The Night Before

SCENE SIX

 

 

He had said “today”,

That was it, “today”, and his day came.

Now, he could no more feel the pain.

He was still there, hanging by his side, but there was the difference.

It had all began to make sense, his mother, Theodoras, Judas, Zacchaeus and the raging Council.

It was his gang that stole at the house of Zacchaeus, they had always targeted tax collectors, though they often had Roman soldiers on guard, fortunately someone had given information on how best to to enter his house with the least commotion. The operation was a success, but he was caught the next day, the Romans had been on their tail. They had caught him, having sought him for too long, for crimes committed during the revolt; caught him so that he might have this day with the King.

He wasn’t sure his mother really knew…like the crowd below. They all had their opinions of him, he too had thought him something, till now.

He laughed; it was amusing to think that this was where God would choose to meet Him, all his life he had sought him, escaped him and born his angst. Today, he will meet Him!

“…today, you shall be with me in paradise”

To think that He had come to his cross to tell him that;

Today, he said, not tomorrow.

He laughed again, smiled at his mother and thought of the night before.

 

 

SCENE ONE

Tomorrow he would face his fears, today he lived to die.

The numbness was deafening amidst the stillness of the night, it was hard to feel his limbs. He felt for his hands, trying to rub them against the beam that supported his frame. It shouldn’t be a difficult task but after being tied for so long, with hands beside the back against a wooden beam, the body finds it hard to feel itself.

 

 

But he must retain sanity, a little dignity at least. He must push back the glaring evil that seem to rush at him anytime he appeared to doze. His body craved sleep, his mind wandered. How could he sleep? Tied against a pole, continuously mocked and beaten by Broken-face, the soldier had reminded him that he needn’t bother to sleep, there would be enough of it where he was going. He’d resisted spitting at him, it cost him a tooth the last time.

 

 

He woke up panting, the dream again. He must have slept for a few minutes. The same dream. Why won’t they leave him alone? Life has been a harsh reality, had rained blows upon blows at him. He had stood his ground. Fighting with tooth and claw, against men, beasts and God. Should the dream torment him now? Who was to say he had failed because he would die tomorrow? The other member of their band had escaped with the loot, they were rich now, he was plain unlucky, God has finally succeeded in His quest – His quest to punish him. Who would plead his case?

 

 

The door of their prison flung open, he prayed they were coming for him. Anything was better than this taunting silence. It had left him with himself, allowing his thoughts to plague him. Even himself loathed him; craving Broken-face’s taunts to his.

 

 

The middle gate opened, he could now distinguish the sounds, the steps of each soldier was unique: Black-face walked a bit hurried, thumping the hard floor. Broken face was slower with a heavier thud, Toinete was light-footed but the keys always gave him away; he played with them. He was the one coming now, he had someone with him. The person wasn’t heavy set, a lot lighter than Toinete, no keys and no boots. One of the prisoners must have a visitor. Lucky chap, who would visit him?

They stopped at his door.

She must have heard — his mother.

 

 

His mother! His loathsome body betrayed him, strong shivers ran down his back as his body shook. He swallowed hard, blinking rapidly, they have not seen for years. He had heard all about her, his informer was quite skilled. He gazed up against the still light that sometimes crept into his solitary cell, willing it to dim. She mustn’t see his face, he was crying – tearlessly.

 

 

She was the only noble thing about him and the beginning of his woes. Today he would curse her God and her, he would ask of where He is, with him, her son, dying in the arms of villains who had conquered their nation. He would ask of their religious father who had left them to suffer because of his fear of the council. He would mock her for believing in the mercies of such a God, in His goodness. It is not that he didn’t fear God, he did, for a lifetime He had suffered at His hand. He did fear God but he had also come to despise Him. Is he bitter? No, he is telling the truth, the mere truth. God had disdained him; He had disdained him, her and his brother. He had glared His teeth at them for nothing; his anger at his mother was that she had borne His fury with calm.

 

 

His door slowly opened. He closed his eyes again, the tears had now welled up. He mustn’t cry now, not again. He had never cried before but for today. As if in answer to his prayer, the light went out, it was only such prayers God obliged him, to put off a light.

 

 

“Thadeus, your mother is here”

Light-foot wasn’t known for many words.

Tears filled her eyes. God, what have they done to my son, what have You done to him, hasn’t he paid enough? She had only a little time. The soldiers had taken a huge bribe for the short visit.

“What do you want? Woman” He roared.

 

 

It was the beast that spoke. She had hoped that, perhaps, today she would meet her son; that she would meet the Thadeus she had nursed and bathed.

What does she want? What was she supposed to want?

She sat on the cold floor, choking under the sordidness of the place. The cold silence cloaked around her gently as the mist of the place gently left her; the dark clouds lifted, replaced by an assurance the rolled at her heart like rolling waters.

”It is all over now”, she thought. “It is all over now”.

Death: yes, death. That was it!

Her child would die tomorrow and a part of her with him. She had come, hoping that she could save that part, hoping and praying that, perhaps, God would answer. To share the news of the Way, the news that had warmed her heart all year. To per chance, change him a little, to see if he could see the light she now sees, though dimly. She knew their hope was with the light. The light was their only hope. Condemned by God, man and law, her son would die tomorrow, by crucifixion.

She had understood, with the lifting of the clouds, sitting on that stone floor, she had understood a bit better. Words ran from her as she sought to speak. It was not God! It was man! The beast in man!

Yes, it explained it all. The beast in her son is in all of them, was in all of them. It was in her and their father. It made them do the wrong things they did. It made their father do things in the name of God and things against His name and man. It made Him reject them and them to reject him and his God. It made outcasts of Samaria, excommunicating her from the commonwealth of Israel. It built this prison and filled it. It built the cross and would hang her son on it, tomorrow. Yes, it had beaten her son, scorched him and left him with this toughness as dignity.

“But he still got a chance” she thought. She stood and got a bit closer, he looked away, a bit curious. The soldier shuffled his feet; she wasn’t supposed to come too close. Prisoners have been known to obtain poison from visitors. “It is not God” she finally said, “it is not God”.

“God is Spirit, my son,”

“God is Spirit”

“Don’t judge Him by the flesh; don’t worship Him by it either”.

The gates clanked, her time was over; she hoped she had said enough.

May God have mercy on her son.

 

 

He spoke as she left, words that made Light-foot curse like only Romans could. He cursed at the Jews and their madness. It was almost a whisper, but she heard her son mutter, “God? He is cruel”.

 

 

SCENE TWO

 

She had not walked for long when she first heard him

 

“Mother”,

She turned slowly; the voice was unmistakably Theodorus’,

She scanned the crowd, catching herself as a heavy-set man almost knocked her down, she steadied herself and picked up the satchel. The street was narrow,  it was the Passover, the streets of Jerusalem was brimming with people and livestock. She stood behind a shade of grain packed by the street wall, looking out for where the sound came.

 

“Mother”,

This time, she saw him, Theodorus was calling from a shade, in a little opening by the street wall, a very narrow way that led to the other part of the town. It was a dangerous alley, she had never used it. He must have been hiding from someone while waiting for her. She wondered at why he would be hiding, it was always Thadeus that lurked at corners. Of her twins, Theodorus was the angel, Thadeus was black thunder.

 

She had named him Theodorus – “gift of God”. As a child, his smiles had made light her burdens. She had hoped that one day, through him, God would show her His salvation. Thadeus meant “heart”. Love was on her mind when she named him, of the twin, he was the first to be born. They were the products of her love, a failed love, a love that had taken everything and left her broken. It was like the little one understood, for Thadeus had looked love in the face and went in the opposite direction. She couldn’t blame him.

 

“Theodorus, is that you?” she had walked to where he was.

“Come in mother, it is safe”

“Why the hiding, Theodorus?

What have you done?”

“Mother, did you see him?”

“He is dead, my son, your brother is dead”

Theodorus was quiet for a while, “but that’s not what I heard,” he answered. “The soldier said he is to be crucified tomorrow, I am here to see him”.

“Theodorus, he still breathes and talks. But he is dead; he had cursed God and died”

Their mother often spoke like that, hers had been a tough life. Her words always masked her grief, like now, he was the one with tears in his eyes.

“Curse God?”

To him, it was God that cursed them. They were bastards, him and his brother. Their father was Jewish and had rejected their Samaritan mother. To him, they were more Samaritan than Jew, he has even stopped bothering which one he was. Their cross was bigger than they; they had sought a God who had evaded them, one who didn’t want them. Like his mother, he had learned to mask his anger and pain.

 

He had learned to postpone his questions for another day.

Scorned by their neighbours on the streets of Samaria, he had learned the joys of private tears and an unfeeling gesture, unlike stormy Thadeus who answered every taunt with fists and blows. Between him and their mother; they had loved him, they understood his demons and his rage. He was Theodorus’ outlet and the husband their mother never had.

 

He was the first to know of their father. Their mother had never planned to tell them, she was going to take it to her grave. Her own mother had thought better of it and had told her grand children, she had told them that their father was alive and well, in fact, a leading member of the synagogue.

 

The next day, Thadeus left. He joined the revolt. The one led by Judas of Galilee, Theodorus had resisted the urge to join also.

 

The thinker, he was prone to first seek a reason, what good would it serve? Of course, it could be a great chance to redeem his Jewish heritage and perhaps his father’s love. The risk was high though, his mother had urged him not to, she had feared losing both sons to the Romans. From hindsight, Theodorus was glad he didn’t. The Romans were brutal in crushing the uprising. Thadeus had survived, only to become a permanent enemy of the state, desperately sought. Haunted by the Romans and the Jews, his cause was more from anger than for a nation’s honour. Theodorus knew his brother’s anger, he was no hero.

 

He, had left for Galilee to learn a trade, it was there he met the sons of thunder and their father, Zebedee.

His time with the Zebedees was the best of his life. He was the father he didn’t have, with his prominent wife; their children, James and John. With them Theodorus found a semblance of peace and joy in a Galilean fishing family. It was a bliss broken only by the appearance of the teacher from Nazareth.

 

 

He was there the day the teacher arrived.

He had witnessed the miracle with the fishing boats.

It was on a clear still morning, the sun had just risen in the Galilean sky. He was whistling and thinking of Mary as he cleaned the net, thoughts of her had filled his head. He had let them, apparently to distract himself from the depression that had befallen the shore line that morning.

The night before was a fisherman’s nightmare – they had caught nothing.  They were cleaning the nets, bone tired. The shore was quiet as each man held his thoughts, rough hands cleaning and mending nets.

His was a simple idea, yet effective, that is, the teacher’s idea – to teach from the boat.

He would row out to the sea and then teach from the boat. It was said that the crowd thronged him from morning till night.

 

They have heard of him at Capernaum, and true to words, the crowds came with him, much to their dismay, disturbing the peace of the shorelines. This time, he had borrowed Simeon’s boat, convincing him to paddle a bit yonder for him to speak to the crowd that was increasingly getting larger. They went still as he started, the gentle breeze of the Galilean sea carried his voice to the shore, and his message was loud and very clear, too clear in fact. It was like he was speaking to something inside of Theodorus. He marvelled at his authority, to hear him was an experience hard to forget.

 

The teacher spoke of repentance, forgiveness, faith and Love.

It was like fire burned in his eyes, then the miracles, they happened very fast. At least five of the people he knew got healed that morning, they had heard of him from Capernaum, but that day, they saw him.

But Theodorus was Samaritan, his mother was Samaritan. The teacher was a Jew and spoke to Jews, he had never told the Zebedees of his birth but he feared the Teacher would know, so he stayed back. He stayed back to sell the fish after James, John, Andrew and Simeon had gone with him. They had just stood up and left.

 

They had left the greatest catch ever seen in Galilee for the man who gave the catch. He would have joined them but he didn’t. The teacher would know he was Samaritan and also, he was to see Mary that night.

Mary was a prostitute but all he had. She was enough for him.

John was adamant, beckoning on him to join, he had reasoned with him that someone ought to take care of their father Zebedee, they all couldn’t just leave the old man.

 

He would see Mary that night and perhaps, join them later. He really meant to do so, but the next time they met, he couldn’t. Even after all that Mary had said. More than her words, was the change in her, she had moved out of her space to a new life. He still reeled at her story of the teacher from Nazareth. He had waited for him to come to town again. But when he eventually did, he couldn’t leave with them. He just couldn’t not join his friends, it wouldn’t be wise to do so, how could he?

With Judas among his disciples? He knew Judas, he was a thief. With the likes of Judas with the teacher, Theodorus feared. Judas was friend to Thadeus.

He would see his brother tonight.

 

 

SCENE THREE

 

“Theodoras, I believe him, I really do”

 

She was standing by the window of the upper room with her back to him. Against the light from the window, from the other end of the room, Theodoras watched her supple body. For all that life had thrown at her, she was still very much an attractive woman and now, as usual, he longed for her.

He’d come from Galilee to see her. She was a bit different – a little calmer, much subdued. It was like her usual brazen nature was shrouded by a gentle fire or much still, replaced by it. She hadn’t looked him in the face all day and something told him the object of his quest would not materialize today and perhaps never again.

 

From her view she could see the Rabbi and his men below, she had just finished telling him of her ordeal. Getting to know, love and believe as she now has, was a journey, a journey that began long ago from her mother’s womb. A journey of shame and filth, she’d told the tale to him, praying that he may perhaps overcome his own doubts and lusts. They both have had cause not to believe and have found in themselves something to love. Today, she would not love him again, she prays he understood.

 

“But Judas is with him” he answered

“Judas, who is he?”

“Judas is the thief that goes with him, one of the twelve! He is a friend to my brother and he is in that crowd, how could he be just?”

“Theodoras, I am in that crowd too, who am I?”

“Mary, you’re different, they don’t know you, Judas is a thief!”,

“We are all the same Theodoras, we’re all sinners but I am changing, everyone around him is changing”

“Perhaps, even your Judas is changing” she added

He walked up to her and held her as her body trembled, he had said enough. Their talk could wait for another day, there were pressing matters.

“Not anymore Theodoras, not anymore, you must go now”

With that, she hoped he listened, she willed him to listen. Her treacherous body would fail her but she wouldn’t give it a chance, she’d prepared for this.

“My father is here, Theodoras, he is in the next room, we’ve made amends”

“I believe him, I believe the Teacher”

“Mary, you didn’t need to” he sighed, knowing she needed.

 

 

She closed her eyes and prayed for strength. He had said, “go and sin no more” and she’d found in those words, the faith to do just so. She had found a peace and love that had deluded her for a lifetime

Though she somehow still loved Theodoras, her love for him paled in comparison, she had loved him because she’d to love someone. The dilemma of her deprivation was that it had exposed her need, they’d called her a prostitute though they made her one. Who were they to judge her? Who was to judge her? The recollection brought her anger back, the anger that had filled her head that afternoon like a raging fire, the schemers had let the man go and dragged her to the street like a common thief. Theodoras spoke of a thief, she was one.

 

She knew he too bore some certain weights, sad secrets he had never shared. She could see it in his eyes, they were his constant companions, they always brought him to her. Tonight, she would pray for him.

 

Nothing had suggested the event of that day, She had washed herself as she prepared for him, not Theodoras but another. They were together when they raced in like mad men, grabbing, spitting and beating, men with darker secrets. They were the law of her land, the beasts for which she was prey. Angry and bitter, she had fought back, wondering if they could stone her.

 

By law, only Rome could give the death penalty. She had seen their charade and in it felt her shame, she was the victim of their mockery – God’s punishment for her many sins. Her anger wasn’t at them alone, it was at all that had led to the day, circumstances for which she was to blame and some for which she wasn’t. She had tried but failed at goodness, goodness few, if any have won. Now, she was to bear the mockery of hypocrites, they’d brought her to the teacher to test him like God had tested her. The teacher had found them all guilty.

 

“Theodoras, he said to go and sin no more”

“Don’t condemn me again, he didn’t”

“Mary, I do not condemn you” He whispered

“No Theodoras, you want to. I would be what they said I am if I let you, but I know I am not. Don’t condemn me, you must go now”

He’d lost her to him.

 

 

She was right, the Teacher hadn’t condemned her. He’d by his justification shown her a love for which she was free to live. A love higher than what she had sought in men, what he had sought in her. He was yet to find it though he thirsts for it. He’d seen it in Peter and James, seen the change he was going to deny. It was just this Judas, they like Mary didn’t know Judas. Would they have believed a master that had Judas with him?

He didn’t.

 

 

SCENE FOUR

“I heard their whispers, within and without, speaking of whom I am or am supposed to be. They remind me of failings and choices, of fears and doubts. I haven’t been perfect and they would make sure I remember. They say I am angry, but I’m not. They say I’m bitter, am I?

But what is there to be bitter at?

 

The life I have is all I had and all I give. I know so, I am beautiful, and I am desirable. My past been different, but it’s mine. Mine are not simple stories, but they are mine. A story I am not ashamed to tell, and so I have, should you haunt me for it? Should you seek to rule me for it?

 

I only desire that you respect me, and don’t laugh at me. Never ever laugh at me, never look or talk to me like that. Never think you know the half of it, you weren’t there, you can’t understand, but I am strong, I am. Now, come here, just do this. Do as I tell you and do listen, always listen to me.

I am Rahab, I have not died, see; I am alive! I had survived the worst of the tides, life had thrown bricks at me but I was none the loser. With her stones, I had built my own walls, to shield me from her pain, never to be hurt again. I am a survivor, a warrior, I will fight to win.

 

They said I’ve won, how could they? Life is much a fight, and I am not quitting. “Dump your gloves” they say, “Rahab, dump your gloves”, “we seek to shake your hands.”

“But these are my hands”, I answer.

“They are boxing hands, we come in peace”

But my enemies all came in peace. I was born in peace, a peace of a fight, a fight that had almost killed me, “Good Lord, you come in peace! Pick your gloves and fight; perhaps we will shake after you’ve won”.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not a bad person, I am good and beautiful, I desire the best of life and the love of God. I seek Him and I know Him, He has touched my heart and has saved me. You tell me to break my walls, but He saw them and let them be. The walls you ask me to break, they are good for me; from there I could throw my darts.

The walls, Rahab, are yours not His, only you can take them down. He left them for you to take them down.

 

What of the voices? They seek my life, to prevail against me? These walls are mine, they are good walls, necessary walls, and I would have died without them.

“But who built them, Rahab, who built them?”

“Your anger and your pain”, “You need walls, but not these types; you’re in Judah, not Gomorrah. The walls of Judah are safe enough; they are Love-walls, not hate-walls, not anger-walls, neither fear-walls nor doubt-walls.”

“You remember Jeshua, He had touched you and called you ours. He had said you could enter the city and live where you choose, to love who you may and bear kids of them. He had said none must harm you for Jehovah has called you His.”

“Even the prophets had prophesied, they had called your begotten Messiah, they had spoken of Kings to come, of Obed, of David and of the Kings of Kings.” They say you bear this and must birth these. Blessed are you among women, blessed are the fruit of your womb.”

 

You flatter me, I am Rahab, and you really do flatter me.

 

“Yes, you’re Rahab, meaning proud. But that which you would bear are humble Kings, Kings who would know no guile and for whom you would humble yourself. For your walls are really your pride, they are that which you’ve sincerely held”

 

Yes, Love was right, I did lose my gloves and broke my walls, only to find another; a greater wall of love, a shield from fear and angst; from doubts and pain. A wall on which I held to birth Obed, David and then Messiah, it is the humblest wall and the strongest.

I had found in those walls, shields to keep out the bad and arms to hold the good. They are humble walls, walls that have shaped my speech and tongue, had quieted my anger and made me free to truly love and be loved. To give and not doubt, to receive and be received; they are indeed strong walls, ancient walls.

 

I am Rahab and this is my story.”

 

 

Mary recounted the song of Rahab, the harlot from Jericho that had married Salmon, one of Joshua’s spies, the mother of Obed who was the father of Jesse, the father of David.

She smiled to herself, she shall one day birth her David.

 

 

SCENE FIVE

 

Zacchaeus stood in front of his house with a bemused expression on his face; he was not angry or agitated. He just stood there, reflecting on the events of the day and of the days past, a lot has happened. His life had stopped and restarted, he had found and lost a joy, his gain was much and his loss too was great. He now could see each with different eyes, there was that for which he could never pay – his gain, and that for which he was prepared to pay – his loss. For the latter, he was determined to pay for them all, he had rather not but he had pledged to do so and he would.

 

He stretched a little and leaned against the wall, the sun had almost set. The gentle breeze whispered in the air, reminding him of that beautiful day when with eager expectation he had climbed the sycamore tree. He smiled at the memory as he sat thinking, unsure of how he would repay his debts, assuring himself that he would do so somehow. His gain and loss were both a prepared blessing; for the former, he only had to reexamine his previous life to be grateful. They had noticed the change, though they didn’t praise him for it, they had noticed and for Zacchaeus, that was enough.

 

The master had come to his home; he had found joy and gained the enmity of his former friends. Today, God has saved him from their worst, today; he would continue his work at repentance.

 

Zacchaeus took himself seriously, and did the same with his new found faith; his faith in the teacher who had shown him forgiveness – God’s forgiveness, the kind David wrote about. He had climbed a Sycamore tree to see him and was surprised when he asked to come to his home.

 

“You should come down Zacchaeus”

“No, you mustn’t come, Master” he pleaded

“Come down Zacchaeus, I must. For today, Salvation has come to your house” He replied.

 

With tears running down his eyes, Zacchaeus sat down as he had done many times over, to think of that gracious day. The people had watched in amazement as the Master and his disciples strode to his home for a meal. He wished they understood, but how could they? He had found it hard to understand it himself; a sinner like him had found grace. They said He was holy yet loving, brazen yet kind, he had found out for himself; he knew the reality of what he had found.

 

There was a better way, this joy was real; it was all he had craved but never had. They had told him it didn’t exist and he had allowed his greed to lead him, the greed that had led his fathers. He had gotten the wealth but like they all had found – the gold was not enough.

 

His work made him a willing ally with the Romans, it was a profitable venture for which he had made the most of the situation and his friends had all gained from the thriving venture. His repentance didn’t make them happy; repaying those he had defrauded was going to leave him with very little and some of them, with nothing.

 

Now he has little and yet to repay.

But it was a good thing that has happened to him for had things been different; he would have been dead by the week. His accusers would have found ways to kill him. Someone had informed the soldiers of his decision to give half his goods to the poor and to repay those whom he had defrauded. Their plan was simple: to arrest him with the large amount of silver and then accuse him of defrauding Ceaser; and perchance put him to death. In the past, tax collectors have been killed for withholding tax from Rome; his enemies had willed that fate for him.

 

“We know you’ve the gold here” they said

The soldiers weren’t new to him; they were from the battalion of one of his old friends

“Which gold?” He answered,

The arguments were useless; their case was water-tight.

 

Zachaeus had closed his eyes and muttered a prayer; would God forgive him and then punish him? Need he find this forgiveness if he was going to die like this. A million thoughts ran through his mind as they went straight for the inner room, someone must have informed them, someone close, someone who heard of his commitment to repay those he had defrauded.

 

He prayed God to be merciful and see his heart, everyone knew tax collectors collected more than was due and kept more than was meet. His enemies would all act righteous and accuse him of defrauding Ceaser. He prayed, hoping that God would somehow cause them not to see the silver, they didn’t and much later, he too didn’t.

 

Somehow had stolen the money; a robbery which must have saved his life.

Leaning against the wall, Zachaeus pondered on the whole scenario and couldn’t help laughing; God was at work and He sure has a sense of humor.

He leaned over, praying for the men who had robbed him; they had meant it for evil, but God had meant it for good. He prayed that God’s salvation would come to them too, as it had come to him; that they too, being thieves might find the Messiah close to heart.