in Amram’s eyebrows. “Most revolutionaries nowadays don’t go for military targets,” he grinned at the archer.
Yeshua tempered his response with calm. The Pharisee’s charisma had immediately overcome his younger brother, but from Yeshua it evoked as much caution as wonder. “We’re not revolutionaries.”
“Well, whatever you are, you have acted for the sake of justice. What are your plans?”
“Our plans are to enjoy Judean wine on this fine summer evening, in this fine company.”
“And rightly so!” laughed the Pharisee. Kaleb’s eyes bored into those of Yeshua with an intensity that, whilst partly unwelcome, brought with it an assurance, a confidence that the God of heaven and earth was silently pledging his allegiance. “This wine will bring you the worthiest hangover. But what are your plans when that hangover lifts?”
Yeshua glanced at Theudas and lost his grin. “Home,” he announced, “with justice for our brothers and our father.”
“Which brothers?” the Pharisee pushed, glancing around at all who were present. “And which Father?” he laughed, as he raised his eyes to heaven. Yeshua was overcome by the sheer weight carried by so few words, so lightly spoken.
“Yeshua doesn’t worship the God of Abraham,” Yudah interjected.
“But he does seek justice?” quizzed the Pharisee. “And whatever you worship, violence begets violence.” Kaleb fastened his eyes again upon Yeshua, who under other circumstances may have given way to their charm. The Egyptian’s current state however, left him only too aware of the mortal consequences this conversation might have. Still, he remained overawed by the realization that the Pharisee’s heroic deeds were a reaction to the deeds done by his own hand that very morning. Kaleb’s searching eyes had penetrated the deepest recesses of the Egyptian’s mind. “Your action has resulted in five more deaths . . . So . . . what must you do?”
“We must do nothing!” said Yeshua with a smile that could barely hide his growing fear. He scanned the others to assess how much authority the Pharisee commanded in this miniature congregation.
“Careful,” said Amram with a grin. “Don’t quote scripture at Kaleb. He’d have you for breakfast . . .” He paused mid-sentence to allow air through his windpipe. The pause was long enough to make Theudas restrain himself from completing the sentence using the very words with which Amram eventually concluded, “. . . if he wasn’t fasting.”
“Ah, but this is a Rabbi’s son!” laughed Yudah with his hand now on Yeshua’s shoulder, apparently stirring them up for the contest but lightening the atmosphere as he did.
“Theudas and I just want to get back home. We have lost our brothers. We have avenged them. ‘An eye for an eye.’ For us it is the end of the story.”
“There are plenty in Israel who would disagree.” Amram’s voice echoed out of his cup as he looked and spoke into it.
“Are you going to stop us leaving?” asked Yeshua, looking at the three men who had begun to look menacing, at least to Yeshua.
“It’s cavalry that stand in your way. Not your friends,” answered Yudah, in as kindly a tone as he could summon up.
Kaleb leaned forward and continued in the sympathetic vein of his host. “I understand you are grieving. But you must know that you are not alone in your grief . . .” The sympathy felt merciless to Yeshua. The Pharisee spoke gently, calmly. “What those Romans did to your brothers was unspeakable. But have you thought about your brothers here in Judea? Do you know what those Romans are doing to the people who live here? For you, the prefect’s actions were tragic. But we,” he lifted his arms to his sides, “we live with this tragedy day in, day out. Yudah brought you to the synagogue today so that you could feel something of it for yourselves.”
Yeshua looked at his brother who was clearly open to the idea of hearing more from Yudah and his guests. Yeshua was having none of it, but had no desire to debate with a zealous Pharisee whose intent clearly ran beyond winning an argument. “I understand what you’re saying. But we’ve played our part. We’ve relieved you of two soldiers . . .”
“And robbed us of five countrymen,” interrupted Amram.
“Your prefect did that, not us!”
“And why did he do that? . . . Because of your violence,” the Pharisee pressed.
“So what you’re suggesting is peaceful?” Yeshua asked Kaleb. He restrained himself from asking why the Pharisee had made no reference to peace in his sermon, when that seemed to be the whole point of the scripture he had read.
“Peace is the fruit of justice,” Kaleb mused.
Amram belched.
“If we move against the heathens, and move now, God will honor our commitment and come to our aid.” The Pharisee’s words hit Yeshua with the force of a sledgehammer. The Egyptian was well accustomed to fierce rabbinical arguments over the finer points of Scripture, over the interpretation of Psalms, and the application of Jewish Law. But those debates had taken place amongst privileged Jews, in the comfort of multi-cultural Alexandria. This present exchange of views was not for the sake of better understanding, nor of winning a debate. It was not taking place amongst wealthy scholars, nor in a political backwater. This was a scriptural debate in an oppressed land, amongst aggrieved rebels with violent intent. The Egyptian knew plenty about the text, but nothing of the present context. Who knew where such a debate might lead? He held his tongue.
“Kaleb moved against the heathens this morning, and God came to his aid. It’s happening under our noses,” Yudah declared.
Neither Yeshua nor Theudas were able to make much sense of what Kaleb might be suggesting, nor of what might be proposed if the conversation continued. Kaleb clearly had a definite set of plans in mind, and seemed to be withholding them while he tested the water to see if the Egyptians would support him. Yeshua’s deep uneasiness was impossible to hide, and he hoped that their obvious reluctance to consent to any further violence would be enough to show that they would not be suitable recruits for Kaleb’s scheme, whatever it was.
“No one’s going to stop you leaving.” Kaleb’s sympathetic warmth displaced his debating-frown, and began to lighten the atmosphere. “But you must leave in the knowledge of what you’ve started here. We have to live the consequences of your vengeance!”
“In that case, we thank you for all the kindness you have shown to us . . . kindness we do not deserve . . . and we’re sorry for any trouble we’ve caused, but we must leave in the morning.” Yeshua’s resolve was intended to appear insurmountable.
Theudas took his brother by the arm and addressed him quietly. “Are you sure about this? We’ll never get past the cavalry without being caught.”
“Then we’ll just have to be careful.”
Yudah eyed the archer and the Pharisee before warning the brothers. “If you leave at dawn and stay off the road there might be a small chance of you making it out.”
Amram said nothing, but his carefully placed snigger was articulate. He knew well enough about how soldiers worked, and did not need to spell this out to the brothers. Yeshua, however, would not be persuaded to stay.
“Kaleb, say something scriptural!” Yudah commanded, ever trying
