Authors: Jack Quinn
“I do not know what or who will incite people to take up arms,” James admitted. “Continuing subjugation to punitive Roman rule, the Pharisees and Sanhedrin aligned with our conquerors. A silent God who has yet to intervene. I cannot deduce why He seems deaf to our observance of his laws, our fervent prayers, our sacrifices. Unless of course....”
Yehoshua frowned. “What, James?”
“He awaits the proper time to send another King David to lead us. The Empire is unstable, increasing its demands on occupied lands, creating more unrest and turmoil among conquered peoples. It would not astonish me if the Kingdom of God came within our lifetime.”
I remember laughing at that idea, seeing one brother lift his shoulders in a casual shrug, as the other shifted his frown to me. James had always been a practical thinker. His candor regarding the pacific religion he had chosen to promulgate did not surprise me.
Years later, when I recalled that conversation among the three of us, I wondered how much of an impact it had on the path Yehoshua chose as his subsequent destiny, as opposed to other events that broke his heart and churned his mind.
“The Roman boys say their parents do not actually believe in their pagan gods,” I said, “but pretend to do so as a means of keeping the lower classes subservient.”
James smiled at me. “In other words, they consider their religion a farce. I do not know if I am pleased or saddened to hear that.”
“The boys say their religion is made up of legends created by their ancestors. Why could not our religion be based on man-made stories, too?”
Yehoshua lacked the sense of humor of his older brother and took my occasional irreverent questioning of our religion more seriously than James. “Judaism a farce? You equate our one true God with that silly worship of craven idols and incredible myths?”
“Banishing Adam and Eve and all their progeny from the Garden of Eden for partaking of forbidden fruit at the urge of a snake sounds pretty far-fetched to me,” I answered. “As does an ark so huge that it could hold two of every animal on earth.”
“Yahweh was much closer to our holy prophets and ancestors than he is to their unholy descendants of today,” James said. “He inspired them to write the Torah, guided their actions, punished disobedience and favored their reverence. Can you imagine Yahweh speaking to Caiaphas
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?”
“Our dietary laws do not make much sense to me.” I could not help thinking of those delicious midday repasts with Vespasian. “Or killing poor little ewes in sacrifice. Why would God want us to do that? Is there not some other means of showing our devotion?"
Yehoshua said, “You slay pretty birds and harmless game without any ritual excuse.”
James smiled at my discomfiture. “What would you have us do in their stead?”
“Obeying all these dietary laws,” I answered, “keeping the Sabbath, the rituals of Seder. This long trip and the expensive sacrifices Father will make. It doesn’t seem to impress Yahweh on our behalf, does it?”
“With the help of God, Father has improved the circumstances of our family considerably,” James said. “We were very poor when I was a babe.”
“The decision of Herod to rebuild Sepphoris was surely inspired by God,” Yehoshua said, “that has created employment for many.”
While we were on these topics, I wanted to get their reaction to the laws regarding fornication and the consequence of the impracticality of performing
mikvah
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to remove the
impurity of entering a bleeding woman, but feared that topic could lead me to danger.
“We seem to spend most of our time talking about religion or performing some ritual for it. ‘Don’t eat pork or cheese with chicken.’ God told us that? None of it seems to do us good. Or the Romans would go home and we’d all be rich.”
James looked down at me with a tolerant smile. “How can you know that, Shimon? We struggle, but we are better off than many.”
“Comparing our lot to less fortunate people does not raise my spirits about our own circumstances. Father working himself to an early death, as Yehoshua and I probably will. Every other shekel we make garnered in Roman taxes, gouged by greedy publicans.” I knew we were all thinking of the inequity of my twisted leg. “I would rather aspire to become a successful Pharisee with a fine home and food and servants, a stable full of horses.”
James laughed at that. “I doubt that is His plan.”
“Then what is? I asked him, pointing along the road at the burdened poor plodding ahead of us. “That? Forty, fifty years of struggle, then death?”
Yehoshua pretended to be angry at my criticism, striding forth aggressively on his powerful legs. “What do you want God to do, Shimon, appear out of a cloud in the sky to explain His private plan to you?”
James reached over my head to tap his brother on the arm, indicating that Yehoshua was walking too fast for me and should slow down.
“If He has a plan,” I answered, “I surely cannot figure it out.”
James shook his head from side to side. “Not with your finite human brain.”
“But that is all God gave me to work with,” I argued. “All these rules and laws and rituals. Who made them up, God? Who invented religion? Who is to say we are traveling the right path? Maybe we are not and that is why our lives are so tough.”
Yehoshua slapped me on the top of my unruly red curls. “You are pretty feisty for a little guy.”
I batted his hand away. “Do not patronize me, Yehos’a. I am not stupid. I hear everyone talking religion, old men haranguing each other about minute interpretations of the Talmud, letting a deep gash bleed a child to death on the Sabbath. While we remain poor, trod down and unhappy.”
The voice of James was kind as he spoke against my indignation. “The reason you think you are unhappy, Shimon, is that life is not the way you think it should be. That is God’s job, little brother, not ours.”
“That is exactly what I mean! Where is He? All I can figure out is a bunch of old geezers claimed to have visions over the past 5,000 years, made up a lot of stories, laid down a whole set of demanding rules, none of which God had anything to do with.”
“You had better not let your mother hear you rant like this,” Yehoshua warned me.
James said, “Our holy ancestors were inspired by God to inscribe laws to make us deeply cognizant of His commandments in everything we do throughout every day of our lives. To help us please God, to show us how to achieve an afterlife with Him for all eternity.”
I was not winning this debate. “I think fewer rituals would allow us more time to prosper.”
“Our daily immersion in our religion helps to keep the difference between right and wrong firmly in our thoughts, James argued. “Without that constant awareness there would be little to prevent good men from succumbing to evil temptation.”
“Do you think that is our goal in life?” Yehoshua asked me. “To become rich, to wear splendid garments, live in a fine mansion with slaves and servants?”
“I do not believe God meant His chosen people to be the most downtrodden race on earth; poor, distressed and subservient to a strong, depraved Empire.”
“Take them all away,” James said, “our laws, our restrictions that you wish to dissolve--what would you replace them with? The Ten Commandments, for example?”
I leapt at the idea. “Where are those precious tablets handed down from God? Dashed to smithereens by Moses because the Israelites were misbehaving? The only tangible handiwork of Yahweh? Supposedly recreated, hidden in some misplaced ark?”
“Can you think of a better set of rules for men to live by?” Yehoshua asked me.
“No,” I admitted. “The man who wrote them should have his name carved in stone, too.” Both of them laughed long and loud, until James was able to speak.
“You are a tenacious devil, little brother. Whatever endeavor you espouse as your life’s work, I would not wish to compete with you at it.”
Yehoshua finally ceased his laughter. “Be careful, James; if Shimon chooses to contest Judaism demanding change with Socratic logic, you could very well be out of work.”
It was many years later that I recalled this exchange and wondered at that misplaced prophecy.
We stopped for the night in a broad field where several other households had set up camp, my brothers and I desisting the contrary discussion I had begun out of inherent perversity. The three of us joined in the carefree tasks of erecting shelters, tending to the animals, gathering wood and making fire. The women established an area for the preparation of our food, to which I brought the pheasant I had shot along the way, which James had cleaned and blessed.
The family of my mother’s sister Elizabeth set up camp a short distance from us, and she, my Uncle Aecheticus, their son John and three sisters brought their food to eat with us around our fire. Cousin John was the age of James, but completely different in his religious fervor, disheveled robe, scraggly beard and long unruly hair through which he ran his soiled fingers almost constantly.
Both aunt and uncle repeated their appreciation for Yehoshua’s intervention with the publican and reiterated their concern regarding retaliation by the Romans. John interrupted his parent’s apprehension with a long diatribe regarding the foolishness of Yehoshua’s assault that brought notoriety to our family. He seemed to advocate a confused mixture of prayer and action to hasten the advent of the Messiah and Kingdom of God. John sat brooding through our meal after that invective and wandered off alone before it was over.
The supper conversation that ensued was mostly concerned with our coming worship and weeklong activities in Jerusalem. Father and James explained the various ritual sacrifices that had evolved over the past two thousand years of our history: his trial of faith when God ordered Abraham to sacrifice his son, Isaac; the adversity and reconciliation of the twin brothers Jacob and Esau; the selling of Joseph by his brothers, his imprisonment, appointment as deputy ruler in Egypt and subsequent forgiveness of his brothers; Moses leading his people out of bondage in Egypt; the Philistines driven from Israel by David; the golden age of King Solomon; the protection of captive Jews in Babylon by Daniel; and Esther’s defense of those exiled to Persia.
“A boy I met from Tyre,” I pointed to an encampment on a near hillside, “is a descendant of David.”
Father smiled at me. “You will be hard-pressed to find a man in all Palestine who does not claim to be a descendant of King David.”
“Some families will hold that connection for another thousand years,” James said. “According to my teachers, it has become everyone’s attempt to exalt their status with as much meaning now as it had in ages past and preserve it for future generations.”
Yehoshua and Rebekah sat side by side during the meal, touching innocently as they passed a dish, their glances full of secret meaning, almost wordless among our garrulous clan that plied questions about the Passover festivities to our parents and James, our excitement at the coming holiday, posing yet another query before the last explanation was complete.
We retired early to our separate shelters with lamps and candles, my sisters shrieking and giggling long after withdrawal over some boys encountered when our family merged temporarily with that of an acquaintance of Father.
I shared a tent with James next to the fire, who lingered by the dying embers with Yehoshua, while he anxiously awaited Rebekah’s preparation for sleep in their own shelter beyond the ring of light under the black sky resplendent with a million diamonds spilled from a jeweler’s velvet pouch.
I heard their talk clearly in the still night. Yehoshua was upset about the ideas I uttered on our trek south that day and my impertinent questions regarding our religion. James answered that I was young with an unusually curious mind and a handicap that surely gave me anger, certainly laboring under the perpetual question, “Why me?” that was not only frustrating, but unanswerable. It could also account for my contrary attitude and predilection for contesting authority. “If we argue with him he will become more defensive and entrenched,” James said. “If we let him voice his opinions he may hear their faults and outgrow them.”
I heard James easy laughter. “Don’t lecture me on our religion, Yehos’a. Despite all the efforts to teach and train our people to the proper worship of our one true God, I think those who resist should be left to their own beliefs. How would you feel if the Romans forced us to worship their pagan gods as the Babylonians and Antiochus did hundreds of years ago?”
Yehoshua uttered an noncommittal grunt.
“What does it really matter to you or me what others believe here on earth? We should make an effort to help them achieve the afterlife with Yahweh for all eternity. Which is one reason I have chosen my own path. But each man is ultimately responsible for preparing his own soul for the Kingdom of God
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, not coerced into doing so. That is what matters. Only then will we know if we have been fortunate in being born to our religion and observing its rules or have wasted a great deal of time on meaningless rituals.”