Riven - Jerry B. Jenkins [201]
The advantage to incarceration was that Brady had almost all day every day to read, and it wasn’t long before he had most of all four Gospels memorized. He gilded that by studying everything Chaplain Carey gave him on the life of Christ, by talking it through during their meetings, and even by studying the prophecies from the Old Testament concerning the Messiah.
The constant racket of the Row became just a backdrop of indistinguishable sound as he paced and recited verses aloud from just after breakfast to around midnight.
But one day in the spring, with just two months to go before his execution, something changed. On one of Brady’s shower days, he awoke to the racket for first count and prayed silently while waiting for his meal. He ate all of it, as he had been doing for months now, then quietly cooperated with the laborious routine of getting to and from the shower. Along the way on both ends, Brady was aware of shouting, swearing, banging, and even an extraction when a con refused to return his breakfast tray to the meal slot.
But for once none of the commotion seemed directed at him. That was a nice break. Was it possible his commitment to never, ever respond had finally wearied the men and stolen their fun? They had kept it up for a whole lot longer than he ever would have without enjoying any reaction.
When Brady was dressed and back in his cell, he walked back and forth in the tiny area between his TV and the front corner of his cell opposite the toilet, very quietly reciting the words of Jesus he had memorized from the Gospels.
That had always elicited shouts and whistles, but today, nothing. In the past he could speak aloud and no one could hear over the daily ruckus. Now he was aware of a few men who had their TVs tuned to a morning game show, but oddly there was no conversation, let alone the usual shouting and cursing and barbs.
Brady was concentrating on remembering passages from the first half of Matthew. He closed his eyes, able to navigate the small space by memory.
In a normal tone, Brady began.
“Do not judge others, and you will not be judged. For you will be treated as you treat others. The standard you use in judging is the standard by which you will be judged. And why worry about a speck in your friend’s eye when you have a log in your own? How can you think of saying to your friend, ‘Let me help you get rid of that speck in your eye,’ when you can’t see past the log in your own eye? Hypocrite! First get rid of the log in your own eye; then you will see well enough to deal with the speck in your friend’s eye.”
Suddenly Brady stopped. Was it possible? He thought he had heard first one, then another shush noisy inmates. A couple of TVs even went off. From distant parts of the cellblock he heard other cons making noise, but the Row was virtually quiet. How could this be?
Brady held his breath. Was he dreaming? Surely not. He heard a low rumble of thunder outside, and soon heavy rain, and yet the Row got even quieter.
He continued, speaking evenly.
“Anyone who listens to My teaching and follows it is wise, like a person who builds a house on solid rock. Though the rain comes in torrents and the floodwaters rise and the winds beat against that house, it won’t collapse because it is built on bedrock. But anyone who hears My teaching and doesn’t obey it is foolish, like a person who builds a house on sand. When the rains and floods come and the winds beat against that house, it will collapse with a mighty crash.”
Someone called out something, and another quieted him with a curse. It sounded like maybe two TV sets still blared until their owners were told to stifle them too.
Were these men listening?
“Foxes have dens to live in, and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has no place even to lay His head.”
Brady waited. This was like a dance. Could he lead? Or was he imagining this?
“More,” someone said quietly. Then another said the same. Then someone shouted it.
“Healthy people don’t need a doctor—sick people do. . . . Now go and learn