Читать книгу Time - Alan Sorem - Страница 5

Two abreast, shoulder to shoulder, the line of men shuffled forward. Not prisoners but rather a line of hopeful humanity pressing forward to the riverbank and the waters just beyond. The men were silent, each individual filled with an anticipation common to all of them: rich man, poor man preparing for the cleansing ritual of baptism that would bring liberation to a new life of commitment to the Lord.

The day had begun sunny but now the clouds overhead were darkening. A light breeze swirled the desert sand over by the grove of trees where all the tents for pilgrims were pitched. Yeshua could see women walking among the trees, waiting for their turn to form a line once the men finished. A child’s sudden cry came, followed by the soft voice of a mother. The cry subsided.

As he slowly moved onward in the line together with the man on his right, Yeshua thought of the events that had brought him to this day. The episode in the Temple that occurred when he was twelve. His study of scripture until it was imprinted on his brain. The recent visit of his kinsman, son of Zechariah. Most important, the sudden death of his father, Yosef, that prompted his mother to tell him details about his birth.

Nearing the river, an older man regulated the line. “Single file, now. Single file,” he chanted as he eyed the clouds overhead. The line thinned and reformed to single file. Some men complained. They wanted to get to the river quickly to be cleansed of their sins.

To his right there was another line of men, coming from the river. Their tunics were drenched but their faces glowed with a radiant joy. Most held up their hands in prayer. Others softly sang a praise psalm of the Temple. Yeshua wished Yosef had lived to see this day.

He continued to move slowly forward. At last the man ahead of him reached the river. A boy in shepherd’s clothes was clambering up the side of the bank. From his shaggy hair rivulets of water dripped, further wetting his soaked rough clothing. He was smiling broadly at the men in the line moving forward. “What a glorious day,” he shouted. “Praise the Lord.” A young man wearing a much-mended white cloak held up a hand for the line to wait. In the river an elderly man dressed in the cloak of a Temple priest was raised from the river water. The young man in the white cloak nodded and the person in front of Yeshua carefully stepped on stones that formed a path down to the river and waded toward the three men who were baptizing. One of the three was Yeshua’s kinsman Yohannon. For just a moment Yeshua thought again of Yosef, but he smiled as he realized Yosef was there with him in spirit.

And then it was his turn. His Time.