Nicodemus: Search for Messiah

Nicodemus:

Search for Messiah

by Jodi Pavek

Copyright 2014 by Jodi Pavek

Smashwords Edition

ISBN: 9781311629128

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Judas before the Sanhedrin on cover by Brend'amour of Dusseldorf, from Christ in Art by Edward Eggleston [Public Domain], via Archive.org, http://www.archive.org/details/christinartstory00egglrich

Celtic Cross at end by Petr Vodicka [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons, http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3ACcross.png

Chapter 1

Dawn was beginning to break, but its light had not yet reached into the window to disturb the couple asleep in the bed against the wall. In the quiet dark, the man began to stir. First restless, then agitated, he suddenly started up, breathing heavily. Getting up, he moved to a bench by the nearby table, then sat with his head in his hands, trying to calm his breathing and slow his pounding heart.

Light seeped into the room as the woman began to wake. Finding her husband's place empty, she sat up and called anxiously, Nicodemus? She recognized his dark form at the table, pushed away the blanket and hurried to him. Nicodemus? What's wrong?

Silence.

She sat down on the bench across from him and reached for his hand. It was the dream again, wasn't it?

Yes.

The same as before?

It's always the same.

Rising, Deborah went to a shelf near the fire. She picked up a lamp and the small knife beside it, trimmed the wick, and lit it with a glowing piece of kindling from the banked fire. Placing it on the table between them, she sat down again. Now, in the warm glow of the small flame, she could see the distracted, distant look on her husband's face.

Why don't you talk about it? You know your thoughts always become clearer when you don't hold them inside.

Nicodemus shifted his hands to the table with a heavy thud. I've talked about it to everyone I could find: Gamaliel, Hillel, even Annas. No one can tell me what it means. It just keeps coming back. I've watched the scene over and over again. It never changes--I can see it almost as clearly when I'm awake as I can when I'm asleep.

Still, said his wife patiently, you know that holding a problem in your mind only allows it to grow until it overwhelms you. If you speak it, it must keep its own true size and importance. Silent worry will only leaven the problem into false dread of something larger and more terrible than it really is.

He rose from the table and began to pace the room. I'm standing in the circle of the Sanhedrin. There is a man in chains before us. He is accused of blasphemy, and Caiaphas wants his life. It must be night - the only light in the room comes from the lamps. But that makes no sense! Capital trials must be held during daylight--it's the law! I can't understand what Caiaphas is trying to do. There is something urgent about the trial, but something secretive, too. The hall is full of whispers surrounding the questions they ask the accused man, and his answers. Caiaphas is angry, but the prisoner speaks quietly and calmly. He is not afraid, although the trial is going badly for him. I don't know who he is--I cannot see his face. But in the dream I am absolutely sure of his innocence. And at first I'm not worried. I'm certain he'll be set free. I hear the call of votes begin, and then something changes. Everyone is looking at me, waiting for me to condemn the man to death. I know he is innocent, yet somehow I also know that as soon as I speak, his death is certain. My heart begins to pound and I cannot breathe. I have never felt such agony--my mind feels it is about to burst! I cannot bear it! I turn away and suddenly I'm awake. But the dream stays in my mind like a vision--and it leaves such sorrow behind, as though my heart was breaking. I could weep even now, and yet I don't know what it is that saddens me.

His agony and anger burst out. Lord God! Must I suffer this torment forever? Will you not show me the meaning of this dream so I may be rid of it?

Deborah hated the distress she saw in her husband, but she kept her voice calm and quiet. Do not be angry at God, Nicodemus. You know that He has always proven Himself faithful to Israel and to us, if we only obey Him. He will answer, but we must wait on His time. Remember, even the prophet Daniel sometimes had to have an angel to interpret his dreams, and he had to wait for that, as well. And some of his dreams were prophecies of Messiah. We must trust in our Lord, and wait.

I don't see how this dream could be a prophecy of the coming King, if that's what you mean, Deborah. And it seems I've spent a lifetime waiting. How much longer does He expect me to bear it? I wait and I wait, and He gives me no answers!

None at all, husband?

He stopped pacing. Taking a few long breaths, he sat down, placed his hands on hers and looked into her eyes. No. You're right--He's given me one answer: the answer to my heart's cry for another heart to share the joys and sorrows of my dreams. He blessed me far above any dream when He gave me you, Beloved. Without you--your love, and courage, and faith--all my hopes would have been dead long ago, and all my visions faded. Patient, loving, longsuffering Deborah--you have brought order and purpose to my life, even as your name promises. Forgive me--I have made you listen to my fears and frustrations over and over again. You must grow tired of me.

She put her hand on his cheek. Never tired of you, my love. Your dreams and visions still excite me as they did when we were young, and it thrills my heart even now to know that I will share with you the most wonderful gift Israel has ever known.

Even though it means waiting still longer? There was a rueful note in his voice.

Will He not be worth the waiting when He comes? Just as the bread fresh from the baking is better because you have smelled the fragrance foretelling it, so will the waiting for Messiah, knowing His time is near, make His presence all the more joyful when He comes. And waiting with you makes the days run quickly, so that I would sometimes, if I could, reach out to slow them down--to savor each one a little longer, holding them as a treasure too precious to let go.

How is it that you always know how to comfort me? How to say the words my heart needs to hear to still the turmoil in my soul?

She smiled. For more than thirty years my heart has been joined to yours. I have shared your sorrows and your joys. I could not help but know if I listened only a little. She looked at the window and patted his hand. It's daybreak, too late to go back to bed now. You get ready for your prayers at the Temple and I will make some breakfast.

Nicodemus rose from the small table and went into another room. Deborah heard water pouring into the basin and the splashing sounds of face- and hand-washing as she straightened the bedclothes and took her outer robe from a chest along the wall. She had just settled it in place as Nicodemus returned, drying his face and hands on a linen towel. As he reached for his black robe, she took the wet cloth from him and started for the kitchen. They were both surprised by a knock at the door.

I'll answer it, said Nicodemus. He finished tying his belt as he walked to the door and opened it to a familiar and welcome face. Nathan! Come inside!

A tall, younger man with a handsome face and expensive clothes smiled as he entered the doorway. I know I'm early, Nicodemus, but I thought we'd better start soon if we want to get into the Temple for prayers.

Yes, you're right. With all the people coming into Jerusalem for the Passover, it will be crowded.

Not just that. You haven't heard, have you?

Heard what?

There was a crazy man in the Temple yesterday! Simon bar-Jonah told me about it! Just before sundown, a strange man came into the Temple. There were several men with him, most of them rough and uneducated, according to Simon. No one noticed them until suddenly this man was shouting, and driving the cattle and sheep out of the Temple courtyard! He threw the money from the tables onto the ground, and then threw down the tables! He commanded the dove-sellers to take their birds and leave, and shouted 'Do not make my Father's house a house of merchandise!'

Ha! I've often wanted to do that myself, but I can't believe Caiaphas would let it happen! He makes a great deal of money from that trading, and I've worked too long and too hard to achieve my positions in the Temple and the Sanhedrin to chance throwing them away by opposing him. He is certain to be High Priest one day. But where were the Temple officers?

Apparently it happened so fast that Caiaphas wasn't even aware of it until afterwards. And Simon told me the officers went to the man and asked him what his sign of authority was for doing those things.

I suppose they had to allow for the possibility that he was a prophet. What was his answer?

That's how they knew he was just crazy. He looked right at them and said, 'Destroy this Temple and in three days I will raise it up.' That Temple took forty-six years to build--and it isn't really finished yet! He had to be mad, or possessed!

Was he arrested?

No, he left right away and his ragged group of followers went with him.

Where did he go?

Simon didn't know. But I expect half the men in town to be in Temple today, hoping he'll come back, and there'll be more excitement.

Who was he? Did anyone know him?

Apparently some people had seen him before--in Galilee. His name is 'Y'shua' and they say he claims to be Messiah! Can you believe it? A poor, uneducated laborer--a tradesman at best--imagining himself to be the King of Israel? Nathan laughed heartily. He has to be crazy!

Nicodemus didn't laugh. His face was pensive. Crazy like a fox, perhaps.

What are you talking about?

Nathan, do you not know any of the prophecies of Messiah?

Of course I do, but what have they to do with a crazy man wreaking havoc in the Temple?

You don't know them as well as you think you do. Do you remember Isaiah's prophecy of a child who would be born to us, upon whose shoulders the government will rest?

Of course I know that one! It was almost the first thing they taught us in school. In fact, I think my teacher used it as a reading exercise. I recall those words being read aloud over and over again.

While you were reciting it you would have done well to listen. Apparently a rough, uneducated laborer heard more of the words than you did, and knows enough to use them to his advantage.

Nicodemus, what are you talking about?

Isaiah's prophecy specifically refers to Galilee as being glorified by God, and then describes the coming Ruler. Obviously, to anyone studying the prophecy and paying attention, Isaiah means that Messiah will come from Galilee!

But Galilee is only barely civilized! There's not a person there with any significance or importance to Israel!

You mean there's no one there with any significance or importance to a rich young businessman like yourself. Have you forgotten that King David came from a small insignificant place called Bethlehem?

Well, yes, that's true, I suppose. But still, a crazy man with a ragtag bunch of followers--.

Maybe not so crazy. If a man wanted people to believe he was Messiah, wouldn't he be wise to try to fulfill the messianic prophecies? You say this man comes from Galilee--one prophecy. And another says, 'Zeal for Thy house shall consume Me.'

Nicodemus, surely you don't think that this man really is Messiah?

I don't think anything yet, Nathan. But I will find this Y'shua and hear him. I've waited too long for Messiah to risk missing Him because of a wealthy prejudice. I will say one thing: for someone who claims to be Messiah, he certainly has the name for it.

Y'shua? What do you mean? Why is that a name for Messiah?

You've spent too many years speaking nothing but wealthy, educated Greek, Nathan. In the Galilean dialect, 'Y'shua' means 'salvation.'

You're right! How do you know so much about names, Nicodemus? I thought your passion for study was about Messiah.

The meanings of names is an interesting pastime. It began as part of my study of Messiah--searching to see if Messiah's name was prophesied. There are so many different references: 'He shall be called Emmanuel, God with us.' Or 'He shall be called Wonderful Counselor, the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace.'

Did you find Messiah's name? Nathan's voice revealed his eagerness.

Nicodemus shook his head. No. The more I studied, the more it seemed to me that all those reference were really His titles, rather than His name. I never found a Scripture that I felt sure meant that this word would be His name.

That's strange. I wonder why God didn't tell us what His name would be?

What good would it have done? Every father and mother in Israel would give that name to at least one of their sons. We'd be no better off than we are now, trying to discern which 'Emmanuel' out of all the hundreds of thousands of 'Emmanuels' was the true Messiah!

I see. Nathan was thoughtful for once. Yes, you're right! And just think how difficult it would be to have merchandise delivered to a buyer, if every house in every village held at least one man with the same name as your customer!

Now Nicodemus laughed. Nathan, you amaze me! You always see things in light of what would be best for your business! I suppose that's why success comes so easily for you. I have often found that a person's character matched his name. Your wife, Susannah, is every bit as lovely as the lily she is named after. But you, Nathan--your name means 'to give.' I can only think that in your case it must mean that others will give to you!

Nathan smiled as though the thought pleased him. As I see it, if I do my trading intelligently, then of course people will want to buy the merchandise I want to sell. You know my motto: 'Deal only in the highest quality--and get the highest price for it!'

Well, your household will never be wanting, even if your wit is!

Deborah entered the room, smiling and carrying a small bundle. Nathan! Welcome! I thought I heard your voice. It's always a pleasure to see you!

Thank you, Deborah. I'm afraid I came early to take your husband away to prayers today, so we can get a seat before the crowds arrive. He turned to his friend. We'd better leave, Nicodemus.

Yes, we'd better. He took up a prayer shawl lying on a bench near the door. Placing it around his shoulders, he turned to his wife. I'm sorry about breakfast, Deborah.

I suspected as much. She held out the cloth-wrapped bundle. Here's bread and cheese, wrapped for traveling.

Nicodemus laughed as he took the parcel she offered. I love you, Deborah.

And I you! She glanced at the edges of the prayer shawl, picked up a tassel barely attached to the rest of the garment, and made a face. Look at this! Once again you have almost worried the tassels completely off your shawl! I'll have to mend it tonight - again! She scowled a little at him as he tried to look contrite, then broke into another smile as she shooed the two men toward the door. Now go, and let me get to work today! I must see what my cupboard lacks for the Passover meals.

They were almost at the door when Nathan stopped, turned quickly and said to her, Oh, I almost forgot, Deborah! Susannah wants to go with you to the market today. She told me that you get better prices from the vendors than anyone else, and she wants to learn how you do it.

Deborah shook her head at his comment. It's just that they've known me so long they know I won't buy poor merchandise, or pay more than it's worth. She looked at him from the corner of her eye and teased: You know my motto: 'Deal only in the highest quality, and pay a fair price for it!

Nathan's eyes widened. Ah--yes. We'd better go, Nicodemus. I feel my profits shrinking as I stand here, and it's extremely uncomfortable!

Deborah leaned over to her husband and kissed the still-damp cheek above his beard. Goodbye, husband.

He returned the kiss. Goodbye, Beloved.

As they passed through the doorway, Nicodemus touched his fingertips to his lips, kissed them, and touched the mezuzah on the doorpost, silently reciting the Scriptures it contained. Deborah shut the door after them. Going to the table, she picked up the lamp, blew out the flame, and set it back on the shelf, then headed again for the kitchen.

Chapter 2

Susannah counted out coins as the merchant scooped barley flour, pouring it into a cloth bag on the scale. When the pans of the scale balanced, he picked up the bag, holding it out to her with one hand while the other opened to receive the coins.

Thank you, Joel, she said, smiling at the crusty old man. He responded with the expected string of complaints about being driven into poverty by his own generosity in selling so cheaply to ladies who were such demanding customers and such hard bargainers. The two women in front of him nodded. They were familiar with the speech, spoken so many times now it had settled into a rhythm, almost like a song. But he smiled a little as he spoke, and the women understood that a hard-fought bargain was the highlight of his day.

They picked up their full baskets, turned to go, and were nearly knocked down by two young boys clutching apples in their hands and running as fast as they could through the market. Behind them, Joel dropped his litany of complaints and began shouting after the boys. Thieves! Vandals! Stealing from poor, honest merchants! If I ever get my hands on you!

Deborah watched the boys disappear into the crowd below the walls of the Temple. Who do those children belong to? I see them almost every day, running through the market. No one seems to discipline them or even take notice of them, except the storekeepers and vendors who chase them away and shout at the ones who steal fruit and bread!

They belong to no one, madam, Joel answered. They are street rats! He leaned out of his stall and shouted the last words at a younger boy in rags by the next vendor. The boy's eyes widened in fear. He turned and ran away, knocking over a bushel of grapes. Joel turned back to his customers. Strays and orphans, most of them. Their parents dead or disappeared, or too much enamored of the wineskin to care for their own children. They run wild, stealing from honest merchants like me, bringing trouble with them and leaving more trouble behind them! He gestured to the fruitseller now picking up the overturned grapes.

Does no one help them? cried Susannah, sudden tears in her eyes. They are so young!

Joel snorted. "Humph! No one wants more trouble! They come to me sometimes and say they want to work, but I run them off! I'm not putting my