Under A Million Stars by Mindy Haig
The whispers faded after that night.
I just did not hear them.
Shesh:
While the days were long and the roads we traveled seemed to stretch on endlessly, the years passed in just a blink of the eye. I was the apostle of Yeshua’s apostles, the follower of the followers, the companion, the quiet guardian of the most sacred parts of him.
Always the crowds ebbed and flowed, a sea of people wanting to witness a miracle, without realizing they stood in the presence of the greatest wonder of in all the world. But that is the way of men, I think, to overlook what is given waiting for something more.
It was not so for the women.
So again, Yeshua was right.
‘You must be the most blessed of women for The Son of The Heavenly Father to hold you in such high esteem.’
While men scorned me, women said those words often.
Sometimes they wanted simply to touch me. Other times they wanted to hear how I came to be with Yeshua. I told them in words used by so many others, so many times: “I was lost and he found me. I was sick and he cured me. I had no path to follow; he took my hand and showed me the way. He gave me life.
There is light in this world for all who wish to see it. A heart that knows love and compassion shines brighter than the stars. Yeshua is a beacon. He is the light of the world. His message is so plain, so clear. Show mercy to those in need and withhold judgment. Know that no one walks this world free of weakness. There are moments in every life where simple kindness is the cure. Love your neighbors as you love your parents and your children. Find humility in prosperous times and earnestness in times of trouble. Treat others as you wish to be treated and the Glory of Heaven will be yours. Everyone has the ability to be a ray of light. Redemption and forgiveness are here for all who ask for those gifts. So yes, I am blessed, and I am grateful for his blessing. My heart is opened to a love that I did not know existed, a love that is stronger than this mortal life. Follow him, take his words inside you and live by them and you will understand his love.”
~ ~
It was upon days like this that my heart was most conflicted. The crowd that came to hear his words was great in numbers. And that was joyous news, but frightening. That there could be one among them intent upon his downfall kept my eyes darting about until they ached.
Yeshua, as always, remained unconcerned.
There were a good number of children this day. Oh, my heart swelled to see him sit amid the circle of innocents laughing at their tales. There was such a carefree beauty to those moments when he did not have to create a facade of happiness, he simply was happy. When his eyes met mine and he tilted his head, smiling as only he did, he shared those moments with me.
And that silent connection was more than contentment or felicity. It was rapture.
But my eyes only lingered for an instant before they were drawn away by something I did not wish to see.
It was a man. He was older in years, his beard shot with gray, yet he stood tall. His clothes were fine though plainly made. He was a good distance from Yeshua but watched him closely until he caught me glaring at him.
He was a man of the High Council, one of the Sanhedrin. He wore no robes; he stood falsely among Yeshua’s followers even as the Council plotted Yeshua’s death.
Anger and fear pulsed through my veins.
I was not ready for the day those men would take Dodi Li from me, and this man, hiding in plain sight, was the harbinger of what was to come.
But Yeshua’s eyes must have followed mine, as I stood frozen. For the next thing I knew he was striding purposely toward that very man. A moment later Yeshua bent his knee and kissed the man’s hand. The man raised him and their embrace was joyous if brief.
Quite words were spoken and their meeting was over as quickly as it began. The other man walked away.
I watched him go. I was relieved.
But the man turned back when he thought Yeshua might not be looking at him and there seemed to be a great weight upon his proud shoulders. Sadness seemed to age him before my very eyes. He noticed me looking, nodded his head in acknowledgment and continued on his way.
I was restless.
I could not seem to reconcile what I had seen. I only knew to my core that the tidings were not glad ones. I distracted myself as best I could. I made small tasks large enough to fill my mind while they kept my hands busy. I whiled away the day ignoring all the thoughts that might fill me with fear because I promised I would be the strength he needed.
The daylight waned without my notice.
And at last the thing I had prayed for all these years was granted.
Music seemed to surround me, envelope me, overtake me. It came from everywhere and nowhere at once. I spun to see the orange sun touch the horizon and heard all the angels as they sang praise to The Father.
I dropped to my knees and wept. It was not the beauty of the song that caused the tears to rush from my eyes, but the knowledge that my wish had been granted because on this day I needed to know with certainty that life everlasting was truly there. This day was the beginning of the end.
Yeshua lifted me in his arms. He cradled me tight against his body and sang softly in the voice of the angels until the sun stole away the final ray of daylight and left just an afterglow of memory. He tilted his head and kissed my lips. “There is much I must tell you, Meiri.”
“Why did that man come? Why did you kiss the hand of a man who would execute you?” I whispered.
“Beloved, I will answer your questions when we are alone, I promise you. If you trust me, I need you to trust that man. He is Yossef of Arimathea. He is my uncle.”
“But he...”
“Tonight, my love,” he said as he ran his gentle fingers into my hair. “I will tell all I know tonight.”
Shevah:
“They intend to crucify me.”
There did not seem to be words to answer him.
A crushing weight sat upon my heart, so heavy even breath failed me.
The night was darker than any night had ever been, though I do not know if the moon or the stars shown above. I do not know if any light shown at all because even the light within Yeshua seemed to falter with his words.
“You will let them? You will go willingly?”
“I must. It is not this life that matters, My Love. It is not even my death. It will be my return. That moment when I stand among the men again and show them plainly that all my words were true is what will matter. When there is nothing left to doubt, they will go out into the world with faith forged like metal and conviction in their words. They will not be followers any longer, they will be leaders.”
I began to weep.
And from there I cried violently until my body shook and my lungs ached with the labor of ragged breath.
Yeshua held me tight. “Shhh, don’t cry, Meiri, this end has always been foretold.”
“I must cry, Dodi. I must cry until the last tear drops, and I must do right now.”
“Why? Do you fear...”
“No! You are so wise, but sometimes still a fool. I have no fear for myself. I love you, Yeshua. I love you beyond what any heart should be capable of containing. I love the way you tilt your head and look at me. I love the sound of your laughter. I love lying here pressed against you, knowing that your heart beats in time with mine. And I must cry for all of these moments that I will miss when The Father calls you home. I must cry now because I will walk beside you as you bear that cross and I will sing praise the way the angels have sung them to me this evening. I will not cry in front of those who would hurt you because when I walk beside you I must show them the strength of my faith. I must show them that this sin they commit cannot stop the will of The Father or end life that is everlasting. And I do believe that, Dodi, I truly do. But I must cry now not because they will crucify The Chosen One, but because my arms will be empty, my nights will be cold. Dodi Li will
He reached up and wiped his own tears from his eyes. His fingers were damp as he closed them around my arm.
“Thank you, Meiri, my Migdal. You do not know what your love means to me. I have kissed you and held you in my arms, but I don’t know if I have ever been able to express how deeply I love you, how intimately I feel your love. Don’t think badly of me, but just now, I am grateful for your tears. I needed to know that one person in this world would miss this man, this simple man, not the teacher, not the messenger, just the man who is flesh and blood, who has weaknesses he hides and fears he dares not speak. That you could love me enough to cry gives warmth to my soul.”
“Tell me what tidings this Yossef of Arimathea brought today.”
“None that you will find hope in, My Love. The council meets behind his back because they know he opposes their plan, but to my relief they don’t know why he opposes so firmly. If they knew he was kin to my mother they would most assuredly kill him or imprison him to facilitate their plans. He has been a follower all of my days, Meiri. His secret has kept me safe more times than I can count because he has sent messengers alerting me to traps and dangers upon my road. He is the divine hand of The Father in my times of peril, and I need you to trust him. He has agreed to risk himself and claim my mortal body upon my death. Doing so will expose his relation, and put him in a good bit of danger. Should he be granted that right, and survive he will take you to safety once I have completed my task.”
“But I don’t wish to leave your burial site.”
I will not be there, Meiri. When The Father raises me and I ascend to the heavens, there will be nothing here for you to guard.”
“Thinking this wounds me, Dodi. I will not even have a way to grieve.”
“Do not grieve for me. Leave this place with Yossef. We met upon the road, perhaps there is something else along the road that you must see.”
“I cannot think of that, I simply cannot.”
“Then don’t. Not now. But tell me you will trust Yossef.”
“I will. What happens now, Dodi?”
“We go to Bethany.”
“And what will happen there?”
“An ending. But don’t lose heart, My Love, every ending is only a gateway to a new beginning.”
Shmone:
Knowing our time was coming to an end, every moment away from his arms was agony.
Oh, but there were so many rituals that belonged solely to the men. Exclusion was just a part of life, but some of them exalted in leaving me outside the door. I am ashamed to admit that such pettiness, though it mattered very little, still wounded me.
The ones Yeshua called his Disciples, the men I had walked beside, the men I nourished and upheld, shut me out of the discussions at every possible instance. They did not seek my advice nor did they consider how the plans they made behind their closed doors would affect others who walked this path.
But my heart was not bitter. I did not revile or rebuke them. I did not even truly begrudge their meetings, I simply knew my time was growing short and I wished to sit and look upon him even if they never bid me to speak.
When, at last, we were alone in the night, Yeshua would tell me every word, spoken with every nuance and every implication. But the nights were too short. Sometimes, I knew well, he did not sleep. Those nights he was selective with his words as well.
We were staying in the home of friends who were intent upon keeping me occupied as the hours ticked away. Mary and Martha brushed my hair and spoke of things their brother Lazarus told them.
But I could not listen.
They knew the High Priests plotted against Yeshua, but I knew they plotted against Lazarus as well. The Priests feared this man who represented a miracle. They knew Lazarus drew many to follow Yeshua and find faith in The Father. They would remove all who gave the masses reason to believe.
Passover was very near. So many things were happening so quickly.
Preparations for feast after feast were being laid.
Crowds were everywhere.
Yeshua spoke strong words to his disciples and to the masses that came to hear him. He went to them without fear, without doubts, but he came quietly to me. He did not fear his death, nor the circumstances or pain he would face before he met that end. He feared above all else that it would be for naught. He feared that he had not reached widely enough, that he not spread his word far enough, and that those meant to carry on his words would lose their focus and their faith when he was not among them. He knew they did not all believe in each other; there was doubt, there was mistrust. There would be betrayal.
They were men.
With each passing day and each confrontation their fears grew.
Even I felt it.
But I held him tight in my arms. I whispered words of eternal love. I sang the song of the angels to him, my beloved, who would be among them, who would stand above them at the right hand of The Father.
And he slept peacefully, perhaps for the last time.
Tesha:
I followed at a distance. I knew Yeshua told the others that he wished to be alone. That he wanted to have final words with The Father before the soldiers came for him. They stayed upon the Mount of Olives while Yeshua went to Gat-smanim. I watched as he knelt upon the rocks near the old olive trees, folded his hands in prayer and bowed his head. I sat down near the oil press, not close enough to hear his words, but near enough to watch his actions.
His plea was impassioned. My desire to comfort him was overwhelming, but this act of contrition needed to be carried out alone.
I folded my hands and lifted my eyes to the heavens. “Father, hear his prayers. I know not what he asks, but he asks from his heart. Please grant him peace,” I whispered.
“I shall, Daughter.”
I startled. There beside me was a man, timeless in age, beauteous in appearance, but not of the flesh. He was divine, heavenly as surely as I was mortal.
He was The Father.
I moved to kneel before him, but he stopped me. He had that same tilt to his head that Yeshua had when he looked at me, and tears sprang to my eyes.
“Sit, Beloved Child, speak with me. Say the words you wish to say. Ask what you will.”
“Why do appear to me when he prays so fervently right there?”
“But I am answering his prayers. Do you know what he asks of me as he prays on the eve of his final day of freedom?”
“I would think he asks many things. I would think he asks why.”
“No. Yeshua does not question. He understands. He does not pray for mercy or for more time. He does not even ask me to grant him success. He asks me to watch over you. He asks only that his fate is not your fate.”
“What do I do, Father?”
“Do as he asked. Trust Yossef. Protect what Yeshua has given only unto you.”
“Why does it have end so? Why could he not live on and continue as he does?”
“All life has a cycle and there is great purpose to that cycle. A seed is part of the living plant until the time in the life of that plant where it is harvested. The seed dies because it must. It cannot bear fruit unless it first dies and become buried in the earth. But from that one plant many seeds will be planted and many new crops will be sown. The hungry will be fed. The naked will be clothed. Yeshua is the seed from which all that comes after will be sown.”
“Tonight begins the harvest?”
“Yes.”
“I know his purpose. I understand, Father. I cannot help but wish I had just a little more time.”
“He could not live this life indefinitely, Meiri. The road is too difficult. Thirty-three years is enough.”
“I know. But I love him, Father. I wish for his peace. I don’t know what purpose I can serve once
“He holds you most beloved. Tell your tale, Daughter. And keep your eyes upon the road.”
He leaned over, kissed my head and he was gone.
It was but a moment later that the soldiers arrived.
~ ~
All of Jerusalem was in tumult. Confusion and noise abounded. People rejoiced and cried. They fought and hugged. They were at odds and in union all at once. I sat quietly, alone just beyond the place they kept him captive. No one spoke to me. No one noticed the woman who waited for the sun to touch the horizon and then sang with the angels. It was the one time of day I could hear Yeshua’s voice above the din as we sang the song none of the others could hear and their voices, all the voices in the world were silent.
“Dodi Li,” I called out to him, as the sun left nothing but an orange stain in the distance.
“Stay with me, Migdala. I love you.”
~ ~
I choose not to retell the ending.
As promised, I did not cry. I sang. My voice gave him courage. Even as he hung upon his cross he tilted his head and looked at me as he had always done. Men can kill a body, but not a heart or a soul and even when the last breath tore from him and shook the world, I still felt his heart beat beside mine.