An Echo in the Darkness(24)

He turned to face her again. “Two subjects were guaranteed to rouse passionate debate: politics and religion. Most of my friends worshiped gods that gave free reign to their pleasures. Isis. Artemis. Bacchus. Others worshiped out of fear or need.”

He began to pace as he spoke, as though walking helped him mull through various ideas while he sought some fleeting conclusion that eluded him. “It stands to reason, doesn’t it? Soldiers bow down to Mars. Pregnant women appeal to Hera for safe delivery. Physicians and their patients lift their hands to Asklepios to bring healing. Shepherds turn to a god of mountains and lonely places, like Pan.”

“So what are you saying, Marcus? That man creates gods according to his needs and desires? That Hadassah’s god never existed except out of her need for a redeemer from her slavery?”

Her quietly spoken questions made him defensive. “I’m saying that the land man dwells on molds the way he lives. Is it so inconceivable then that man would mold a god to fulfill his needs?”

Phoebe listened to his theories with breaking heart. Both of her children were lost, both tormented, and there seemed nothing she could do except let them find their own way. Decimus’ efforts to control Julia’s impetuous high spirits had met with disaster, and it had been Hadassah who had brought Marcus closer to the family hearth. Now, sitting here in the triclinium with an appearance of calm, listening to her son, she wanted to cry out and scream and tear her hair. She felt she was standing on a safe shore while her son was drowning before her eyes in a dark, swirling sea.

What do I say, Lord? Her throat closed tightly, and she could utter nothing.

What would become of her son if he continued on his present course? If Hadassah, with all her wisdom and love, had been unable to reach him, how could she? O God! she cried out in her heart, my son is as stubborn as his father, as passionate and impetuous as his younger sister. What do I do? O Jesus, how do I save him?

Marcus saw his mother’s distress and went to her. He sat on her couch and took one of her hands between his. “It wasn’t my desire to cause you more grief, Mother.”

“I know that, Marcus.” She had watched him go back to Rome, thinking she wouldn’t see him for several years, and he had returned more deeply distressed than when he had left. Now he was saying he had to leave again and this time to go to a war-torn country that hated Rome. “But Judea, Marcus. Judea . . .”

“Hadassah’s homeland. I want to know why she died. I have to find out the truth, and if there is a god, I’ll find him there. I’ve no answers, Mother, and I can’t seem to find the ones I need here in Ephesus. I feel as though I’m standing on sinking sand. The sound of the mob still rings in my ears.”

She had seen the pain in his eyes before he lowered his head, and she wanted desperately to comfort him, to hold him in her arms and rock him as she had when he was a small child. But he was a man now, and something beyond even that held her back and told her she had said enough.

His hands tightened on hers. “I can’t explain what I feel, Mother. I want you to understand, and yet I don’t even understand it for myself.” He looked into her eyes again. “I hunger for the peace of hillsides I’ve never walked over and the smell of an inland sea I’ve never seen.” His eyes filled with tears. “Because she was there.”

Phoebe thought she understood what her son was saying to her. She knew how Hadassah would have grieved to know Marcus had placed her on an idol’s pedestal. Hadassah had been the moon reflecting the sun’s light in everything she said and did; she was not the light herself and never claimed to be. And yet, that was what she had become to Marcus. His life had risen in his love for her. Would it set there as well?

She wanted to say something, to spring forth with some wisdom that would turn him from the path he was on, but nothing came. What choice did she have except to let him go and trust the Lord to guide him? The apostle John had told the gathering that Jesus promised, If you seek, you shall find.

Jesus said.

Jesus.

Phoebe laid her hand tenderly against Marcus’ cheek, fighting back her own tears and drawing Christ’s words of hope around her as a protective shield against the darkness that held her son prisoner.

“Marcus, if you believe you’ll find your answers only in Judea, then to Judea you must go.” They embraced. She held him for a long moment and then released him, praying with silent fervor,

O Jesus, blessed Savior, I give my son to you. Please watch over him and protect him from the evil one. O Lord God, Father of all creation, overcome my fear for my son and teach me to rest and trust in you.