better! In those parts the great river is never wide except in the floods of early spring. I was able to make my way along the top of the river’s bank.”

“And?”

“Yeshua! I came round a bend and there it was! The very site I had seen in my vision the day before!”

Yeshua was silent for a moment. “Crowds of people waiting?”

“No, no. The river only. I pulled up my garments and almost fell in my haste to scramble down the bank and into the water. I tell you, it was the exact place. Instantly I changed my plans. I came north to Galilea to tell you and others of this.”

Yeshua smiled. “You did smell of the river when you arrived here.”

“Not an Essene model! Days of walking and brief sleep each night in the fields.”

“Saving what dinars you have,” Yeshua nodded. “Well, a good bath always will await you in Nazareth. But why did you not return to your mother first? Why the haste?”

Yohannon stood suddenly and took a few steps down the path to the house. He turned, and his voice was filled with passionate emotion.

“Yeshua, the time has come to prepare for the Messiah!”

Yeshua smiled at his kinsman’s sudden fervor. “Yes, yes, but the days of the Maccabees are long past, if a revolt is what you have in mind.”

Yohannon waved a hand. “No military uprising. What I have seen in my vision is a cleansing of the spirit. A return in our time to humbler, simpler ways. Herod is gone and this Roman, Pontius Pilate, who rules over central Palestine, cares little for matters of faith as long as we fork over the taxes that pay for the legions who maintain the peace.”

Calmly Yeshua replied. “Herod’s son Antipas rules over Galilea. Our taxes go mostly to pay for his grand new buildings in Tiberias and elsewhere.”

“And also to Rome.”

“And to people in Nazareth like my family, who make furniture for some of the new buildings and the homes of administrators and centurions.”

“That is good for you.” Yohannon began to wave his arms about as his voice rose. “But at least your life is not filled with pretension of the sort that is an unholy aroma in the streets of Yerushalayim, even unto the inner sanctums of the Temple itself!”

“Kinsman, calm yourself.” Yeshua patted the bench. “Come and sit with me so that we may discuss your plan for purification. Or have the baths of the Essenes pickled your mind?”

Yohannon came and sat. He spoke passionately. “It is time to prepare. I go tomorrow to other villages in Galilea to find disciples who will assist me.”

“But Galilea is unknown territory to you, a man of Yerushalayim.”

“Some of the Essenes, men of the north, were in sympathy with me. They gave me names of those in Galilea who are of like mind. I am counting on a spiritual hunger that the Lord has created among these villagers. A holy yearning for a new day—the day of the Messiah.”

“Are you serious? The Holy One, anointed of the Lord?”

“Yes. He is coming now. It has been revealed to me.”

“Kinsman, again you border on sacrilege! Time for the Messiah! How can this be?”

“He is coming,” insisted Yohannon. “It has been revealed to me. I am to prepare his way and I will anoint him!”