“How can you?” he cried, releasing her again.
“Because God meant it for good. If I hadn’t left home, I probably never would have learned to read and write . . . I never would have loved Ruth or Elizabeth . . . I might never have had a chance to listen to Nathaniel and learn about Yeshua. I wouldn’t have known that my sins were forgiven. . . . And I never would have known you, Master Reuben.”
He sighed and ran his hand over his face. “I see the difference Yeshua makes in people’s lives—yours, Ehud’s . . . even Ruth’s for the short time she had left. I wish I could believe that He forgives me, too, but there’s just too much to forgive. I don’t deserve it until I try to change—”
“It doesn’t work that way. If we could change ourselves, then Yeshua wouldn’t have had to die. We could just win God’s favor by sacrificing sheep and following all of the Pharisees’ laws and taking their stupid baths over and over again.”
Reuben groaned. “It’s so difficult for me to accept something I didn’t pay for, something that doesn’t cost me anything.”
“Do you make Elizabeth pay for the gifts you give her? Weren’t you willing to sacrifice your life for her in Caesarea? That’s what God the Father did for His children, because He loves us.”
“And you risked your life for me,” he murmured. He pulled her close and held her as he had three years ago. Leah clung to him, her heart pounding against his ribs. Then he suddenly released her.
“Not like this, Leah. I want to make you a free woman. . . .”
“But I don’t—”
“. . . and then I will make you my wife.”
Leah wondered if she had misunderstood. When she realized that she hadn’t, she said, “I’m not worthy to marry you, my lord.”
He rested his hands on her shoulders, gently this time. “No, I must ask God to make me worthy of you. But before you agree to marry me, you’d better consider the burden you’ll bear as my wife. You’ll be ridiculed as a sinner’s wife, hated, spat upon. You know how the people of Degania feel about me.”
“I don’t care. I love you, Master Reuben.”
He reached to caress her hair, which she wore unloosed. “Don’t call me master . . . just Reuben.”
“I love you . . . Reuben.” It was easier to say than she thought it would be.
“After Ruth died I never thought I would find another woman who could love me.”
“I do,” she whispered.
She thought Reuben would hold her again, but instead he said, “You need to go now, Leah. In the morning I will offer
your father whatever dowry he asks.”
She looked up at him, longing for him, but he turned her around and pushed her gently toward the door. “Go. While I still have the strength to resist.”
The next day Reb Nahum and Rabbi Eliezer, the same men who had witnessed Leah’s servitude to Master Reuben six years ago, followed him to Leah’s house to act as witnesses again when he granted Leah her freedom. Then they watched in mute disbelief as he asked Leah’s father to name his bride-price. Leah’s parents were as dumbfounded as the Pharisees were. Reuben was a wealthy man. Why not make Leah his concubine? If he wanted her, why hadn’t he taken her already, as he was legally entitled to do? No one could understand it.
Leah saw that her parents hated Reuben, as much as everyone else in Degania did. When Reuben counted out twice the price of the dowry Abba had named, then poured the betrothal wine he’d brought into a beautiful Nabatean cup, Abba was torn between accepting the money and refusing to allow his daughter to be joined to such a sinner. In a decision that astounded everyone, Abba said, “I will let you choose, Leah. The money is not important. I won’t sell you to him a second time.”
Reuben offered the cup to Leah. Her hand brushed his as she accepted it from him. She tipped it high as she drank so there could be no doubt that she was accepting his proposal. They were betrothed.
Very few villagers joined the merriment a week later as Leah and her wedding procession walked through the streets of Degania to Reuben’s villa. The marriage feast, which she and Reuben would celebrate with their Christian friends, would be held in his home, along with his baptism into the Christian faith. The Pharisees and their followers stared at her in sullen silence as she and Reuben passed. She had married a man they all hated, a man condemned as a sinner for collaborating with the Romans. A few even spit in her path. Leah remembered how the villagers had turned away from her six years ago as she had walked this route with her brother in shame. She had trembled at the thought of becoming Reuben’s concubine. Now she walked beside him with pride, her head held high, not caring that she was reviled for loving him. She would be blessed to wake up beside Reuben ben Johanan for the rest of her life, until death parted them.
CHAPTER 13
THE VILLAGE OF DEGANIA—
A.D
. 60
R
euben’s workroom was nearly empty, his tax documents packed in bundles for shipping. Leah watched as a servant girl swept up the last of the dust. The room looked so different to Leah without the long tables and benches, the scribes bent over them beneath their lamp stands, copying their endless rows of figures. She found it difficult to believe that fourteen years had passed since the day Reuben had led her into this room for the first time and given her the writing board. She had been a frightened servant girl, even younger than the one sweeping the floor.
“The room looks so empty,” she sighed. “What shall we do with it?”
Reuben pulled her close. “I don’t care. Lodge animals in it—board it up! I only wish I’d had the courage to give up tax collecting a long time ago.”
But Leah knew it had taken time for him to complete his financial obligations to Rome and to pay back the money he had unjustly taken from his countrymen. He hadn’t collected one shekel more than required from them in the years since his baptism and had given a great deal of money away to his fellow believers. Yet he still didn’t feel as though he had done enough.
“Hush!” she said, brushing her lips against his. “Our past is forgotten, remember? ‘As far as the east is from the west . . .’”
Reuben looked down at her, and it was the same loving gaze he had once bestowed on Ruth. Leah could never quite get over her astonishment that Reuben ben Johanan loved her, too. They had been married nearly seven years—longer than the time she had spent as his servant—yet the years had flown so swiftly. They would celebrate their anniversary in two weeks, along with the anniversary of Reuben’s baptism.
“The floor is clean enough,” he told the servant. “Thank you, you may go.” After the girl bowed and hurried away, Reuben reached to retrieve a cylindrical clay jar from the shelf, the only item that remained on it. He pulled off the lid. “I brought you here to show these documents to you, Leah. You may read them later, if you’d like. They are all my important legal papers and records, the deeds to the land I own, including this villa . . . and this one is my will. If anything happens to me . . .”
“Reuben, please don’t say it—”
“If anything happens,” he said firmly, “all of my property will go to you and Elizabeth. I want you to be familiar with my affairs so that no one will take advantage of you.” He put the lid back on the jar and handed it to her. It was surprisingly heavy.
“I don’t want to think about anything happening to you,” she said.
“I know, Leah.” He brushed a strand of hair from her face. “This is just a precaution. Hopefully this is the last trip I’ll have to make to Caesarea. From now on we’ll live here quietly, just the three of us.”
Pain shot through Leah’s heart like an arrow at his words. Reuben must have seen it in her eyes. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I’m sorry that I haven’t given you a son . . . to inherit all—”
“Haven’t I told you, countless times, that it doesn’t matter?”
“It matters to me. Why hasn’t God answered my prayers, Reuben? Why have I never become pregnant?”
He lifted the jar from her hands and set it on the shelf behind him again so he could hold her close. “Listen to me,” he said. “We live in violent times. The
sicarii
dagger-men have been terrorizing Judea, committing murders and assassinations, kidnapping high officials
and
their sons. I couldn’t bear it if they kidnapped one of our children, and neither could you. The Holy One knows what’s best. Let’s trust Him, all right? He knows what our future holds—we don’t.”
Leah rested her head on the curve of his chest, drawing comfort from its solidity and from the familiar scent of him. “Nathaniel thinks we’re living in the end times,” she said.
“I think he’s right. We should be prepared for it as Yeshua warned. He said when Jerusalem is surrounded by armies the Temple would be destroyed, and times would be difficult for pregnant women and nursing mothers, remember? Maybe that’s why you . . .”
“You’re right,” she said, “I’m sorry.” Then, remembering that tomorrow he would leave for Caesarea and be gone for two weeks, she held him even tighter. “I wish you would let me go with you.”
“You know why that’s impossible, Leah. Travel is becoming much too dangerous these days. Besides, wouldn’t you prefer to watch the workers finish your floor?”
Reuben had commissioned a new mosaic floor for the reception room as an anniversary present after Leah had admired a similar one in Sepphoris. It fascinated her to watch the artisans turn piles of multicolored stones into a magnificent design. There were rolling waves along the edge in shades of green and blue that reminded her of the waves that washed against the great breakwaters in Caesarea. Above them, in testimony to their faith, she had asked the artist to add the believers’ symbol of a fish and the Greek letters that stood for Yeshua the Messiah.
“Will you be back in time to break bread for the Sabbath?” she asked.
“Absolutely. You know I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
But the sun was setting two weeks later, the Sabbath was beginning, and Reuben still hadn’t returned from Caesarea. Wherever he was, Leah knew that he would now have to stay there an extra day, since travel wasn’t allowed on the Sabbath. Their fellow believers had all arrived for the service, which was held in the villa each week, but Leah remained in the doorway, watching for her husband.
Miriam rested her hand on Leah’s shoulder. “It’s time to light the Sabbath candles.”
“I’ll be right there.” She looked down the deserted street one last time, but Reuben’s traveling party was nowhere in sight. That meant another day of waiting, another night spent alone. Leah hated the lonely nights when Reuben was away. Disappointed, she finally closed the door and went inside.
The others were already gathered around the table, seated on cushions on the newly completed floor. Everyone was admiring the mosaic, especially the fish symbols. Leah showed them where she had added Reuben’s name in one corner for a surprise. She couldn’t wait to show it to him.
When it was time to read the Word of God, someone asked to hear the copy of the letter the apostle Peter had written to encourage believers in these difficult times. Usually Reuben was the one who read from the scrolls, but tonight Ehud stood to read, instead. Suddenly Leah felt the Holy Spirit’s nudge, making her sit up and take notice.
This is important
, He seemed to say.
This is for you
. The hair on her arms stood on end.
“‘As you come to him, the living Stone—rejected by men but chosen by God and precious to him—you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices . . . you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.’”
The words seemed to be preparing Leah for something-she didn’t know what. They seemed to be describing the new temple God would build after the old one was destroyed, a new priesthood that she was to be part of, declaring His praises.
Leah closed her eyes as the believers bowed for prayer. She tried to pray for Reuben, to pray that he was safe for the night somewhere, that he would return home safely tomorrow. But the peace she usually felt when she prayed never came. Instead, Leah felt a yawning emptiness and a fear that could not be measured.
THE GOLANL HOTEL, ISRAEL—1999
A
bby was rinsing out her laundry in the bathroom sink one evening when the telephone rang. She picked up the receiver with dripping hands and recognized Hannah’s excited voice on the other end.
“Abby, I found it! Remember I told you that name on the mosaic floor was familiar—Reuben ben Johanan? I figured out why! Come over if you’re free, and I’ll show you. It’s unbelievable!”
Abby left the clothing to soak and hurried to Hannah’s bungalow. She smiled when she saw the mess Hannah had made with storage boxes, papers, and bound field reports strewn all over the room. Hannah seemed oblivious to the clutter as she waved a sheaf of papers in triumph.
“I knew it had to be a first-century dig if it was the same Reuben, so I narrowed the search down to all the ones where we found first-century documents or inscriptions. That still left quite a few, but here it is! Gamla! We found a cache of documents belonging to Reuben ben Johanan during the excavation at Gamla in 1978! And wait until you hear this! One of the documents was a marriage contract between Reuben and a woman named Leah!”
“Wow!” Abby exclaimed. “Do you suppose it could be
our
Leah?”
“It’s just too incredible to be a coincidence. The contract says they were both from Degania.”
Stunned, Abby searched in vain for a chair that wasn’t piled with papers, then finally sat on Hannah’s rumpled bed. “Where was this other dig? Is it near here?”
“Yes. Gamla is here on the Golan Heights, only twenty kilometers or so from Degania. It was a well-fortified Jewish stronghold during the Roman invasion of
A.D
. 67, so whoever carried Reuben ben Johanan’s documents there probably fled to Gamla for refuge when the Romans attacked. Josephus describes Gamla in his book
The Jewish War
. I’ll let you borrow my copy if I can find it.” She rifled through the piles of books, searching as she talked. “Ah! Here it is.” She brandished a well-worn volume.