by Brock Thoene
Zadok left orders that he and the boys would return to Beth-lehem for their Passover seder. No other shepherd in the company was invited to the meal. Everything, he declared, must be properly prepared, the table set with five places and ready for them.
Zadok and his three young apprentices drove the last seventy-two lambs toward King David’s capital. These sheep were the finest of the flock, reserved and hand-fattened for the feasts of Israel’s ruling council and the family of the high priest.
With Jehu dead and Lev stained in the blood of another, some said it was natural Zadok had chosen the boys to go with him. Others eyed them enviously as they departed.
Red Dog managed the herd easily, circling and bumping the heels of any stragglers. It was an effortless journey up the highway toward the Holy City. The distant buildings of the Temple, high atop Mount Moriah, glistening in the sun like a snowcapped peak.
They marched in grim silence, listening to the hissing of revolution on the lips of the travelers around them.
Concern for what lay ahead clouded the face of Zadok and spilled over into the minds of the boys.
At last Emet clasped Zadok’s sleeve and gave a tug. “Why is the whole world coming to Yerushalayim, sir?”
“To remember the Passover, as the Lord commanded us to remember for all generations.”
“Remember what?”
There was irony in Zadok’s reply. “That we are the children of the Lord’s covenant with Abraham and Isra’el. We are the children of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. We are free men.”
Free? Avel wondered. Ha-or Tov nudged Avel hard in the ribs as a troop of Roman cavalry rode ahead of them toward the gates of the city. What did their presence say about freedom?
Zadok scooped up Emet protectively and placed him on his shoulders. The old man cleared his throat. “Remember what I’ve told y’, boys?”
Avel did not reply that Zadok had taught them so many things it was difficult to know which lesson he was referring to.
Zadok continued on without breaking stride. “Every word in Torah means something about our future, as well as our past. All the Law and the Prophets proclaim to us the truth about Yerushalayim’s Hope . . . the coming Messiah. You recall what God promised Abraham? That all the world would be blessed through Abraham and the line of Isaac? That blessing will come with our Messiah, the Lamb of God who will take away the sin of the world?”
Emet tapped the giant man’s head. “When will he come?”
Zadok did not reply at first. But his pace quickened, as if the herdsman found strength in the retelling of the story.
“Everything means something. Every word, every story in Torah points us toward the coming of the Messiah. Like the stars of a constellation shine against the black night sky and make the outline of a bear or a lion, so do the points of light within Torah all connect up until we see clearly who our Messiah will be and why he must come to us.”
Avel encouraged Zadok with a word, though the aged shepherd scarcely needed coaxing to connect these gleaming stars of Torah’s constellations.
“Long before the first Passover, our fathers were shepherds. Jacob, son of Isaac, son of Abraham, was renamed Isra’el by the Angel of the Lord. Jacob had twelve sons and from them came the twelve tribes of Israel. These twelve sons were also shepherds. They had flocks and a peaceful life here in Eretz-Israel. But they were jealous of their younger brother, Joseph, because he was old Jacob’s most beloved son. They wanted to be rid of him. One day Jacob sent Joseph out to deliver food to his brothers. The brothers tied Joseph up, stripped off his coat, threw him in a pit, and sold him to passing traders. The traders carried Joseph away to Egypt, where he was a slave. The brothers told old Jacob that a wild beast had killed his beloved son.
“But the Lord had a plan for good to come from this evil deed. After many trials, Joseph was made to be right-hand advisor of the king of Egypt. Very famous and powerful.
“His brothers, meanwhile, were starving because there was a disastrous drought in Eretz-Israel. With permission of their old father, Jacob, they traveled to Egypt in hopes of buying grain to make bread. They were brought before their brother Joseph, but did not recognize him because he was wearing the clothes of a prince of Egypt. Joseph could have had them killed for what they did to him. Eh? Instead Joseph turned away and wept to see them because he loved them. He had mercy on them in spite of what they had done to him. They embraced and wept, and all was forgiven. Joseph, though cast out and rejected by his brothers, became the savior and redeemer of his family. The household of Jacob, numbering seventy people, was brought to Egypt. There Joseph gave them a land where they could live in peace.”
Zadok paused, as if to let the boys consider the happy ending of this tale. Then the old man resumed. “This is a picture of our Messiah. He, the most beloved son of the Father, will be hated and rejected by his brothers. Yet he will become our Savior. He will offer to Israel the bread of life and forgive their transgressions against him.”
“How?” Emet demanded as they began the ascent into Jerusalem.
Zadok welcomed the child’s curiosity. “Back to the story for the answer. Many years passed. The children of Israel became prosperous and grew to a nation of many hundreds of thousands in Egypt. The Egyptians, who feared them, made them slaves. They oppressed them cruelly. The Hebrews were put to work building the cities of Egypt, which stand even to this day. Torah says there arose a king in Egypt who did not remember Joseph. He hated the Hebrews and issued an edict that all male babies two years old and younger must be slaughtered.” Here the face of Zadok clouded. Sadness weighted his words. “And so they were killed. The babies. Killed by the evil king. All Hebrew baby boys were slaughtered. All, that is, but one.”
“How did he get away?” Emet asked.
“His mother made a basket for him and lined it with pitch. And she placed her baby boy inside and put the little boat on the waters of the Nile to drift. The baby’s sister, Miryam, followed along the shore to see where the boat would go. From the pools beside the palace the daughter of Pharaoh heard the baby crying. She fetched the basket from the water, declared the gods had sent him to her, and made the baby her own son. Then Pharaoh’s daughter saw Miryam hiding in the reeds. She sent Miryam to find a woman from among the Hebrew slaves who could nurse the baby. In this way the child was nursed and loved by his real mother and grew up to be a mighty prince in Egypt.”
“What was his name?”
“Moses. This mighty name in the Hebrew language contains the same letters as Messiah. Its meaning is ‘of the Lamb.’ ”
“More lambs again.”
“Moshe spelled backwards in Hebrew spells the word HaShem, meaning ‘The Name.’ HaShem is what we call the Almighty when we cannot speak aloud his most holy name. Every detail in Torah has a deeper meaning, as I said. So we see Moses’ purpose in life was to declare The Name and the Law of the Almighty to the descendants of Abraham. And to lead us out of bondage.”
“Did he?”
“Yes. And the life of Moses also points us to God’s plan for our salvation. Moses gave up his position as a mighty prince, just as our Messiah will give up his place in heaven to come and live among men. Moses went off to a far land and lived there as a stranger. The Messiah will come down from heaven to live among us as a stranger, a sojourner on this earth. Moses became a shepherd. Messiah will be a descendant of David and will be called the Good Shepherd of Israel. Like Moses led our fathers out of slavery from Egypt, so our Messiah will lead his flock out of bondage much more terrible. And we will see his Kingdom in Yerushalayim. Our Deliverer is coming. That is the true meaning of Passover.”
Ha-or Tov jogged to keep up. “But when?”
The chief shepherd was silent for a long time as they walked. At last he replied, “When. Yes. Every day I have asked, when? When, Lord, is the Deliverer of Israel coming? But there is no answer. Tonight in Beth-lehem we will share the supper of unleavened bread and we will ask the question once again.” He to
uched Emet’s foot. “Perhaps Emet will hear something I have not heard before.” He reached out to tap Ha-or Tov’s head. “And Ha-or Tov will see what I have missed.” And then he pulled Avel closer to his side. “And you, Avel? Your heart will understand a secret that has long escaped me. Yes. Maybe tonight.”
“And what about Passover?”
Zadok returned to the narrative. “Well, Moses the prince ran away from Egypt, like I said. And he was happy as a shepherd. But the cries of the Hebrew slaves went up before the Almighty’s throne. So one day Moses was out with the sheep when he looked up and saw a burning bush on the hillside! It was a bush like our wadi sage, which resembles the seven-branched candlestick in the Temple. So there was a fire in this bush, but the bush didn’t burn. When Moses approached this wonder, the voice of the Almighty spoke to him and told him that he must return to Egypt and free the Hebrew slaves from bondage.”
“And what happened then?”
“Could Moses refuse such a command? He went back to Egypt to his people. He told them he had been sent from the Almighty to deliver them. They didn’t believe him, of course. Grumbled against him. Threatened to kill him. Nearly did too.” The old man thought for a time before he picked up the story again. “So . . . nine times Moses and his brother, Aaron, brought plagues from the Almighty down on Egypt. But Pharaoh still wouldn’t let the people go. Dreadful plagues.”
Avel chimed in, “And finally the night of Passover came, right?”
Zadok continued, “Yes. At last! Finally the last plague was pronounced upon the wicked ruler and the land that had oppressed God’s beloved children. The Lord declared through Moses that he would send the Angel of Death over the land of Egypt to kill all the firstborn. Pharaoh didn’t believe it. Foolish, proud Pharaoh. So the sentence of death on the whole land was fixed. This judgment was fast approaching.”
“All the firstborn were to die?” Emet asked. “But what about the firstborn children of the Hebrews?”
Zadok held up a finger. “Ah-ha! It could be a problem! How was the angel to know which was which? The firstborn of Egypt or Israel? The Lord had it worked out. He gave Moses a way to save those who believed God’s word! God commanded Moses to tell the people that if they wanted to save themselves and their children, they must kill a lamb and sprinkle the blood of the lamb on the doorposts of their houses as a sign. Then the Angel of Death would see the mark and pass over any household with the blood of an innocent lamb on the lintels of the door.”
Emet glanced skyward at this, as if expecting to see the fierce visage of the angel soaring above them.
Zadok’s voice became hushed as he went on with the narrative. “It was on this very night, those many years ago, that the families of Hebrew slaves sacrificed the first Passover lamb and marked their doors with its blood as a sign they believed God. And when the sun went down, the full moon came up. The Angel of Death came as promised. With his breath, he swept away all the firstborn of Egypt. There was crushing grief throughout the land. Except among the Hebrews. None who believed God and sprinkled the blood of the lamb on the doorposts perished.”
“But why?” Emet wondered.
“Because they had faith and acted upon God’s word. God provided a way of salvation for those who believed and obeyed! Then the wicked king told them to get out. Which they did.”
“And so,” Emet concluded triumphantly, “is that why we are commanded to have Passover?”
Zadok patted the boy’s hand. “Well done. We remember, but in remembering we are also given a powerful look into tomorrow! Each Passover the death of the Paschal lamb is also a mighty prophecy that points to a future event! On a Passover yet to come, the Almighty will send the beloved Messiah, his only Son, to Yerushalayim as the final Lamb of sacrifice. Like all perfect lambs, Messiah will take our inquity upon himself. Our hearts will be marked with the blood of his sacrifice. We will be covered in his righteousness . . . the way the orphan lambs were covered in the fleece of another lamb. When God looks at us he will see that Messiah loved us enough to die in our place. That we are precious to him. And we will be given eternal life. It is a mystery. But it is truth. This is Jerusalem’s Hope. It’s our hope for final redemption and freedom from death.”
Zadok raised his arms as if to embrace the city.
“Now, here’s the rest of the story. Bearing the bones of Joseph, Moses led the Hebrew people out of slavery, through the wilderness, and finally to this land, our homeland. Eretz-Israel. In the same way, Messiah will lead our hearts out from the bondage of fear and death into the joy of hope and a new life. We will be forgiven and saved by God’s own provision. And then the law of the Lord will be carved into our hearts forevermore. In this way the Lord’s promise to Abraham to bless all the earth through his descendants will be fulfilled. Remember how Abraham offered his son to the Lord right there upon Mount Moriah where the Temple now stands? Children! Lift your eyes to Yerushalayim! See it! Know the truth that Abraham and Isaac were really there making a covenant with the Almighty! Elohim! Adonai! Yahweh! El Shaddai! Immanu’el! The covenant is forever!
“Know this, for in this lesson is the one true meaning of Passover. As God promised in holy Scripture, the Messiah will be a descendant of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob! He will be from the tribe of Judah. From the line of David. Born in Beth-lehem, within the circle of Migdal Eder, he will be as a lamb destined for sacrifice. He will come out of Egypt. Be called a Nazarene. Perfect in wisdom and mercy, he will make the blind see. The lame to walk. The deaf will hear. He will be rejected and despised by his brothers. And then, as it was prophesied in exact detail by King David in the twenty-second psalm, this Lamb of God, God’s only Son, will carry the wood of his holocaust to a place where he will die as atonement for the sins of the whole world. But he will rise from death to life and rule as King in Yerushalayim. And all who call on him for forgiveness will be truly forgiven for what we have done to this world and to ourselves and to others.”
The Messiah as the final Lamb of sacrifice? It was a grim scenario, Avel thought, as they trudged nearer to the looming city walls. This was not what everyone in Israel wanted or expected. The people longed for something else. A political kingdom here on this earth where enemies were crushed by a powerful king with an army. And yet the glimpses Zadok had offered from the Torah confirmed the truth of what was coming.
Avel was certain in his heart Yeshua was the Messiah. Could Zadok mean that Yeshua would suffer and die? And this when Avel had only just found him? Couldn’t he skip over that part and simply live as King in Jerusalem?
No! Not Yeshua! Avel’s heart cried out with every step. And yet, Yeshua had sent the boys into Zadok’s care to be taught the lesson of the sheepfold, had he not? So this was what Yeshua meant when he said Moses and the prophets had written about him. Yes. It was a harsh reality indeed to think that man’s need for redemption would cost so dear a price.
VI KIM
The closer he got to Jerusalem, the more Avel struggled with his feelings. It was true he was proud to be counted amongst the shepherds of Migdal Eder, bringing perfect lambs to the Temple. Jewish law permitted work to be done on the Day of Preparation only until noon, so it was essential to see the lambs disposed in their pens before that hour.
Part of what Avel experienced was the tumult of the huge crowds. At Migdal Eder sheep outnumbered humans, and quiet could be counted on most hours of the day. Here, in Jerusalem, throngs of pilgrims jammed the roads. To be thrust into the teeming warren of the Holy City at Passover was to be overwhelmed by chaos and confusion.
Though Avel had grown up in the middle of it and had experienced the sights, sounds, and smells of Passover every year of his young life, this year he found the turmoil unnerving.
Humans were a lot more unruly than sheep!
Jewish pilgrims from distant parts of the Roman world stopped mid-street to gawk at the sights, to gossip, or to haggle over fruit in the stalls. Self-important Pharisees, unmistakable with their broad phylac teries on foreh
eads and arms, paraded ostentatiously about. Rich merchants were trailed by retinues of servants; harried mothers fretted over losing their children in the mobs; Torah teachers loudly vented their opinions on obscure doctrines.
It was a carnival atmosphere.
Then why did Avel also have such a sense of dread?
More than revulsion at the noise and confusion, Avel had a nagging premonition of danger, an anxiety that a serious threat loomed nearby.
He told himself it was because of the death of his friend Hayyim in such a crowd scene. Arriving in Jerusalem brought it back: the awareness of threat that had also been present that day. Avel had been a horrified witness as Hayyim was trampled by a Roman’s horse.
Hayyim had been killed during the bread riots at the Feast of Purim a little more than a month earlier. It felt like no time ago . . . and yet a lifetime since.
How could both be true?
Avel could not sort it out. Did the recollection of Hayyim’s death account for all his present fear, or was there something more?
At the end of his musing he knew only that he’d be relieved to get away from the noisy hordes and back to the relative peace of Migdal Eder. He had lived as a Jerusalem Sparrow out of necessity and as a small rebel out of hatred of the Romans. Now Avel recognized what he truly wanted: to be a shepherd at home in Beth-lehem.
There was contentment at having recognized and named the desire of his heart. Avel had a sense of place, of belonging, as never before in his life.
That satisfying realization temporarily shut out the dread, closing a door on fear . . . until the band of apprentice shepherds neared the Sheep Gate.
Even after the trek up from Beth-lehem, the journey of the herdsmen was not complete upon reaching Jerusalem. At this holiday season it was impossible to drive a flock through the city streets. A detour was required, all the way around the city walls to the Sheep Gate at the northern end of the Temple Mount.
