The next day the flush of fever was still discernible in Thecla’s cheeks, and Luke suggested that she rest at the home of Mary while he and Mark went around the lake, visiting the spots where Jesus had taught and talking to those who still remembered the words of the gentle Man who had showed them the Way to a new life. At night he and Thecla and the others talked over the things he had learned, with Mary and Peter filling in the details from their own intimate contact with Jesus. In this way Luke was able to build in his mind a vivid picture of the ministry of Jesus in Capernaum and along the fertile shores of the mountain-girt Sea of Galilee.
Thecla seemed very happy at Mary’s home, although Luke could see that the fires which were consuming her burned more brightly each day. He left the scroll with her and she read it through many times, each day calling to his attention some new facet of the sayings of Jesus which he had not appreciated before. Once when he came back in the evening and entered the house without making his presence known, he found her sitting on the terrace, looking out at the lake, the scroll cradled in her arms as she would have caressed the child they had never been granted. She and Mary had become fast friends, and little Mariamne spent hours chattering to Thecla, so Luke was sure that she was not lonesome while he was away.
Finally a day came when Luke knew there was nothing more for him to learn about Jesus here in the cities around the lake. The path along which Jesus had come to Galilee lay southward, to Nazareth, where He had lived as a boy and a young man before beginning His ministry. Luke knew that Thecla could not make the trip in her present condition and probably would never be able to do it, for he was already trying to reconcile himself to the obvious fact that she could not live many months longer. There remained only the task of visiting the place where Jesus had spent His early years to learn whatever facts he could, before beginning the actual writing of the story which was now so vividly etched in his mind. And yet he was reluctant to leave Thecla and go to Nazareth or wherever else the quest might take him.
When Luke and Mark did not go down into the cities around the lake as had been their custom, Thecla asked, “Have you found out all that you can discover here, Luke?” They were alone on the terrace overlooking the lake.
“Yes, I have,” he admitted.
“You must go on to Nazareth then, where Jesus was born.”
“We can inquire in Nazareth when we return to Caesarea,” he said.
She touched his cheek with her fingers lovingly, but when she spoke her words surprised him. “I think Bithynia would have been like it is here by the lake, don’t you, Luke?”
“I am sure it will be, dear,” he assured her. “We will be going there soon.”
Thecla shook her head slowly. “This is no time to deceive each other, Luke. We both know I will never return to Caesarea.”
“But you were sick once before and improved.”
“Not like this. I didn’t tell you then, but I lost some blood in a fit of coughing a few days before we left Caesarea to come to Galilee. Father did that before he began to get so much worse.”
Luke bowed his head. He could have upbraided her for not telling him, but he knew why she had done so. More than anything else she had wanted to see this beautiful country and the places where Jesus had lived and taught. And had she told him about the hemorrhage, he would not have come but would have kept her in Caesarea. Actually he knew it would have made little difference in the final outcome, and Thecla had been happy here by the lake.
“Do not grieve, Luke,” Thecla said gently. “I have no regrets, except that I did not bear you the son we both wanted. But we had Apollos Lucanus for a while, and I have loved being here with Mary and little Mariamne.” She put her head against his chest and rested there, with his heart beating against her cheek.
“How strong and steady your heartbeat is, Luke,” she whispered. “Like your soul.”
He held her close. “I told you our souls are nourished by love, dear. If my soul is strong, it is from you.”
She sighed happily. “God has been good to me,” she whispered, “in giving me these years with you. I could ask no greater gift of life when I leave it than knowing you are finishing the task He set for you so many years ago. Promise me you will finish it, Luke, no matter what happens.”
“I will, dearest.” His eyes were wet with tears. “You know I will.”
“I want you to stay with Paul, too,” she went on. “I know I caused a breach between you once, but it is healed now and it must stay healed. There is something between you that must never be broken.”
“I will stay with Paul as long as he needs me,” he promised.
“Somehow I think I knew I would never get to Bithynia in the flesh, Luke,” Thecla said thoughtfully. “But soon there will be nothing to keep me and I can go to wait for you there.”
“I will come,” he promised, sobbing. “Someday I will meet you in Bithynia.” She kissed the tears from his eyes while he clung to her, knowing that he needed her far more now than she needed him.
Finally she said quietly, “Please go on to Nazareth tomorrow, Luke, and finish your work. There is not much time, and I want to know the whole story of Jesus before I—before I go to Him.”
XI
It was a week later that Luke came to Bethlehem. The trail had led there from Nazareth, where he had spent two fruitless days searching for any members of the family of Jesus who might still be living there. But all of them had been dispersed during the persecution by Herod. One old man did remember a gentle carpenter who had lived in Nazareth and performed miracles. From him Luke learned how, when Jesus was twelve years old, He had been found in the temple at Jerusalem, disputing the law with the scribes and teachers and had confounded everyone with His learning. One other thing the old man knew: that Jesus was said to have been born in Bethlehem while His parents had been on the way to Jerusalem to be taxed.
And so Luke had hurried on to Bethlehem, torn between the fear of going so far away from Thecla and the feeling that here was a clue which might lead to the truth about the birth of Jesus. He had brought the mule in order to travel faster, and they pushed southward along the great central highway through Engannim, thence westward to join the Via Maris along which he had traveled from Joppa to Jerusalem so long ago. From thence the route led over the wild mountainous country around Jerusalem, past Shechem to Beeroth and, skirting the Holy City, to Bethlehem.
Now as he moved through the dingy little city of David, Luke began to think that his mission would end uncompleted, for he found no one among the town officials who had ever heard the story he had been told in Nazareth. Nor did anyone among the few Christians in Bethlehem know anything of Jesus’ birth. Thinking that if a child had really been born on the journey to Bethlehem to be taxed it might have been at an inn, Luke started making the rounds of the hostels in the city of David. But over and over again he received only a negative answer to his questions.
It was almost dark and his fruitless search had used up three precious days when late in the afternoon he came to a miserable inn which was little more than a hovel. He was tempted to go on and seek shelter at one of the better hostels, so sure was he that this miserable place could yield no information. But obeying the prodding of his conscience that he must leave no source unchecked, Luke opened the door and walked in. The proprietor, a Jew of about Luke’s own age, looked up and, seeing a possible customer, brightened and bowed in welcome. When Luke finished telling what he sought, the innkeeper asked, “Why do you seek information about the Nazarene?”
“I am one of His followers,” Luke explained.
“But you are not a Jew.”
“No. I am a Christian and a Greek. Do you know anything about Jesus?”
“My father always claimed that the man called Jesus of Nazareth who was crucified in Jerusalem was born here, in the stable of this inn. But he also told of strange things happening at the same time, and we
thought his mind was wandering, for he is very old.”
Luke’s pulse quickened with the excitement of what he might find here. “Is your father alive?” he asked quickly.
“Yes. He sits close by the oven, for he is old and his bones ache from any coolness.”
“I would like to talk to him,” Luke said. “Of course I will need a bed for tonight,” he added diplomatically, although he would have chosen more promising quarters otherwise.
At first the old Jew beside the oven did not understand what it was that Luke sought. The fact that he spoke only Hebrew made communication doubly difficult, since Luke understood Hebrew much better than he spoke it. But at the mention of Jesus the old man’s eyes lit up and he began to tell a strange and wonderful story. Hardly had he begun when Luke realized with a surge of joy that he had found at last what he was seeking.
Luke was up at daylight the next morning, although he had talked with the old innkeeper for half the night. Bethlehem had given him what he sought and he was happy as he turned the patient mule toward the valley highway paralleling the banks of the Jordan and leading northward to the cities and the Lake of Galilee. Day after day he prodded the mule, filled with a desperate urgency to get back to Thecla and tell her of his wonderful discovery. Darkness fell on the last day of the journey while he was still in Tiberias, some six miles from Magdala, but this was familiar ground, and he led the mule through the darkness around the lake and up the steep road to Magdala. Tired as he was, his heart was singing now, for the worst of his work was done—that of ferreting out a true account of Jesus from His birth to His death. Tomorrow he would tell Thecla the whole thrilling story, and no later than the next day he would start writing it down.
But when he stopped in front of the house of Mary he knew at once that something was badly wrong. Lights shone in every window, and before he could reach the door Peter opened it, as if he had been standing just inside watching for Luke’s arrival. “We have been praying that you would get here in time, Luke,” he said. “Thank God you have come.”
“Is Thecla . . . ?” Luke started to ask, then the words died in his throat, for the answer he dreaded to hear was written in Peter’s eyes.
“Thecla is dying, Luke,” Peter said gently. “Yesterday there was a sudden rush of blood from her throat. We thought she would die then, but she has clung to life, I think, because God revealed to her that you were near.”
Peter led Luke into the house, guiding his steps when he stumbled because his eyes were blind with tears. Thecla lay on a couch, and Mark and Mary were kneeling beside her, their lips moving in prayer. When Luke came in, they got up and left the room.
Looking down at the marble-pale face of his beloved, Luke thought for a moment that she had already gone, but then he saw her breast lift faintly with breathing, and when his fingers touched her wrist he felt the faint beat of her pulse. His eyes wet with tears, Luke dropped to his knees beside the couch and kissed Thecla gently on the lips. Her eyes opened then, and when she tried to lift her hand and could not find the strength to do so, he picked it up and put her palm against his cheek in the tender gesture which both of them loved so much.
“I knew you would come, Luke,” she whispered.
“I came as soon as I could, dearest.”
“Did you find what you were seeking?”
“Yes. At Bethlehem.”
“Tell it to me now,” she begged, “just as you will write it down, just as it happened.”
And so Luke told her the beautiful story of Jesus’ birth, just as he had learned it from the old innkeeper at Bethlehem:
Now in the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a city of Galilee named Nazareth, to a virgin betrothed to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. And having come in, the angel said to her, “Rejoice, highly favored one, the Lord is with you; blessed are you among women!”
But when she saw him, she was troubled at his saying, and considered what manner of greeting this was. Then the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bring forth a Son, and shall call His name JESUS. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Highest; and the Lord God will give Him the throne of His father David. And He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of His kingdom there will be no end.”
Then Mary said to the angel, “How can this be, since I do not know a man?”
And the angel answered and said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Highest will overshadow you; therefore, also, that Holy One who is to be born will be called the Son of God. . . . For with God nothing will be impossible.”
Then Mary said, “Behold the maidservant of the Lord! Let it be to me according to your word.” And the angel departed from her. . . .
And it came to pass in those days that a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered. . . . So all went to be registered, everyone to his own city.
Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David, to be registered with Mary, his betrothed wife, who was with child. So it was, that while they were there, the days were completed for her to be delivered. And she brought forth her firstborn Son, and wrapped Him in swaddling cloths, and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.
Now there were in the same country shepherds living out in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. And behold, an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were greatly afraid. Then the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which will be to all people. For there is born to you this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be the sign to you: You will find a Babe wrapped in swaddling cloths, lying in a manger.”
And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill toward men!”
So it was, when the angels had gone away from them into heaven, that the shepherds said to one another, “Let us now go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has come to pass, which the Lord has made known to us.” And they came with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the Babe lying in a manger. Now when they had seen Him, they made widely known the saying which was told them concerning this Child. And all those who heard it marveled at those things which were told them by the shepherds. But Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart. Then the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen, as it was told them.
“I knew the story would be beautiful,” Thecla whispered when he finished. “Jesus really is the Son of God.”
“Yes, dear,” Luke told her. “The world will know it now.”
She drew a sigh of relief and happiness. “Read it to me from the scroll, Luke,” she begged. “You know the part we both love.”
Luke took the stained and torn roll of parchment from the table beside the couch and unrolled it to the passage she meant. They had read it many times together since Mary had given Luke the scroll, but as he read it again his mind went back to a night long ago on the road from Jerusalem to Joppa when he had first seen the now familiar words.
Blessed are you poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.
Blessed are you who hunger now, for you shall be filled.
Blessed are you who weep now, for you shall laugh.
And even when he knew that the pulse in the wrist under his fingers had ceased to beat, Luke continued to read until he came to the sentence which summarized the thing Jesus came to tell the world and which both he and Thecla had loved and made their creed:
And just as y
ou want men to do to you, you also do to them likewise.
Even though his beloved’s heart no longer beat, Luke could not bring himself to believe that she had really gone away. Somewhere, he knew, perhaps out there upon the terrace she had loved, or down along the shores of the lake where Jesus had walked, or even in far-off Bithynia, the real Thecla still existed and would go on existing until the end of time.
And as he knelt there he heard a calm voice say: “Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, yes, I will help you, I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.”
For a moment Luke thought Peter had come into the room and had spoken the words. But when he raised his head no one was there. He knew then who it was who had spoken to comfort him in his hour of greatest sorrow.
XII
The leaves were turning from green to the gold and red of autumn and the air was crisp with the promise of winter when Luke returned to Caesarea. All through the summer he had labored at his writing on the sunny terrace of Mary’s house at Magdala, close by the tiny glen where they had laid Thecla’s body to rest upon the mountainside, overlooking the blue lake which both she and Jesus had loved so much. And as he wrote, not only did the beautiful story of Jesus take form and substance in words, but the man Himself grew in stature within Luke’s mind. Simply, yet beautifully, the words upon the parchment revealed Jesus to the world as the Son of God who had chosen to become a lowly carpenter and to give up His life on the cross that a new hope might come to the world and men might learn the way to God through humility, love, and denial of self.
The Road to Bithynia: A Novel of Luke, the Beloved Physician Page 45
