Джеймс Миченер - The Source

This concept, so simply stated, stunned the rabbi, cutting at his concept of the law, and he was driven back to being simply God’s Man: “Menahem, when you were born there was none to care for you, and I saved your life. Because I loved you … because God loved you. How can you now cease being a Jew?”

“I ceased when I was born,” he said, “because your law would not permit me to love God.”

“You cannot break God’s law and later love Him,” the old man reasoned.

“Christ offers us a way,” Menahem said, and he turned his back on the old rabbi, never to speak with him again.

The public baptism of Yohanan and his tall son provided Father Eusebius with his first opportunity for a religious celebration, so on Friday morning a canopy was erected over the spot where El and El-Shaddai and Antiochus Epiphanes had once been worshiped, and there the tall Spaniard in robes of purple silk stood to receive the supplicant Jews while a chorus chanted Byzantine rituals and Rabbi Asher learned the hard facts of life. Certain faithful Jews had come to him with plans for disrupting the baptism of the renegades and he had counseled them to abandon such ideas, but when these hotheads saw the two Jews actually move forward to join the new church their tempers were inflamed and they began to murmur in protest. From nowhere, it seemed, Byzantine soldiers stationed for that purpose moved in and with silent efficiency muffled the would-be troublemakers. When Rabbi Asher stepped forward to intervene two Byzantines who had been detailed to watch him grabbed him as if he were a sack of groats and tossed him back into the rear ranks.

“You behave, old goat, or …” They jabbed him in the belly with their spears. He tried to protest this too, but a coarse hand smothered his mouth and the soldier growled, “Shut up, damn you!” And the solemn ritual of baptism began.

Father Eusebius, refusing to acknowledge the commotion, approached the kneeling Jews with a phial of holy water, and as the choir sang in Greek, dipped his fingers in the water and touched father and son on the head, telling them first in Latin and then in broken Hebrew certain religious facts which would later become important: “With this water you are joined to the holy Christian church of west and east. You are forever a part of that seamless robe and nothing can wash away this sacred baptism. It cannot be burned away, nor cut away. Neither punishment nor threat of death can reverse this decision, for you are now full members in the brotherhood of Christ. You are set free from the old law and you embrace the new.” He raised the two former Jews to their feet and kissed each on the cheek, presenting them to the congregation, to whom he said, “John the stonecutter, who is helping us to build our basilica, now belongs to that basilica. His son Mark, who was an outcast among you, is outcast no more. Accept these two as your brothers,” and Christians cheered as Rabbi Asher and his Jews stood silent.

It was now the eve of Shabbat, and no further protest was made, for all who might have caused trouble were in synagogue. But on Saturday when nightfall ended Shabbat, young Jews led by Abraham and Jael gathered and decided on a gesture of defiance. Creeping silently past Byzantine guards they drenched a tax collector’s home with oil and set it afire. As stars appeared over the sea the beacon of Jewish resistance flamed in the sky and was noticed by the night watch in Ptolemais, whose governor dispatched a ship to Antioch, requesting the German army to march south with all speed.

In Makor relative peace descended upon the troubled community, thanks principally to Father Eusebius, who showed Christian forbearance as his response to the disturbances. Masking any bitterness he might have felt he did not summon Rabbi Asher but went to him at the groats mill, saying, “I was told this morning that the German troops are on their way to Ptolemais, and unless I halt them there, they’ll come here to punish the troublemakers. Now neither you nor I want those hard-handed Germans in Makor. So I will order them to stay away if you will order your Jews to end these disturbances.”

Rabbi Asher, already distressed by the brazen behavior of his Jews, could visualize the German army leaving Antioch for the march to Ptolemais, from which like their Roman predecessors they would fan out across the Galilee—as if history, like a folksong, never tired of repetitions—and he promised Father Eusebius, “I will do my best to discipline the Jews.” So he explained to his younger members how they should react to the sudden ascendancy of the Christian church: “We must exist in harmony, and this we cannot do if there is misunderstanding or envy. In Makor today we see two daughters of God, the old Jewish religion and the young Christian church, and for a while there may be contention, but the two religions remind me of old Rabbi Eliezer and his young pupil Akiba. ‘There was a drought and the old man prayed nine times for rain without success. So Rabbi Akiba prayed once, and with his first words came rain. The Jews hailed him as the true prophet and this deeply wounded Eliezer, but Akiba went to him and said, There was a king who had two daughters, one old and wise, the other young and headstrong. When the gentle sister came before him with some request the king would be reluctant to grant it, hoping to keep his daughter near him, for her voice was pleasant to his ears. But when the harsh and noisy younger child screamed for something, the king gave it to her right away, for he wanted to get her out of the palace.’ God has by no means forgotten you merely because He grants the requests of your younger sister.”

When Rabbi Asher was satisfied that he had quieted his headstrong Jews he decided to return to Tverya, where his permanent responsibility lay: he could remember how once he had been misled into thinking that the building of a synagogue was the chore God demanded of him, and he did not propose to be diverted now by minor political troubles; his job was to build a fence around the Torah and to explain both the fence and the Torah to the young students at the yeshiva. But when word of his intended departure reached Father Euscbius the Spaniard was astonished that his colleague could think of leaving Makor at this crucial moment and he sent a soldier to the groats mill, and the Christian said, “Father Eusebius wants to see you. Now.”

The words were ominous, but in a spirit of conciliation Rabbi Asher brushed the dust from his clothes and followed the soldier, standing at last, a little man in a long white beard, before the Spaniard, who smiled and said gently, “I heard this morning that you intend returning to Tiberias.” He used the Roman name. “Is that wise?”

The question surprised the little groats maker, for no one had the authority to review his movements. Patiently he explained, “In Tverya there are discussions which require my attention.”

“In Makor there are rebellions which also require your attention.”

“But my major responsibility …”

“Is here!” Father Eusebius said quietly. With persuasion he added, “Rabbi Asher, in this town we are close to tragedy. Two nights ago I received news from Capernaum. Riots have occurred, and believe me, they were put down with great severity. When your Jews burned the tax collector’s office I could have duplicated that severity, but I acted with restraint.”

“I know.”

“But your Jews must accept the fact that from now on this is a Christian empire. Our religion is to prevail. Do you know that if I desired, I could knock down your synagogue tomorrow? I left Constantinople vested with that power.” He changed his voice and said with real love, “But the Holy Land contains many Jews and I insist upon living in harmony with them.”