Transgression

by R. S. Ingermanson

  “Promise you will not go near him.”

  Rivka put her hand on Ari’s arm and smiled straight into his soul. “I wouldn’t go within shouting distance of him if my life depended on it. All I want to do is go see this Gamaliel and warn him, okay? That’s all.”

  Ari bit his tongue. Rivka must be having trouble coming down from the excitement of helping to save Paul. Maybe the best thing to do would be to humor her for a day or two. What harm would there be in her running around town trying to be Cassandra? She would talk to Gamaliel, save the universe or whatever, and then be happy.

  “Okay, Ari?” Rivka asked.

  “Yes, fine,” he said. “Would you like to eat supper with Brother Baruch and me this evening? Then you can tell us all about your adventures.”

  She smiled. “Of course. I’ll see you then.” With that, she turned and headed down the street in the direction of the Temple.

  “She is a strange woman,” Baruch said. “I do not see why you should be attracted to such a one as her, Brother Ari.”

  Ari smiled. “Even King Solomon could not understand the way of a man with a woman, so how can I explain it?”

  A strange expression crossed Baruch’s face. It vanished almost immediately. “Very well, Brother Ari. We shall make a bargain then. You will teach me how it can be Shabbat in your country, when it is only the fifth day of the week here in Jerusalem.”

  “And in exchange?”

  “In exchange, I will teach you how to write the letters of the Torah according to the ways of the scribes.”

  “You drive a hard bargain,” Ari said, wanting to laugh. “Agreed.”

  * * *

  Ari

  The morning sped by. While Ari practiced the maddening art of scratching letters with a reed pen on a piece of thrice-scraped parchment, he and Baruch discussed HaShem and physics and Torah and philosophy and the nature of spacetime.

  Baruch had no trouble understanding that time could be curved. Apparently, people here did not think of time as a straight line anyway. They thought of it as a spiral. But Baruch could not understand how time and space could be the same.

  For that matter, Ari had never understood it either. At a certain point, you could not really understand physics anyway. You accepted the results of experiments that proved space and time were linked. You developed mathematics to describe what you observed. After much playing around, you developed intuition for the equations. But did you then understand the physics? Yes and no.

  “I do not understand, Brother Ari, and yet I believe it,” Baruch said. “I believe you, and that is enough. You are a man of truth.”

  The reed pen in Ari’s hand slipped, turning his carefully constructed aleph into gibberish. He felt frustrated and tired after hours of hunching over the table. His mind had begun to wander. What had possessed him to stay? Rivka, of course. But what if she would not yield in the matter of her religion? What if—

  A commotion out in the street yanked Ari back to reality. He heard the sound of men shouting. But what terrified Ari was not the men. It was the high-pitched shriek of a woman’s voice.

  Wailing in wordless grief.

  Chapter 32

  Rivka

  RIVKA HURRIED DOWN THE HILL toward the shop of Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai. What a coincidence that Paul’s nephew should be working in the shop of Rabban Yohanan!

  Or was it such a coincidence? Paul and Yohanan were about the same age. Both had come to this city as young men to study at the feet of the great master Rabban Gamaliel. The nephew would hail from a Torah-loving family; why else would his parents name him Gamaliel? And if Paul and Yohanan had once been good friends, that would explain how young Gamaliel got his job. Scholars looked out for other scholars.

  Rivka hadn’t really thought about it until now, but Paul and Rabban Yohanan must have known each other very well thirty years ago. That explained Yohanan’s actions yesterday. But did Yohanan know of Paul’s current theological position? Probably not.

  Rivka smiled. Come to think of it, even with two thousand years of scholarship at her disposal, did she really know where Paul stood? On every issue? She based her understanding of Paul on a few tens of thousands of words he had written. In Greek. Not her native language and not his. Was that enough to know somebody?

  The only way to get inside Paul’s head would be to go talk to him. And her odds of getting an audience with him were about the same as her chances of getting back to her own century with Ari.

  Ari. Guilt shot through Rivka’s heart. All because of her, Ari was now stranded here in the past. To be with her. But why had she stayed?

  She didn’t really know. When she had regained consciousness yesterday, a certainty had filled her heart that she must stay. She was God’s avatar in this surreal city. Without her, Paul would be dead. And he might still be in danger, though she didn’t quite see how.

  Dr. West no longer had a weapon with which to kill Paul. Furthermore, Brother Baruch had practically maimed him yesterday, stomping on his arm like that. Baruch, normally so mild, could be ferocious when he had to be. There was more behind that man than met the eye.

  But Ari!

  Why had he stayed? Okay, so he was in love with her. That was sweet, but impractical. He was a nice guy. Attractive, in his own way. Wonderful to talk to.

  But he had a problem with her religion, and that made a problem for Rivka. She wasn’t going to get involved with a guy who couldn’t even talk about Yeshua without foaming at the mouth. Father, could you make Ari just a little more tolerant? Please?

  Come to think of it, Ari had changed—some. After that amazing hornet-sting episode, he was convinced God existed. And Brother Baruch was an excellent influence. If Ari stayed here long, who knew what might happen? Maybe someday he would lose his antagonism to Yeshua. If he did that, well…something might develop.

  But if he didn’t?

  Rivka suddenly stopped. Up to now, she hadn’t thought much about her future here. She had been concentrating on saving the world, fixing up the mess Damien had created. She had another day of doing that. And then what?

  According to Ari, they were stuck here permanently. They were going to live out their lives in first-century Judea. They were going to die here.

  And Rivka didn’t want to die unmarried.

  But that presented a problem. Who here wouldn’t have religious differences with her?

  Christianity as she knew it didn’t exist yet. No Catholics, no Protestants, no Jehovah’s Witnesses. Even Messianic Judaism as she knew it didn’t really exist.

  For that matter, science didn’t exist. Historical-critical study of ancient literature didn’t exist. A fair bit of what she considered ancient literature hadn’t been written yet.

  Who in this world could she marry? Who would have a clue what she was thinking? She wasn’t much of a feminist by modern standards, but she had about two millennia head start on anyone now living. Except Ari.

  Rivka, you are in deep trouble. You have no chance of a happy family life, no chance of finishing your education. And how are you going to make a living?

  Rivka shivered. Her prospects certainly looked bleak. If she was going to live in this century, she didn’t have many choices. She could get married. She could live on charity. She could work as a domestic servant or sell herself as a slave.

  Don’t think about any of that. For today, do what you have to do. Worry about tomorrow tomorrow.

  She arrived at the bottom of the hill and turned left onto the street of shops running alongside the Temple Mount. The door stood open at the shop of Yohanan ben Zakkai. Rivka went in.

  The old man looked at her with his merchant’s face. “How may I help you?”

  Rivka pushed her veil aside. Yohanan’s face lit up with joy. “Bless you, my daughter. Your new clothing fooled me. HaShem must have sent you yesterday. Let me tell you what happened.”

  Rivka nodded. What good would it do to tell him that she had already read the book and knew how it would end?r />
  For the next fifteen minutes, the old rabbi paced back and forth in his tiny shop, recounting his adventures in finding the other Pharisees, how they had barged into the meeting just before it began, how Paul had made a fool of that scoundrel Hananyah, and finally how Yohanan himself had nearly punched one of the Sadducees.

  Rivka wished she could have seen it. But, of course, a woman would never have been allowed to watch a session of the Sanhedrin.

  But no matter. Everything had gone the way it was supposed to. Rivka had interfered with history, but her interference was precisely that required in order to make the history work out the way it was supposed to. So far, Ari had been right.

  Finally, Rabban Yohanan interrupted his tale. “My daughter, you seem not the least surprised.”

  Rivka smiled. “All is in the hands of HaShem, my father.”

  Yohanan’s face darkened. “I have heard that used as an excuse to do nothing.”

  “My father, it is not an excuse to do nothing; it is a reason to do what HaShem would have me to do, confident that he will guide my weak hands to do what I cannot do in my own strength.”

  The sage tugged at his thin gray beard, his eyes astonished. “You are wise, my daughter. Who taught you? Are you a prophetess?”

  “My teacher is the God of our fathers,” Rivka said. “And he has given me to know a little of what must happen. I know that Hananyah will call Saul to another trial tomorrow.”

  “That is correct,” Yohanan said. “But how did you know that he did not call this trial for today?”

  “And I also know that Saul is in great danger, but not from Hananyah.”

  Yohanan’s eyes narrowed. “You know more than I do, my child. What must be done?”

  “Saul has a nephew who works for you, correct?”

  Yohanan did not even look surprised. “Yes, Gamaliel. Like a son to me, since they killed his father. But he has been sick since the day after Shabbat. What has he to do with this?”

  “You must tell me where he lives,” Rivka said. “It is urgent.”

  “I will take you there,” Yohanan said. “But tell me this. How is it that you know everything about Gamaliel except where he lives?”

  Rivka stepped out into the street. What could she possibly say to that?

  While she tried to think of an answer, the old rabbi produced a key and locked his shop. When he turned to Rivka, his probing eyes studied her.

  The only answer she could think of was to tell the truth. “I have been given a part of the truth, and you also, my father. But HaShem alone can bring us together to make the truth into a whole that gives life.”

  Rabban Yohanan sighed deeply. “Alas, that you are only a woman. I would have welcomed a mind and a heart like yours into my school.”

  Rivka bit her tongue.

  With the Rabban leading and Rivka following, they walked in silence along the avenue that led north along the western wall of the Temple Mount. When they reached the Fortress Antonia, Rabban Yohanan turned west along a broad street. Shortly, this forked. He took the right fork, heading northwest. Five minutes later, they turned right on a narrow street. The houses here were large and well-built, with spaces between the buildings. It was a far cry from the crowded slum where Hana lived, or the jammed district that Baruch called home.

  Rabban Yohanan stopped at a beautiful home and knocked at the door.

  They waited. Nobody answered the door.

  “It is likely that Gamaliel is sleeping,” Yohanan said. “His grandmother may well be out shopping.”

  “What about the rest of his family?” Rivka asked. “His mother? His brothers and sisters?”

  “He has no other family,” Yohanan said. “His mother died many years ago, and he is an only child.”

  “I will wait for his grandmother.”

  The old sage raised his hand over her head. “The Lord bless you and keep you, the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you, and give you success in all the works of your hands.”

  “I will find you tomorrow and tell you what happens,” Rivka said.

  Rabban Yohanan nodded. “Shalom, my daughter.” He turned and began walking back toward his shop.

  Rivka watched the old sage until he disappeared around the corner. Thank God for an old merchant who would talk to a woman. She paced back and forth in front of the house. Sometime today, Gamaliel would walk out of this door and down the street toward the Antonia.

  And then what?

  Then Dr. West would do something. But what?

  Whatever he had planned, she would have to fight back.

  * * *

  Baruch

  Baruch opened the door. Outside his home stood half a dozen of his friends—good men, followers of Yeshua, doers of Torah and not hearers only. With them stood two women. Hana wore the elegant yet modest white silk tunic of a wealthy older woman, but her face had gone stony and cold.

  Sister Miryam wore a look of anguish. The shouts of the men told Baruch everything he needed to know.

  Baruch had been dreading this moment ever since Hana came back into his life. Now they would all learn the truth, and his old sins would be exposed. He had been raised strictly, according to Torah. All his life, he had tried to do right, to walk in the ways of truth and righteousness, to stay far from sin.

  And he had failed. Miserably.

  He had a weakness for the women who carried water. Many times, he had broken the commandments on account of those women. Then, about a year ago, something terrible had happened.

  The woman he hired that day had been this Hana. She seemed no different from the others. But after he left her, he found that he could not forget her. Voices repeated her name inside his head, over and over again. He could not sleep. He could not eat.

  Every day he went back for more of her. And every day his obsession grew. It filled all his mind and darkened his soul and gnawed his spirit. He knew what had happened, and it terrified him. An evil spirit had entered him on account of his sin.

  One day, after using her, such a terror entered his heart that he left her without paying. He ran through the streets, fear stabbing at his heart, driven mad by the evil spirit.

  The voice in his head shouted that he must die. Frantic, he ran toward his home, intending to find a knife and kill himself.

  And then he ran into Yaakov the tsaddik. Literally ran into him, knocked him over. Yaakov was a tsaddik, a righteous man, a holy man. Yaakov had no fear of evil spirits, and he had the power to make them flee.

  After a few hours in the quiet of Yaakov’s home, HaShem restored Baruch’s mind. And more. Yaakov the tsaddik was the brother of a man named Yeshua, at whose name evil spirits begged for mercy. Yaakov explained how Yeshua had lived as the Servant of HaShem, how he had suffered and died by the will of HaShem, how he rose from the dead, was seen by many, and then returned to the right hand of HaShem to await the final judgment. Soon, he would return to reign as the anointed King, as the Mashiach, and he would crush the evil goyim under he feet.

  For Baruch, the last year had been a year of peace. He had not suffered from the evil spirits. Nor had he gone near the women who carried water. He had confessed his sin to Yaakov, and that was enough. He did not wish to tell his new friends in The Way of his previous shameful life.

  And then he had met Ari and Rivka. Now Hana was back, and he knew that soon his friends would learn the truth and despise him.

  Today, his fears had come true. Evidently, Hana had told them his sins. Here they stood, ready to condemn him. What could he say?

  Brother Yoseph spoke first. “Brother Baruch, we have learned that this woman Hana is a zonah. It is not fitting that she should stay with Sister Miryam anymore.”

  Sister Miryam shook her head. “But Hana is in danger! An evil man tried to kill her.”

  “She deserves it,” said Brother Yonatan. He was a large man, with thick, wet lips, and he blinked frequently when he talked. “She must not contaminate Sister Miryam.”

  Bar
uch felt a strange sense of relief surge through his heart. They did not know of his violation of the commandments. But their sneering at Hana angered him. Hana had shown generosity and compassion to Sister Rivka. “I do not think Sister Miryam would be easily contaminated.” He fought to keep his voice even. “I have cast many evil spirits out of this woman. It would be good for her to remain with Sister Miryam.”

  “Brother Baruch, you are too innocent,” Brother Yoseph said. “It is the good who are contaminated by evil, not the other way around. She must be put out. The life she has chosen—”

  “Chosen!” Hana shouted. “You fool! Who would choose the life I have been forced to live? I was once a respectable wife, but then my husband died. I had no family, no money, no nothing. I had only my body, which men paid for. Some of them were righteous men.” She scowled around the circle, glaring at each man until he looked away.

  Her eyes fell last on Baruch.

  He could not bear to look at her. Now she would expose his sin and he would be disgraced. And he deserved it, because he had sinned. His eyes fell, full of tears.

  “You men have many choices in life,” Hana went on. “I had none, except to die with honor or live in shame. A man can use a zonah for his pleasure and then go his own way. But a woman who is a zonah once is a zonah always. No man will have her, nor can she find honor ever again, while she lives under the sun. You fools! Tell me who would choose such a life?”

  Baruch felt his heart cut to the quick. She was more righteous than he. She could expose him now, and yet she did not. He was as great a sinner as she, and yet he lived in honor while she lived in shame. Until yesterday, she had lived in bondage to the evil spirits, just as he had once. Now she lived free. Could she not be forgiven, purified, made new, as he had been?

  No, she could not. Such things were not possible. And yet…

  And yet, since yesterday, Baruch had felt his heart burning with compassion for this woman, wondering how she could receive a new life, when her old life lashed at her so cruelly.