By
Glenda Reynolds
My life growing up wasn’t so bad, although having no mother did make life harder for a young boy. My father Uriah raised cattle. It was profitable selling cattle for temple sacrifice. Only the wealthy and the priests could afford it. It also paid well for celebrations where people feasted. Both gentiles and Jews knew that the house of Uriah sold the best cattle.
Helping my father as a cattleman helped toughen me up physically. Inwardly I was a stubborn, wayward boy. I was rebellious and spoiled. He tried to impart his knowledge of the scriptures. I tolerated his reading of the scriptures before I went to sleep. He read Isaiah 40:1-5 more times than I care to remember. Maybe it was the times we were living in that gave him hope.
“Can’t you find a different scripture to read tonight, father? You’ve read that one so many times.”
“Ah, Tobias, please indulge me for a moment.” He cleared his throat and read, “Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, says your God. Speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem, and preach unto her, that her warfare is ended, that her iniquity is pardoned; for she hath received of the Lord's hand double in payment for all her sins. Listen! I hear the voice of someone shouting, ‘Make a road for Adonai through the wilderness; make him a straight, smooth road through the desert a highway for our God. Every valley shall be raised, and every mountain and hill be made low; and let the rough ground become a plain, and the rugged places a broad valley. The glory of Hashem will be seen by all mankind together; for the mouth of God hath spoken.’”
I closed my eyes and shook my head.
“Very well. I will read another. I won’t have it said that I am long-suffering to my son’s ears.” I smiled at him and he ruffled my hair. Father picked up another parchment and read from Malachi 3:1, “‘Listen: I will send my messenger before me to prepare the way. And then the Lord you are looking for will come suddenly to his Temple—the Messenger of God’s promises, to bring you great joy. Yes, he is surely coming,” says God Almighty.’”
He stopped and tears welled up in his eyes. Father raised his hands to heaven, giving thanks for Hashem’s many blessings; he thanked God for His promises. He placed one hand on my head to pray over his wayward boy. I would’ve knocked his hand away, but I respected my father and loved him.
Why did God take my mother?
A few days passed when a Roman soldiers came to our house. They dismounted and pounded on our front door. When no one answered the door, they proceeded through the gate where we were tending to our cattle. The leader of the guards read a decree from Rome.
“All Jewish cattleman will hereby give portions of their herds to the Roman garrison in your area, for it is decreed by divine Caesar,” the soldier declared with a pompous look on his face.
“You cannot do this! It is my livelihood! You cannot steal from me.”
“We can and we will!”
Father tried to resist. Other Roman guards held him as the leader punched my father’s face. I rushed in to stop them. One of them slapped my face with the back of his hand. I fell to the ground. My father pulled a sword out of a soldier’s sheath. Another instinctively pulled his sword and drove it into my father’s stomach. He sank to the ground not far from me. The soldiers gathered the herd and vacated our land. I pulled my father’s body out of the way to prevent him from getting trampled. That’s when it all began.
After my father’s death, I chose the life of a thief. As I grew to be a man, my skills had gotten better. I prided myself in that I never killed a victim - all except for one man.
I was with some of my friends who were also thieves. We were stealing from people just outside of Nain. They had next to nothing as far as authorities there. It was easy pickings - that was if we were fortunate enough to come across people who actually carried money bags. The filthy Romans taxed our people so much that purses were very light.
There happened to be one young man with his widowed mother. The three of us surrounded them. The young man was obstinate, not giving up his money without a fight. He pulled out a dagger and thrust it at me. I hit him in the head with a large rock. He went out cold. His mother’s screams could be heard for a mile. We stripped them of their valuables and went on our way. I thought I heard the last of it.
Yeshua Hamashiach or Rabbi as some called him, entered into Nain with his disciples and a great crowd. As He entered through the city gate, the same widow was now going to bury the son that I murdered. I stood in the shadows as I regrettably watched my handiwork. Yeshua came up and touched the coffin, and the bearers stood still.
Yeshua said, “Young man, I say to you, arise.”
At once the young man sat up and began speaking. My mouth dropped open.
How could this be? He was certainly dead by my hand.
I was filled with awe and relief. But I still doubted.
Others around me said, “A great Prophet has arisen among us!” while others said, “Hashem has visited our people!”
One thing is for sure, I never forgot what happened that day.
I carried on with my life of crime. I decided to travel to Jerusalem for Passover. I knew many people would be traveling there, some that could be easily robbed. My pride would be my downfall.
I chose to steal from a wealthy man who traveled with a small caravan. I singled him out and demanded his money as the tip of my blade poked his chin. He reached for his money belt just as his comrades attacked me from behind. They roughed me up a bit and tied my hands. I was tied to a cart and forced to follow the caravan until I was given over to the Roman authorities. They placed me in prison.
A few days went by when the mob outside of my prison grew loud with shouts of, “Crucify Him! Crucify Him!” Soon I was aware what my own fate would be. I was forced to march down the road out of the city walls and on to Golgotha (the Skull) where Roman soldiers nailed me to a cross. I could see the faces of some of my victims stare at me, raise their fists, and declare that G-d was serving justice. Then I saw Yeshua bearing his own cross on his bloodied back which was stripped of skin; He also bore a crown of thorns. This made me hate the Romans even more to see them treat a holy man like this. They continued to mock Him even after He was nailed to His cross.
The criminal on the other side of Yeshua said, “Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us!”
I replied, “Don’t you even fear God while you are dying? We are getting the rewards of our deeds. This Man has done nothing wrong.” I addressed Yeshua saying, “Yeshua, remember me when You come into Your kingdom.”
He answered me, “Truly, I say to you, today you will be with Me in paradise.”
It was at that very moment that I felt peace beyond understanding. A love came down from heaven and bathed my filthy heart in its warm embrace. It was then that I truly understood the scripture that my father cherished for so long. My iniquity was pardoned for Hashem was paying double for my sins. I will abide in the house of God forever.
