Second Touch (32 page)

captivity and then freedom! Forty years of wandering and testing in the wilderness of this world! And ¬only the One true Elohim can lead us home. Truth! Between the Alef and the Tav of eternity, our life on earth is the Mem, the forty years of trials and testing. I tell you the Truth! There is coming a moment which will stand forever in the center of all eternity! The Mem of forever! Messiah will be lifted up as the Light to the nations. He will draw all men to Him. And all those who call upon His Name . . . those who acknowledge that He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life56 . . . will hear His voice cry out to them, ‘I AM the Truth! I AM the fulfillment of all EmeT as written in the Torah and Tanakh! I AM the Alef-Tav! The Alpha and the Omega! The beginning and the end! I AM the One who will enter the Mem of your time on earth and walk with you through your wilderness! I will endure the trials and testing of life with you! I AM EmeT! I AM the One who will deliver you from bondage. I AM the One who leads you and brings you home to eternity!’ Peniel nodded, ¬understanding. “Yes. I get it. A lovely little word, EmeT. A big word. Now, tell me plainly, Mosheh. What does Torah tell us about the name of the One who will lead us out of this wilderness called Life and into the land of Promise?” The rumble of thunder grew more distant. It is written that after my day the one who finally led the children of Israel across the Jordan and into the land of milk and honey was called by the Hebrew name, Yeshua. Joshua, the Greeks call him. Some call him ¬Jesus. Yes. So it was in my day. So it is in this time. That is the Name. So it will be in the future. Yeshua! God is Salvation! He is the Truth! He is the Life! He is the Way! Listen to Him and be saved! “Things are bad for Yeshua now. So many enemies. Even those of us who know him doubt sometimes. How can he set up his kingdom in such a world as this?” Mosheh’s voice was a sigh. Nothing is too hard for God. Thus ended the lesson. Peniel opened one eye. The fire had died to embers. Gideon and Amos snored loudly. Jekuthiel was off somewhere, but near enough so Peniel could still smell the dying flesh of the outcast. “Nothing is too hard . . .”

The goat provided ample milk for Isra’el’s needs, but Lily’s limited store of provisions was exhausted. She feared entering a town to beg. If her tsara’at was recognized, she’d be stoned. What would happen to baby Isra’el then? She could not risk it. Lily placed Isra’el in a shawl tied around her shoulders. Leaving the goat tethered to a shrub, Lily took Hawk hunting. Hawk darted from sage to broom tree to gnarled, lonely oak as Lily followed the barest trace of a path. Time passed without result. The countryside was desolate. No game appeared. Once, in the distance, Lily spotted a pair of foxes slinking around a

gully. Though of no use to her, at least their den proved game existed. If foxes found sustenance, so would Lily. That bit of encouragement kept her moving forward, but still without success. At length Lily decided to give up and try again the next day. She feared to leave the goat alone too long. Likewise she must not go too far from her camp, lest darkness make it difficult to find the route back. Can you hear me, Distant One? You fed your people in the wilderness. Can you feed me too? The return trek led her past a dense thicket of brambles. As she drew near it, she heard a low chuckling sound from the midst of the brush. Stopping dead still, Lily spotted Hawk. The bird was poised at the edge of the briars on a tamarisk snag. What had Cantor taught her? Quail, Lily decided. Quail go into thick cover toward late afternoon to hide themselves for the night. There might be fifty or a hundred sheltering ¬under the thorns. But Hawk could not operate in such impenetrable cover. She’d have to work as Hawk’s partner, flushing the birds from their refuge. Perhaps then he’d have a chance to seize one. Locating a broad, flat rock, Lily unwound sleeping baby Isra’el from the sling and placed him in the thicket’s shadow. Wrapping her cloak tightly about her for protection, she advanced toward the brambles. She whistled to get Hawk’s attention. Instantly the chatter from the ¬undergrowth ceased. The patch of briars took on an alert quality, as if the thicket itself were being stalked. Lily plunged into the thorns. Heedless of the snagging of her clothes and legs, she ripped her way in toward the heart of the plot. Beyond this first tangle was another even larger area of brambles. If the covey made it across the open space, there was no way Lily could pursue them farther. At the halfway point of her passage there was an angry outburst of sound. A frantic clatter of wings erupted from ¬under her feet. A dozen birds broke free of their haven, splitting the silence as they battered the air in all directions. “Ho!” Lily yelled. “Ho!” Hawk launched himself at a pair of quail flying in tandem formation. Just before his impact they split radically apart and Hawk flew between them, missing both. He circled, regaining altitude. Lily pushed forward. Baby Isra’el awakened, began to cry. A second score of birds burst from the thorns and took wing. Hawk pounced. Feathers exploded as Hawk and a quail collided in midair. Hunter and prey tumbled to earth. Hawk remained where he landed till Lily approached. Hawk instinctively mantled his wings over the carcass. She praised him and he stepped down, relinquishing the prize. Training had taught Hawk that Lily would reward him for his work with a portion of the kill.

¬I’m praying again, God of the Wilderness. One quail. A single quail. I am small. I will eat and be glad for what you have given.

Baby Isra’el was full to bubbling. Hawk contentedly gnawed his reward: quail head and entrails. Lily had a finely plucked and dressed quail carcass prepared for her supper . . . and no fire to roast it. Her left arm was useless. She had always relied on the right . . . until now. Her right hand had chosen this moment to lose all remaining feeling. Try as she might, Lily could not grasp the pieces of flint firmly enough to draw sparks to start her fire. Even while Lily stared at the operation, the flint stone turned in her grip. Her hand refused to cooperate. Lily was faced with the choice of eating the quail raw or going hungry. Or perhaps there was a third option. A faint glow from the opposite hillside, nearer the main road, indicated the presence of other travelers. Lily could obtain fire from them. With the baby once more secured around her neck, Lily left Hawk sleeping on his perch. The goat she staked in a patch of grass. Afraid some night-roaming creature would steal her supper before it was cooked, Lily tucked the cloth-wrapped quail carcass into the sleeve of her robe. Nearing the camp Lily moved softly, ready to bolt at any sign of danger. From behind a screen of bushes she inspected those she saw around the flames. A man and a woman were there, and nearby a pair of smaller shapes bundled in blankets—sleeping children. A family with children. Lily sighed with relief. “Hello, the camp,” she called. The man snatched up a brand from the fire and held it defensively between his family and the noise in the brush. “Who’s there?” he demanded. “Keep back, Hannah, till it’s safe.” “I . . . I’d like to use your fire,” Lily pleaded. “Use it to start my own, I mean. May I come closer?” “Nahum,” Hannah said kindly, “it’s a young woman.” Then louder, “Come to the fire and welcome.” Lily advanced into the circle of light. When Nahum saw the child she carried, he relaxed slightly. Then, “Are you alone?” he said suspiciously. “Traveling alone?” “Across the ravine,” Lily explained truthfully. “My party’s there. Trouble getting our fire started. I saw yours.” “Of course, child,” Hannah agreed. “Nahum, you must help her. Carry the fire for her.” “Oh no,” Lily replied hastily. “I can manage. If I can just have a single stick . . .” The man stepped toward her. Grasping the burning limb by its middle, he reversed it to present the cool end for her. Lily reached out to take it from him with her right hand. When she closed her fingers around it, the torch fell from her nerveless fingers. She and

the man both reached for it. In the illumination of the fire the unmistakable marks of tsara’at were revealed. “Unclean!” Nahum shouted. “Chadel! Get back!” Faster than before, he snatched up the blazing brand from the ground and thrust it at her face. Lily cried out, afraid for the baby. The package containing the quail fell unnoticed from her sleeve. “Go away!” he ordered. “Unclean! Leave us!” Brandishing the fire like a flaming club, the man drove Lily away into the darkness.

22 “Here she ¬comes again,” Har-or Tov noted. “The Canaanite woman. Two days in a row.” “Three days,” Avel corrected, tossing Red Dog a bite of his bread. The canine snatched it from midair, enjoying the game of catch the crumb. “She came once the first night, remember? Then several times yesterday. Now again this morning. That’s three days.” “Why ¬doesn’t she quit and go home?” Emet whispered. Zadok snapped his fingers and Red Dog came to his side. “Enough feeding him at table now, boys. You’re teaching him bad manners. We’ve no flock to tend, but Red Dog must be patient. He mustn’t beg nor expect to eat until I speak the word. So eat yer lunch and leave him to me.” Zadok surreptitiously slipped the dog a morsel. Yeshua and His talmidim were in a region appropriately called “the borderlands.” That expression was correct in several different senses. Up here north of the Sea of Galilee, farther north even than Lake Huleh, no one was exact about where the Galil ended and the province of Syria began. Besides that, the upper Jordan marked the boundary between the Galilean territory of Herod Antipas and Trachonitis, belonging to Herod’s half brother Philip. The problem was, past Lake Huleh the river was not a distinct watercourse. Rather it was a series of rivulets and streams, forming a huge marsh but an indistinct boundary. The village of Chadassa, on the heights to the northwest of Lake Huleh, might have been claimed by all three of the neighboring provinces . . . or none of them. Impoverished, nestled in the windswept amphitheater of a basalt plateau, Chadassa was remote from ¬everything else in the world, Avel thought. The residents of Chadassa were regarded as illiterate country hicks by the richer Greek-speaking residents of Tyre and Sidon. They were treated as apostate mixed breeds by the citizens of Israel proper. In marketplace conversation the children of Israel were referred to by the Roman overlords as “dumb sheep.” The Canaanites were referred to as “canines.” Even the name of the place reflected this ambiguity. The ¬Jewish residents claimed it honored Hadassah, the biblical heroine also known as Esther. The pagans translated the name as that of an ancient Syrian king. The village was built on the site of a settlement dating back to the days

of Solomon, one of the northern cities awarded by him to his friend King Hiram of Tyre. Hiram was so unimpressed with the whole region that he referred to it as Cabul—meaning “obscurity.” The people of Chadassa made their meager living by collecting papyrus reeds from the swamps. Down in the mud and stagnate pools, the shoots valued for making writing material grew in great profusion . . . and so did fevers and diseases of all kinds. Chadassa’s placement represented relief from the worst of the humid heat and noxious fumes. Still, its situation overlooking the marshes was a constant reminder of where the residents had to venture to make their living. Even then they did not receive the full value of their efforts. Cut and bundled, the papyrus reeds were transported to the coastal cities to be processed into writing material. Those who risked their lives to gather the raw material received barely subsistence wages. This was the retreat to which Yeshua led His followers to escape temporarily from the crowds and the opposition around the Sea of Galilee. Even here the respite was not complete. John and big Shim’on were conferring together. “Canaanite canine! The dog! Why ¬doesn’t Yeshua make her leave off nipping at our heels?!” “Have mercy,” the woman cried. “Master,” John begged. “Send the Canaanite away. Her barking is . . . annoying.” “By all means, somebody give the canine a good kick and send it to yelp somewhere else,” Judas insisted. Even though the demands of the two talmidim contained the same message, Avel recognized important differences. Judas had no use for a poor, illiterate Canaanite . . . and a woman besides. Why should they bother about her? John, on the other hand, had a different motive, which Avel identified from his tone: Send her away because her constant begging is embarrassing. She’s hounding us! The twelve followers of Yeshua piled insult after insult on her. Yet the woman would not give up! Day after day Yeshua said nothing in response to her pleas, nor did He rebuff His followers as they railed against her. And then she spoke the words that caused Yeshua to turn and look at her. “Have mercy on me, O Lord . . . Son of David!”57 Now something new had been added to the woman’s plea. Today she addressed Yeshua by one of the titles of Messiah. Not as an itinerant healer or magician, but as the Good Shepherd, the Anointed One of God. “Have mercy on me, O Lord, Son of David! For my daughter! My little girl! For the sake of my child! She is tormented by a demon! She’s suffering terribly. Have mercy on her, Son of David!” “Send the canine away,” Judas urged again. At last Yeshua responded. “Woman,” He said, not unkindly, “I was sent to the lost sheep of Israel.”58

Zadok nodded his ¬understanding. Leaning closer to Avel, the old man remarked, “She called him Son of David. The shepherd. Yeshua speaks of the prophecy of Ezekiel: ‘So I will rescue my flock. . . . And I will set one Shepherd over them, even my servant David.’ ”59 The woman, haggard, worried, thin-faced, and stoop-shouldered, knelt at Yeshua’s feet, close enough to touch Him. “Lord, help me!” she begged again. Yeshua did not address her directly. Instead He turned to the band of talmidim. His piercing gaze withered John, Ya’acov, Shim’on, Judas, and the rest. He said to them, “So. First let the children eat all they want? Yes? It ¬isn’t right to take bread from the children and toss it to their canines, is it?”60 Then Yeshua glanced toward Avel and Red Dog, as if to make a point. To Avel’s surprise the woman did not reel away from this apparent rebuff. Raising her eyes boldly to Yeshua’s face, she lifted her eyebrows as if to instruct the men in the way of things in a woman’s kitchen. “So the children are fed already! They’re eating! The crumbs are falling! Even house dogs ¬under the table eat the children’s crumbs.”61 “Now there’s a wit.” Zadok smirked and suppressed a chuckle at the chagrined expressions on the faces of Yeshua’s inner circle. The wordplay would have been funny if the subject had not been so serious. What would Yeshua do? Would He have the presumptuous Canaanite driven from His presence? Would He merely turn His back on her the way a Pharisee would have shunned the Greek canines of the north? The tension disappeared as Yeshua smiled at her, gesturing for her to stand up. “Well spoken, woman. Yes. The children of Israel have been eating for quite some time now, eh? Crumbs are raining down from the table. Careless children. Careless. No need for those who are hungry to wait any longer. And so, for such a reply as yours? Your request is granted. Go on home now to your daughter. The demon has left her.”62 Bowing again, laughing, crying for joy, believing, thanking Yeshua profusely, the woman scampered away. It was obvious from the change in her demeanor and energy she had complete trust that when she arrived home, she’d find her daughter completely delivered and healed. “Well, she put us all in our places. And Yeshua let her do it, too. Set her up to do it, in fact. Aye. She knows a bit about shepherds and herding.” Zadok guffawed at John and Ya’cov as they sulked at being shown up by a woman. Zadok scratched Red Dog’s ear. “Aye, John! Dumb sheep and canines. Ask me! If it’s a contest of wit between the sheep and the canine? Who’ll win? Aye! Aye! And Yeshua let her nip the heels of his flock on this day!”