A Personal Programme Design for the Oxford Guided Study Programme

OCMS Guided Study Programme

Programme Design

John Stott once asked the question, “Why is it that some Christians cross land and sea, continents and cultures, as missionaries? What on earth impels them?” His answer was simple. “It is not in order to commend a civilization, an institution or an ideology, but rather a person, Jesus Christ.”

However, the Scriptures indicate that it is very often the everyday commonplace things in life that move people to do things that ultimately bring glory to God and salvation to many. I intend this reality to be the object of my research.

My questions regarding the life and ministry of SPG Missionaries, Arthur and Mary-Ellen Lomax, are rather basic. First, what were the non-spiritual catalysts for their entry into mission? The Victorian era was bursting with activities that brought about monumental changes in the lives of millions of ordinary people. This was the time of Marx, Darwin, Dickens, Nightingale, Gandhi, Hobhouse…men and women who boldly and publicly challenged the status quo, who exposed the callous disregard for the poor and destitute, and who encouraged many to rise above their traditional stations in life. This was the time of change in the church…the Oxford Movement, and the novel thought of allowing non-aristocratic men into training for the service of the church. This was the time of mechanization, of factories, of educational reform, of epidemics (Cholera), famines (the Irish Potato and ama-Xhosa Cattle Famines), and emigration as well as a time of wars (the Sepoy Rebellion in India, the American Civil War, the Crimean War, and the Anglo-Boer War) , the greedy driven quest for wealth (Land, Diamonds, and Gold) and imperial expansion and brutal oppression. How did these people, ideas, and events work together in the lives of Arthur and Mary-Ellen in shaping their hopes and dreams for their personal future? I also wish to research possible reasons for their choosing to go under the auspices of the SPG, rather than other possible mission societies at that time and attempt to answer the questions: Why Mauritius? Why Lichfield? Why South Africa? 

The second question follows on from the first as it has to do with longevity in Mission. What motivated them to stay in Mission in spite of illness, hardship, wars, socio-economic and political upheaval. Arthur contracted some lung ailment while serving at Zonnebloem College and St Mary’s in Cape Town and yet, unlike some of his contemporaries, opted not to return to England, but chose rather to continue serving at another post in South Africa in Aliwal-North, a town on the very fringes of the Cape Colony. The ninth frontier war broke out as they were moving from Dordrecht to start a College to train and raise up local clergy in Mthatha. A protracted drought impoverished many parishioners, most of whom were farmers, which had a direct impact on their personal income and survival in Southwell. The Anglo- Boer War broke out and challenged their long-standing friendships with the Dutch in the Karoo region, Middleburg, Steynsberg, Molteno, and Craddock. But not only did they choose to stay, they somehow managed to overcome all these obstacles and difficulties. I hope to uncover a little more about the living conditions in their places of service by examining the reports and letters of their contemporaries and superiors.

Of course, as Stott points out, the overarching reason for entry into mission and longevity in mission is the conviction that we are in service of the Lord of all. It is only by His personal involvement in the lives of His servants that we are enabled to make decisions regarding both these questions, but God often uses the mundane to bring about the profound. And it is the mundane that lies behind my enquiry and my research.

It is hoped that my research and my writing will serve as an encouragement to those who seek to enter into the mission field in the future, as well as encouraging those who are currently serving in trying circumstances to make a wise and spiritually informed decision to press on.

Johannes W H van der Bijl

Windy Corner

Villiersdorp, South Africa

26 December 2020

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Johann and Louise: Training Disciples to Make Disciples in Southern Africa Many years ago, I decided that a wooden roller coaster ride was a good idea. Boy was I sorry! I ached in places I did not even know I had.  In many ways, 2020 reminds me of how I felt back then. Banged up and bruised, but grateful to have made it to the end in one piece. The year has pretty much ended as it began...with an alarming rise in Covid-19 infections, but minus a full country-wide lockdown. We had taken the Queen out of the Nursing Home for Thanksgiving and just as well...that day, several residents were found to be covid positive and the Queen was not allowed to return. So, we have her stopping with us until it is safe for her to return.  The sad reality of this pandemic is that much of our normal mission work ground to a halt. But we did find ways of reaching out to the those in need and Louise worked tirelessly with a local feeding scheme and with an organisation that ministers to people with disabilities. I managed to complete a book about Jesus' model of disciple making from the perspective of Simon Peter and signed a contract with Langham publishers...God willing, the book, entitled Breakfast on the Beach, will be published June of July 2021. I also completed a sequel to this book, entitled For Us, For Our Children, For The World that examines the life of Simon Peter post Ascension. In both cases, the books are written in a narrative style. I also wrote a devotional on the parable of the lost sons. The entries can be found on my blog here: http://missionsbloging.blogspot.com/ I am currently working on a biographical study of the life and ministry of two SPG (Society for the Propagation of the Gospel) Missionaries to Mauritius and South Africa in the mid 1800's through 1910. We are exploring possibilities of further research in Oxford where the SPG archives as well as many relevant important documents are kept at the Bodleian Library. This would be part of a Guided Study Program offered by Oxford.  In many ways, I seem to have found my true calling. I absolutely love researching and writing! Other than the day when Jesus saved me, the day my wife and I became one, the days my sons were born, when they were married, and when their children were born...I have never been so happy and contended and fulfilled. I pray that our Lord will make it possible for me to continue writing for His Kingdom! Finally, may Louise and I wish you all the happiest of Christmases...the Light of Life still shines in the darkness and even the darkness of a pandemic cannot overcome it! We pray that 2021 will be all you hope for a much, much more. Thank you for your ongoing support. We are so grateful to each one who prays for us and supports us financially and otherwise. As usual, our SAMS support account could be better, but then again it could also be worse. The Lord knows our needs and we leave that in His hands. Bless you and thank you.   All our love Johann and Louise Support Us Johann and Louise spent two years helping to develop the St. Frumentius Seminary in Gambella, Ethiopia. At present, they are mostly working in Southern Africa where they are serving in seven southern African countries, although they continue to work with the Diocese of Egypt, North Africa, and the Horn of Africa as well as other southern and northern African countries, through engaging in a disciple making movement in order to grow the body of Christ. They are partnering with J-Life and other like-minded ministries. This ministry is massive and has the ability to reach thousands. We are sent  through the Society of Anglican Missionaries and Senders, a missionary sending community, engaging in building relationships with the worldwide church to experience the broken restored, the wounded healed, the hungry fed, and the lost found through the love and power of Jesus Christ.  Support SAMS Copyright © 2016 Society of Anglican Missionaries and Senders, All rights reserved. www.sams-usa.org      Our mailing address is: PO Box 399 Ambridge PA 15003 Attention to: Johann and Louise van der Bijl Want to change how you receive these emails? You can update your preferences or unsubscribe from this list

THE UNTOLD STORY: Entry Sixty-Seven

Entry Sixty-Seven: Isaiah 57:17-19

It is a clear, crisp day today…not a cloud in the sky and no wind to whip up dust and send it barrelling down the road. I am in the marketplace, helping Levi and his family set up a stall. We are all there, even my servants, doing whatever we can. Suddenly, I hear Elizabeth suck in her breath. I look up and follow her gaze. Down the road, a long way off, I see him. To many he appears to be just another beggar, but I recognise my son immediately. I drop what I am doing and run. Yes, I run. No self-respecting Jewish man would run…but self-respect had nothing to do with it. This is love.

My servants and my friends run behind me…it is a mad, happy, disorderly dash. “Rejoice!” I shout at them. “May the very angels of God rejoice today!”  I fall on his neck and kiss him repeatedly. He falls to his knees and begins to speak. “Father I have sinned against God and against you. Do not call me son, as I not worthy of that title.” I hear his words, but I choose to listen rather to my heart. “Quickly…quickly!” I tell the servants. “Get him cleaned up…that robe of mine that I only wear on special occasions…bring it for him to wear. And you! That fatted calf…run, slaughter it and dress it. Tonight we celebrate! My dear son was dead…dead to so many…but now…now he is alive! Alive, I tell you! I forgive him…and I accept him…and I reinstate him!” I glare at those around me. “He is alive! Not dead!” I shout.

There is music…there is laughter, such as has not been for a long time in our home. Our friends are all present. But where is Aaron? Where is my other son? The servants tell me he is standing outside, refusing to come in. I leave the celebration…yes, of course, it ought not to be so…I am the father, he the son. But for my son, I will humble myself once more and go to bring him in. I am not prepared to lose him because I have found the other. 

But have I lost him already? Esau embraced his brother…even though he once hated him. When Jacob returned, Esau welcomed him home. But Aaron spits. “That useless degenerate son of yours who squandered our inheritance on loose living, has only come to bargain for more. He lost it all…now he wants more…he wants mine. Am I Esau that must return from the field only to find my materialistically insatiable brother has stolen my blessing?” Aaron speaks bitterly. He refuses to come in and be reconciled with his brother. I reason with him. “All of this…” I show the house and the lands with my arms. “All of this is yours. What I once had was divided between you, remember? This is yours.” I turn to him and try to take his hand. He recoils from me as one would from a snake about to strike. “Aaron, your brother was dead…dead in his sins and iniquities…you and our community declared him dead. And for his sinful greed, I too was angry. But he has returned…he has returned, and I have received him.” Aaron is about to object, but I cut him off before he can say one word. “No! No, he did not deserve mercy and grace…but I have given it…I have deliberately, and mercifully, and graciously chosen to give it freely. I have done what I believe the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob does with all of his children, wayward or otherwise. He would meet out solace to them…He would speak comforting words…He would say, ‘It is well for both the far and the near.’ Both…the far and the near. Now, it is right to rejoice because we have robbed him from the grave. He, too is a son of the promise!” 

Aaron’s face darkens. His eyes narrow to mere slits. “You eat with that sinner…I will not defile myself.” That is his reply before he turns away and walks into the night.

I feel a familiar flutter in my heart. Tears fall, thick and wet. Oh Aaron…Aaron…how I would gather you into my arms…gather you like a hen gathers her chicks…but you will not.

THE UNTOLD STORY: Entry Sixty-Six

Entry Sixty-Six: Psalm 139

Winter. It is cold and the sky is grey and dismal. The slightest breeze whips up a dust cloud. Our rains are not what they should be…but we are grateful for every drop that falls, as we hear of tales of desperation in the countries to the north. I am concerned for Benjamin…I entrust him into the merciful care of the one who alone sees him and knows him. Thankfully, because of a few wise decisions in the past, we have enough to eat…and more in the storerooms. Even our servants feast sumptuously.

I marvel at Aaron’s arrogant self-justification…his self-righteousness…as if he has earned the right to be a member of God’s family. Does he not understand that it is God who initiates our relationship with Him? From the moment sin entered the world, it was God who came seeking after us. It was God who came to set us free from bondage in the land of Egypt. It was God who brought us back from exile. Does he not realise that God chose us, not because we were a great people…indeed, we were the least of all peoples…but God chose us because He loves us. For no other reason. And therefore He continues to choose us…because He loves us, He forgives us because He knows that if He kept a record of our sins, we would all be lost. 

No, I am persuaded. We are all on level ground when we stand before our holy God. Not one can elevate himself above another. We have all sinned. We have all fallen away. Every one of us has chosen to go our own way…that is what the Scriptures say.  Benjamin sinned…but so have I…so has Aaron…and where there is sin, God’s grace is greater still. Therefore, if I claim to be a child of God, I too must be gracious, forgiving, merciful, patient, and kind. To both Aaron and Benjamin. They are both my sons. I love them both and I want them both to be reconciled to me and to each other…and ultimately, to God.

THE UNTOLD STORY: Entry Sixty-Five

Entry Sixty-Five: Romans 3:9-20

“And just how long will you keep up with this vigil of yours?” Aaron actually speaks to me. This is the first time in months that he addresses me, albeit in a disrespectful manner. “So our land has been returned…no thanks to that son of yours…but it changes nothing. Benjamin disgraced our family…he disgraced our community…he disgraced our God and everything we believe in.” Listening to him speak, is like drinking poison. “And you?” I ask. “Are you without sin? Then perhaps you can cast the first stone on his return.” I am angry. Aaron opens his mouth and then closes it. He walks away. At the door he turns. “He will never return,” he says. He leaves.

Months ago, this kind of interaction would have bothered me. But I am immune to his putrid vitriol now…he can no longer infect me with his heart disorder. I will still watch the road. The wise King Solomon once wrote that while hatred may stir up contention, love covers all offences.  I choose to forgive…I choose to forgive Benjamin for his deliberate sins against me, against my family, against my community, against my God. I choose to forgive him…because I wish to be forgiven for my iniquities too. I cannot ask for forgiveness if I am not willing to extend it to those who sin against me.  I do not overlook his sin. No. That would be unwise. He has sinned…grievously…selfishly…and has brought shame and sorrow upon me. But we do the same to God every day…and He chooses to forgive us. Can I do any less, since I claim to be His child? 

I must find Benjamin…find him before Aaron does…find him before anyone in our community does. I must lead the way…I must demonstrate the love of God by my actions. No one seeks after God…God seeks after us.  Benjamin will have nothing to offer…nothing to justify his behaviour. I must justify him through my behaviour…my love and my acceptance must stem the tide of hatred…the baying for blood…the hunger for vengeance.

THE UNTOLD STORY: Entry Sixty-Four

Entry Sixty-Four: Romans 8:28

Autumn is once more around the corner and still no sign of Benjamin. We hear of drought and famine in the north. Travellers from those places, speak of widespread hunger. I hope and pray that he is safe and well…and alive.

A messenger from Herod came to see me…on urgent business he said. Apparently, Octavian has defeated Mark Antony at sea. The humiliated Roman General returned to his lover only to die at his own hand rather than face Octavian. The Egyptian Queen however apparently thought she could beguile the victor with her feminine charms, but he was not swayed. The messenger tells me she too took her own life. While they were wicked people and did many evil things, I derive no pleasure in the death of the sinful.  Would that they had come to their senses and left their self-destructive paths.

“What has this news to do with me?” I ask the messenger. He tells me Herod is terrified of Octavian and does not wish to be seen as a supporter of Antony or Cleopatra. He now wishes for me to take back Benjamin’s land and to deny that it ever changed hands. Herod wants no trail connecting him to the infamous couple.

Lord God of Israel. Is this really happening? Can this be true? It must be. I have a document with the seal of Herod himself. I weep. But not for long. I must share this news with my friends. Elizabeth is beside herself with joy. “Now, my young master can return!” she cries. 

Yes. Now, Benjamin can return. The land of our ancestors is ours once again. Some of the young men offer to go and look for him. How they mirror my heart! It is well, I say. He will come when the time is right. The same God who turns the hearts of kings to do His bidding  works in Benjamin’s heart too.

THE UNTOLD STORY: Entry Sixty-Three

Entry Sixty-Three:

It seems my routine practise of watching the road to see if Benjamin is returning is rubbing off on my friends. They appear to be copying my behaviour…they too are filled with hope. The yearning has always been there, but, I think, it has been a disconnected yearning…a yearning based on despair, rather than confident faith. 

A few months have passed since I last wrote. For some or other reason, I don’t always feel the need to write down my thoughts anymore. At first, journaling really helped me navigate my way through the whirlwind around me…but now, I am so focussed on others that I don’t have the energy to still think through my thoughts at night. That and the fact that I am truly happy once more. I am fulfilled in what I do. My “new” life seems so much better than my “first”…so much deeper and purpose driven and purpose filled. Meaningful…that’s the word. My previous life was so narrow…I didn’t see the need to reach out to those around me who needed me. I was quite happy in my small world.

But my life has been enriched by the experiences of others…to see things from their perspective is refreshing and invigorating. I feel like I am learning something new every day. Learning to live again…a new way of life with new goals and new values and new priorities. 

It has been a year since Benjamin left. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t miss him…that I don’t ache for him. I love him. I cannot do otherwise. My eyes are forever scanning the horizon…along with the eyes of my friends…perhaps today, dear Lord? He left in Springtime…it is fitting that he would return when new life is bursting forth all around me. I watch…I wait…I work to help myself through helping others. A better life…a deeper life…a life that means something to others. That, Benjamin, you have given me.

THE UNTOLD STORY: Entry Sixty-Two

Chapter Six: Embracing Hope

Entry Sixty-Two: Isaiah 40

What is hope? In my last few entries, I wrote about growth…about strength…about dependence. Today, I meditate on the promises found in the later prophecies of Isaiah…especially the one that speaks of comfort for Zion. God challenges me directly through the sage. To whom will you equate me? He asks. Who is equal to Me? He charges me to look to the creation itself and to be humbled by His mighty power. And then He whispers tenderly…why do you say your path is hidden from Me? Why do you think that I am indifferent to your cause? Do you not understand? Are you unable to comprehend the truth? I am the everlasting God…I am the Creator and Sustainer of all that is…I do not become fatigued or weary. I give strength to the exhausted…I empower the weak.

There it is. He strengthens me…He empowers me…He carries me…He lifts me up so that I may mount up on high along with the eagles. That is hope. I can see that now. Regardless of what my future may hold, He is with me, and that is what gives me purpose. He has a plan for my life, and it is a good one…that is what the weeping prophet says.  And if Jeremiah could hold onto that word in the midst of rejection, misunderstanding, persecution, and aggression…then so can I. God is true…He is not a human being that He should stoop to falsehoods and fabrications. And so I will trust Him and not rely on my emotions…my circumstances…my community…the opinions of my son, Aaron, and his rabbi. Human beings are like grass…their glory like the flowers in the fields. It is only God’s Word that remains constant.

And so my eyes scan the road Benjamin will take when he returns…if he returns. For whether he returns or does not return, God remains faithful, good, and true. 

THE UNTOLD STORY: Entry Sixty-One

Entry Sixty-One: Job 42:5-6

Looking back I feel as if I have been climbing up a steep embankment from the deepest, darkest valley. It has been hard…at times, I despaired. Would I ever reach the summit? But every day, I have placed one foot before the other and now…now I sense I am about to crest this ridge. What will greet me on the other side? I don’t know. But I am stronger now…more resilient…and certainly no longer alone. My fellow climbers are here with me, and I am all anticipation for what the next season of my life holds in store for me.

Like sun shining through the leaves of the trees, patches of light reached down to me from time to time. There were moments of clarity…of lucidity. Those patches of light kept me from losing touch with reality. I could bear the darkness because of the dappled light along the way. But I learned that light shines through the lives of others…their kind deeds…their compassionate words…and I have learned to walk by that light even when there seems to be no light at all. 

But now, as I reach out my hand to grasp the final boulder, so that I can pull myself up and over, I sense a different light…a light like the dawn. As I stand in the cold early morning darkness and watch the sun rise in the East, I can see it clearly. It is cold now, but when the sun’s rays touch me, I will be warm. The darkness has tried to overwhelm me…to overcome…to overpower…to overthrow…but God’s light has been shining in that darkness. I was blinded by my own sorrow and could not see it. Now, He has opened my eyes and I see. My ears had heard about God…about His love, His compassion, His patience, His mercy, His grace…I had heard, and I had believed. But now…through this valley of darkness, I see Him…I finally truly see Him.

And I am awed…overjoyed…humbled…exalted. Tears flow freely, and each drop that falls, washes away my misperceptions of Who He is and who He wants me to be.

THE UNTOLD STORY: Entry Sixty

Entry Sixty:

The winter winds are beginning to blow down the dusty streets…the days of rain will soon displace the days of sun. Not that we get much rain in Jericho. The valley keeps us fairly dry in contrast to Jerusalem, just a day’s walk to the West from us. But the winter rains bring a promise of new life. Without the coolness and the wetness, there would be no harvest. There is a movement…a flow from one season to another. 

I have been reading over the entries in the journal I have been writing since Benjamin left. Here too is movement…a flow…and here too is new life. My life is new, as are the lives of those in our growing family group. Like the rain replenishes the soil, so the mercy, grace, love, kindness, and compassion of God has washed over us and filled the emptiness inside us. The seeds of the Scriptures, sown through the years, have sprouted and grown. Perhaps in due season, we will bear much fruit to God’s glory. 

As I reflect on this, I see that this was the way God intended us to live from the beginning. We were never meant to be alone…it is not good, God said, for man to be alone. But it is not only in our union with a spouse that we find ourselves fulfilled. It is in union with our fellow human beings that the purpose of life is revealed. Together we display what it means to be human. Each one of us is a body made up of individual yet complimentary parts. If we are to function at all, each part must work together in harmony. So, too, it is when we learn to live in harmony with others that we learn to live…really live.

Had Benjamin not broken my heart, my heart would never have been opened to Levi and the others. It is through suffering that I have been made whole. It is through suffering that I have found life.

THE UNTOLD STORY: Entry Fifty-Nine

Entry Fifty-Nine: Isaiah 53

My grief has had a very positive effect on my life. It has taught me that I am not alone. At first, I could not have imagined me saying such a thing. I felt alone…I was alone…after all, didn’t my circumstances prove that? Aaron was present…at times I wished he were not…he was so unpleasant, and his unpleasantness made me feel even more alone…but he was also absent. In one sense, he and Benjamin were the same…they were both at once present and yet absent. And then, my community…they too were present, but in a very hostile way…first disowning my son and then disowning me. In this, they were also absent. And God? My mind told me He was always with me…my faith demanded that I believe that. But where was He? Hiding in impenetrable light?

 No, I would never have been able to see anything positive in the beginning. All I could see was darkness. But now I have found that He was present in my aloneness. He did not only look on my pain…He took my pain upon Himself and bore it for me…otherwise I surely would have been crushed under the burden. Indeed, I believe I am beginning to understand God more than I ever have before. I now know how He feels when we, His people, turn away from Him…turn our backs on Him…reject Him for gods that are not gods. Isn’t that what Benjamin did to me? Isn’t that what Aaron has done as well? By embracing a theology of hatred, has He not strayed from the God Who defines Himself as love? 

But my aloneness has thrown me into the path of others who are also alone…alone in grief…alone in poverty…alone. And now my aloneness has given way to a togetherness…a deeper togetherness than I have every experienced before. A mutual interdependence. Our mutual pain has stripped away all pretence…and we are open one to the other…together, we can be completely vulnerable and feel perfectly safe.

THE UNTOLD STORY: Entry Fifty-Eight

Entry Fifty-Eight: Psalm 12

We are getting to know more families torn apart by tragedy. There is something comforting about meeting other human beings who have faced the ugly, paralysing effects of grief, and yet have survived…and not only survived, but grown through the process. They are further on down the road to recovery than what I am…some even further along than Levi and his family… and this is has given us such hope. Watching them live life now, makes me think of a parent helping a baby walk for the first time. They are the parents…I am the child…their strength is the hand holding me up…leading me…guiding me…breaking my fall, as I am still prone to falling into darkness.

These new friendships remind me every day that I am not alone. That there are many who suffer all around me…who also feel that they are the only ones being systematically torn apart by something they cannot see or touch. To me, their battle scars are like nectar to the honeybee…I am sustained by their beauty of their resilience…their ability to pick themselves back up out of the cesspool of pain, and their determination to rediscover meaning and purpose in life even while carrying with them the unfillable void of loss. 

It is a strange truth…finding strength in weakness…comfort in pain. But if life is a school, teaching us what it means to really live, then everything must have a purpose…suffering included. Suffering is the heat that extracts a precious metal from the rock…that purifies it…and the more the heat, the better the metal. Or at least so I am told. The Psalmist tells us that the Word of God is better than silver refined and like gold purified seven times in a furnace. And he writes this in the context of our God arising to bring safety to the oppressed and the needy. Suffering teaches us that we are dependent…dependent on God and on our fellow human beings. I need my friends…my new family…and we all need our God.

THE UNTOLD STORY: Entry Fifty-Seven

Entry Fifty-Seven:

Levi tells me that in order to help others, I have to learn how to help myself…but I wonder if it is not in the helping of others that I have found the strength and the reason to help myself. Since being engaged in activities so different to my previous routine when Benjamin was still here, I have been forced to distance myself from that which dragged me back into the past. 

I have been so busy working with my newfound friends that I have neglected to record my thoughts in my journal for some time now. I find that I am so much more aware of those around me who are not as fortunate as I am…especially the children. Jericho has its fair share of poverty stricken people…people who came with a hope that they might find gainful employment in a larger town, only to find that their expectations did not match reality. Many are so impoverished that they are now beggars who sit at the entrance to the town day after day, hoping for handouts from kind strangers. How is it possible that we, a nation supposedly under God, have so many destitute people right on our doorsteps? 

I found these poor men and women as I have been walking up and down the road by which Benjamin would follow should he return to me…to us. The law tells us to take care of the needy among us, and so we have begun to employ those who are still able, to work in the fields. Esther and her daughters are teaching some of the women folk to weave baskets out of the reeds that grow in abundance along the riverbanks. This activity really boosts my spirits.

But I still watch for Benjamin. My eyes strain to see the faces of those walking on the road. Dear God in Heaven grant that one day, I might see my son coming along the way…coming home to us. In the meantime, I occupy my waking moments with helping others help themselves. Aaron thinks I have finally gone mad…

THE UNTOLD STORY: Entry Fifty-six

Entry Fifty-Six:

I am exhausted from carrying the weight of memory inside me…I have lived in the past too long…I have lived in a dream world too long. The seasons are changing. Summer is gracefully giving way to the cooler breezes of Autumn, and it is high time for me to move on as well…on to a different season. Weeks ago I thought that I would never again experience the bliss of pure joy…it was not only grief that swallowed me alive, but guilt…guilt that was mostly unfounded, but fed by the words and deeds of others, especially that of my older son, Aaron. 

But since I began to focus on others and their needs…my newfound friends, but especially Levi…a living, breathing, tangible, precious person who can benefit from my positive intervention and aid…I have begun to experience joy once more. We are visiting the pool by the river again…our whole new family…and we are laughing and having fun once more. The first time I felt happy again, the guilt was quick to follow. My son may be dead…he may be languishing in some foreign prison…he may have been robbed and is lying somewhere, injured…he may be hungry. And I was having fun? It felt wrong…callous…unloving. But Levi, in his wisdom…wisdom gained mostly by his own experience with grief and suffering…told me that as I was able to be kind to him as well as others, I needed to be kind to myself. I needed to intentionally and defiantly break out of the prison of sorrow and despair.

Since then, I have been working hard at rediscovering the sheer delight and enjoyment of life. No, I have not forced Benjamin out of my mind…out of my heart. To the contrary. Benjamin is at the very centre of my joy. I am learning to celebrate the fact that he is my son…love is not annulled by the bad choices made by others…he is and always will be my flesh and blood…a blessed consequence of the union of two people who truly loved each other. The son of my love…

THE UNTOLD STORY: Entry Fifty-Five

Entry Fifty-Five:

I have stopped dreaming dreams…dreams are wonderful things, but they are not reality. And dreaming too many dreams tend to leave me discouraged and disappointed. I can dream whatever I choose, but dreams are like mist in the sun…they fade without providing anything material to the dreamer. I have learned this indirectly from Elizabeth, Levi, Simeon, John…and the others…they are real, tangible. While dreams did provide some comfort in the days following Benjamin’s disappearance, they now provide nothing but the realization that they are dreams. Better to embrace what is real than to waste my time on what is not and what may never be. 

Now, I spend my time building relationships with my new friends…and rebuilding my relationship with my brother-in-law and his family…Daniel and his sweet, gentle wife, Esther…their daughters, Rachel and Rebekah. Together, we all help Levi and his family develop marketable skills, and we assist them in promoting their wares. We wonder at those who refuse to buy from them…do they not know that they cannot be defiled by helping those who cannot help themselves? Epecially since they are the main cause of their downward spiral into poverty.

So, I have exchanged my dreams for actual physical things. But this does not mean I have lost hope…to the contrary. I still watch the road every day, in anticipation for that moment when Benjamin finally sees the error of his ways and returns to a family ready to receive him with open arms and open hearts. Unlike dreams, hope is founded upon the reality that nothing is too hard for the Lord. He who opened Sarah’s barren and withered womb.  He who made the heavens and the earth.  He who gathered his people from wherever he scattered them and brought them back to their own homeland.  With him, all things are possible. Hope will never be disappointed as long as it is focused on the heart of God.

THE UNTOLD STORY: Entry Fifty-Four

PART THREE: Destination

Chapter Five: Cresting the Crisis

Entry Fifty-Four:

Everyone processes grief differently. This I am beginning to learn. At first, I thought all grief is the same…from what I had observed in the past, everyone seemed to deal with grief in a similar manner. But I know now, from my own first-hand experience that this is not true. There is no discernible pattern to grief…there are as many different paths as there are different people. I have learned also that there are just as many different ways to approach and console those who are grieving as there are different varieties of responses to loss. Some show no signs of distress…others are angry…others are vocal…many are silent. 

Benjamin’s uncle, his godfather, came to see me today for the first time. Initially I did not wish to see him. I felt he had forsaken the one he had vowed never to abandon. But the holy Scriptures tell us not to give evil for evil , so I relented. And it was good. He explained that he was angry in the beginning…at Benjamin and then at me. He believed I was making a mockery of the law. But as time went by his heart outshone his mind, and he began to turn back to the path of light…the path of love and commitment. He admired my stance…my immovable resolution to stand with Benjamin, regardless of the pressure to do as Aaron, the rabbi, and the community has done…as they urge me to do. With tears Benjamin’s uncle, my brother-in-law, sought my forgiveness and I granted it gladly.

I took him along to meet my new friends…my new family. He wept freely as he confessed that what I ought to have received from him, I had received from others. But what matters is not when he came to me, but that he came…he, too, has enriched my life.

THE UNTOLD STORY: Entry Fifty-Three

Entry Fifty-Three: Ecclesiastes 3:10-12

It is too hot now to meet at the river. As I am now the tender of the Orchards for Herod on Benjamin’s land, we decide to meet in the shady lane between two large, leafy Palm Trees. Levi and I believe that since we have struggled with our respective tragedies and have survived, we now have something to give these young men…something to offer. But we are wrong…at least in one sense. These boys have something to teach us too. Our tragedies have touched their lives as well. One knew Asher well…and his trauma is as real as ours. He tells us how he tried in vain to get Asher to follow a different path…to make better decisions. When Asher was killed in the brawl, this young man felt as if his hopes had been irreparably shattered. And the others, they have lost a good friend in Benjamin. In that we are the same: each one has been wounded deeply. But we are also alike in that we do not want to waste our suffering. If we must endure this hurt, then let it serve to make us better human beings…and, in turn, to help us make others better too.

Asher’s friend, Simeon by name, quotes a Roman philosopher named Lucius Annaeus Seneca. “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.” So the Gentile’s have wisdom too, I say. We all laugh. Another young man, John by name, quotes from the preacher. “God has set eternity in the hearts of human beings, and yet they cannot grasp what God has done from beginning to end.”  We talk about many things…and enjoy learning from each other. Ah, Benjamin. While you changed my life in profound ways by your presence, you have also changed me profoundly by your absence.  Had you not left this aching void in my heart, my life would never have been filled by these wonderful people. 

I no longer have to seek you in my dreams and in my fantasies. You live on in our growing care for each other.

THE UNTOLD STORY: Entry Fifty-Two

Entry Fifty-Two: 2 Corinthians 1:3-7

Levi asks me how I feel about Herod’s proposition. I tell him that while I am pleased to have the promise of the return of our ancestral land in the near future, I would still much rather have my son than the land. He nods and tells me he understands. I suddenly dissolve in tears…to have another living, breathing, human being say he understands how I feel is overwhelming. Our respective tragedies, although very different one from the other, unites us and reinforces the growing bond between us. Even though we have only been talking to each other for a few days now, I sense that here is a man I can trust…I can expose my deepest fears and craziest fantasies without trepidation…I can be vulnerable in his presence…here is a friend I can rely on regardless of what may transpire. As someone once told me, “In prosperity our friends know us. In adversity we know our friends.”  

I tell Levi that I wish to introduce him to Benjamin’s friends. Perhaps, together we can build new lives…even a new family. He wonders out loud whether the parents of the young men would not object. I tell him about the fist-wielding man and how the boys stood between us until he stormed off in rage. These are not ordinary young men, I tell him. Perhaps they are equally disillusioned with the harshness of our community. Think on it, I say. We who are older and more experienced could lead them back to what the Scriptures teach about God…rather than what they are taught to believe in the oral laws of the rabbis. This would give us a purpose in life, no? 

Yes, Levi agrees. It would. Our continued presence on this planet would then have greater meaning and substance. None of the young men could ever replace our sons, but they could provide us with the reason to get up in the morning, take another breath, and live to face another day.

THE UNTOLD STORY: Entry Fifty-One

Entry Fifty-One:

I have an unexpected visitor. It is the king himself. Elizabeth ushers him into the room where I am seated. I make an attempt to stand but he urges me to remain seated. He is an impressive man…severe and stern…larger and more powerful than I had imagined…and yet, I see fear in his eyes. I ask him to sit and call for refreshments. For a while, neither of us speaks. The servants come and leave.

Herod clears his throat and begins to explain the purpose of his visit. He tells me of things I already know, thanks to Elizabeth. He grunts as he tells me that he now pays the Egyptian an exorbitant sum of money to lease land that he had initially bought for himself. He clears his throat once more. I say nothing. Is he expecting me to respond to something? He now tells me he has heard of my troubles…how my community has rejected me and hounded me for what my son has done. I cannot help but think that his presence in my home will not exactly help to ease the tension between me and the townsfolk. 

The king leans forward, as if he wishes to tell me a secret. He lowers his voice, but it is not a secret…it is a proposition. Would I care to tend his land? He will require the proceeds so that he may pay the fee he owes Cleopatra, but…he pauses and then adds…he knows the Jubilee law and is willing to abide by it. But the Jubilee year is imminent, I remind him. He nods and for a while he says nothing more. Again he leans forward as he tells me that he does not wish Rome to know about his dealings with the Egyptian. Ah, so that is the fear I see in those steely eyes. He is afraid that Octavian may triumph over Mark Antony…he is the king of Israel, but he is the king because he is able to strategize and thus lessen his risks by keeping all possibilities open. 

I watch him leave. Sovereign God, is this possible…?

A Cry From The Middle

Joan Baez’s grey mare stumbled

Mercifully they put her down

Teapot smashed against the counter

Shards assigned to garbage mounds

Nietzsche famously once stated

What doesn’t kill you makes you strong

This is trite and shallow thinking

Seeing only two extremes is wrong

The saying often is repeated

By the strong and not the weak

From the dead words can’t be spoken

Silent vigil’s all they keep

No! There is an in-between

Ghastly world and miserable

Those who neither die nor strengthen

Die and yet are living still.

THE UNTOLD STORY: Entry Fifty

Entry Fifty:

The Roman General and the Egyptian Queen leave suddenly, in a cloud of dust. Apparently, Octavian is using the revelation of Mark Antony’s will and the subsequent revoking of his position as Consul as a pretext for war. Herod, I am told, has managed to persuade the Queen to let him lease the land, something for which my community is thankful…thankful enough to leave me alone. The soldiers depart as well, and the town breathes freely once more. 

I tell Levi how much I appreciate his kindness towards me during this very trying time. He smiles as he asks me if there are others things for which I am appreciative. I tell him about Elizabeth and Benjamin’s friends. They have been mainstays of strength for me…Elizabeth from the very first day. I tell him how her presence at first irked me…I so wanted to be alone…invisible…but she persisted in shadowing me wherever I went. I later found out that for the first few nights, she had slept on the floor outside my door. For this devotion I am most grateful. The boys have helped me relive the happy days and have assisted in keeping a brighter image of my son alive. 

Levi tells me that he did not wish to see the light of day after that long night of horror. He wanted to curl up into a ball and die…or simply cease to exist. But he had to be strong for his wife and their younger children. He had to get up and face each day in spite of his desire to expire. So, he gained strength…day by day…moment by moment. The first time he felt any sense of thankfulness stunned him…he had not thought it possible to be grateful for anything ever again. But he was grateful he was not alone…he learned at that moment never to take any one person for granted…to cherish and treasure even the smallest deed of compassion. Yes, I can see this now…I cherish and treasure my newfound friends.

THE UNTOLD STORY: Entry Forty-Nine

Entry Forty-Nine:

Elizabeth tells me the Egyptian Queen has been seen wooing Herod when Mark Antony is not present. He, in turn lavishes expensive gifts on her, but does not succumb to her advances. His tendency has been to eliminate those whom he views as a threat, but his advisors have cautioned him to tolerate this Queen…that is, if he wishes to stay in Mark Antony’s good graces. He is all too anxious to escort her back to Egypt where she belongs.

Levi arrives and apologises for not coming yesterday. The situation in town was too tense, he says. I understand, I reply. He tells me that while the pain of the past has served to strengthen him, it has also taught him the wisdom of being cautious. Rushing into situations without carefully weighing the possible consequences often leads to more pain, he says. “And so,” he adds, “I believe I am more in control of my life than ever before. Pain has granted me a new awareness…a new perception…a new perspective. It has made me more sensitive and yet, at the same time, more resilient.” I look at him blankly.

“I know you do not see this at the moment…but the fact that you have managed this far tells me that you are much stronger than you think you are.” I am startled by this revelation. He is right. I have lived through the worst kind of pain and I am still living through it. Somehow the grief has not overcome…it has not won. It did win a few of the initial battles, I admit…but I am winning the war. Now, empowered by my new friend’s wisdom, I am able, for the first time since Benjamin’s abscondence, to see something positive about myself…even something positive about this throbbing misery…this mourning…this melancholy. The man sitting before me is a testimony of this…before this trial I would not have known him…I might never have known this precious person had I not been catapulted into my current nightmare. I am a better person now.

THE UNTOLD STORY: Entry Forty-Eight

Entry Forty-Eight:

The Egyptian Queen has not yet set her perfumed foot on Benjamin’s land. Aaron will not speak to me. He avoids me as best he can. But my trusted source of information, Elizabeth, tells me, Herod is not comfortable with what Mark Antony has done and is cautiously trying to persuade the queen to allow him to lease the land from her…here in Jericho as well as in En Gedi.  Apparently, she appears to be willing, but for quite a large sum of money. Will he impose yet another tax on us to pay this fee? This is the talk of the town, she tells me. I am appalled. I can well understand why they hate me so much. I set this in motion by agreeing to Benjamin’s request. His unexpected actions have brought calamity upon us. I can see that now, and I am grieved.

O Benjamin, my Benjamin. What have you done? What were you thinking? Your one selfish action has spiralled downwards alarmingly, and the consequences threaten to overwhelm me. I find that anger is rising in my heart. How could you do this to me? You have brought shame on our family. We were once respected in this community…but now we are humiliated. My name is mocked in the town because of you. 

I find myself at war within. My anger threatens to quench my love for you. I ponder this thought. Am I wrong in being angry with you? No, my anger is justified. You deserve the full brunt of my wrath. How have I failed you that you repay me in this underhanded manner? Like the God of Israel gave us a well-watered land overflowing with milk and honey, so I gave you only the very best. But you have given me evil for good. But then another emotion surfaces…my deep love for you. Is it an emotion? No, emotions are unpredictable things. No, this is a choice I am making…a conscious choice to love you in spite of my righteous anger.

THE UNTOLD STORY: Entry Forty-Seven

Entry Forty-Seven:

The royal chariot of Cleopatra arrived sometime during the night I am told by Elizabeth. Where was she that she was able to get here so quickly, I wonder. In Jerusalem? Herod’s loyalty to Mark Antony has clouded his judgement, it seems. Roman soldiers are posted everywhere in and around Jericho, making sure there is not trouble. The Queen and the General are apparently being entertained in the Royal Hasmonean Palace. Elizabeth tells me the Egyptian is not the striking beauty many have claimed she is. How does she know this? I ask. The servants of Herod have been talking, she replies. Will they be coming to inspect Benjamin’s land? I enquire. She does not know, but she will ask. She has quite a network, this Elizabeth.

I send a message to Levi. Would he favour me with his presence? His conversation is a source of comfort to me. He comes. We sit on the balcony, listening to the moderated sounds of the disgruntled people of Jericho. They are not pleased, but they are afraid of the soldiers and of Herod. I would expect Levi to feel uncomfortable with me especially since I am the target of many hostile glances from those passing by…but he is not. He seems resilient and unaffected by the opinions of others. How is it that he has managed so well?

He tells me of our communities’ reaction to the death of Asaph. I am embarrassed to hear him tell the story as, while I was not involved, I failed to comfort him then as he is seeking to comfort me now. I was too busy living my own life. He tells me that in spite of their needing to grieve, he and his wife were vilified by the so-called righteous. His brotherhood of priests rejected him…he was no longer fit to serve as a priest, they said. Asaph was denied a proper burial. The crowd would have cast his body on the dung heap had Levi not taken care of the arrangements himself. He and his wife washed and prepared his broken body. Alone. He weeps afresh.

Strife

I want 

What you want

But can’t have

Cause you have

And won’t give

Less I give

What you want

That I have.

THE UNTOLD STORY: Entry Forty-Six

Entry Forty-Six:

Our clandestine meeting was delayed. Rumours that Mark Antony has given Benjamin’s land to his lover, the Egyptian Queen Cleopatra are spreading in the town. The smitten Roman has already heaped many gifts on this queen. It is said that he has bequeathed to their illegitimate children the whole of the eastern Roman Empire. Julius Caesar’s beneficiary, Octavian and the Roman Senate, are not happy about this. Apparently, the couple are on their way to Jericho…Cleopatra wishes to inspect her gift. Herod is in town preparing for their arrival. Again, our community is in uproar. How is it possible that my land could change hands so many times in such a short space of time? For our community, the nightmare has gone from bad to worse. Herod was enough to make them disown my son. Mark Antony had them calling for my stoning. What will they do now? The Egyptian Queen is dangerous and fickle. Those who know, say that Herod is concocting a plan to lease the land from her, just to keep her away from his backdoor. 

Levi and I retreat to my home. It is safer. He tells me more about his son…how, in spite of their care to have him instructed in the way of the God of Israel, he had been intent on making the wrong decisions even from an early age. At first, he was a star pupil in Hebrew School. He learned the alphabet in record time and was way ahead of his class as far as memorization of the Torah was concerned. But then something went wrong. Levi says he has wracked his brain to find out what happened…when it happened…to no avail. What happened happened…that is all he can say. His son, Asaph by name, chose the wrong path and was soon surrounded by the wrong people. Levi and his wife prayed and hoped that this would be a passing phase. Any attempt at discipline only seemed to exacerbate his bad behaviour. They were grieving parents long before that awful night when the news no parents wants to hear came bursting into their lives. 

No!

NO!

When I was a child

I dreamed of being someone

Someone other than I was

Greater than I was

Someone worthy of love and respect

As a child

I lived each day as it came

Dreaming

Scheming

Without fear of being no-one

But then as time went by

The dream began to sour

In my teens

The dream became a nightmare

And there was a shift in my thinking

Fear became my daily companion

I would never be anyone

Other, greater, worthy

Living, I became nothing

A cruel reality mocked me

I was nothing more than mediocre

And yet

From the dungeons deep within me

Came a voice that cried out, “No!”

But today

Life still delivers nothing

Nothing but empty dreams

Broken plots and plans

That endless cycle 

Of wake, eat, work, sleep

Pointless

Senseless

With not enough sense 

To stop and ask why

So many all around me

Began their lives with hope

Hope that some day

They would find that corner

And a new vista would appear

But that was denied

Not for lack of trying

They died without having touched 

Something

Anything

Still the voice cries out, “No!”

There must be more 

More to life than living

Breathing

Moving

To simply exist

From day to day

Night to night

Content with the average

Is far removed 

From my childhood dreams

But one by one

The days go by

And nothing changes

It is said that hope does not fail

But hope unfulfilled

Makes the heart sick

And dead

But still the voice cries out, “No!”

Is death the goal of life?

Release

Relief

And then oblivion?

Or is one condemned

To relive mediocrity

For eternity

Or

As one beholds the beatific vision

Are missed opportunities revealed?

The corners one walked by

The dark alleys

That may have led to light

Now gone forever

No recompense for striving

Yearning

Longing

Waiting

No reward

No well done

No rest

Still the voice cries out, “No!”

THE UNTOLD STORY: Entry Forty-Five

Entry Forty-Five:

I walk down the road in the cool of the morning. At this time of year, Jericho is busier earlier in the morning and later in the afternoon because of the heat. But I mostly walk alone…the crowd parts before me like the Red Sea. Are they afraid to touch me? I see many of my one time friends…they look away, embarrassed. Even though they have declared my Benjamin to be dead, they keep him alive with their revulsion and disgust. 

But as I think about this shunning, an older man comes up to me, takes me by the arm, and leads me to a place where there is less noise. He wants to talk. I recognise him. It is hard to live in a small town like Jericho and not know everyone. But he was never one of my closer acquaintances. He introduces himself to me. His name is Levi. “Are you a priest?” I ask. “By descent, yes,” he replies. But he says he wants to talk to me about my son, Benjamin. I am astounded anyone wants to talk about my son. 

He tells me to be strong. Unlike him, I have hope, he says. His own son is dead…has been dead for years. For him there is no more hope. I remember him now. I attended the funeral. It was a drunken brawl that killed his son. The shame such a death brought on the family added to the crushing grief. They too had felt rejected…many people avoided them…others slandered them. Yes, they too were told they were bad parents. If they had raised their son in the fear of the Lord, this tragedy may have been averted. He speaks freely of his grief and tells me that I will learn later that grief can bring blessing…that in the utter devastation, we find the strength to live…but more. We find the strength to grow. Grow? How does one grow when life itself is being drained from you? But he assures me that the time will come when I will see he is right. 

He asks if we may meet again. Yes, I say…and we arrange a time and a place.

THE UNTOLD STORY: Entry Forty-Four

Entry Forty-Four:

I remember my father. He was a kind-hearted man who was devoted to his mother. My grandfather had died long before I was born, and my grandmother came to live with us. She was always happy and filled with joy. We loved her dearly and cherished each moment with her. Then one day, everything changed. We found her seated in a corner of her room…her eyes wild…a bewildered look on her face. She didn’t seem to recognise anyone of us and appeared to be afraid. From that moment on, my father entered into a time of deep grief…like me…grief for a person yet living, but not present. 

I still don’t know what happened to my grandmother…why one day she was cheerful and carefree and the next scared and easily startled. She still looked the same…she still was the same…and yet was not. My father took her to the rabbi…to all the best physicians. They offered no remedy and no hope. In the end, we had to accept the fact that she was gone forever, even though she was living with us. How my father wept…but he never gave up trying to reach her. Every day he would be the first to greet her. Gently he would touch her and reassure her that he meant no harm. He would remind her that he was her son and that he loved her. He would feed her, all the time telling her stories from the past…happy stories. And before she went to sleep, he would remind her that in dreams, she would find herself once more. Who knows if she ever did? A year later, he found her asleep forever. She looked tranquil…and at peace.

I remember his grief before and after…while she was and yet was not, his grief was intense and unabating. But after her passing, the grief seemed to diminish…as if dealing with the second loss was easier than the first. I can see my grief in his…I grieve for one who is here and yet not here. In that we are similar…

THE UNTOLD STORY: Entry Forty-Three

Entry Forty-Three: 

Grief is like eating…if you consume too much too quickly, the food is harder to digest. I must learn to deal with my heartache one small piece at a time…I must chew it well, and then swallow. 

But why am I grieving? Benjamin is still alive. But that makes my grief all the more difficult to bear. There is no body for me to bury. There is no closure…no conclusion. It is as if the burial cave is standing wide open, its mouth agape in an awful yawning grimace. If I do not force the past into the present, I have nothing to hold onto. 

But that is why I must discipline myself to deal with only one portion of my grief at a time. If I try to gulp down the wall of pain that confronts me…a barrage of memories…of what ifs and should haves…then I will choke. I find that if I keep an image of Benjamin in the forefront of my mind at all times, I am able to slice through the tough meat of my internal agony and separate one bleeding, pulsating piece from the rest. Perhaps that is why the Scriptures say that the life is in the blood…it is the bleeding of my heart that causes the most distress…my grief drains me of life like a slow bleed.

I paint a mental portrait of Benjamin…laughing, loving, living. He stands before me every moment of every day. Like God kept the walls of Jerusalem before Him even while our forefathers were still in captivity and while the city still lay in ruins  so I keep Benjamin before me. He may be in exile…his reputation may lie all about me in ruins…but his image I will keep before me continually. 

Then, when reality rises up to accuse me of living a fantasy…living a life built on a foundation of groundless hope with bricks made of dreams and an anticipative imagination…then I remember that God also kept faith…and that faith was no fantasy. 

THE UNTOLD STORY: Entry Forty-Two

Chapter Four: Fear and Fantasy

Entry Forty-Two: Isaiah 30:18

I talk to Benjamin in my mind. I laugh. I cry. I shout. I rage. He never replies. But then, at night, he comes to me in my dreams…there he stands and responds to everything I said to him. Now it is my turn to be silent. I wonder what life would be like if we all communicated this way. Talk. Listen. Wait. Respond. Listen. So much misunderstanding could be avoided if we could just listen. Really listen…

I spend most of my days watching the road now. Is that not what God does with us when we stray? Does He not wait for the rebellious all day long…is that not what He says through the mouth of the prophet?  I have not been down to the river for two days…it is too hot anyway…but I am afraid that if I leave my vigil, Benjamin may return when I am not attentive…and I want to be the first to greet him. If I am not the first, he will surely be driven away. 

I think of the governor, Nehemiah. In spite of adversity, he never gave up. They tempted, they threatened, they feigned friendship, they accused…but he remained steadfast. I am encouraged to emulate his bravery and his resolve. If he wavered, those who were yet to return may have continued in exile. He pressed on…resilient…and he was satisfied in the end. I too will stand firm and wait…I will wait to prevent a further calamity.

But what if they find him on the road further afield? What if our family in Galilee see him before he even takes the road down to Jericho? Will they be like Tobiah and Sanballat? They will surely not want him to reach me…they will not want me to rebuild my family. How can I stop them when they are so far away? Am I becoming paranoid? I have no proof that they would do such a thing…and yet, I am preoccupied with this fear. My sleep is fitful.

THE UNTOLD STORY: Entry Forty-One

Entry Forty-One: Psalm 34

Miriam stands before me, smiling a tender smile. “No,” she says. “No, my dearest husband…you are not Eli.” “Then what am I? Who am I? Help me find myself again,” I plead. “You are a father and you are a mother,” she says softly. “You love as a father loves, but you also love as a mother loves. Deeply, unconditionally…without limits…without boundaries. You are not Eli. You are willing to sacrifice yourself for your child…that is not Eli…that is God.”

I awake. I am calm and filled with a sense of peace. “Thank you,” I whisper. Dear God, when you made man and woman…did you divide your love between them, so that only when the love of both father and mother are combined, are we able to see Your love? Yes, I think that is so. You reveal Your love in the holy Scriptures as that of both male and female. You comfort as a mother comforts her babes.  Indeed, You who gave birth to us  are the same one who calms and soothes us like a mother quietens her suckling child.  But my most beloved Scripture of all is that of the prophet Isaiah…where You say clearly that even if a mother would forget her child, You will never forget us.  

Miriam is right! Or, at least, my dream of her was right. Is it not the nature of God to love as a mother? As such, it is not bad parenting…it is an unfathomable, unqualifiable, unreserved love that makes Him wait patiently for us to return to Him. He watches…He hopes…He anticipates our homecoming. I am not Eli. I am not a bad father. I am a father and a mother. I am a reflection of God. And so, I too must wait. I must wait, in spite of the relentless pressure to forsake my Benjamin. Dear God in heaven, reward me for my steadfastness…requite my love…fulfil my yearning…answer my prayers. Bottle up my tears.  Be my comfort in this time of comfortlessness. Be close to me. Share my broken heart.

THE UNTOLD STORY: Entry Forty

Entry Forty:

Am I Eli? Why does this bother me so much? If I am at fault…if I am the one to blame…then would I not know? Is it because I am too proud to admit the truth? I have been humbled more than any other time in my life…is there any pride left in me…hiding deep down inside? 

I sit by Benjamin’s pool and talk to him out loud. It helps to verbalise my thoughts. I ask him. Am I Eli? He does not answer. Of course he does not answer…he is not there. His absence overwhelms me once more and I weep unashamedly. Who will hear my sobbing? Being alone allows me to give my emotion free reign…I let it run amuck…it wracks my body in the process. I ache all over…my throat burns, and my lungs beg for more air. I lie in the dirt and I let my sorrow sweep over me like a storm. 

It is not only the absence of my son that brings on such deep distress. It is Aaron…the rabbi…my community…my friends…my family…Miriam’s family. They have all turned aside. Each one has gone on with their lives and they have spurned me. If it were not for Elizabeth and for Benjamin’s friends I would be completely isolated in my grief. I feel so alone. Lost. 

It costs nothing to be kind. One can be kind even if you do not agree. Does it not take more energy to be harsh, I wonder? When you live each precious minute, controlled by the misdeeds of others…is that not exhausting? Just because you are angry, it does not follow that you must be cruel. It is at times such as this, that the truth emerges…I have no friends...I never had any friends. I had many acquaintances…people that I thought were friends…but friends stay true to each other, especially in times of need. 

Oh, Miriam, how I miss you…how I need you, now more than ever. But why would I want you here to bear this pain with me? That would make me cruel and unkind. 

THE UNTOLD STORY: Entry Thirty-Nine

Entry Thirty-nine: Lamentations 3:22-23

Am I Eli? I cannot escape the question…I cannot avoid it. It must be answered. I think back on the many times I should have corrected Benjamin but chose not to. But, in my defence, it was because of his youthful ignorance at the time…I chose to overlook his behaviour because of his age…he would not understand. Yes, also because he did not have Miriam. He only had me. But was I not being merciful? I want only the best for him…for both of them. In that respect, I love them equally. While my blessing for them is different, it is not less for one and more for the other. 

Am I Eli? No, I conclude. If I am to be compared with any one of those we read about in the holy Scriptures, it is Isaac. He also had two sons…one left the other stayed…but in the end, which one remained? Jacob, the supplanter returned…Esau never left, but who wounded the father more? Who became our father, Israel? Not Esau…

“A son honours his father and a servant honours his master. If I am a father, where is my honour?” The words of our Lord to his people recorded by the prophet Malachi.  Aaron says all the right things…does all the right things…but his heart is far from me.  Surely, we all are preserved because our Lord is merciful…that is why we are not consumed for our misdeeds and transgressions. Because His compassion never fails. Every morning his compassion is renewed…every morning His faithfulness keeps growing. We cannot live out the truth of the law without love…that would be an empty life and an empty law…and, ultimately, an empty God. If God is not merciful, then why does the sun rise and set each day? Our continued existence on this earth testifies to His mercy, His grace, and His forgiveness. 

If Aaron, his rabbi, and our community represent the God of Israel, then we of all people are to be pitied the most. Then our God is an emotionless tyrant.

THE UNTOLD STORY: Entry Thirty-Eight

Entry Thirty-eight:

“You are Eli!” Like others Aaron believes I am a bad parent. I pretend I do not understand. “Eli? How am I Eli?” I look at Aaron’s face. Hatred has hardened his eyes…the lines on his face are severe. Hatred has a way of removing all beauty…from a face…a body…a life. “He refused to discipline his sons!”  Aaron is shouting now. “And look what happened! Israel lost the Ark to the Philistines, just as we have lost our land to the Roman.” He glares at me, nostrils flared. “But you too are my son, Aaron,” I reply. “By that token you too ought to be rotten.” At first, he says nothing. But then he digs the knife in deeper. “Mother was still alive when my character was formed.” I am overcome and cannot help but weep. For a moment, it seems as if he cares…as if he wishes to reach out and console me in my agony. But then he turns and leaves the room. 

Am I Eli? I meditate on this question endlessly. Am I to blame for the calamity that has befallen my household? The Ark was lost, true, but it was recovered later. Dear God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, grant that the land now lost may be recovered too. You are skilled at turning bad things around…just look at what You did with Joseph. He once was lost too…presumed dead by his grieving father…but they were reunited…in the land of Egypt, no less. All those years, Jacob believed his son to be dead. All those years, he grieved for him. He did not have hope as I have hope. My Benjamin is still alive. I know it. If he were not, would I not feel it in my bones? Did Jacob feel that Joseph was alive? But he was shown proof that Joseph was dead. Did his mind overcome his heart? He had no reason to believe his son was alive. But do I have reason to believe Benjamin is alive? No word has come from him since the day he left.

Am I Eli? Do I stand condemned before You, my holy God? Do I love Benjamin more than You? More than what is right? Have I failed You…and him?

THE UNTOLD STORY: Entry Thirty-Seven

Entry Thirty-Seven:

The events of the past few days have proved to be a distraction for me. I have neglected my Benjamin. In spite of the protestations from the servants, I go to the pool by the river. I must keep him alive, if only in my heart.

On the way, a man accosts me. It is the fist-brandishing man. He spits at me, throws dust in the air, and curses me. It is my doing that this has happened, he yells. My bad parenting has now borne the fruit of evil. His face contorts as he screams out his rage. Others stop and stare. Their presence seems to energize him. His arms flail in the air and I am aware that he is about to attack me physically. I close my eyes, readying myself for the first blow. But then I feel a body come between us…no, not one, but a few. I look. Benjamin’s friends stand between me and the angry man. Their arms are folded, their faces set like flint. They will not move. Soon, his shouting ceases and he moves on, muttering threats under his breathe.

The young men apologize. They attempt to take me home. I protest. I must go down to the river again. They try to dissuade me from my decision, but at last they agree on condition that they go with me. I say no more. O Benjamin, how could you have walked away from such true friends? True friends are rare and ever so hard to find. Do you have friends wherever you are now? These men are closer to me than your brother. I owe them my sanity. We sit by the river and talk about you. They tell me they pray for us…they tell me they pray for your return…they miss you. They ask if I have received any communication from you. I tell them no. They are surprised. But they do not speak ill of you. They say you must be too busy trying to acclimatize…learning new ways, new customs, perhaps a new language. One asks if there is a country where Greek is not spoken? We laugh at our own silliness…but inside we are weeping.