The Emmanuel Project

by Ronald Brueckmann

  “Are you not pleased to see me?”

  “Yes, of course I am. I am just surprised. I did not expect to see you here in Capernaum.” Viktor took the girl into his arms and held her close, burying his face in her hair. “It is so good to see you, my dear one. I have missed you so.”

  Eliana’s sagging spirits soared with those words. It had been a hard and fast ride from Jericho with little time to ponder her actions. Since arriving in Capernaum, while her uncle searched for Viktor in the crowded town and surrounding countryside, she had begun to seriously question the wisdom of her decision. Worrying that the man she loved might resent her chasing after him. Deep down, she feared that he might actually be running away from the farming life. Or maybe he was running away from marriage. Or maybe he was running away from her. She was overjoyed to hear it wasn’t so.

  “I have missed you also,” she sighed. “That is why I have come.”

  “How did you get here? Is something wrong? Is your father with you? Is he well?”

  “Father is back at home, tending the orchards. He and Mother are fine. I journeyed here from Jericho with Yoshi and Josef and Lucilius Germanicus the centurion.”

  “Lucilius Germanicus? You came here with Lucilius Germanicus? The Roman? Does your father know of this?”

  “Yes, Father gave me his blessing.”

  “Your father gave his blessing for you to travel with that Roman? Are you jesting? How can this be?”

  “It is true, Viktor. We have both come searching for you. Do not be angry with me.”

  “Eliana, that man is the enemy. He cannot be trusted. Why would you have anything to do with him? How is it that you are traveling together?”

  “After you departed, the centurion came to our house asking about you. But Father refused to tell him anything. Father ordered him to leave.”

  “Good for him.”

  “Father was afraid Lucilius wanted to harm you. Father would never let that happen.”

  “Your father is wise. He can read a man’s intention like a fresh parchment. So how did the Roman find out I am here in Capernaum?”

  “I told him.”

  “You told him? Eliana, why would you do such a thing? He is my enemy. He is the enemy of our people. Why would you aid him?”

  “Viktor, my love, Lucilius has not come here to do you any harm. He has come here out of respect for your father. He has come here to inform you that your father has died.”

  “My father?”

  “Yes, Viktor. Your father…Septimus Salvo.”

  “My father? Septimus? Septimus is dead? My father is dead?” Viktor rolled the words around in his mouth like a tart and unfamiliar fruit, as storm clouds gathered in his eyes. “I will need to go to Caesarea. I have to make sure the children are cared for. Those poor souls. They will be lost and afraid. They loved that man so. And I need to send a message to his family in Rome. I will have to inform his trading partners and the suppliers. And I need to…” Viktor’s voice caught in his throat. Lowering his head, he raised his hands to his face and sobbed bitterly. “I knew he was sick. I should never have left him there alone. I could have taken better care of him than that imbecile physician of his. This is all my fault. He told me it would kill him if I left. What is wrong with me? Why must it be like this? I promised I would change. I promised to be a better man…a better son. I wanted to make it up to Septimus…to all of you. Now it is too late. Again it is too late. I am always too late. I wanted to thank him for all he has done for me. I wanted to apologize for all my selfishness, for all my ungrateful stupidity. He wanted me to take his name. He wanted me to be a Salvo. But I refused. Oh, what a prideful fool I am. I wanted to tell him I loved him. Now it is too late. I have lost him. Why…why must it always be this way? Why do I have to lose someone before I realize what they mean to me?”

  Eliana took Viktor into her arms, helping to bear his burden, drying his tears with the sleeve of her robe. “Septimus knew how you felt,” she told him. “We all do. We know what is in your heart, even though you do not speak it. That is why we love you. That is why we search for you wherever you roam. That is why we worry. That is why you always have a home waiting for you. Septimus knew who you are inside. Perhaps better than you know yourself. And in you, he had a son. Do not torture yourself so, my love. We will get through this together. I will accompany you to Caesarea. We will leave at once if you wish. I will collect Yoshi and Josef. Uncle Gamal will provide us with guards.”

  Viktor ran a shaky hand over his face, rubbed the wetness from his eyes. In his sorrow, he looked like a little boy. Like the little boy they would someday create together. Hurt and vulnerable, Eliana loved him even more. Yet his answer surprised her.

  “I cannot leave here yet,” he said. “There is something going on in this town. I have to find out what it is. There is something in the air. Something important. I cannot leave until I can figure out what is happening here.”

  “What do you mean? Are these people planning something? Are they Zealots?”

  “No. There may be a few patriots among them, but they are keeping quiet about it. Eliana, when did you arrive? How long have you been here in Capernaum?”

  “We arrived two days ago. Yoshi, Josef, and I are staying at Uncle Gamal’s house. He lives outside town on the road to Damascus. He has been searching the whole countryside for you. This morning he informed me that you were staying here with Zebedee the fisherman, so I rushed right over. I thought you would be at the caravanserai. I was surprised to find you here. How do you come to know these people?”

  “Zebedee is John’s father. John is the man I met in Jericho. He is the one I told you about, the follower of the rabbi who was executed by the Romans at Passover. They were kind enough to take me in. Zebedee is an amazing man, not unlike your father. I have been helping out around here as much as I can, cleaning the catch and mending nets.” Viktor motioned to the fishing net he had been patching, which now lay tangled on the floor. “I am sorry to say, I am not much of a fisherman. Tell me something, Eliana. Since you arrived in Capernaum, have you noticed anything strange?”

  “Well…the town seems very crowded with travelers. I thought it was a festival of some sort. The inn is overflowing. I have seen many people living on the beach and others in the hills. Uncle Gamal believes these people are just vagabonds looking for handouts. He has had to chase them out of his fields. Lucilius thinks a Zealot army might be assembling.”

  “Yes, he would,” Viktor said dryly. “This is neither an army nor is it a crowd of beggars. Have you noticed all the different kinds of people that have gathered here? Rich people and poor people. Jews and Greeks and Romans…even Egyptians. There are priests and slaves and soldiers. I have spoken with many, Eliana. And they all have a similar story. They say they have been called to this place. Called here. Is that not strange? They say they have had dreams and visions of this place and were compelled to journey here. One man, a stonecutter from Egypt, told me that he has been called home, though he has never been to this place before. It is not intriguing that these people have all been called here?”

  “By whom…and for what purpose?”

  “They mostly say, they know not why. They are waiting. Waiting to find out why. Do you not find that fascinating?”

  “It certainly sounds peculiar. What about John? Does he know what these people are looking for? Has he told you why he brought you here?”

  “He will not say. He just tells me to be patient.”

  “It all sounds so mysterious, so mystical. Maybe even profane. You say there are priests here?”

  “Yes. And Pharisees, too.”

  “Have all these people been bewitched?”

  “I must admit, I have spoken to some who seem quite mad. But most of these people are clear minded.”

  “Viktor, my love…what do you think is going on here?”

  “I will speak plainly, my dear one. I have said this to nobody. Eliana, I think maybe Yahweh has called these people together.”
>
  “Yahweh?”

  “Yes.”

  “Viktor…were you called to this place?”

  “No, I was not. John invited me here. I am an outsider, looking in from the outside. But it is evident that something is afoot. I cannot leave until I find out what it is. In the meantime, I will send a message to Caesarea. I will tell the children to stay put until I arrive. I will send instructions to Diogenes to suspend all trade and to secure the properties, the goods, and the warehouse. I will contact Septimus’s closest friends and ask them to keep an eye on his interests until one of Septimus’s sons can take control of his holdings. I assume someone will be dispatched from Rome. As soon as I find out what is going on around here, I will be on my way.”

  “Viktor, you may find this difficult to believe. The centurion has come here for the same reason.”

  “What do you mean? I thought he came to tell me about Septimus.”

  “Yes, that is true. But he, too, has had the same kind of dreams. He told me so. He believes the Roman gods have called him here for some purpose. After he came to Jericho to inform you of Septimus’s death, he planned to follow the valley north to the Galilee. When we arrived and saw all these people, he was alarmed. And he was not received well. The people in town were hostile toward him. He took his men to the garrison so their presence would not cause further disorder.”

  “Good riddance to him and his lot.”

  “Viktor, you judge him too harshly.”

  “Too harshly? Eliana, how can you say that? He is an agent of the oppressor, the desecrator of our Temple, the murderer of our people.”

  “He is also a man. A man not so different from you. A man of great loyalty and honor. We had the opportunity to talk during our journey from Jericho. He is not who you think he is.”

  “Oh, Eliana, I know exactly who he is. He has blinded you with lies.”

  “I shall not quarrel with you about this. You know only the Roman centurion, not the man inside. If you make the effort, you might be surprised with what you find. And whatever you may think of him, your lives are entwined. For some reason, he has been your unintentional protector for years. He told me how he found you in the prison in Caesarea and how he arranged for Septimus to purchase your freedom. And how he rescued you on the road after the bandits had stolen all your goods in Megiddo. And how he tried to save you from the salt pits. He has no affection for you. Like you, he has made no effort to see beyond your skin. But he does feel a certain responsibility for you. Probably because of his friendship with Septimus. As odd and distasteful as it may be to both of you, for some reason, you two seem to share a common path. And now you are both here. Waiting with the rest of these people. Why? What does it all mean?”

  “Eliana, my dear one, I do not know.

  CHAPTER 76

  Ancient Palestine (circa 30 CE)

  “Here, let me show you again.” Zebedee took the torn net from Viktor hands and spread it upon the worn planks of the benchtop. “Watch now. Pass the cord under the main line…around once, twice…slipknot here…cross over again and knot here. This way, the net will stretch without tearing.”

  Viktor watched in amazement as the old man made quick work of the repair, his arthritic fingers moving with a speed and dexterity that denied his age. Viktor could not have been more impressed with the fisherman. Though ferocious in appearance, Zebedee was a thoughtful and conciliatory man. A man of peace, yet he was not someone to be trifled with, as many of the townsfolk would attest. And despite his advancing years, he was an absolute dynamo, his working day long and strenuous. The first light of dawn would find him already casting his nets upon the black waters of the lake. He liked to fish in the cool of morning, and strived to be at the market before the sun reached its zenith. A good catch, early in the day, stayed fresh and brought the best prices. It was an ambitious schedule. But he knew the lake and he knew his boat—and barring a gale—he usually achieved his goal. What wasn’t sold at market, he would clean and process for shipment to Jerusalem. Some fish would be smoked over smoldering wood chips, and some would be salted and sun-dried. After a quick meal, Zebedee would then attend to his boat. The old vessel required a never-ending cycle of maintenance. There were joints to caulk, planks to tar, nets to mend, sails to patch, and ropes to braid. The setting sun would light his way as he distributed a portion of his catch to the needy of Capernaum. Then after stopping by the synagogue to ensure that the house of God was in good repair, he headed home. There he spent his evenings sharing a meal with his extended family, teaching the children their heritage, leading prayers, singing psalms, and basking in the warm glow of an adoring clan and a well-tended firepit. If it be the will of the Almighty, he would awake with the morning stars and do it all over again. He did it without complaint and without conceit, through fair weather and foul, through the good times and the bad. It was his duty to provide for those who depended on him. He had been blessed with a strong back, a bountiful lake, and a vital skill. He believed that he had to do his part, had to be a good steward of God’s blessings. He was a remarkable man, like Yehuda and Menashe, he was the lifeblood of the Jewish people.

  While the old man looked on in amusement, Viktor gathered up the net and attempted to duplicate the repair on another damaged section.

  “There,” the fisherman declared. “That is better. Go on and try it again. You will improve with practice. Just remember, the purpose is to catch the fish, not just to annoy them.”

  Viktor took the good-natured jibe in stride, and his next repair actually looked strong enough to hold. The old man inspected the mend and nodded his approval. Beaming with pride, Viktor resumed the conversation.

  “Both of your sons are followers of the rabbi, is that not so?”

  “They were followers of the rabbi.”

  “Yes…were. How did you feel about them going off with him?”

  “I admit I was not happy when they first left Capernaum. I have much work to do here. John and James are good boys, hardworking boys. I trust them. They would never leave me on a whim. After I spoke with the rabbi and listened to him preach, I understood better why they wished to follow him. And I have been able to do what needs to be done around here by myself. The Almighty does not burden you with more than you can handle.”

  “Were there others from Capernaum who left to follow the rabbi?”

  “Yes, there were others. Mostly good people. But there were a few I would have preferred my sons to stay away from.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Well, some of them have rather unsavory pasts…women of questionable morals…tax collectors. One was an ill-mannered hothead, a boy named Simon. The rabbi called him Peter. Rock. It is the perfect name for such a stubborn, hardheaded individual. I watched Simon grow up. He was not much of a fisherman and always seemed to find trouble. I cautioned my boys, told them to keep their distance. But the rabbi cared little about a person’s past. He was a forgiving man, a compassionate man. He could read your true nature like he was reading an open scroll. He was a young man, but wise beyond his years. And he believed a person could change. That they could change through faith and through their actions. Peter surely did. At first I had my doubts. But the rabbi was very persuasive. He could explain things in words you could easily understand. When he spoke, even in the synagogue, it seemed like he was speaking directly to you. He was an exceptional rabbi. Now it is over. My boys seem lost and unsure of what to do with themselves. The rabbi called them the sons of thunder…and for good reason. These days they have lost their roar.”

  The men fell silent as they continued to mend the torn net. In the ensuing stillness, Viktor could hear a distant squabble disrupting the normal cadence of the village. As they worked, the sound of agitated voices echoed down the street, growing in intensity and proximity until the raucous quarrel stopped directly outside the house in which they sat. Leaping to his feet, Zebedee stalked across the room and threw the door open. Rancor filled the air like the reek of spoiled milk. Viktor f
ollowed the fisherman, stopping at the threshold. In the dusty street stood a giant of a man, surrounded by a mob of angry little people.

  “You cannot fool us… We know who you are… You were at Golgotha… You are the Roman who crucified our rabbi… What are you doing here? Have you come to kill us all?” they shouted.

  “Stinking pagan… Murderer… Filthy Roman,” they cursed.

  “Break him… Stone him… Make him bleed,” they screamed.

  Lucilius Germanicus stood calmly in the middle of the agitated crowd. Even in civilian clothes, his military bearing was hard to mistake. Without armor and weapons he still looked formidable. He looked dangerous. The angry throng reviled and threatened, but kept a safe distance.

  Zebedee stepped out into the street, pushing his way into the crowd. “What is going on here?” he growled, his voice rumbling like thunder over the open desert. “Why do you disturb the peace of my home?”

  “This Roman pig is not welcome in our village,” one man shouted.

  The rest of the crowd joined in. “He is a murderer… He killed the rabbi… Nail him to a tree… Stone him… Yes, stone him. Stone him! Stone him! Stone him!” The voices overlapped and melded into the malevolent anthem of the mob.

  Zebedee raised his arms high above his head. “Silence!” he bellowed.

  Silence he got.

  Stepping forward, he confronted the Roman. “Is what they say true? Did you execute our rabbi?”

  Lucilius looked past the old man, acknowledging Viktor with an almost imperceptible nod. Viktor nodded in return. Turning back to Zebedee, the Roman’s unflinching gaze met the piercing glare of the old fisherman.

  “What they say is true. I presided over the execution of your rabbi. I was a soldier in the Imperial Army of Rome. I carried out the orders of my superior. I did not enjoy what I was ordered to do. And I did not approve of what I was ordered to do. If it was up to me, your rabbi would be alive today. But I was obliged to carry out my duty.”