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Pillars of Barabbas

By M.D. House

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Chapter 1 (Barabbas)
Behold also the ships, which though they be so great, and are driven of fierce winds, yet are they turned about with a very small helm, whithersoever the governor listeth.
James 3:4

“Father, we got a letter!” Nineteen-year-old Matthew, soon to be twenty, hadn’t burst into the house like that since he was thirteen.
Chanah, carrying laundry up the stairs, nearly dropped her basket as she turned to look.
I was at our small table in the front room, reviewing a few notes I had scratched out on parchment for the short sermon I would give the next day. My sermons were always short, even on the Sabbath. I didn’t have the oratory skills of Paul or Peter—or Chanah. I had asked if she might speak this time, and she had patiently reminded me that it was my turn, then advised me not to try to pawn it off on Publius again, either.
I looked up at Matthew in bemusement, my sermon topic of understanding the Scriptures with the help of the Spirit mixing with his excited words in my head. I had blinked twice before Chanah was coming back down the stairs.
“Who is the letter from, Matthew?” she asked. “Do you know?”
Matthew turned to his mother. “It’s from the church’s headquarters in Jerusalem. It might be from one of the apostles!”
My eyebrows rose at that, my mind processing the news. We had received a brief letter from Paul notifying us of his arrival in the port of Puteoli near Rome, but nothing since. That had been almost four months ago. I didn’t know what might be coming from Jerusalem, unless it were some-thing for Paul, in which case we would forward it on. “Is it addressed to Paul?” I asked.
“No, Father.” Matthew’s enthusiasm surged again. “It’s addressed to you, Bishop Jesse Barabbas of Melita. How did they even know Paul had made you the bishop?”
I looked at Chanah, who smiled knowingly. My wife’s black hair framed her tanned face and green eyes so perfectly I still often wondered if she was an angel in disguise. Matthew shared her dark hair and many of her features, though he had my height and broad shoulders.
She reached the bottom of the stairs and set her basket on the floor, then walked over to Mat-thew. “May I see it, please?”
He handed it to her, urging her with his eyes to open it.
Her smile almost turned to an amused laugh. “Paul must have sent a letter notifying them of what he’d done here,” she said. “The Lord’s house is a house of order, so these things must be recorded and organized.”
Matthew nodded without the least hint of embarrassment. Why was he so excited about a letter, even if it was from an apostle? Paul the apostle had lived with us for a time after his shipwreck, and nothing could ever top that.
The letter had come in a sealed wooden tube. Chanah broke the wax seal and opened the tube, then extracted the rolled sheets of parchment. It amounted to four full pages of tightly spaced script. She moved to the table and gently pressed out the parchment, then stood beside me as we looked at the first page. Matthew took a step closer.
I cleared my throat, then read aloud.
“Peter, Chief Apostle of the Lord’s church on Earth, to Bishop Jesse and the faithful saints on Melita. The peace of the Master be upon you, and his grace and goodwill in abundance. We your brethren and sisters in Jerusalem bid you fond greeting, noting that you are in our prayers always. Our brother Paul has informed us of the miraculous work taking place in that part of the Lord’s vine-yard, and we rejoice with you in the great uplifting of souls. We commend you, and we thank our Holy Father for your faithfulness and diligence, as well as that of our sister Chanah, whose wise counsel we sorely miss in Jerusalem.”
I looked at my wife. Her eyes were glistening with sudden tears. I felt the emotion of the moment, too. To receive a letter from the apostle Peter!
Matthew had taken another step closer, his eyes locked on the document, trying to read it upside down.
I looked back down and continued reading.
“Give heed to the whisperings of the Holy Spirit which is within you, which gift you received at the hands of the Lord’s authorized servants. The adversary has redoubled his efforts to deceive and distort that he might distract you and cloud your minds, drawing you subtly but surely away from the true path. Let no one lure you away from truth and righteousness with vain musings or false hopes, with anger or jealousy, malice or strife, vengeance or betrayal. Forgive one another. Forgive your enemies. Invite all, in patience, to come unto Christ, who is Lord of lords and King of kings, who has conquered death and offers eternal life to the faithful. Hold tight to the true vine, which is the perfect example of Christ Jesus, whose longsuffering love has given us the bright hope of redemption in the mansions of our Father.
“Give no heed to idolatrous fancies, nor to those who would entice you to unfetter your lusts or abandon your duties and covenants. You are children of God, spirits from a premortal realm of great power, possessed now of mortal bodies that will test you and teach you. Gain the mastery over the flesh, with your faith firmly focused on the Messiah, who is Christ the Redeemer, and you shall have power to overcome all things in the due time of the Lord!
“Above all, turn your minds and hearts toward love and service to all, both within and without the church. Seek the welfare of others first, and you will find your own treasures—in peace, in under-standing, in faith and firmness of mind. The most joyous and liberating feeling in all the world is to be an instrument in the Master’s hand, and few are the philosophers who have reasoned it out, great though many of them have been!
“We leave our blessing upon you. May the Lord ever keep you healthy, happy, and whole. Amen.”
The first page ended there, and I set it aside to view the second. Matthew had made it around to my other shoulder without me noticing, and now all three of us scanned the parchment. I didn’t continue reading aloud.
The top of the second page contained instructions that I should read the letter to all the congregations of the saints on Melita, and that I should have copies made and distributed as far as I was able. It also asked that Chanah and I send a complete record to Jerusalem of the names of the saints, along with those who had been called and ordained as elders and deacons, and as teachers among both the men and the women. Included were instructions on how to properly administer the sacrament, which we were already following, and suggestions on how to organize teaching and ministering among the saints so all could work together in a fitly framed structure as a unified body of Christ.
The third and fourth pages of parchment contained a compilation of news from the widespread body of the church, and those pages were a thrill to examine. The work progressed so rapidly! The Lord’s arm was being made bare from one end of the empire to the other, and even beyond, filling the earth with the joyous news of Jesus’s victory over death and hell, enlivening minds and hearts with the powerful peace of his teachings and example.
Chanah’s hand squeezed my shoulder. “A temple in Carthage,” she said. “We had a hard time believing that was possible.”
I set my hand on hers and looked up at her. “I had a hard time believing it. You easily believed what Philip said.”
She smiled, shrugging slightly. “It is a miracle regardless. And no, husband,” she added with a slight tease in her voice, “I was not going to remind you of what you thought of Philip’s prophecy concerning Carthage.”
Matthew gave her a questioning look, and she reached across me to tousle his hair like he was a young boy again. Surprisingly, he didn’t seem annoyed by it. “Look here,” he said, pointing. “There are ten new congregations in Britannia, at least twenty in the Parthian empire, and many more in Egypt and Ethiopia. Missionaries are even being sent to India.”
I looked back down at the page. The progress of the church was remarkable. It was not without its challenges, of course, even on Melita. And Peter had warned that the adversary would spare no effort to knock us off course.
“Ephesus, Corinth, and Philippi will also be getting temples,” noted Chanah, marveling. “Added to Carthage, Damascus, Antioch, Alexandria, and Kainepolis, that will make eight. Eight temples, Jesse. We Israelites have always boasted about having one, and the Lord’s church will soon have eight.”
Amazing indeed. Chanah tended to be much better at seeing the broad scale of things, but I caught at least a glimpse of how significant this was.
“We are all still learning not to be surprised at what the Lord can do,” she added, “even when he has already told us he would do it.”
Matthew nodded as if understanding, and I pondered on the goodness of our eldest son. How grateful I was for him. It seemed like he would do great things, and that I needed to help him pre-pare better, though I wasn’t sure how.
Simon walked in from the back rooms of the house, followed by Marian and Sophia. Marian, at eleven, already looked like she would be the spitting image of her mother, while Sophia, two years younger, looked a lot like my sister Mara and me, with her unruly brown hair and glistening brown eyes. Simon, who we had almost lost not long before, was fifteen. A bright but sensitive young man, he was shorter than his brother and lighter of hair and complexion, making him seem like a native of Melita.
In that moment, the fact that we had three additional children that I couldn’t see hit me power-fully. They were cheering us on from the other side, and Chanah still occasionally prayed for them by name. All three had lived less than a week. Hannah and Joel had been born before Matthew, and after Joel’s birth the doctors had declared Chanah barren. After the miracle of Matthew proved them wrong, Miriam was born, staying with us just two days. We would have been happy if Mat-thew had been the only one given to us, but three more miracles occurred, and all of them were standing before me as I read an update on the Lord’s church that had come directly from the Chief Apostle. It was nearly impossible to comprehend.
“What’s the matter, Papa?” asked Sophia in concern.
It was then I felt the tears in my eyes. I smiled at her. She was the kindest and most angelic of our children. “Nothing, sweet angel. We’re just reading about how much the Lord is blessing people all over the world.”
“And that includes us,” added Chanah, putting her arm around my shoulders and reaching out for Sophia, who instantly moved to accept her embrace.
I recapped what we had read so far, re-reading in its entirety the opening message from Peter, which made Sophia smile as wide as she was able. Then we studied the other updates together.
A synopsis of news came from Jerusalem and its environs. Judea, one of the most chaotic provinces of the Roman Empire, continued to be both fruitful and challenging for the church, especially in the Holy City. I couldn’t imagine how Peter and the other church leaders navigated the treacherous politics of the proud and restless Jewish leaders. The Sanhedrin was unpredictable and often merciless, though their complex dance with the Romans sometimes kept them distracted from some of their more aggressive tendencies. My mind spun crazily every time I tried to think about it.
Peter had recently agreed that no Christians would enter a Jewish synagogue in Jerusalem for any purpose, and that teaching of non-Christians could only take place in the streets, where it could be observed and actively refuted by Jewish rabbis and priests. It seemed a bad accommodation, but Peter seemed perfectly happy with it, expressing his trust in the Lord to help them make it work. He noted one instance when it had worked to their advantage, as a large group of people had been able to witness a Spirit-filled refutation of one of the more vituperous of the Jewish priests. Most had decided that Christ was indeed the long-awaited Messiah, and several baptisms followed.
Another accommodation was that baptisms could no longer be held in the open, where ‘innocent’ passersby could observe. The church had therefore begun to construct fonts inside a few select homes and structures. Keeping the water clean was an issue, but several novel ideas for straining and purifying the water without wasting it had already come forward from the saints, and Peter testified that the Spirit was assisting them in myriad ways. His optimism was infectious, and I wondered if this was the same Peter who others once said worried too much.
A third major accommodation was that most of the church’s ministrations to the poor, at least in Jerusalem, had to be done through the Jewish priests. I could almost hear Peter chuckling as he wrote about the priests’ clumsy attempt to increase their own favor and reduce that of the saints.
“Why would they do that?” asked Simon, looking puzzled. “Don’t they know it doesn’t matter if other people recognize their charity, just that God does?”
Chanah gave him a tender smile. “You’re very perceptive, Simon. They are some of the smartest, most well-educated people in the world, but they allow stubbornness, pride, and greed to blind them to the ways of the Lord—and often to common sense.”
Simon looked at me as I nodded.
“Without humility, all the learning in the world can become utter foolishness,” I added. “I’m no great philosopher, like Aristotle or Isaiah, but great learning too often makes people feel superior, and they stop listening to sound, simple counsel. Remember what Isaiah said? ‘Therefore my people are gone into captivity, because they have no knowledge; and their honorable men are famished, and their multitude dried up with thirst.’” I wasn’t a great orator, but I wasn’t bad at memorizing things. Well, short things.
Chanah took it up from there. “Learned people sometimes underestimate how smart other people are, even people with no formal education. These haughty priests believe people won’t figure out what’s really going on. And in trying to fool them, they miss the most important point, just as you said: that the Lord blesses those who give—voluntarily, not by force—in perfect ways that cannot be turned aside by mere mortals. The Lord blesses us for our sincere efforts to help each other, and his work will continue to prosper as long as we keep doing that, no matter who tries to deflect or interfere.”
I thought of something Paul had once told me. It lit up my mind with beautiful clarity. “It’s like a ship. Even though the ship might be grand, and her hold filled with riches, she is guided by a small rudder that operates by simple principles and obeys perfectly.”
Chanah smiled at me, squeezing my shoulders. Tears were forming in her eyes again. She sat down next to me on the narrow bench, grasping my arm and leaning on my shoulder. She sighed contentedly after we finished the final few details from the letter. “What a blessing to receive word from the apostles.”
I basked in her presence a few moments before responding. “Yes, and now I don’t have to pre-pare a sermon.”
Matthew laughed, and I had just joined him when I spotted a figure standing in our doorway. Matthew had left the door open, which he often did—which we all often did, since we felt supremely safe on Melita. But something seemed ominous about this man. He hadn’t said a word, but his presence demanded attention.
I glanced at Chanah as I rose from the bench, gesturing to everyone to stay put as I walked to-ward the man. I noted his pale skin, disheveled gray hair, heavy linen robes, and somewhat wild-eyed expression. He looked like a scribe, straight out of Jerusalem, who spent all his time indoors poring over manuscripts—and not a high-ranking one based on the plainness of his vestments. I had never seen him before, and wondered why on earth he would be here.
Chanah had schooled her face to composure, though some apprehension pooled in her eyes.
“Who are you, stranger?” I asked.
The man cleared his throat and tried unsuccessfully to tame his hair with one hand. “I am Ahijah, of the second course of the third watch of the royal scribes of the House of David,” he began proudly in a voice less scratchy than I had expected. But then he mysteriously cast down his eyes and let his shoulders droop a little. His voice lowered. “I am come humbly and swiftly on the Lord’s errand, and no other.”
The royal scribes of the House of David? Did such a group still exist? I turned to see that Chanah’s eyes had widened a little. I didn’t know what to think, so I just listened as the man continued, his eyes still lowered.
“A holy man visited me at night last month, in my bedchamber, and he bade me follow him,” he began in a solemn tone without waiting for leave to speak further.
I was immediately, inexplicably entranced.
“We took a curious path, entering not into the temple, but descending to the Gihon Spring, then following for a time the tunnel of King Hezekiah that leads to the Pool of Siloam. He revealed a hidden side tunnel that drove deeper into Ophel, descending slowly until it made several turnings and opened up into a large, natural chamber, which, as near as I could tell, must be deep underneath the house of Caiaphas. I know not how we were able to see, for I had brought no light, and he carried none, yet we could see.”
He paused briefly to look up, first at me and then at Chanah. His voice became reverent. “I could tell that many thousands of records were stored in that sacred vault, which was perfect for the task as the air was exceptionally dry, and the holy man led me to one niche in particular, bidding me to thrust in my hand and remove the contents. I pulled out a small scroll tube, completely sealed in wax, that had been resting on a bed of fine cloth that had also been dipped in wax.
“He bade me open the tube, which was ancient, and at first I hesitated, as such a thing was surely above my station. But he persisted, and when I had withdrawn the scroll, he bade me read it.” He paused, looking intently at the wall beyond my head while seeming to collect his thoughts.
I glanced again at Chanah, who now had no fear in her eyes at all, just reverence. I could feel something, too, but wasn’t sure yet what it was.
The man called Ahijah continued, “It has long been said, and taught, that David’s first wife, Michal, the beautiful second daughter of King Saul, later lost her love for David and even despised him. Saul had ripped them apart soon after they were wed; he had given her to another man while David was in hiding to save his own life from the treacheries of his jealous king going mad. It was more than fifteen years before David, soon to be the new king of all Israel, was able to reclaim Michal, having then already six other wives besides, all blessed by the priests and scribes, including Nathan.
“The scroll to which the holy man of God had led me proclaimed the truth. As David had kept Michal near in his heart for those many years of forced separation, so Michal had kept David near in hers, and loved him even more deeply. Far from being offended by him when he removed his kingly raiment to don the simple robes of the priesthood, she honored him for it. But that is not the most important part.”
He shifted his gaze again to Chanah, his eyes growing more intense. “It was also written, erroneously and on orders from King David himself, that Michal never bore David any children. That is not true. While it was difficult for her to bear children, she bore him two after they had been reunited, a boy and a girl, but the families of his other wives became so jealous of these two blessed babes that David and Michal feared for their lives. So when they were still very young, she sent them with two of her handmaids to Jabesh-Gilead, there to be raised safely among those who had shown such fealty in the past to the Lord’s anointed, both to David and Saul, whose body they had rescued from the Philistines at Bethshan. Michal then started a rumor—which soon reached the status of accepted truth—that her two children had taken ill and died.
“But those children grew faithful and strong, away from the intrigues and betrayals of the king’s court, with frequent extended visits from their supposedly brokenhearted mother and the close attention of the local priests. Since they saw their father only rarely, and in secret, and their names were eventually removed from the official genealogies of the king, they faded from memory. Neither of them begrudged the elimination of their claim to power in the kingdom, and both mourned greatly when their father succumbed to temptation and betrayed their mother with Bathsheba, which betrayal did indeed sever the ties of love between David and Michal, who then elected to move permanently to Jabesh-Gilead.
“The first sin of David was great indeed, but even more so given his once dutiful love for Michal. Pride entered his heart after his many victories as king of all Israel, and he began to forget the Lord and the covenants he had made, which covenants had enabled such miraculous events in the history of the Israelites. Perhaps King David also ordered the change in the date when Michal lost her love for him, whether to scorn her or to protect her, or perhaps the scribes wished to excuse to a degree David’s great sin with Bathsheba—and the greater sin that followed—by creating a myth of pain and anguish at the loss of Michal’s love. This hidden scroll revealed much that has been hidden, as did some of the few words the holy man spoke before he disappeared after charging me to find you.”
Chanah blinked, implications clearly dawning on her. My mind still strained through thick mud. So, King David had more children than were listed in the genealogies. Why did that matter? What king or other ruler—like the Roman governors and prefects—didn’t have more children than were officially acknowledged?
“Which one is my ancestor?” she asked.
My mind jolted.
Ahijah finally smiled, apparently pleased she had made the connection. “Her name was Jehanah. Her brother was Zoram. They were eventually adopted into the tribe of Reuben. One faithful scribe of the tribe of Judah, who from the beginning was with David and his six hundred—the Mighty Ones, of whom the valiant Uriah the Hittite was a chief member—with his faithful generations after him, kept their genealogy for more than seven hundred years, after which it was kept by a selected line of scribes from the house of Reuben.
“You are a direct descendant of Jehanah the son of David and Michal through the maternal lines—only the maternal lines. As Jehanah and all her daughters were faithful to the Lord all their days, I sense you are faithful as well. The Lord favors you and has a great mission for you and your posterity.”
Chanah curtsied, obviously embarrassed. “I am a simple daughter of Israel, sir.” She shook her head, eyes fixed on his knees. “I am not worthy of such acclaim or stewardship.”
I swallowed hard, knowing there was nothing I could do or say in the moment.
Ahijah harrumphed suddenly, causing me to jump, then chided, “The daughters of Israel have often brought salvation to this people, and to many others. Have you forgotten how Deborah called Barak to lead the army of Israel against King Jabin and inspired them to victory in that terrible battle, and how Jael, the wife of the traitor Heber, killed Sisera the enemy general with the spike of a tent? Have you forgotten the faithfulness of Ruth, who was the grandmother of David and provided such a powerful example of righteousness that the people of Judah and of Moab were both well inclined to accept David as their king? Have you forgotten the courage of Esther in the courts of Babylon, without whom all of Israel would have been destroyed?
“Too often the Lord’s covenant people have forgotten that the blessings of the priesthood of God come through both the men and the women of Israel on account of their obedience and faith-fulness. The priests who are called upon to administer the ordinances are not the power—God is the power, and the faith and steadiness of his sons and daughters bring it to bear. It has always been so, and it will always be. I perceive in you, Chanah, daughter of Sariah daughter of Abigail, the faith-fulness of Ruth, the wisdom of Naomi, the strength of Deborah, and the courage of Esther.”
Chanah nodded. “As the Lord wills, so will I do.”
My mind still struggled to comprehend everything.
Ahijah turned to me and cocked his head, like a bird of prey about to pluck out my eyes. “Do you recognize the gem you have found? Your marriage is an eternal pattern, and together you are called to build great things in the name of the Messiah.”
I nodded and didn’t state the obvious—that Chanah was far ahead of me, as the width of the Red Sea or the height of Mount Hermon above the city of Dan.
“He has come,” said Chanah in a tone both reverent and authoritative.
Ahijah stared into her eyes for a moment. “I know. Whether the holy man who visited me was him or one of his resurrected angels—he was no mortal!—I know not. But I asked if the Messiah had come, and my question was answered. Praises be to God for the salvation of Israel and the en-tire world. I hope to rest with the Lord in his kingdom as soon as I have completed my earthly du-ties. One of the last of those was visiting you today, here on a tiny island I had never seen before. It is a beautiful place.” His visage seemed to transform, and my eyes beheld a man who looked much younger than a wizened old scribe on his last legs. His eyes sparkled, his cheeks drew more color, and he stood straighter, firmer.
“The holy man told me you have borne three children who did not survive—Hannah, Joel, and Miriam. They are mighty warriors on the other side, striving to make you and their Savior proud, and I hope they deign to greet me when I pass.” His gaze was so intense, the aura emanating from him so powerful, that my knees nearly buckled.
Chanah began to weep openly as she fell to her knees. Matthew, Simon, Marian, and Sophia followed suit. I knelt beside my wife to offer some comfort, but she was shedding tears of joy and gratitude, thanking God and his priest he had sent to our home.
Ahijah seemed impressed. “You show great faith, Daughter of Israel, and because of that you and your family will be blessed. Rise, Barabbas, Jehoshua son of Abbas.”
With a start I realized that Chanah and the children had already risen. I alone knelt on the floor, my head down, eyes closed. I slowly rose, my gaze still on the floor.
“They will need you, Barabbas,” said Ahijah. “The Lord has called you this day to lead your family in righteousness, with a daughter of David at your side in all things. You have sinned greatly in your past, but I sense you have already been forgiven. Your release by the Romans on that most eventful day in Earth’s history was no fault of your own, but the design of our Great God, whose Son wrought the victory for us—over death, and over eternal pain and sorrow. Rejoice in his great and last sacrifice, and let no man cause you to deny his hope.”
My stomach was churning, my mind reeling, my skin flushed and moist with sweat, so at first I understood little of what this strange priest had just said. I barely remember him bidding each of us farewell and leaving a blessing on our home before he left. He didn’t say if he was staying on the island for a time, returning straightaway to Jerusalem, or going somewhere else. But we never saw him again.
After a few minutes, Chanah and I dismissed our children. We stayed in the front room for many hours, discussing the importance of Ahijah’s visit and what it meant for our future. It was hard to imagine those possibilities, but they felt good. And before we knew it, the Sabbath was upon us.

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