Historical Setting, 626 C.E. On the River near Trier
“Where is your weapon, boy?”
I answer the captain, “I didn’t come for the fight.”
They are pushing the boats into the water with no time for considering consequences.
“Then you are a rower!” The one who would be a captain assigns me a task.
I choose not to abandon my mission of peace just at this critical moment, so now I take up the oars. The rowers in the other boats are pulling hard at their oars, while this “lead boat” with the one acting as captain is lagging. He orders me to row faster. I do not. I am chatting with the others in this boat.
“Have you ever warred against your neighbors before?” I ask.
“They aren’t neighbors, they are Jews.”
“We’ve never had Jews before.”
I goad them, “It is a hard thing to risk your life for hate. It is bad enough to sacrifice for love, but to take the risk for hatred seems futile.”
“There is no risk. They aren’t expecting us. We just go in with the torches and light the vineyards then we leave.”
“And yet every man has a weapon…”
“If they should hear us, we will need to frighten them off.”
“Who are they? Are they powerful men, like yourselves? Or are they only families with children?”
“What do you mean?”
“The vines are small and frail. What if the people are like that?”
“They aren’t. They are Jews.”
All of the boats are pulled onto the shore now, except this one. The captain carries the flame for the torches, and he doesn’t wait for our prow to touch the mud, he is in the water, wading to shore, holding his own flaming torch high, and the others take their light from his. I can only wait with the boats and watch.
As I had supposed, these vines are small and green-stemmed with early growth. Maybe this wall of fiery torches loosed on the land is frightening, but as far as actually burning these tiny sprouts, widely spaced, in fresh clean rows, there is nothing here that can burn. My human nature makes me want to tell them God is against burning the vineyards, and they should see this as a sign. But I happen to know that God loves all people, and that incomprehensible holy empathy is also concerned for these who come with torches and are hurting now with the disappointment of failure.
(Continues tomorrow)
Lazarus Ink 