The Damascus Way

by Janette Oke

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  The Damascus Road

  Jamal said nothing further about attacking Saul. The travelers rose two hours before dawn and were off long before the first light touched the eastern horizon. Alban embraced Jacob, prayed with his friends, old and new, and departed for Capernaum. It was too dark to identify any beyond the ones immediately around them, but Jacob had the impression Saul was watching everything.

  By midmorning they had turned away from the Sea of Galilee. They trekked hard all day, stopping only once at a small well surrounded by a few flea-bitten stalls. The further they journeyed, the more remote the road. The guards constantly circled about the caravan, raising more dust than the camels. Outriders took their places at the front and back of the line.

  They were not challenged and by sunset had arrived at the empty desolation of the borderlands. Trachonitis was the name given to this region by the Romans. Jacob surveyed this hardscrabble area that revealed little life. They passed a few destitute-looking shepherds and goatherds, and upon distant hills could see what might have been the ruins of ancient villages. Or perhaps poorly constructed hideouts of bandits and Zealots, Jacob thought.

  They spent the night in a tightly drawn circle surrounded by ever-vigilant guards. None slept much or well.

  Twice that next day they came upon the wreckage of other caravans. The first might have been a small band caught in a storm, possibly the one that had struck Jacob and the women. But the second pile of debris was a vivid warning to them all. The wind and the vultures had not yet managed to eliminate the remnants. Jacob rode up alongside Julia, trying to block her vision. But she had seen it already, he could tell. He thought he saw her lips moving, no doubt in a quiet prayer for families torn apart.

  Saul of Tarsus proved a hardy traveler. Three times daily, he and his men separated themselves from the caravan to pray. That day the caravan did not stop for the noon rest, but Saul and his group still halted to cover their heads and turn toward Jerusalem. Afterward they raced to catch up with the rest of the caravan. Saul either rode one of the group’s donkeys or walked in his turn.

  As Jacob circled the caravan with the other guards, he took time to study this sworn enemy of all followers. Saul’s tall form carried an intensity that made his physical attributes of secondary importance. Lean and strong, he bore the road’s strain and toil with seeming disregard. Though known as a scholar and revered religious leader, he had the hands of a man who knew hard work. His eyes were his most compelling feature. Like those of a bird of prey, they were tightly focused, endlessly moving back and forth above a long and carefully tended beard.

  On the third day since leaving Tiberias, they saw no others save a band of mounted Roman legionnaires who rode in tight formation but gave way to the much larger caravan. They exchanged a few words with the caravan master, who pointed back toward the remnants of the destroyed caravan. Jacob was close enough to note that their centurion showed no surprise at the news.

  That night, Jamal paced around the caravan while the servants prepared their evening meal. He motioned for Jacob to accompany him. The other guards acknowledged the merchant with short bows, but not even the caravan master dared approach. Jacob could well understand – Jamal brooded with his entire being. He walked with body bent, a dark frown creasing his face. Jacob walked beside him, waiting for the man to give some reason for the invitation. But none was forthcoming.

  When they returned to the campfire, the man addressed Julia. “Where is your mother? Is she not well?”

  “She is well, Father. But she will not be joining us for the meal.” Julia looked hesitant, then added, “Mother feels the need to fast and pray. She is . . . she is seeking God’s will for the days ahead.”

  This only served to darken Jamal’s scowl further, but he took his place on a small rug by the fire and accepted the meal laid out by a servant.

  The three of them ate in silence. Several times Julia cast a quick glance Jacob’s way. Clearly she sought reassurance that all was well. But Jacob had no answer save to wait and watch.

  Finally Jamal set his plate aside and growled, “I grow restless, waiting for this God of yours to act.”

  Julia said softly from across the fire, “He is not just our God, Father, but the Lord of all.”

  Jamal studied his daughter, but did not rebuke her as he might have. “You are the brightest ray of sunlight to my day. You have been since the first time I heard you cry. You were a beautiful child, and you have grown into an even lovelier woman.”

  Julia clearly was taken aback by these comments. She blinked away tears that caught the firelight. “Thank you, Father,” she whispered.

  “The one reason I cannot reject this God is because I have seen the effect he has had on you and Helena.”

  Jacob hardly dared breathe at this extraordinary acknowledgment from a man he both feared and respected. And for him to be saying this in front of others was even more astounding. Jacob could hear Julia swallow before she managed to say, “There is no finer compliment you could ever offer me than this.”

  If Jamal noticed his daughter’s emotion, he gave no sign. “You and Helena do not go to Damascus in order to make trouble for me with my other family. Neither of you is seeking a greater portion of my inheritance.”

  “No, Father. None of these things are important to us.”

  “Then why?”

  “It is as Mother said. We seek peace and kinship with your family – but only if that is acceptable to them.” Julia wiped her eyes. “We are fellow believers in the Messiah, and this fact draws us together into a family circle that does not require the normal earthly ties.”

  “This I do not understand.”

  “Mother has prayed and prayed again about this. Sometimes with Zoe and me, but mostly on her own.” She took a deep breath. “She has an impression that God is calling her to reach out to . . . to your wife and family. She feels this is a small fulfillment of his command to love each other, even in seemingly impossible situations.”

  Jamal’s gaze turned inward. “I did not mean to hurt anyone.”

  Julia nodded. “Both of us know that. But the truth is that you have, Father. You have hurt Mother very much.” She hesitated, then added softly, “And me.”

  Jamal rubbed an impatient hand through his grey-streaked hair and across his face and down his beard. “I can’t allow her to leave me. Neither can I send her away. . . . I can’t.”

  “Mother has always loved you, Father, and has lived to serve you.” Julia stared into the dying flames. “Her faith gives her strength to do whatever must be done.”

  Jacob rose and silently moved just beyond the campfire’s reach. He felt he should not be part of this most personal and private conversation. But Jamal turned and said, “Come, sit with us again.” When Jacob had done so, Jamal said, “What say you about this absent God of yours?”

  But it was Julia who spoke into the silence. “He is neither absent nor silent, Father. He is ever with us, even when we are not conscious of it.”

  Jamal’s gaze remained fixed upon Jacob. “Does this young woman speak for you?”

  “As though the words were drawn from my own mouth,” he said.

  Jamal seemed to think on this for a long time. But when he spoke again his thoughts must have moved on, for he turned to Jacob and said, “You asked me to stay my wrath.” Jamal thrust his arm out toward the northern sky. “But up ahead lay the hills of Damascus. Before nightfall tomorrow, we shall reach our destination. Tonight is the last chance we have to make these troublemakers disappear.”

  Jacob did not speak or move.

  Jamal pounded the ground by his side. “Your God has done nothing. He is such a powerful God that he will allow this danger to spread from Jerusalem – attack the city of my birth, perhaps even my own flesh and blood?”

  “My own sister was married to a disciple named Stephen,” Jacob told him. “Five years ago he was stoned to death by a mob that was under the orde
rs of the Temple Council. The man who travels with us, Saul of Tarsus, was among them.”

  Jamal sat as if turned to stone. He finally said, “I had not heard of this. Indeed, this makes it even more – ”

  “Please, let me finish, sire.” Jacob took a hard breath. “Since we left Tiberias, I have prayed as I never have in my life. And the only clear answer I have received was today, upon the road. For the first time, I understood how difficult it is to remain steadfast in the threat of death, to serve our Lord while being attacked. I could almost hear the Lord ask me these questions. If I am to die a martyr’s death, can I set aside my ambitions and my future and love him, serve him, to that last breath?”

  The last log on the fire split and fell, releasing a shower of sparks. Otherwise the only sound was a tiny sob from Julia. The three of them remained there, gazing into the coals.

  “I learned something more,” Jacob said after a while. “I learned how hard it is to be left behind, as my sister was. How it may be even harder to continue on as she does. I am sure she has had moments when she wishes she had died with Stephen.” He paused, then said, “All these things I had thought about before, but never with this clarity. I do not know what lies up ahead. For any of us. But I pray that if I am so called, I will be able to set aside everything else and serve my Lord as he calls me. Even if it means giving my own life. Even if I must . . .”

  Jacob did not intend to look at Julia just then. But he was glad he did, for she stared at him with tears running down her face, giving him an unspoken message of such tenderness he could not breathe for a moment.

  Jamal studied his daughter, then turned back to Jacob. “You are talking about the impossible.”

  Jacob shook his head. “I am sorry, sire. But it is impossible only if I rely on my strength alone, without God.”

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  The Damascus Road

  But when dawn broke and the caravan prepared to depart, Jacob found himself once more surrounded by doubts. It troubled him that the message he was to take to the followers in Damascus was being delayed as he shared the journey with the very man he was to have warned them about. What could he do to prevent a disaster?

  He watched the Pharisee, Saul of Tarsus, draw his Temple guards over to one side. There were seven of them: Saul and a black-robed assistant priest and the five guards. They had not previously invited any other Judeans among the travelers to join with them in prayer, and they did not do so this time.

  The Temple Pharisees were known as keepers of the tradition, staunch defenders of the Jewish law – and the minutiae with which they had surrounded it. Unlike the Sadducees, ardent foes on the Temple Council, the Pharisees traveled about Judea, lecturing in synagogues and searching out any perceived wrongdoing. Jacob watched Saul and the guards wind the phylacteries into place, then drape the prayer shawls over their heads and shoulders. By now most of the caravan had become accustomed to their droning chants and paid little mind. But Jacob found himself unable to turn away. He was Judean, as pure of blood as any of these. Yet they excluded him. And for what? Because he had found a Teacher who had come from God and drew him close to God.

  And they would kill him for it.

  Perhaps Jamal was right.

  Jacob felt the sword at his belt almost hum with furious anticipation. He gripped the scabbard with one hand, as though to keep it still. The path Jacob had not taken called to him – the way of the sword and the warrior. The path of blood and destruction. It was a siren’s lure of fierce actions and swift vengeance. Saul was an enemy. Jacob had the power to end this threat. All he needed to do was shout, and every one of Jamal’s guards would leap to do his bidding.

  Jacob heard the crunch of sandals over sand and knew by the light, swift tread that Julia approached. She stood beside him a moment, her gaze also toward the praying Pharisee, and said, “I know what you are thinking.”

  Jacob took a shuddering breath against the almost overpowering desire.

  “You are a strong man,” she went on, “and you hear the rationality in my father’s perspective. And you fear for a family you have never met. You seek to protect other followers, people of a city you have never seen. I have observed my father’s other guards, how they respect you. How they would respond to your word to strike.” She paused, and he could have denied these things. But she then said, “Jacob, you have the right reasons, but you are drawn to a resolution that does not include our Lord.”

  He felt a shudder run through his body.

  “Hear me, Jacob. I spoke with God last night, and he with me. I too was drawn by my father’s arguments. I too felt the urge to unleash his guards, end this threat, leave their bodies in the wasteland.” She stared into his eyes. “The Lord’s Spirit confirmed to me that what you said last night was his voice speaking in you and through you. That your statements revealed a new man, one he is fashioning according to his plans for you.”

  Jacob felt something new and unfamiliar flow through him, a strengthening of purpose he knew came from outside his own will. That overwhelming desire for revenge – because of Stephen’s death, the capture of Latif, the fear and turmoil that were scattering believers far from home and families – and now the opportunity to once and for all cut off the serpent’s head and save more from persecution, all simply flowed out of him. Nothing remained but the ashes of that vindictiveness and rage.

  As he turned to Julia all he felt was the now-familiar helplessness at his inability to do what he had been charged to do. Save his brethren. But it was no longer his lone battle. They were in God’s hands.

  He swallowed hard, then managed, “Thank you, Julia. I have heard the Spirit speak through your words.”

  Her only response was to smile. “Come. Mother is waiting. Let us pray together for God to further reveal his direction in all this.”

  By midday the mountains of Damascus were visible on the horizon. A faint haze drifted in the distance, a sign that the caravan was approaching the city. A world of rock and scrub and yellow earth stretched out on either side, and the air was utterly still. A faint charge surrounded them, like the power gathering before a lightning strike.

  Jamal was a seasoned traveler, and he along with the caravan master and the guards continually swept the southern skies, seeking some sign of a coming storm. But the expanse behind them remained utterly empty, the sky a pale blue wash that seemed to mock their concerns.

  Jacob circled the caravan twice, passing Saul and his companions with nothing more than a prayer in response to their dark looks. Julia rode a guard’s stallion and remained by her father’s side. Several times Julia’s eyes met Jacob’s as he passed, and he saw no concern. No tension. Only the same quiet confidence he had himself sensed the previous night.

  Jacob gripped the pommel with both his hands and lowered his head. His prayer was simple, only acknowledging what was happening. I am ready, Lord. Come, Holy Spirit. Come.

  He lifted his head and looked around once more. Perhaps other people sensed something too. He noticed Jamal muttering something to his daughter, and she leaned toward him to respond, her expression alight with anticipation. Jacob had a growing impression of the divine presence at hand. Show me, Father, what I must do, how I might serve you. Here and now, and always.

  Then it happened.

  The entire caravan suddenly stopped as if they had heard a shout of alarm from the caravan master.

  A light appeared upon the road ahead. If the sun had descended from the heavens, it would have gone unnoticed in the intensity and power of this light.

  Jacob saw the Pharisee, the enemy of the Way, fall prostrate upon the road. Jacob heard a voice, but could not make out the words. It did not matter. God’s presence surrounded him, filled him. And then Jacob heard Saul of Tarsus cry out, “Who are you, Lord?”

  Jacob slipped down from the horse and knelt upon the earth. He knew he was witnessing something beyond human understanding or experience, a miracle directed at another. Yet he somehow f
elt included. As though the moment was not merely intended for the man to whom God spoke.

  The light faded, and Jacob slowly stood and walked forward. The Temple priest, the man who had sworn to destroy the followers of Jesus, remained face down on the road. Jacob reached down and gripped the man’s arm. “It is concluded.” He barely recognized his own voice.

  Saul allowed himself to be lifted up. “I . . . I cannot see.”

  Jacob held his arm. “I will guide you,” he said.

  Saul’s attendants were scattered about, looking stunned and uncertain. Yet none approached. The caravan master finally shrilled a signal. Gradually, almost reluctantly, the drovers once again called, the guards shouted, the animals responded, and the caravan moved forward.

  Jacob held the Pharisee’s arm and led him up the road. Neither of them said a word for a long time. Then Saul whispered, “The Lord Jesus spoke with me.”

  Jacob’s eyes burned at the astounding opportunity of witnessing such a moment. “What did he say?” he finally said.

  “He asked . . .” Saul’s beard trembled. The man made no attempt to hide his emotions. “He asked why . . . why I persecute him. Him!”

  Jacob felt something leap inside him. This enemy of Jesus has heard his voice directly!

  Saul went on, his voice broken, “He . . . Jesus told me to get up and go into the city, and I will be told what I must do.”

  Jacob needed some time to shape the words, “I will help you.”

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-NINE

  Damascus

  They arrived at the city just as the sun dropped below the earth’s western rim. The legionnaires manning the city walls had seen the caravan descending from the southern hills, and the first gates were open to receive them. Jacob did not protest as Saul’s Temple guards approached and cautiously took charge of the man. Since relating to Jacob what the Lord had said, Saul had not spoken again. Jacob had not minded the quiet. The power of what he had experienced lay like a mantle over the dusk. The entire caravan watched as the Pharisee, along with the other priest and the Temple guards, passed through the city gates and disappeared.