They all took seats, several speaking at once to explain how they had come by the day off. It was Titus who said, “And your father? I heard he would be absent for two days, but not why. There is no problem, is there?”
Jason waved the subject away. “Nothing like that. He and my mother were just going out to visit some friends.” He smiled at Abigail as she filled his goblet full of the sweet red wine and then moved around the room to do the same for the guests.
Apidius, still smiling his thanks at Abigail, ventured to say, “Is he not headed for Ephraim?”
“I believe he is.”
“Perhaps he will run into the Galilean rebel. We heard he was moving in that direction. The governor is not certain he is a threat, but still, one can never be too certain about these dissidents. All reports of his actions are heard along with the rest.”
Jason smiled. “From what I have heard, this man is but a teacher. A rabbi. He upsets the religious leaders but stays far from politics.”
“I have heard,” Apidius said with a sparkle in his eye that warned of a joke and a matching curve to his lips, “that some are calling him the son of a god.”
They all laughed. Abigail, hefting the tray of food, tried to ignore the conversation.
“But what god?” Titus put some bread, cheese, and fruit on a plate when she offered it to him. “If he is the son of Volcan, I do not think that will earn him much of a reputation.”
The others laughed again, though this time Jason just smiled and swirled his wine. Abigail had already given him his food, but he did not touch it.
Lentulus reclined on his couch. “Well, if he is a teacher, he must the be the son of a wise god. Minerva, perhaps?”
The laughter continued at the suggestion that the virginal goddess had created a child.
“I believe the idea,” Jason interrupted, “is that there is only one God. And his Son, therefore, would be something special.”
Menelaus cocked a brow. “Are not all gods’ sons?”
Jason opened his mouth but then just shook his head and looked at Abigail. She had stopped by his side, waiting to be needed. “Abigail, I suspect you are more adept at handling these questions. I am afraid I ignored much of the teachings on the Law. Can you explain the difference to my dear pagan friends?”
He had softened his words with a grin for those pagan friends, but they were probably all wondering what he meant by drawing her into the conversation.
Abigail looked into his eyes and realized he was not putting her on the spot; he wanted his friends put in their places. She was warmed by the knowledge that though he was not ready to embrace his mother’s religion, he was also not willing to let it be insulted within his father’s house. Bolstered by the trust he obviously put in her to be able to defend the faith, she directed her gaze to Menelaus, since he had asked the question.
“The sons of your gods,” she said, “are merely demigods. Or heros such as Heracles and Achilles, men with supernatural strength, but men still. They were mortal, they were flawed, and they inevitably bargained their life for glory.” Her lips turned up. “In many ways, I suppose they are not unlike your gods: petty, self-interested, and bickering with their fellows.”
She switched her language to Latin, finding the formality suited her words. “My God is none of those things. He is omnipresent, omnipotent, omniscient.” In Greek again, “If he, therefore, were to have a Son, that Son would share those qualities, and yet be fully man. Which means he would bleed when cut, suffer pain both physically and emotionally, and face temptation as every other man. But unlike them, he would not give in to human sins, as even your gods purport to do.”
The four guests stared at her in complete amazement. It was Titus who regained his tongue first. “Then this god-man would look at you, want you like every other man, have the power to take you, but turn away?” He gave a scoffing laugh and looked at his friends. “Then he is not a man.”
Abigail raised her chin a notch. “My God, and hence his Son, would look at me and see my heart rather than my face. As only the best of men can ever do.”
Apidius gave a smile that was warm rather than hot. “I think we have been chastised for our roaming eyes.”
Titus waved that off. “It is a point not worthy of debate anyway. There is no one god with those qualities. Israel is the only nation backward enough to dare think there is. Look around you.” His cold gaze bore through her as he held out a hand in demonstration. “How could one being have created this world, and how could one being maintain it?”