An Echo in the Darkness(94)

Ezra’s mind cried out in anguish. But, Lord, wasn’t the Messiah supposed to be like King David, a warrior sent to save his people from the oppression of Rome?

The answer came swiftly. “He poured out His soul unto death, and He was numbered with the transgressors, and He bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors.”

Ezra lowered his head and closed his eyes tightly, his heart breaking. He didn’t want to remember those Scriptures, for they had never made sense to him. He tried not to remember them now, but suddenly, inexplicably, they came like trumpets. Words rushed and swelled, pouring over him like a flood, until he could hardly breathe beneath the onslaught.

“He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement for our peace was upon Him, and by His stripes we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray. . . .”

And then, as though the deepest corners of his mind had been given light, Ezra remembered a day long ago when the sky had gone dark at noon and the earth had trembled violently. He had been but a small boy when it had happened. He saw himself sitting on a mat in a rented house in Jerusalem, where his family had gathered for the Passover. His mother was laughing and talking with the other women while preparing food. And suddenly everything went dark. A great roaring sound came from the skies outside. His mother screamed. He screamed, too.

Now, lifting his head, Ezra opened his eyes, stared up at the stars, and said aloud, “‘And it shall come to pass in that day,’ says the Lord God, ‘that I shall make the sun go down at noon, and I will darken the earth in broad daylight.’”

The words of Amos.

Had the prophet spoken of God using Assyria in bringing judgment against Israel, or had his words held a deeper meaning? Had Amos also been given a warning of what would happen when the Messiah came to save his people?

“Jesus has risen!” his uncle had said all those years ago. And what Ezra had felt upon hearing those words came back to him now. Fear. Wonder. Excitement. Awe.

What if it was true . . . ?

Ezra stared a moment longer at the heavens. His heart beat within him, and he felt as though he had just awakened from a long nourishing sleep and was seeing the world clearly for the first time.

“Jesus has risen! I have seen him!”

Excitement filled him. He came back and sat down before Marcus again.

“Tell me everything about this woman you once knew. Tell me everything she ever told you about Jesus of Nazareth.”

Marcus saw the fever in his eyes. “Why?” he said, frowning. “What does it matter?”

“Just tell me, Marcus Lucianus Valerian. Tell me everything. From the beginning. Let me decide for myself what matters.”

And so Marcus did as he was asked. He gave in to his deep need to speak of Hadassah. And all the while he talked of her, he failed to see the irony in what he was doing. For as he told the story of a simple Judean slave girl, Marcus Lucianus Valerian, a Roman who didn’t believe in anything, proclaimed the gospel of Jesus Christ.





20

Julia poured herself another goblet of wine. It was so quiet in the villa. She was so lonely she even missed Primus’ caustic wit and vicious gossip. At least he had served to distract her from other disturbing thoughts about her life and approaching fate.

No one came to see her anymore. She was sick, and everyone she knew avoided her because of it. She understood all too well. Illness was depressing. It was tedious and boring. Only those suffering wanted to discuss it. She remembered several friends who had become ill. She had avoided them just as others now avoided her. She hadn’t wanted to hear a chronicle of pain and symptoms. She hadn’t wanted to face the fact that she was mortal. Life was too short to waste on someone else’s tragedy.

Now she was in a tragedy of her own.

Julia lifted the goblet to her lips and sipped. She wished she could get so drunk she wouldn’t be able to think about the future or feel the present. She would just drift on a sea of wine-sodden tranquility. No pain. No fear. Time without regrets.

Once she had dined on lotus. Now, she had to drink posca. However, enough of even the cheap wine and she would feel nothing at all.

No one cared. Why should they? She didn’t care. She had never cared. Not about any of them. She had just been pretending to enjoy herself.

Julia gave a brittle laugh that echoed in the chamber. Then she fell silent again, staring morosely into her goblet, wishing she could drown in the rusty-colored wine.

She felt hollow inside. Maybe the ravages of her disease were eating away parts of her that had once been there, unseen but essential parts. Life was a cruel joke. She had possessed everything she needed to be happy: money, position, beauty, complete freedom to do whatever she wanted. Hadn’t she taken control of unfortunate circumstances and overcome them by her own will?