The Death Of The Righeous ~ Have a happy easter, all

[Ruby Haskins]

I had written a story about the lad who gave his loaves and fishes to be used to feed the multitude for our churches magazine's Easter edition. In one of the prisons I wrote to, a young man wrote and told me he had never stopped to think what an impact Christ had on the minor charactors of the Bible and he asked that I write one about this character for him.

"THE DEATH OF THE RIGHEOUS"

It won't be long now before death takes me. I'm in my fourtieth summer. It's surprising, the life I've lead, I've lasted this long. (Got to keep my mind busy, fight this pain. Oh, God, but it's excruciating. Lots more terrible than I could have ever imagined.) If not for the man beside me, well, I find it hard to believe that the words of any man could have the impact on me that the words of this man has had. I have been so headstrong, so full of hate for so many years. Unbelievable to find this late, that there is hope for me.
The first eight years of my life are the only ones I can remember as being happy; My eighth year; Well, my eighth year my life became a living hell. (hurt, Oh, I hurt. Keep my mind busy. Think back. Think back.) I'm six years old. My name is Joab. My fathers name is David, and like David of old, He is a very good shepherd. We live a stones throw from the small town of Bethlehem. Always, my father is telling us, we can take great pride in the sheep we raise. The best sheep come from Bethlehem. The pasover lambs slain in the temple at Jerusalem come from this town.
At the age of six, I am sent to the synogogue for schooling. Already though, I have learned some of my lessons from listening to my older brother, Seth.He is nine years old. I also have a four year old sister, Miriamne. My mom, Naomi, is with child. I hope in a few weeks to have a new brother. My mom's dad; what can I say about my papa Jacob? He is the light of my life. I totally adore him. My mom says papa can't turn around without stumbling into me.(This pain, I feel as if my body is literally being torn apart.) (Think. Think.) Papa says I am the only one in the family that is stamped after mom. All the rest of the family is dark-haired, and brown, almost black eyed. He says that mom's hair is like fall wheat, and her eyes, her eyes look as if God reached down through the clouds and took a handful of blue summer sky fresh from a rain to color them.
I love to talk to papa. He never talks down to me, or gets impatient with me, or tells me that I ask stupid questions.
One of the first things we are taught when we begin our religious training is the Sha'Ma. Hear, O israel: The lord our God is one Lord: and you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might. And these words which I command you this day shall be upon your heart; and you shall teach them dilligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise. And you shall bind them upon your hands and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes.
From my brother and papa reciting it to me, I had it memorised before I was five. It helped, knowing how proud they would be of me, knowing it before I had to.
My papa and I would take long walks around the fields of Bethlehem. Bethlehem was also well known for it's grain. Papa loved showing me the fields of Boaz and telling me about him and Ruth. He also loved telling me the story of Balak and Baalam. We Jews, he told me, always like to think that we have a lock on God's gifts and love. We know, deep, deep down though, that He also gives gifts to the Gentiles; and if they will walk in His paths and keep his commandments He will honour them also. Baalam had been given the gift of prophecy, but like many of us, he had a character flaw. He had an excessive love of things, especially nice expensive hings.
The Moab king, Balak, looked across his borders one day and saw a great host of Israelites encamped in the wilderness around him and his people. He decided a quick fix would be to have Baalam to come curse the Israelites; thereby saving his kingdom. God gave Baalam a status report on His special relationship with the Israelites and told him that he would not stand for anyone to bring harm to His people. Baalam, wanting the gifts that Balak had to offer, tried to bend God's will to his will. Let me tell you, son,When it comes to a clash of wills with God, the one ending upon his knees will not be Him. (Again I feel my body jerk with pain, and a hot, suffocating feeling in my chest. My lungs feel as if they are going to burst into flames any second. How much more of this my body can take, I do not know. Try to keep my mind off of this as much as possible.)
I hear again echoes from the past; my papas voice continuing. The main thing about Baalam, what he wanted for himself, I want for myself also.--Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his.-- I do not like hearing about death in connection with my grandfather. Papa, you are not going to die and leave me, are you? What would I do without you? Death is a natural part of living, he tells me. I have lived a long and full life. Death is a beginning, not an ending. There will be such a glorious new experience that our minds could never imagine the glory of it. You know that I will be waiting to welcome you with outstretched arms.
I know he means these things, and I know he is wise. I'm still not happy about the thought that someday he'll be gone from me, but I feel better about it.
One evening we are out walking and our eyes are drawn to a brilliant star shining to the east of town. Papa tells me that such a star usually means some great event is about to take place. The next afternoon, mom returns home from the marketplace and tells us that everyone is talking about a tale old Abner and his sons, Micah and Dan are telling. According to them, they are watching their sheep in the field, when suddenly an angel of the Lord appears to them and tells them that a Savior is born. Then the angel is accompanied by a host of angels singing and praising God, proclaiming peace on earth and glad tidings to all mankind. They say they go to Bethlehem and find the babe and his mother ensconced in a manger. Everyone knows these men to be honest, hard working people, so there is much discussion as what to make of their tale.
Almost two weeks from this day, my baby brother Timothy is born. Dad places each of us children on a bench and in turn hands our little brother to us and tells us to meet and greet him. As I hold him, his little hands grab onto my finger and I fall in love with this little bit of humanity. A few days after this, my grandfather suddenly takes ill. Because each of us in turn are called to his bedside, I know that it is serious. I know that he has often told me that death is a natural part of living, but the thought of him leaving me hurts desparately.
It's going to be alright, he tells me. He takes my hand in his and says to promise him that I will die the death of the righteous when my time comes. Through blinding tears , I promise him. Then I see him smile and he tells me I have always been a special part of his life. He will be watching and waiting for me and remember always how much he loves me. Then suddenly he is gone.
The next two years I become closer to my brother Seth. He tells me that he misses papa greatly also. You know, Joab, he was always teaching me little lessons and making me see and think about life in ways that I never would have on my own. We were all blessed to have had him.
Miriamne is six. She has dark, curly hair, black eyes, a very mischeivious grin, and an inquisitive nature. Mom is teaching her needle work and simple cooking. Mom says she is amazed how fast Miriamne learns these things. My brother Timothy, well what can you say about a two year old? He walked at thirteen months, started talking in sentences at eighteen months and has never been still or quiet since. The whole family dotes on him. Never has a child been better loved.
One evening dad tells me and Seth to go to the fields and help tend sheep. He is going to one of the neighbors in an outlying district to buy some new sheep to add to the flock. Just past dawn, we hear faint cries from the town and outlying houses. The cries grow steadily louder until there is a loud crescendo of screams echoing from one end of the town to another. Men are running from the fields towards the houses. Seth and I start running towards ours. Since Seth is three years older, he reaches our home before I do.
Soldiers, lead by Herod's palace guards are all over town. They are going through all the downstairs shops and the town residences. The scene that greets our eyes is one of massacre, men and women of all ages screaming in grief and despair. As Seth heads for our door, two of Herod's soldiers are coming out. They are splashed all over with blood and gore. They are laughing, shouting, acting as if they are drunk on blood.
The first soldier looks at Seth and casually runs a long knife through him. I scream in unbelief and pain as I run towards my brother. The second picks me up feet first and dangles me head down. You will live, little one, and you will remember that the power of life and death around here rests in the hands of Herod. Thus saying, He then pitches me into the front door of my home. I haven't time to absorb the shock of despair and grief over the death of my brother before I'm met with the carnage that greets me inside my home.
I hear a loud scream of agony reverberating through the walls of my house and am dimmly aware that the screams are being torn from the center of my being. On the floor, half covering the body of my little two year old brother Timothy, lies the body of my mother, arms thrown across him as if she is still trying to protect him even in death. Tossed against a wall like a rag doll is my little sister, Miriamne. I stumble over to mom and drop to the floor on my knees beside her. Her long blond hair is streaked with blood. I gather her up into my arms, sitting there, I know not how long. I am numb with shock.
I am jolted back to a sense of reality some time later by a scream from my father. He is holding Seth's body in his arms. His eyes are darting from one loved ones dead body to another. Stumbling over to mom, he lays Seth down beside her, then goes to the corner where Miriamne lays and gathers her up in his arms. Weeping profusely, he brings her body to where the others lay. He sits there on the floor, his hands entwined in moms blood-stained hair, calling each of their names in turn over and over again.
My mind is just numb with horror. Everything has taken on an air of unreality. Suddenly my dad reaches out towards me. "Oh Joab. My son." I feel something snap inside of me and I recoil from his intended embrace. You will learn, I scream at him, that the power of life and death around these parts rests in the hands of Herod. Herod. herod. Herod. I'm laughing insanely, I'm crying, I'm screaming Herods name. I feel a tightening in my throat and a small ball of hatred that I hadn't been aware of, growing, growing within me. Someday, if ever there is a way, I'll make the monster pay. if there is any way to bring grief to him and his, well I will do my best to be at least a festering thorn in his side.
I remember women, heartbroken women from all parts of town, going from house to house, helping to make burial preparations. Then we gather out past town at the tombs to bury our dead, most of the town of Bethlehem. We are all dazed, unbelieving, trying to understand, make sense of the horror that has befallen us. There is a darkness, a pall on the town that will last as long as we can remember. (Again, again. The pain. Have to fight it.) Slowly the emotional wounds of the town heal and scar over. My father, after only seven months, brings home a new wife. I am livid. A year and a half later, he tries to place the womans newborn offspring in my arms. You have a new brother, he dares to tell me. I don't trust myself to speak to him.I just get up and leave the house until I can get my emotions more or less under control.
I head outside of town to our family's burial tomb. I know my grandfather is not really there any longer, but I somehow feel closer to him when near his grave. Papa, if only I still had you to talk to. So much bad has happened. I know mom, my brothers and sister are safely with you, but I miss them so desparetly. Dad has forgotten them. He has replaced them with this dark-haired, dark-eyed stranger and new son. I should have died with the rest of my family. In essence I did, I will never feel part of or close to another human again. I miss you so much. No one ever understood me the way you did.
Over the next six years, dad has two more sons and three daughters; Amron was the first born, followed by Eliab, Ruth, Leah, Deborah, and Jesse. I stay away from him and his family as much as possible. When not busy helping with the flocks, I have taken to going down to an inn outside of town with some other young men my age. I am sixteen. Some my age are already married. Thank God, I am spared that calamity.
Herod died about three years after the atrocity he visited upon our town, so he is beyond any vengeance we could hope to mete out to him. The son he left here in his stead, though, is little better than he was. One of my friends, Stephen, has introduced me to a small group of zeolots. According to them, the time that was prophecised for the Messiah to appear is near at hand. We must be prepared, both financially and militarily to help him take his rightful place upon the throne of Israel.
Even though the original Herod is no longer with us, the thought of bringing aggrevation or harm to any of his family appeals to me, much more so than fighting Rome. These men, I know, consider themselves righteous men of God, fighting for God's people, especially the one called Simeon. He, like my grandfather, I am sure, expects to die the death of the righteous. Unlike my grandfather, who died peacefully in bed, he is liable to die at the hand of some soldier or hanging on some Roman cross. Stephen views everything as a lark. All of life to him is fun and games. He is always chiding me for my demeanor. Life doesn't last forevrer, Joab. Better get what you can out of it while you can, he tells me.
I learn that Simeon has developed quite a spy network that extends through the Decapolis, Perea, Galilee, Samaria, and Judea. He has developed a team of spies among the slaves that work in Herods palace, his other residences, Pilots residences, among the homes of public officials, and among the homes of the priests and the levites. Slaves and servants are treated as if they were part of the furniture or walls, deaf and blind. Therefore they are excellent sources of information.
Although some commerce is moved by sea, almost everything worthwhile, going or coming, comes through the camel trade routes. Little comes or leaves this land that Simeon is not aware of. Every chance that presents itself is taken advantage of. Whatever can be taken of value is confiscated for the Messianic cause. Men are trained to hit hard and fast, then disappear into the hills and cave country.
Although many who join the zealots are truly interested in bringing Israel back to it's rightful place under God, I know that some, like I suspect Stephen is considering, do it only for excitement and adventure. We could have some fun, see more of the world, make some money. Consider it, he tells me. As it turns out, I don't need a long time to consider it. Once too often I go home in a drunken condition. My father meets me at the door.
I will not have my wife and younger children subjected constantly to your inappropiate behavior, my father tells me.
Well, well, well, father. I tell him. I applaud your desire to protect your family. I hope you do a better job protecting yours than you did mine and I hope, God forbid, if they are suddenly destroyed, it will take you longer than seven months to forget them. So saying, I turn and leave, and don't look back. (I lose my train of thought again as a fresh wave of pain hits me. There is a sudden darkness, a pitch-black darkness such as I can't ever remember having seen before at noonday .)
Thefirst time I ever take life is during the rainy season. There is heavy mud in the foothills. Simeons spies have informed us well. This is a camel train that is headed for the Decapolis with items which Herod has commissioned, so it is with delight that we attack it. I see a small group of men wearing the hated robes of Herod's palace guards and I remember a long ago day in Bethlehem. Suddenly a furious battle ensues with our men and those of the camel train. Since we have caught them unprepared and off guard, there is not much of a contest, yet steel is meeting steel and there is no turning back. I feel my sword going repeatedly into flesh.
When all is over, I realise that I had felt fear, anxiety, and a rush of hatred. What I did not feel was delight or a sense of justice and I did not feel like a hero.
As years pass, I grow more hardened. Although I never really enjoy killing, it has become easier. Stephen and I remain friends. He is in his element. Bloodletting to him is a passion, a joy that he can't get enough of. To me it is just a necessary evil, a means to an end.
One day, I find myself on the outskirts of Bethlehem It has been a long time; at least ten and a half years. I can not stand to leave the area without visiting my grandfathers grave. As I approach the area, my heart leaps. I see a boy, and he is the spitting image of Seth." OH, my God, it can't be. But it is, it's Seth."
"Joab, Joab.You are ,aren't you? You're my brother, Joab. I'm you're brother, Jesse."He starts towards me, arms outstretched.
"You stop, right there " I tell him. "You're not my brother." Why did I come here? Why didn't I know better? As I turn to leave he is still calling. "Joab, come back, please come back. I am too your brother. ' Even his voice is the same as Seth's.
(I don't understand this darkness. It's as if the sun has hidden it's face from view.)
Off and on, through the years, when I have no one I can really bare my mind to, I have mental conversations with my grandfather. It seems to somehow help me hold on to my sanity. A few weeks ago, Herod, as he has done before, took money from the temple coffers for repair work on one of his favorite projects. Such effrontary could not go unchallenged. Stephen and I, along with some others, are sent by night to sabatage the repair work. This time, in the ensuing fight, we are not so lucky. We are taken captive, tried, and condemned to death. (Oh, God. This time a wave of pain that is made more intense by the lurch of the ground beneath my feet. It is as if the earth is groaning, writhing, jerking in protest at the death of it's Creator. )
I remember, long ago, my grandfather's voice telling me, "Remember, Joab, God always has plans of His own that man knows nothing about, and those plans will be brought into being. At the remembrance of this, what a rush of emotion comes over me.
Oh, papa. I don't fully understand it. It's beyond the grasp of my comprehension, but I know it's real, it's true. Somehow, right beside me is God, the Lord God Jehoveh. He's hanging there on the cross next to mine and He's promised me forgiveness and promised me that this day I'll be with Him in paradise.
I know I am dying, But me, papa, me!; Thanks to Him I am dying the death of the righteous.

written by Ruby Haskins

The final heartbeat for the Christian is not the mysterious conclusion to a meaningless existence. It is, rather, the grand beginning to a life that will never end.---James Dobson

[Ruby Haskins]

Tthank you,
this is one of the story's that keep making you realize we aren't different than people back then. I studied the camel trade routes. They were amazing, actually were a living city constantly on the move, adding people as they went along, then stopping at towns, dropping off people whose consignments were for that destination,, picking up more. They moved mail and delivered it to different place.I thought shades of our old west, Camel express. And then I was amazed that way back then there were spy rings. Who would of thought it? All these ideas that we think are ours, modern man who has advanced so far, so much more intelligent than these people were. I think maybe modern man thinks a little to highly of himself although I'm glad God put me in this time frame. Don't know if I qwould have survived those times. Our government is weighty but theirs were very unsettling. Hope things aren't going to go the way I feel they are.for us in near future.
Blessings ~Ruby

[Ronald A. Nelson]

Ruby... this is probably one of the best works of yours to date... God bless you and keep writing.

Prophet.