Jason mirrored his contemplative silence. When he spoke, it was hushed, as if the coming night and its time of rest was already sneaking in. “Mother did not teach you that.”
“No.” Which made him sigh. “Your mother is still battling with the idea that the performance of traditions may not be enough. And it pains me, because she has always served with her heart, yet still she refuses to acknowledge that as being the important part, rather than her words or the amount she gives to the synagogue.” He shook his head in dismay. “So many people have scorned her, have proven again and again that their faith ends at their lips, yet she defends them as being righteous.”
Cleopas felt Jason’s gaze on his profile, steady and measuring. “Father . . . not all that long ago, you baffled me. But since living under your roof again, I have seen the authority you hold. The kind I once thought came from position or title. But watching you . . . I think perhaps it is your goodness that makes you stand so straight. Yet still you are humble.” He chuckled, shook his head. “You are a blend of contradictions. The Roman who is such a dedicated Hebrew. The soldier who promotes peace. The master who teaches his slaves they are his equals. I can only pray that someday I can be the kind of man you are.”
The words warmed him all the way to his core. And lit a hope he had all but given up on. “Jason . . . months ago, you would not have heard me if I spoke of this. I pray now that you will. Another thing your mother will not accept is Messiah; but he has come. I have heard this teacher they call Jesus the Christ, and I have felt in my heart that he holds the keys to our salvation.”
“The Son of God.” There was a strange note in his voice, as if he remembered something Cleopas was not privy to. “But how do you know he is not just another man speaking empty words? Many have claimed to perform miracles, Father. Many can speak the same claims.”
“But no other follows his own lessons as this man does, and no other man has ever chastised the people so much without ever compromising the Law. The man John whom was titled the Baptist recognized this Jesus as the messiah prophesied in the Word. Even Herod feared that man.”
“Before or after he had him beheaded?” Jason shook his head. “I thought his contention with this John was that he accused Herod of adultery.”
“So he did,” Cleopas conceded, amused. “As well he should have. He took Phillip’s wife into his bed, dishonoring his own brother. But that is not the issue, Jason. Jesus of Nazareth speaks the truth. I know this. What I do not know is how to convince my family.”
Jason held his gaze for a long moment. “You cannot, Father,” he said at length. “If his lessons are the truth, then judging by what I have heard of them, each person must come to the conclusions within his own heart. All you can do is be an example; and at that, you have never failed. Watching you has taught me how to be a man, a soldier, a husband, and hopefully now a father. Watching you has taught me that a man need not be weak to have a faith, but is made strong by it. So watching you will undoubtedly convince us all that a teacher to whom you give such credence, you, a man of such wisdom, must be right.”
Cleopas reached out and clasped his son’s arm. “Thank you for your trust in me, Jason.”
Jason’s smile held wisdom where once there had only been self. “I am only returning the favor.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Abigail was bored. Her headaches kept her from reading, her swollen hands from playing the lute, and her otherwise altered shape from any other form of employment. She spent most of her days lounging around, going on the one walk her protective family allowed her, and talking or listening to Ester and Dinah. When Jason and Cleopas returned, she was subjected to a session of questioning in which they demanded how she had felt during every minute, then had to bear their demands that she get more rest, eat the food Dinah offered her, or perhaps jump over the moon. . . .
What she needed was a distraction. Like a baby. If she would just have the baby, all would be well, and they could all stop fussing over her and focus on someone else, instead. But if she dared mention her hope that the newest Visibullis would come early, she was admonished by Ester, who claimed that such a thing would be unhealthy for the child.
In her brooding mood, she found herself thinking much about the words Jason had told her he had had with his father, about the Nazarene. But she would inevitably decide she did not have enough information to form an opinion so just frustrated herself more. It did not help that both her husband and his father talked of little else for the days following their initial conversation. She was getting very weary of it.