TUESDAY, APRIL 12, 2022, HOLY WEEK RACHEL'S STORY

 TUESDAY, APRIL 12, 2022 HOLY WEEK

This is a work of fiction in the first person

*****

I am dying and I am writing this.  I really don’t want this to be public, but something very deep inside me says I must write this.  I am even using a pseudonym so my family and my society won’t know who I am, although I’m all-too-sure that they will know.  

I am Rachel (pseudonym), and I was married to one of the high priests of Israel at the time of Jesus.  I am of the clan of Levi and my husband was also a Levite - as he had to be a high priest.  Our marriage was arranged for us by our parents.  In that, we were both from the Levite clan, and priests had to be Levites we kept the bloodline pure.  We had four children.  Joiada, became a high priest after my husband died.  For my husband’s sake, I am so happy he was our first child, although I’m not so happy about his actions.  Shira, Leah, and Tamar were our three daughters - and all but Leah married within the Levi clan.  

*****

Okay, you know just a little about me.

I was originally from Bethany about ten miles from Jerusalem.  My father was the rabbi for the Bethany synagogue and also assisted in the temple in Jerusalem.  He was a Levite and a priest, but not a high priest - which had to come from the Aaron group of Levi according to Moses.  

My home life was very good.  Although I was a woman, I did learn and know the scriptures most of them by heart.  My parents taught me reading and writing even though not all women could read or write in first-century Israel.  (I use the term “first century” for modern readers.  To me, it is the year 3813 - dating back to Adam and Eve in the Jewish custom).  We were observant Jews, and observed every Sabbath and basically every Jewish law and custom.  

We also learned how to survive under Roman law. Rome ‘owned’ the land - they collected taxes, they took the best olive oil, the best wine, the best barley, and wheat.  That was the way it was.  The tax collectors were generally Jewish - but definitely not loved.  They were frequently spies for Rome.  In our homes, we could talk about the tax collectors and Roman occupation, but rarely in public in Bethany.  

I know of a man in our community who talked out about the burdensome taxes and cruelty.  Then one morning - he was gone.  His wife said he was abducted during the night by three men that she didn’t know - and poof - he was no more.  That was the lesson - don’t speak up, be subservient.  If you saw a Roman soldier, you had to be extra nice, or they would force you to carry their swords or weapons for 2,000 cubits.  Legally they couldn’t force you to go farther, but some of the mean soldiers did.  You could report it to the appropriate Roman commander - who may or may not - discipline the soldier.  

*****

But, I need to get to the heart of my story.

The trouble for me seemed to start with John.  John was a wild man - who lived in the wilderness and ate locusts and honey.  But, somehow he was a holy man.  He started baptizing people in the Jordan River.  (For my non-Jewish readers, he would take people into the river and dunk them under the water as a sign they had repented of their sins.  I think some of you still do that).  

I was married and pregnant with Joiada when one of my friends (a lady called Mary) suggested we go and see John baptizing and preaching. And, I was enthralled with John, and, yes, I got baptized.

When I went home, my husband told me in no uncertain terms NOT to spread that around.  He said the Levites were supposedly neutral about John and his baptizing, but many thought he was a false prophet.  So, I hid my acceptance of John in my heart and mind.  

His group of Levites wanted the status quo - “don’t rock the boat”.  Don’t antagonize the Romans.  The Romans seemingly ignore us Jews as long as we are “good little people”.  

Then this other teacher came along - named Jesus.  I was told not to go to any of his sessions or teachings.  The Sanhedrin didn’t like him either.  But, I did hear about his teachings - things like love your neighbor as yourself, love your enemy (including the Romans and tax collectors), don’t judge, and be forgiving.

But, maybe a little more personal.  My friend, Mary, who took me to get baptized by John, was a special friend of Jesus.  In fact, Mary’s brother, Lazarus, died and was buried three days when Jesus arrived in Bethany and brought Lazarus back to life.  I knew Lazarus (not as well as Mary), and I knew he had been ill and died.  And, yet I saw Lazarus alive, healthy, and walking around.  The more I knew about Jesus the more I believed.  

But, my husband was at the trial of Jesus. He also was one that caused the people to yell ‘crucify’ when Pilate the Roman governor had arrested Jesus.  Blaspheme they said - going against the teachings of Moses and the prophets.  So, I kept my mouth shut.  I didn’t even mention the name of Jesus at home and especially never did I talk about him to my husband or children.  

Jesus came back from the dead.  Mary saw it and told me.  For the next few years, many of my Jewish friends also believed in Jesus and my husband and the Levites were opposed to them.  I heard Peter and others preaching about Jesus.

Now as I am dying, I proclaim that I believe in Jesus as the Messiah.  I want it quiet as my family would be hurt.  So, I’ve kept quiet for all these years.  I’ve kept my silence so my son can be a high priest without a family blemish. What a price I paid for my son to keep the status quo in Israel.

God forgive me for being too chicken to stand up for my belief.  

*****

(Pollyanna Karen adds - ‘Thanks Rachel for speaking up’)

Love Wins!!

Karen

April 2022