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As the sounds of “It is finished”
touched the ether, Machba`nel woke with a start, wondering at the closeness and the darkness of the air around him as he reached
up to brush away the sleep clotting his eyes and found the air had hardened unaccountably around his fist. He struggled
to make some sense of who and where he was as he found himself lying in a shallow hole at the side of a ditch, covered
by only a tanned hide and a light coating of dirt and grass roots. Something momentous had happened to him but as he struggled
to sit upright and see, his mind was too absorbed with unanswerable questions to single out just one and answer it. He and
Apulio must have been very drunk last night, for his head ached fierce and there was a low, silvered hum in his ears. He'd
had such a terrible nightmare, he thought to himself as he pushed himself past the loose clots of dirt, to lie down on
the barely warmed soil. Then the truth struck him and he feared to raise his head. Would that it all HAD been just a terrible
dream from which he might just wake! Remembering wasn't the same as understanding! It took all of his slowly returning
strength to push himself out of the shallow pit, resting momentarily on his hands and knees, while his mind struggled
to grasp the fact of his death and the reality of soil laden breaths he was drawing in without conscious volition!
His legs had a strange wobbliness to them and he dusted himself off as best he could, wishing for a sip of water or wine,
anything to get the dryness out of his throat. Looking back at the walled city he couldn't make himself return there, but
not allowing himself to remember why, just yet. Hearing the excited voices of men and women alike, some crying, some outraged,
he followed after them, stopping every few feet to dust his legs further and wishing mightily that the sun would shine less
bright until he could stop the pain residing fiercely behind his eyes.
The tribune Aulus Longinus ignored the mere Centurion’s approach, thinking he might been sent by Pilate or his
uncle Justus to make sure he didn't foul up, and determined to keep command of this insignificant watch. How long would it
take for a body to desiccate and decay in such high mountain air? Then he would return to the Procurator and his Uncle as
a minor hero; one who didn't have to brag, but one who could display himself prominently the next time they had a real task
to be done for the glory of the empire!
As he approached, Machba`nel’s hand reached instinctively for the sheathed dagger that had hung at his side since
be acquired the rank of Centurion, but the disgruntled soldier had merely herded the women together to allow them access to
the stony knob of the hill now that all three men were dead. Except for the mocking birds and the soft weeping of grief, there
was a terrible silence lingering with the aftermath of the summer storm. The Master’s three younger brothers were there,
but none of His disciples save the youngest John, who was helping to support Mary of Nazareth, and the gentle old carpenter
Hilkiah, one of the few men to even speak to him as he spied on the Master’s camp. Matthew was nowhere to be seen, but
of what use were old men identified by their years of service to Rome before being called out by the Master? But
then the very spirit of the air seemed to whisk around his ears and insinuate its melancholy and accusation against his beating
heart. ‘By that same measure, of what value was he to these grieving families?’ “ Man, you’ve
come? “ Said a voice behind him. He turned, facing the face he feared only
slightly less than the Masters. The face of the old carpenter who’d been there on the riverbank the day Jesus healed
his rotting feet two and a half years ago! “ But we heard you were dead, Marcus. Ahava? Child, come
and see! Not everything has been a loss today! “ Hilkiah called, in a voice harsh
with recent weeping. The dusty soldier wanted to stop him, for fear the sixteen year old girl he secretly prized for her innocence
and trust would turn and look at him with all the loathing he was feeling inside his own being!
“ You’re dead! “ The old carpenter stammered. “
No, I’m not. “ Machba`nel protested, trying to hold a rational conversation with someone
on the ground while his shocked gaze tried to comprehend the lifeless body still hung on the center cross. It had been for
naught!
“ You’re dead! “ Hilkiah insisted stubbornly, poking at the
form; shocked to find warm tissue. He stuck his finger into the bloody slit in the Roman’s armor.
Machba`nel looked down in bewilderment, pressing his own digit into the bloody leather slit, but pushing hard, he found
neither wound nor pain? “
You were dead! “ Hilkiah insisted, rationally. “ This must
be somebody else’s blood. I’m fine, Old Father, please don’t worry yourself on my account “, but as
he brushed off the dirt from his legs and his hair, it seemed impossible to argue!
Pushing the speckled dog from her lap, she rose to her feet shakily and seemed to draw some semblance of comfort at
seeing him that he could fathom. Had there been more between them than the chaste conversation he seemed to remember? A sense
of evil entanglement pressed against his partially returned memory but he pushed it away contemptuously. Whatever he
might have been capable of, there was nothing in the pure girl’s rush to his side that implied anything but an innocent
young girl seeking shelter from a man she trusted. He turned away for just a moment, keeping the trembling girl close to his
side. The mother's grief was too much to bear. Silent, restrained by disbelief but as feral as any loss on the battlefield
when the mind wants to take a step back to the instant before the tragedy struck and move this way, or that, anything!
" Marcus? Marcus? Is that you? "
His friend and mentor of two decades asked in astonished disbelief, reaching out his hand as if he expected it to pass the
image of the man he saw dead and when it struck flesh and bone, Apulio pulled back immediately in repugnance, stepping
on the foot of the weeping woman using his body for a shield.
"
Miriam, forgive me... "
" Forgive
you, my husband? " She wailed, her voice lifting so high as to be almost unintelligible. "
You find me in the arms of another man and you ask me to forgive you? " She looked
around in desperation, seeking escape to some other world, some other plane of existence, for this one bore too much pain
to be endured!
" We thought you dead,
Marcus! Or we would have never... "
" I
saw you dead! I told her! I saw them lay you in your grave! "
" Don't be afraid. 'Appy'! Fear not, Miriam! I'm neither ghost nor responsible for my own life any longer. Like
friend Lazarus, I'm called forth from the dead. "
Miriam
sank to her knees, weeping in fresh horror, but the familiar form with body heat and the dried blood on his breastplate
bent down beside her, stroking her hair in compassion.
"
That man who callously pledged you flesh to have your son as his own is dead. I have no claim on you, not do I wish too,
be freed of any former debt, my dearest lady. "
It
seemed to take her several minutes to comprehend everything he was trying to say to her. Then her fingers traced his
cheekbones and she looked down to the soiled logia in horrified shock and awe. he seized her hand, isolating
one finger and forced her to thrust the tip of it into the deep cut in the leather just below the metal plate, extending all
the way through the leather stitching but ending at whole and sound flesh. Only then did the doubt begin to fade and
awed amazement refill the emptiness.
" If you will,
I will keep my commitment to Yoram. But take him away, go with Apulio for a few years until he's old enough to understand.
My heart will go with him, for he is as much my son in love as he is yours in the flesh. But on you, your body, your
heart, your love, I have no further claim. "
" Apulio and I only...we thought.... "
"
Hush, my love. I saw it but I was too arrogant to admit the truth. I thought we could each love each other equally, but I
see how selfish and wrong that was. I have one I love, and you have one you love. Is that not enough? Let that be enough,
for both our sakes! "
Miriam looked up at the man,
still holding her hand, and saw questioning on his face where once there had been only an arrogant assurance, and she began
to weep and laugh at the same time, earning his hesitant smile.
" Yes! Yes! That's enough! Tomorrow is enough! I free you to love, even as I am loved, Marcus!
"
" Isaac. " He
insisted, helping her to her feet, though she had to lean against him Apulio to keep her feet. " That other man
is dead. My name is Isaac. Isaac ben Ezra. "
She saw the older Centurion start to approach, but hearing the intimate words, turn and walk away but her heart was
too full to even attempt to explain to Xavier.
" I should help you and his family to bury that good man, centurion, so I'll be back when I get...her...to
safety. "
They clasped
hands forearms in the military fashion of their youth, then embraced, with much backslapping and unspoken promises between
them. He would take Back
the life he scorned as a youth, for as long as the Holy One, Blessed be His Name, chose for him to watch over
the mother and her two youngest children.-
Joseph of Aramathea supervised of the alone and myrrh being hastily sprinkled across the body that women would have to wash
and wrap properly later, there simply wasn’t time before the Sabbath, no matter how much such haste
broke his heart. Then an odd pull made his straighten without warning and look around for the hand that had demanded his attention.
But no one was near who wasn’t bent or couched by the grieving women who wailed their grief even as they laid the copper
mites on the closed eyes. The face was so badly discolored and swollen that it was unrecognizable, but they knew who had nailed
to the cross, and so did Mary as she rocked back and forth, wailing in a low, somber tone she couldn’t stop, delicately
crossing the stiffened hands over her son’s virginity.
“ Here. Take these coins, and see to their proper rites, Alphaeus. “ He said apologetically
but as the thin man smiled at him, with tears visible in his eyes, Joseph lost all control and falling forward to the younger
man’s shoulder began to wail his grief, startling the calloused soldiers into an uncommon and embarrassed silence; struggling
to find an answer for himself in the midst of the grinding noise of the tomb's stone being fitted along the track cut into
the limestone and the breathless horror that it might not be wide enough to allow the stone to roll within it and be sealed
by the wax impression that would guard their lives against Pilate's rage if the certainty of the stones immobility couldn't
be fixed? Instead Xavier sighed and leaned all the heavier against the younger man standing in front
Nicodemus
brought a mixture of myrrh and aloe, about half of the weight of the body there was so little time, they had to place the
face cloth over the battered features, holding the eyes closed with the weight of a copper mite, they hastily wound the body.
No matter their grief, there simply wasn’t time enough. When the full Sabbath was passed, though it would be three days
and incredibly more difficult to deal with sloughing skin and the stench of corruption, they agreed among themselves to return,
His love in life demanded no less of theirs! Following the men, they saw the new tomb in which he was laid and saw as the
coarse, jesting soldiers came to replace their day’s counterparts. Starting a fire from limbs broken from the garden
trees they hunkered down for a long night’s watch. So long as it prevented the terrible reality lying at one's feet, as Joseph of Aremetha’s voice drove at the menservants
he'd brought with him and the death of the sun, blood red against the sky drew near the holy invocation of the Feast of
the Passover. While the body of the Lamb was hastily covered with aloe and myrrh and hastily covered with the finely
woven cloth imported for his own demise, not that of the kindly young rabbi from Nazareth!
- Hilkiah woke alone
on Sunday morning; Judith had risen without waking him while it was yet dark so she could accompany The Magdalene, Mary, the
mother of Jesus and the other women to the garden tomb to complete the necessary burial ritual. It would be a gruesome task
as the Lord’s body had lain in the tomb for a full three days; Passover having arrived on a Thursday, which made the
day sacred as a Sabbath as well the Friday night sunset to Saturday sunset. He gave an involuntary shudder as he thought of
what they would find even if they could make someone roll back the stone from the tomb where Pilate’s seal certainty
still rested as Caiaphas and the Elders in league with him had demanded! At the same moment, the mountain raised itself up
and shook like a wet dog shaking water out of its coat and a terror struck him through as the first shafts of dawn broke through
the haze over the low mountains. As gruesome as the task promised to be, it would take him and the red haired giant Adam’
strength to roll away the massive stone, of this he had no doubt. But Ahava’s serving man was nowhere in sight and the
servants who hadn’t fled the house on Thursday where too terrified to respond to his bellows! Angry, and weary beyond
bearing, he wrapped himself in his cloak against the morning’s chill and started down the road toward the outer wall
where a path lead to the sheep’s gate used by the priests fo animals destined for slaughter. That it was the same path
Jesus had been lead, bearing His cross, wasn’t lost on the grieving man, but what could he hope to do? When
he saw the stout form of Mary bat Eli racing down the path he leaped in her way, thinking she was hysterical, and rightly
so. How much more could a mother bear toward her best-loved and first- born son? But when he lifted her off her feet, her
sandaled ankles still running, he was shocked by the glow and the joy that emanated from her face, making the reddened rims
and deep circles seem almost worthy of desire. “
He’s alive! Hilkiah! He’s alive! “
“ I know how much you want that to be, Mary... “ He
temporized, looking around for Judith or the Magdalene who must surely have sensed, even in their deep grief, that she was
absent! She placed her
hand on his shoulder as he reluctantly out her down, expecting her to twist away in some maddened delight at her fantasy!
“ Does this look like the face of grief? He is risen from the dead, just as the Psalmist said, just as He promised!
Kiah? "
He pulled back from her in angry repugnance, his own grief tearing through the open wound festering in his soul for
the last three days. “ Kiah? “ Another voice
asked. A warm hand laid itself on his shoulder as he rocked, doubled over with pain.
Slowly he straightened, seeing the feet with nail imprints in fresh sandals, then a robe so new it shined in the growing
sunlight as if spun from the orb’s delicate ray, to the hand holding unto his elbow, the imprint of having been pierced
through and through. Only then did he risk looking up at the dear, familiar face, the brow healthy pink with flesh, but pox’ed
where the crown of thorn needles had pressed in so cruelly under Rome’s contempt.
He staggered backwards and lost his balance in the thick bushes beside the hard packed path.
“ It can’t be! It’s a ghost! Depart from me you tormenting spirit!
“ Something
did indeed seem to halve and fall away from him, but the Figure remained, warm with life as Jesus hunkered down beside him
his lips parted in a gentle smile.
“ Was I a spirit on the water when I bade Cephas to come to me?
“ Hilkiah
gasped sharply and tried to form words, but none would come!
“ He’s alive, Kiah! “ Mary insisted tenderly.
“ Just like He said! “ “
Yes, I can see that. “ The old carpenter agreed, but when he tried to pass
his hand through the specter, it hit flesh and bone and cloth and he jerked his hand back in shock, staring at it in disbelief! Hilkiah
swallowed hard, twice, then tentatively placed his hand into the nail-scarred palm that gripped his firmly and helped him
to his feet, only to crumble again in ecstasy as he realized it was true! Tenderly the Master raised him to his feet, allowing
Hilkiah to rest his cheek against his shoulder as the old man’s body shook with fresh sobs. “ As you love me, Kiah. When the time of My Father is at hand, go you out into
all the world and tell others what you have seen me do and what you have heard me say. Make disciples in My Name. Baptizing
them in the power of the Father, The Son, and the Holy Spirit. Lean on me, and none of your enemies will be able to deny all
that you say of the Truth in your witness. “
“ But they can just ask you, Lord! Who am I that they will believe me? “
“ If I do not go away, the Father cannot send the Comforter. He
will guide you in all truth, He will gird you with wisdom and with strength. For men will slander you, and persecute you,
and say all manner of evil against you for my name’s sake, but take heart, Dear One. Great will be your reward for faithfulness
in the Kingdom of My Father! “
“ But I can’t lose you again! I just found you, Lord! “ Jesus
stroked the hand that clung to him, soothing the old man’s distress as He gazed long and hard into the old carpenter’s
face. A sense of peace and of purpose filled him from deep within his innermost being, until it flowed
out of him as living praise, feeling as though his clothing should be soaked through, so real was the sense of emersion in
uncompromising love and protection!
“ Tell the simple man the plain truth. The Holy Spirit of GOD has prepared the heart He will
lead you, too. It is not of yourself, lest any man should boast. And fear not, Little One, I will never leave you comfortless,
I will never be absent from your voice, you will always be here in my heart! Always! “ “
Yes, Lord. “ Hilkiah agreed humbling as the Master raised him to his feet,
placing His arm around both of them as they walked the sunlit path toward the sleeping city and the spacious Upper Room near
David’s Tomb where the others waited in fear and trembling, not having believed the women’s report who found the
tomb empty and the angels within. There were other’s voices, still taunt with fear and grief, as Hilkiah and Mary raced
up the narrow stone staircase to speak privately with their families. As Hilkiah tried to follow, his foot was held back by
Ahava’s speckled dog attempting to tug backwards on the loose thong trailing behind his ankle. Suddenly
the old man laughed and kicked off the ruined shoe. It suddenly seemed more important to give than to received and as he hastened
toward the glad cries of greeting from those who were seeing the risen Christ for the first time, he allowed the Nimrod to
snatch up the cherished object and ran downstairs, his toenails clicking merrily on the worn stones as he raced down into
the basement to find a secluded place to gnaw the heavily salted sole between his sturdy young teeth, ignoring his mistress’
frantic pleas until she gave up her futile search and returned to her future husband and in-laws waiting upstairs in the upper
Room; already a little in love with a man called Isaac ben Ezra. His belly full, the speckled dog laid his damp jowl against
the remaining portion of the gnawed leather, as Nimrod dreamed of strangely immobile black cats who lacked the sharp claws
or skill to use them as possessed by her cherished pet Sheba! -
* Hilkiah ben Israel died at one
hundred and four years of age, far from the land of Israel he loved so passionately, full of years and wisdom; surrounded
by his family and friends who sought not to have to let him go with work still undone for he was the oldest living man who’d
been with Jesus from the beginning of His worldly ministry. With him, as he breathed his last, were the eldest members of
the church he helped to found, his adopted daughter Ahava, the youngest daughter of Joseph of Nazareth the carpenter and her
family, who helped the Almighty as El Eloah of Israel, The personal and Tender God of Israel blessed families, by
raising his only begotten Son in one, with all the privileges and demanding responsibilities to a young boy of being an older
brother to those who arose from union of Joseph and his young wife Mary bat Eli; and his aged son Noah, now a patriarch with
a bristling white beard, with grandchildren to the third generation. He remained a humble and generous man despite his lifelong
association with the Messiah, or perhaps, knowing his tender nature, because of it.
- - - The End
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