Judgment: Wrath of the Lamb

by Brian Godawa

  I do not want you to despair. Only pray. Michael and the Kharabu have prepared for this, and they have trained our men as best they can. We are not without protection or strategy. And certainly not outside of God’s will.

  Now it is my turn to tell you that if I do not survive, I want you to know how much you mean to me.

  I first fell in love with you because I saw a man of healing and compassion in a world of suffering. Even though you say that I led you to the Gospel, you were the one who taught me about God’s grace. I had been a bitter soul longing for revenge until you came into my life. Thank you for teaching me to love and forgive.

  You have spoken of your desire to be more of a warrior or a man of action. Alexander Maccabaeus, you are the most heroic man of action I have ever known. You save bodies and souls. You are God’s warrior. You are my man, and I thank you for loving me and for protecting me and for making me feel beautiful. Thank you for being a man of God that I can look up to and respect beyond all other men.

  I vow to you that I will do everything in my power to protect our children. I pray that God the Father watches over you and brings you home safely. And if he does not, then I will go and find you and bring you back myself.

  The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you.

  • • • • •

  Thelonius Severus to Livia Bantius, my precious betrothed.

  I write this letter to you with a heavy heart. So much has happened since we parted at Caesarea. I miss you and dream of you, of the warmth of your embrace, the softness of your lips, your touch.

  I am sorry to say that my time here in Judea has been extended. I am not sure how long it will be or if I will survive. I wanted to tell you what has happened to me so that you will never doubt my unending love for you.

  I arrived at Pella and warned them of the coming Roman attack just as we had planned. But then something happened to me before I could leave and follow you to Rome. I cannot explain it fully in words, but I will try.

  I was listening to a sermon in their gathering, and God’s Spirit fell upon me. I don’t know how, and I don’t know why. I only know that I met my Creator. I became a Christian.

  And that is why I must stay a little while longer before I return to you. I need to learn more about what has happened to me, and I need to help defend these beautiful people from the attack that I helped bring upon them. It is no longer enough for me to merely warn them. I must act and take true responsibility for what I have done to them.

  I know this will be difficult for you to accept. But please believe me when I tell you that my love for you has not wavered or lessened in the slightest. In fact, it has only increased.

  This is because I have found a higher love, the love of my Creator that gives meaning and purpose to our love. And only by obeying that higher calling can my life—can our life together—have any lasting meaning here on earth or beyond. I want you to know this love as well.

  Please wait for me. But if you cannot, I will understand.

  I am forever yours in the love of Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior.

  CHAPTER 15

  Jerusalem

  Alexander held a small sack of food in his hands as he watched the Two Witnesses speaking at the Huldah Gates to the temple. He was waiting for an opportunity to sneak the sack unnoticed into the usual pre-arranged location for the Witnesses to grab after their sermon.

  Very few locals stopped these days to listen to the Witnesses. Most just wanted to live their lives, eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, without being condemned by those they saw as fanatics. But with the large number of pilgrims here for the feast, the message of Moshe and Elihu was being broadcast like farmer’s seed, even if done so upon stony hearts.

  The Two Witnesses were recounting the judgment upon “Babylon” from the Apocalypse. Elihu spoke in a mighty voice to the crowds of people passing by. “This holy city Jerusalem was supposed to be a dwelling place for Yahweh, but she has become Babylon the Harlot, a dwelling place for demons, a haunt for unclean spirits. For all nations have drunk the wine of the passion of her immorality. And the kings of the Land have committed spiritual immorality with her. They have lived in luxury with her, but they will weep and wail over her when they see the smoke of her burning.”59

  The Witnesses had often said that the Harlot was a symbol of Jerusalem as led by her apostate priesthood. The kings of the land of Israel, that is, her religious leadership, had benefited from Jerusalem’s wealth and glory. But they were also guilty of the blood of the Christian martyrs. The metaphor that the apostle John had used was that of drinking their blood like wine. That leadership was responsible for aiding the Roman persecution of the Christians by Nero throughout the empire. The persecution had stopped with the death of Nero, but it was too late. Their fate was sealed.60

  Moshe joined in. “Fallen, fallen is Babylon the Great. Alas! Alas! You great city, you mighty city, Babylon! For in a single hour your judgment will come. And the merchants of the land weep and mourn for her since no one will buy their cargo anymore!”61

  The prophet began to announce a list of merchant goods like gold, silver, jewels, pearls, and fine linen. Alexander recognized that they were the same goods described by Ezekiel in his prophecy against Tyre. Solomon had covenanted with the pagan city of Tyre to build the first temple, which resulted in those same goods being listed in the temple manifest. To this day, the temple only used Tyrian currency, which contained the idolatrous image of Ba’al on it. In its successful economic influence on the merchants of the land, the temple and all the goods sold within it had become thoroughly polluted with spiritual corruption.62

  Moshe stood back, and Elihu concluded their jeremiad. “So will Babylon the great city be thrown down with violence and will be found no more, and the voice of bridegroom and bride will be heard in you no more. For in her was found the blood of prophets and of saints and of all who have been slain on the Land. Rejoice over her, O heaven and you saints and apostles and prophets, for God has given judgment for you against her!”63

  Jerusalem had always been known as “the great city” in the eyes of God and his prophets. She was spiritually the center of the earth.64 But because this generation had crucified their Messiah, they would be guilty of the blood of all the prophets and would reap judgment for that bloodguilt unlike any generation before or after.65

  Alexander had moved over to the wall, looking around to make sure no one saw him. He reached down and inconspicuously slipped the small sack into one of the large cracks that had been created in the crumbling wall. He then moved on. He’d seen the Witnesses take note of his arrival. Once they’d finished and the people had dispersed, they would make their way over to retrieve the hidden package of food from the hole in the wall.

  Alexander had made it all the way to the bottom of the steps when his way was blocked by a group of temple guards.

  The lead guard said, “You are under arrest.”

  “For what?” he asked.

  Two other guards grabbed him.

  “Why are you arresting me?” he repeated.

  “Conspiring with the Two Witnesses.”

  They must have been watching Alexander’s every move. He’d thought he had successfully hidden the food in the wall without being seen. He had escaped their detection for months. But he had finally gotten caught.

  They must be dragging him to his death.

  • • • • •

  John of Gischala descended the damp stone staircase into the dungeon below the temple mount. A prison guard opened an iron door that led Gischala into the long line of cells carved out of the rock and caged in by iron crossbars.

  The cell door clanged shut behind him, and he was led by the prison captain past cells of various prisoners from religious Zealots to hardened criminals, until he found the one he was looking for.

  The captain opened the door for him. and he entered. He saw Alexander Maccabaeus sitting in the corner of the cold dark cell, his legs crouched up be
neath his encircled arms.

  Gischala had told them to be neglectful of this one in order to break him. He walked up to Alexander and towered over the doctor who trembled from cold and hunger. The doctor looked up at him with a steady, determined glare, despite his physical maladies.

  Gischala considered the prisoner’s courage to be impressive. He said, “You are the doctor over at the hippodrome hospital.”

  “Yes.”

  Gischala narrowed his eyes. “You have been arrested for conspiracy. What do you have to say to your charges?”

  Alexander coughed before speaking. “Conspiracy? I’m guilty of conspiracy for feeding poor people?”

  “It is illegal to aid those two madmen in any way, including food, shelter, or provisions.”

  Alexander’s steady gaze was unfazed by the accusation. “Why don’t you just arrest them or kick them out of the city?”

  Gischala gritted his teeth at the jab. He couldn’t do a thing directly to the two madmen, and this little weasel knew it. The general had been able to bar them from entering the outer temple courts, but he could not arrest them or do violence against them. Soldiers had been foiled when they tried. Some dropped dead. Others caught plagues. Still others went mad, claiming guardian angels watched over the so-called prophets. Hysterical gossip had spread so fully amongst the populace that no one would dare touch them out of fear for their own lives.

  Gischala knelt down to Alexander’s level and spoke with a menacingly soft voice. “What is their secret?”

  The prisoner looked away, making no response.

  “Everyone has a secret. Where do they get their powers, and how do I stop them?”

  Alexander looked up again at Gischala. “You cannot stop them.”

  “Maybe not. But I can stop you. Then who will help them?”

  “I think they’ve made it clear there is only one who is helping them.”

  The prisoner was implying God himself was on their side, which was something Gischala could never believe in a thousand years. Yahweh was on his side. So the two madmen had to be from the devil. Their powers were sorcery. He was sick of their demonic disturbances and traitorous hatred of the holy city, their vile blasphemies against temple and Torah. They had been untouchable for over three years. Three and a half years. It was time to get rid of them, and this Christian traitor was Gischala’s opportunity to do so.

  He heard the prison door to the dungeon at the end of the hallway open again. He ignored it. “I will make you suffer. You will speak.”

  Alexander replied, “You will get nothing because I have nothing. Jesus is everything.”

  Gischala stood to his feet.

  “General,” came a voice from behind him.

  Gischala turned to see Jacob ben Mordecai at the cell door.

  “I heard about your prisoner. I’m not sure you realize…”

  “I know who he is.”

  “Well then, you know how crucial he is to your interests. To the interests of our wounded soldiers in this coming war.”

  “Do we not have other doctors?”

  “Perilously few. And Alexander has the loyalty of most of them because of what he has already done for this city. He is a hero to the people. Killing him will be politically disastrous.”

  Gischala stared at the doctor while still speaking to Jacob. “So the people love him.”

  “I believe so, my lord,” replied Jacob. “I despise him as much as you do. But his death will work against you.”

  “Well then,” said Gischala to Alexander, “since you care so much for your patients, I won’t kill you. I will keep you alive down here. I will use what few other doctors we have to attend only to my soldiers and leave the citizens on their own. Perhaps the knowledge that your insolence causes their increased suffering might persuade you to change your mind.”

  Gischala saw Alexander return his threat with an angry glare.

  “If you tell me the secret of the Witnesses, I will let you return to the hippodrome and to your work.” He added with sarcastic flare, “Pray to your Jesus about that.”

  Turning, he left Alexander to the damp cold floor of his cell.

  Jacob followed Gischala and informed him, “The Romans have arrived. They are setting up camp on Mount Scopus and the Mount of Olives.”

  “Yes,” said the general, glancing back at Alexander. “The great suffering is about to begin.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Berenice and Agrippa walked through the Roman camp to meet Titus at the far eastern edge. They were just one mile northeast of Jerusalem on Mount Scopus, overseeing the city.

  A legionary camp was called a “castrum.” It consisted of a square plot of soldier’s tents arranged in an orderly geometric fashion around the general’s residence in the center. This castrum was large enough to contain three legions—V, VII, and XV—along with their auxiliary forces for a total of fifty thousand soldiers. Legion X and other auxiliaries were across the eastern side of the city on the Mount of Olives, ten thousand in number.

  It had taken less than a day for the soldiers to set up camp. They were now busy taking a couple additional days building an eight-foot-tall stone wall with moat around the perimeter of the camp as a standard defensive precaution. They were getting ready for a long siege.

  Just outside the wall, the Herod siblings met with Titus, Josephus, and some tribunes. Tiberius Alexander, Roman governor from Egypt, stood firmly beside the general as his second in command. He eyed Berenice with a skeptical look.

  Berenice despised the man. He had been born to a wealthy Jewish family, but had rejected his heritage, had become procurator of Judea under Claudius, and had ended up a brutal oppressor of Jews in Alexandria. Tiberius was fifty years old with short-cropped hair and a muscular physique. He reminded Berenice of a bird of prey that shadowed Titus everywhere, ready to protect him and eat the scraps of his master’s meals.

  At their elevation, Berenice could see into the city as well as into the temple courts. The white marble walls of the inner temple and its golden trimming gleamed in the sunlight. Berenice felt her stomach churn at the prospect of what was coming.

  Josephus was the first to speak, pointing toward the city. “The most accessible part of the wall will be the northwestern section just north of the Herodian palace towers.”

  Titus looked to Agrippa for confirmation. Herod nodded. “The terrain is higher there. It would require less of a ramp to build.”

  Titus turned to Tiberius. “Start clear-cutting the nearest forests to procure the ramp materials.”

  “Yes, general.” Tiberius left them to make the order.

  Titus then asked the Jews, “But what is the intelligence report of the forces inside the city?”

  Agrippa said, “The civil war continues. John of Gischala holds the temple complex against Simon bar Giora who controls the city. As you can see, we arrived during the Feast of Passover and Unleavened Bread.”

  Berenice saw that the pilgrims who were staying outside the city had all moved inside at the presence of the Roman forces. They were like trapped birds in a cage. Several hundred thousand of them.

  Josephus added, “That means the city will be over capacity with civilian population, causing stress on both their food supplies as well as simple law and order. The sooner you attack, the speedier will be your victory.”

  Berenice countered, “But with haste there is a greater danger of more innocent victims.”

  Titus considered their arguments silently.

  “If you spare the city,” said Agrippa, “I can assure you complete submission from the Herodian throne presiding over the aftermath. Better a submissive ally than a conquered foe.”

  Titus said, “I will not destroy the city—if the Jewish forces are not incorrigible. It is up to them what treatment they receive.”

  That was not comforting to Berenice for she knew just how incorrigible her people were. She also knew Simon bar Giora—intimately. They had been lovers years ago, and she knew his soul. She would n
ever forget. He was the closest thing to true love that she had ever experienced. Even to this day, she remembered those years with melancholy loss. She imagined where he was inside the city right now and what he might be doing, and her heart welled within her. She had never fallen out of love with Simon bar Giora.

  Simon was a man of tenacious integrity. He had guarded the temple from corruption, and when he had been framed and chased out of the city, she knew he’d carried with him a desire for revenge against his betrayer Gischala. But a threat against the temple by the Roman abomination would drive him to a much higher commitment to the sacred house of God.

  Unless he had changed after all those years as a fugitive in the desert. She’d heard he had become a bandit, but gossip was never reliable. Had he changed? Was character destiny? Or could even the truest of men lose their way?

  • • • • •

  The moon had arisen, and the Roman soldiers were safely behind their camp walls for the night. Berenice paced about in her tent with her brother watching her every step.

  “I cannot believe you would advise immediate attack,” she complained. “There is no telling how devastating that would be on the unprepared civilians. There is more chance of chaos and therefore more casualties.”

  Agrippa disagreed. “Swift judgment is quicker with less damage.”

  “Sometimes I don’t know if you even want a people to rule over,” she said.

  He replied, “Sometimes, I think your divided loyalties paralyze you. You still love Simon, don’t you?”