Historical Setting, 626 C.E. On the River near Trier
If no one should appear from the little village of refugees’ houses, that would be fine with me. We could leave now. I pull the boat I rowed over onto the shore with the bow pointed into the river for the retreat. But now, as the sun is already staining the eastern darkness, someone comes from one of the houses across the vineyards, then goes back, and now there are others coming out. The vine growers from the Western side of the river extinguish their torches, and stand with their sharpened tools in hand bracing for a fight.
Though I learned my pacifism from a Jewish teacher, it is not the nature of Judaism to value this personal choice of not fighting back. Maybe this new Christianity did take something from the ancient Jewish root. But it wasn’t pacifism. Neither these Christians nor these Jews are considering the Jesus peace just now.
One from the other side shouts something in an Eastern language more Greek than Yiddish or even Aramaic. I’ve known these languages and accents all my years, so deciphering this is an easy task for me. I hear them shouting over, asking who these people are. They’ve had no idea they have enemies here standing before them with tools as weapons crossing over from the other shore.
Now I step out of the boat and go to the captain preparing for mayhem and I tell him, “they are just asking who you are.”
“So, you speak Jewish! Is that who you are?”
“They aren’t speaking Jewish, they are speaking in mix of language. Answer them in Greek. They will hear you. Tell them you are plesios, ‘neighbors!’ Put your weapons away and I will go with you and you can talk together about which vines grow best here.”
“How can we trust a stranger to speak for us?”
Another from this side shouts over to the strangers, “If you want to talk to us speak in Roman!”
I beg these men, “Put your weapons away, and spread your hands like this so they can see you are peaceful.” I show them the example. I spread my hands out wide with my palms up in a welcoming stance to show friendship. Then I feel a Christian blade severing a circle around my neck, and the mayhem is loosed. Everyone, Christian and Jew alike are rushing with their tools as weapons. Everyone facing the pruning blade is bleeding now. And the Jewish hammer that sets new grape arbor posts deep into the earth is coming right toward me, ..I can’t raise my arm to shield…
(Continues Tuesday, March 5)
Lazarus Ink 