“Thank you for staying. You must rest after your walk. I never thought I’d see a Roman give up his horse for a Jew. I’m surprised you are alone. Where are your squads?”
“My commander did not deem a squad necessary even though it is protocol.”
“He must have great confidence in your survival skills.”
“I doubt that was the reason. If I had a squad, we could have caught those men.”
“I leave them to God. No unconfessed sin goes unpunished. I wanted you to stay so I could tell you a story, but first, please tell me your name.”
“My name is Centurion Clovius Longinus. I use Adas as my praenomen.”
“Interesting. Your praenomen is a Hebrew name, and your Hebrew is excellent. That is most unusual for a Roman, as is the color of your eyes.”
“I’ve heard.”
“May I ask if your mother is Hebrew?”
“No, she isn’t. My nanny taught me Hebrew.”
“Ah, you’re an interesting enigma. Now, let me tell you my story. Once, a great rabbi came to Jericho. I wanted more than anything to see him. Being a tax collector, I did not fool myself into thinking this great man would want to speak with me. So I planned to catch a glimpse of him as he passed by. I climbed a sycamore tree and waited. When I saw him approaching, I was surprised. He was plainly dressed and looked quite average. Perhaps, I expected a king wearing purple and gold. He was about to pass by, but stopped, looked up into the tree, and called my name. He said, ‘Hurry and come down, for today I must remain at your house.’ I was so happy, I did make haste, and I nearly fell out of the tree. We talked for many hours. This great rabbi spoke of things I had never imagined. He began to tell me about the kingdom of heaven, how it is more precious than anything. Wanting to impress him, I showed him a precious treasure of mine.” The old man coughed. When he lowered his hand, there were spots of blood on his palm.
“Sir, the thieves have broken your ribs. You should rest. Maybe I should be on my way.”
“No! You must stay.” He pointed to a chair by the wall. “Please, bring me my robe. Yes, the one I was wearing when the robbers attacked me.” Adas retrieved the dusty garment and handed it to him. He ran his hand along the hem. “Please, cut the cloth here.”
Adas felt a lump inside the hem. When he cut the cloth open, he gasped at the object that rolled out into his hand. It was a pearl of such unique beauty that Adas thought he must be dreaming. It was large, the size of his thumbnail, and a perfect sphere, the rarest shape for a pearl. The color of the gem was a radiant soft blue. He held it up and slowly turned it between his fingers. The opalescent glow of the gem danced in the light. It seemed to be a magical thing. For a moment, Adas wanted to squeeze his hand shut, and never let go. He reluctantly handed the pearl to its owner.
“It is told,” said the old man, “that Cleopatra made a bet with Marc Antony that she could serve him a ten million sesterces dinner. She won the bet when she dropped a pearl earring in a glass of wine and drank it. This pearl is exceedingly beautiful and the rarest color. It is worth much, much more than Cleopatra’s earring. I told the rabbi I sold my entire fleet of ships and cargo, everything I owned, just to buy this pearl. That is how desperately I wanted it. Of course, I no longer had a means of support so I took the job of collecting the taxes here in Jericho. Collecting taxes is a miserable job, but I made a grand profit of it. I had again become a rich man. I thought my wealth would impress the rabbi.” He coughed and his face paled. Adas rose to get one of the servants.
“No. I am fine. Please stay.” He was obviously not fine, but Adas sat down. “When I showed the great rabbi the pearl, he barely glanced at it, a gem worth more than my own life. Instead, he said ‘The kingdom of heaven is like a merchant seeking pearls, who, when he had found one pearl of great price, sold everything he owned and bought it. The pearl is the kingdom of heaven.’ After talking with the rabbi, I promised to return four times over what I had overtaxed the people. I asked if I could travel with him.”
The old man took a sip of wine. “The rabbi said the job of collecting taxes is necessary and not evil, if done honestly. He said if I did the job with honor, then he would stay with me in my heart. I offered to sell the pearl and give the entire fortune to the poor. I was very surprised when he said to keep it, and that one day I would know what to do with it. He was right.”
The poor man’s face was growing pale. There was a bluish tint to his lips. His injuries were slowly killing him. He held out the pearl. “Here, take it. I want you to have it. The rabbi told me I would know what to do. This is it. You must take it.”
Too surprised to argue, Adas held out his hand. The old tax collector carefully placed the pearl in his palm. “Why would you give me this priceless treasure? You don’t know me. You haven’t even told me your name.”
“Zacchaeus. My name is Zacchaeus. You saved me from the robbers which is the last thing they expected you to do. The looks on their faces was almost worth the beating.” He tried to chuckle, but it only made him sputter. Adas knew the man was dying and decided to stay with Zacchaeus until he passed away.
“You are seriously injured, Zacchaeus. I think a broken rib has pierced your lung. I did not come to your aid in time.”
“Yes, you did. You have proved yourself worthy of this gift. It is because of you I will die in the comfort of my own home—not where the birds would pick my bones. I have had a long life. I do not fear death. The pearl is yours. Remember my story.” He closed his eyes. “I will rest now.”
Adas wondered if he should refuse the gift since he felt he had done nothing to deserve it. Then it occurred to him that no one truly deserved such a treasure, but could only accept it. “I don’t know what to say. I thank you, Zacchaeus, but mere words are so inadequate. I will always remember your story.” He held the pearl up to the light again, marveling at its shimmering loveliness. “The rabbi you spoke of—what was his name?”
“Yeshua. He fulfills the great prophesy foretold to us. He is the Messiah.”
The memory of that one sentence staggered Adas as if he’d been struck. Why had he not realized the great man who inspired Zacchaeus to embrace an honest life was this same man on the center cross? Adas peered into Yeshua’s face. “What have I done?” Again, he felt for the pouch around his neck. Zacchaeus gave him a priceless gem in remembrance of Yeshua, the man he had just executed.
Lucius saw the look of misery cross the centurion’s face and grinned with pleasure. With renewed confidence, he asked casually, “Do you still want me to break their legs for you, Centurion Longinus?” He again picked up the hammer.
Demas saw the soldier eyeing him. Terrible dread rose in his heart. He squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath, hoping he would black out before the crushing blow hit him. A soft puff of wind touched his body. He opened his eyes and sensed a fragrance he couldn’t identify. Demas remembered what Yeshua said to him just a few days ago.
“Demas, you have repented of your sins and God has forgiven you, but you must face the consequences of the law you broke and submit to the authorities.”
Demas was horrified. He thought confession alone would release him from his responsibilities. “Lord, they will crucify me. I will not be able to work in your ministry. Since John the Baptist is dead, shouldn’t I help spread your message?”
“They will crucify you. You will suffer for a short time, but then you will live forever with God. Do not worry. Others will spread my message. Your belief in me will be part of the message. I tell you this truthfully, when the worst comes, you will feel no pain. I will be with you. Do you believe this?”
“Yes, Lord, you will save me from the cross.”
“No, Demas, you will be crucified if you surrender yourself. King David committed adultery and murder.