David Epperson - The Third Day

I learned later that the Babylonians who destroyed Solomon’s Temple made a practice of incorporating talented young men from captive nations into their administrative structure, and that some of the Jewish exiles — notably Daniel of the celebrated lion’s den — had risen to high positions in both the Babylonian government and the Persian empire that followed.

Lavon had been right. Many of the exiles never went back.

Go figure.

The old priest then focused his gaze on Markowitz. “What have you been taught regarding the ways of God?’ he asked.

“What are they saying?” asked Markowitz.

“He wants to know what you’ve learned of the Jewish faith,” said Lavon.

Markowitz’s face brightened as he explained his Bar Mitzvah; as if the traditions of twentieth century Manhattan would be the same as those of two thousand years before.

“He says that he learned the ten commandments of Moses,” Lavon replied. “Nothing more.”

“He acts like he wants to tell us more,” said the priest.

“He is an emotional fellow,” said Lavon. “He is reciting each of the commandments. He rarely has the opportunity. So few in Norvia show any interest in the ways of his God.”

“What God do you worship in Norvia?” asked the old man.

Lavon hesitated. I suppose he hadn’t expected this question, at least not under these circumstances. Finally, he said, “we worship the God who created our forests and the seas.”

It seemed a safe enough answer.

The priest pondered this information for a moment; then he turned to his colleague, gesturing toward Markowitz’s tunic.

The young man began to lift it, but Markowitz pushed him back.

“Be still,” said Lavon as he realized what they were doing. “They need to check.”

“Check what?”

“That you’re circumcised. That’s one thing all Jews would have done, even in exile.”

I held my breath as priest took a quick peek.

I needn’t have worried. The man let go of Markowitz’s tunic and the elder stretched out his arms.

“Welcome brother,” he said.

At that point, the murmurings of the crowd ceased and most of them drifted away. Lavon breathed a visible sigh of relief. I did, too, for that matter.

Moments later, the young priest turned to the archaeologist, intending to repeat the inquiry.

“No,” said Lavon. “I am here only because no one else knows this man’s language. I came to assist my friend in finding his way home.”

“For that, we thank you,” said the senior priest.

Then he directed his attention to Bryson, who up to that point had remained silent. “What about him?”

“He is with me,” said Lavon. “He is also not a son of Abraham, but he traveled with us, in order to protect our friend on his journey.”

The elder repeated his thanks; then turned back to Markowitz. “What is his name?”

Lavon asked Markowitz what his middle name was, hoping it was a good Old Testament one, I suppose.

It was.

“Benjamin,” said Markowitz.

“I am Nicodemus.”

I watched Lavon stare for a brief instant with open astonishment, though he quickly caught himself. If the old man had noticed, he chose not to comment.

“Can I go in now?” asked Markowitz.

Lavon translated.

“Have you washed?” asked Nicodemus.

Markowitz shook his head.

“Then that is your first step. After you have purified yourself, purchase your sacrificial offering — a lamb, if you can afford one; a dove if you cannot.”

Nicodemus paused. I could see him assessing our party’s clean and well sewn clothing.

“It appears that God has favored you with prosperity. I would suggest a lamb,” he said.

“Of course,” said Lavon. “Then what?”

“Return here with his offering, and I will show him what he must do. He will be several hours inside.”

“What about us?”

Nicodemus directed their attention to an opening in the soreg at the southwest corner of the Temple. “You may wait there for his return.”

Lavon bowed to the old man. “We thank you for your kindness. I will return shortly with the lamb.”

“He should select it himself;” said Nicodemus. “It is his sacrifice after all.”

I ran forward to catch up as they headed back to the vendors’ booths and guided them into a relatively isolated corner.

Lavon’s face had turned pale, in the manner typical of a near miss survivor whose mind has finally begun to soak in a full understanding of how close they had all come to total disaster.

Before I could say anything, he grabbed Markowitz by the lapel of his robe and threw him against a stack of empty cages, holding the fabric up to his neck as if to choke him.

“Are you trying to get us all killed?”

I glanced around at the surge of worshippers and moved to separate them. Personally, I wanted to throttle the impulsive fool as well, but I could see that others were beginning to take notice. The last thing we needed was to create another scene.

“Where is the harm?” he protested. “That priest welcomed me as a brother. And don’t forget: I am one!”

Lavon threw the handful of cloth back at him in disgust, took a couple of deep breaths, and then lit into Markowitz a second time. I let him vent for a moment; then suggested that we all slip away and head back to the Antonia, while we still could.

The archaeologist shook his head. “It won’t work. Too many people heard Nicodemus tell him to buy a lamb and come back. Some of them are undoubtedly still watching. We can’t take that chance.”

“What about me?” I asked.

Lavon studied my torn tunic and thorn-shredded arms and calves.

“You never got close to the soreg , so they can’t accuse you of trying to get inside. If anyone asks, I’ll tell them you’re my servant, and that I’m sending you away. I think you’ll be OK.”

He walked over to a merchant’s table and tossed out a couple of coins. I watched him take a small scrap of what looked like parchment and write. When he came back, he handed it to me.

I studied the precise Greek lettering.

“It’s a request for the sentries to let you in to see Publius,” he said.

“I can’t read it.”

“That shouldn’t matter. Most slaves were illiterate. You have your orders, though I’d do my best not to show the note to anyone on the Temple Mount. Some fanatic might think you’re a spy.”

Wonderful . I couldn’t tell whether he was serious or not.

“What will you and Henry do?” I asked.

“Exactly what Nicodemus told us to do: sit there at the corner and wait for Ray to finish his sacrifice.”

He paused for a moment.

“ Nicodemus . I can’t believe that’s who we were talking to.”

“What is so important about him?” asked Bryson.

“John 3:16,” replied Lavon, as if that explained everything.

It didn’t, of course. Not having grown up with the church, the Professor and Markowitz associated the verse only with rainbow headed freaks holding up signs behind the goal posts at football games.

“It’s one of the most well known passages in the New Testament,” said Lavon. “‘For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him shall not perish, but have everlasting life.’ That’s who Jesus was talking to when he spoke those words — Nicodemus. He’s a respected elder, a member of the Sanhedrin.”

He turned to Markowitz. “And a man who saved your butt.”

***

Considering that I also wanted to save mine, I didn’t waste any time making my way back to the fortress. I stuck the receiver in my ear as I walked out the eastern gate toward the ravine, and I could only laugh as Lavon helped Markowitz purchase his lamb and lead the animal back to the Temple itself.