A Torch in the Empire Series Book One: The Fire and the Trial

Chapter Four: Back in Jerusalem

   Uncle Aaron and Aunt Moriah left for Caesarea Maritima the next morning, stopping to bid Jesse and Abigail goodbye first. A few days later, they set sail for Rome on the same ship that carried Jesse and Abigail's parents.
   Several months passed as Jesse and Abigail waited for their aunt and uncle to return, and life began to settle into a routine for them.
   Before his father's arrest, Jesse had worked alongside him as a stonecutter at a quarry in the middle of the city. Jesse took up the work again, by himself now. When Jesse's father had worked at the quarry, he was always talking to the other men there about Jesus. Jesse had always kept to himself. The other men at the quarry ignored him for the most part. That was fine with him. He rarely felt like talking to people.
   Jesse never would have admitted it to Abigail, but the anger and bitterness inside him were growing. He was angry at the Romans, angry at God, and angry at the world in general. Truth was he missed his parents terribly. But unlike Abigail whose grief showed itself in tears, Jesse did not cry.
   Sometimes the ire inside him boiled so hot that he felt he would like to go and attack the Roman garrison, and no matter if he died in the attempt. But always there was Abigail. If he died, who would be there for her? What if Uncle Aaron and Aunt Moriah did not return? So Jesse did not try to fight the Romans. Instead, he poured all his anger, hate, and bitterness into cutting pieces of stone.
   As for Abigail, she faithfully took care of the household. She continued to buy flax, spin it, weave it, sew it into garments, and sell it for a profit. With the money from the clothing she sold and the money Jesse made from his stonecutting job, she bought food from the market and cooked it into delicious meals for herself and Jesse. She also took care of the goat, milked it, and made goat cheese from some of the milk. And, of course, there was the water to get from the well each day, the clothes to wash, and the other housework. Jesse had to admit that he was impressed with how well his sister took care of things.
   The two of them continued to go to the Christian meetings on the first day of the week. But if Jesse were honest with himself, he only went because Abigail wanted to. He never would have admitted that to her either, but he wasn't sure he believed all that about Jesus being the Messiah, needing to trust in Him to be saved from Hell, and the rest.
   He especially didn't like the talk about forgiveness. People said that because Jesus had forgiven them all their sins, they must forgive those who hurt them. Jesse did not think he could ever forgive the Romans.
   Abigail liked to stay for a time after the meeting was over and talk with the other believers, but Jesse was ready to go home as soon as the meeting was ended. True, they really did seem to care. But Jesse told himself he didn't need their sympathy. And he certainly didn't need their preaching.
   Jesse constantly wondered if Father and Mama had been killed in Caesar's Circus or if Uncle Aaron and Aunt Moriah had found a way to free them. He wondered if Uncle Aaron and Aunt Moriah were safe or if they, too, had been killed in the Roman Games. He never talked to Abigail about it, but he was certain the same questions plagued her.
   Then one fall evening as it was nearing the end of the time of year that ships could sail, Jesse came home proudly carrying a woolen cloak he had bought at the market, his troubles forgotten for the present. He had been saving money to buy a cloak to replace the one the beggar had stolen, and finally had saved enough. Abigail would have made him a linen one, but he wanted a wool one.
   As he walked in the door, he was met by the delicious smell of the soup Abigail was making. She stood by the clay oven, stirring the pot sitting on top.
   "Abigail! I've gotten a new cloak!" Jesse said, holding it up for her to see.
   Abigail turned to look and smiled. "That's great, Jesse."
   Jesse's gaze turned toward the middle of the room. Abigail had fixed up the mats for them to sit on, and also sitting there, was a platter of honey cakes.
   "You made honey cakes!" Jesse exclaimed. His stomach rumbled with hunger, and his cloak was entirely forgotten. He absentmindedly set it down on the floor and began eating a honey cake. A few moments later, Abigail joined him, bringing the pot of soup. She reminded him they needed to say a blessing, and then they both ate.
When he had finished eating, Jesse remembered his cloak. Where had he set it down? He looked around the room and then at the goat.
   "Abigail!" he cried, "Your goat is eating my new cloak!" He jumped up and pulled a piece of the cloak out of the goat's mouth. The cloak was ruined. All that remained of it was an assortment of fabric shreds and a few larger pieces of wool. "Look!" Jesse said, holding up a strip of fabric.
   "I'm sorry, Jesse," Abigail said, but Jesse thought she looked as though she was trying not to laugh.
   At that moment there was a gentle knock on the door. Before Jesse could stop her, Abigail had jumped up to get the door. She opened it wide. There in the dim light after sunset but before dark stood Uncle Aaron and Aunt Moriah.
   "Aunt Moriah! Uncle Aaron!" Abigail exclaimed. She threw her arms around her aunt. Jesse stood up to greet them. Instantly, his cloak was forgotten, and the worries about Father and Mama he'd managed to push away for the evening came crowding back into his head. He was glad to see his aunt and uncle, but one thought pounded in his mind. They are alone. Father and Mama are not with them.
   Once greetings were finished, Uncle Aaron looked at Aunt Moriah, then at Jesse and Abigail. Jesse looked back at him, a question in his eyes.
   "Let's sit down," Uncle Aaron said. Everyone sat down and waited for him to speak. A long moment passed before he did. "Your parents," he finally said, "died bravely."
Even though Jesse had been nearly certain of their deaths, hearing Uncle Aaron say it, knowing it for certain now, caused a deep ache in his chest, a grief he had never felt before. He glanced at Abigail. Tears glistened in her eyes. Jesse reached over and squeezed her hand.
   "Tell us more," he said to Uncle Aaron.
   When Uncle Aaron spoke, his voice was heavy. "When we arrived in Rome, we talked to everyone we could, tried to find any way possible to keep them from dying in Nero's Circus. Finally, we had to accept the fact that there was nothing we could do.
   "So we went to see your father and mother one last time. They were in a little cell even smaller and darker than the cell in the Antonia Fortress. But in the darkness of that cell, they were singing."
   Uncle Aaron stopped, and Jesse realized he was trying not to cry. Uncle Aaron brushed his hand across his face and then continued. "They asked us to tell you that they love you. They said to tell you to keep following Christ, no matter what trials come."
   "When the day of the Games arrived, Moriah and I watched from the stands. The Games were at the hippodrome in Nero's Vatican gardens. We could not get up close, but we watched from one of the back rows," Uncle Aaron shook his head. "Roman Games are a terrible thing. After the opening ceremonies, the first event was the Christians being thrown to the lions."
   Uncle Aaron stopped again, and this time, Jesse saw a tear slide down his cheek. "Your parents and several other Christians—men, women, and even some children—were taken into the arena. Then they let the lions in. Your father and mother knelt down on the sand, held hands, and bowed their heads. They stayed like that until..." Uncle Aaron did not finish the sentence. He didn't need to. Jesse knew. Until they were killed.
   "We left then," Aunt Moriah said, and she, too, was weeping. "We had no desire to see any more. We only wanted to be there for your parents."
   Finally, Uncle Aaron spoke again, "They died for Christ. They were faithful until the very end."
Jesse looked around at his uncle, aunt, and sister, all with tear-streaked faces. But no tears came for him.
   "I hate the Romans," he thought, then realized he'd spoken aloud. Aunt Moriah was looking at him.
   "I know it is hard, Jesse," she said, "but you must forgive. What the Romans did to your parents was a horrible thing, a wrong thing. But you must choose to not hate. Jesus said to love our enemies."
   "That is easy to say when it was not your parents killed by them," Jesse blurted.
   Aunt Moriah's voice was gentle, but firm, "My father was killed by the Romans, too, Jesse."
   Jesse felt a slight twinge of regret. Of course. How could he have forgotten? He'd heard the story before, but Aunt Moriah was telling it again.
   "It was over thirty years ago," she said, "but I can still feel the pain of that day. My father was a Zealot. He hated the Romans and wanted to rid the land of them. He was a thief, stealing money, weapons, whatever he could from the Romans. I'm afraid he did not think of how his choices would affect my mother and me. My mother was so frightened that one day he would be caught. And one day he was caught. It was Passover week. They put him in jail, and the day before the Sabbath, they crucified him. He was one of three men crucified. There was another Zealot and a man called Jesus of Nazareth, a man whom I have come to believe is the Messiah.
   "Jerusalem has seen many crucifixions, but none like that day. As Jesus hung there on that cross, He said, 'Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do.' My mother and I were there because of my father and because we had heard Jesus speak and heard of the miracles He had done. Most of the people there also knew about His miracles. So when He hung there on that cross, people mocked Him. They jeered at Him saying that if He could save others, why could He not save himself? Even my father and the other Zealot mocked him.
   "But then something changed in my father. When the other Zealot mocked Jesus, my father said, 'Do you not even fear God, seeing we are under the same condemnation? And we indeed justly, for we receive the due reward of our deeds; but this Man has done nothing wrong.' Then my father said to Jesus, 'Lord, remember me when You come into Your kingdom.' And Jesus said to him, 'Assuredly, I say to you, today you will be with Me in Paradise.'
   "Then a great darkness settled over the land in the middle of the day, and some strange things happened. The veil in the temple separating the Holy of Holies from the rest of the temple was torn in two.
   "Finally, it was getting close to the Sabbath, and some of the Jews requested that the legs of the criminals be broken so they would die quicker. That was when my mother and I decided to leave. We heard later that when the soldiers came to Jesus, He was already dead, so they did not break His legs.
   "Then three days later, news began to spread that Jesus had risen from the dead. At first, I did not know what to think. But then I saw Him. I saw the risen Jesus one day..."
Aunt Moriah stopped. "You know all this, Jesse. You've heard this story before. But I'm sure it didn't hurt you to hear it again." She smiled.
   "I had a lot of conflicting emotions. I was sad, angry, confused. I didn't understand how God could let my father die like that. I had thought Jesus was the Messiah, and I did not understand why He died. But when I saw the risen Jesus, everything changed. I finally understood that He died on the cross to pay the penalty for the sins of the world, for my sin. And He gave me the ability to love and to forgive. I learned that what man means for evil, God means for good. Whether we can see the good immediately or not, we can know that good will come of it."
Jesse nodded but said nothing.
   They sat there in silence for a few moments, and then Uncle Aaron said, "Well, I suppose we should get home. Haven't seen the place for quite a while." Aunt Moriah stood up, too, so Jesse and Abigail stood up and told them goodbye.
   Once they had left, Jesse turned to Abigail. He felt like he should say something to her, but wasn't sure what. Then she began to cry again. Jesse awkwardly put his arm around her. He never knew what to do when his sister cried. She buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed. With one hand, Jesse stroked her hair. But his other hand balled into a fist. Deep inside him, he knew something: no matter what Aunt Moriah said, he would never be able to stop hating the Romans.