The Bronze Bow - Elizabeth George Speare [17]
The man's figure was not in any way arresting. He was slight, with the knotted arms and shoulders of one who has done hard labor from childhood. He was not regal or commanding. He was dressed simply in a plain white tallith that reached to his feet. His white head covering, drawn closely over his forehead and hanging to his shoulders, hid his profile. Yet when he turned and stood before the congregation, Daniel was startled. All at once nothing in the room was distinct to him but this man's face. A thin face, strongly cut. A vital, radiant face, lighted from withinbya burning intensity of spirit.
Yes! Daniel thought, his own spirit leaping up. This man is a fighter! He is one of us!
Jesus received the scroll and stood unrolling it with reverence, as though he were seeking for some passage already determined in his own mind. Then he raised his eyes and spoke from memory.
"The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because He has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord."
A shock ran through Daniel at the first words. A gentle voice, barely raised, it carried to every corner of the room, warm, vibrant, with a promise of unlimited power. It was as though only a fraction of that voice were being used, as though if the full force of it were unstopped it would roll like thunder.
Jesus closed the book and gave it back to the attendant. The waiting congregation seemed to surge forward and to hold its breath. Again that voice made the blood leap in Daniel's veins.
"I say to you, the time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand. Repent, and believe."
Now! Daniel leaned forward. Tell us that the moment has come! Tell us what we are to do! Longing swelled unbearably in his throat.
But Jesus went on speaking quietly. A rippling murmur passed across the crowd Others too waited for the word that was not spoken. What had the man meant? He had said liberty for the oppressed. Why didn't he call them to arms against the oppressor? Repent, he said now. Repent. As though that could rid them of the Romans. Disappointed and puzzled, Daniel leaned back. The fire that had leaped up in him died down. The man's voice had been like a trumpet call. Yet where did the call lead?
Had Simon understood? Daniel stayed close beside his friend as the crowds streamed from the synagogue at the close of the service. "Is he a Zealot or isn't he?" he demanded, as soon as they had outdistanced the others.
"What do you think?" countered Simon.
"I couldn't tell. Why did they try to kill him in Nazareth?"
"They said he blasphemed. Some of them said he had set himself up as God's anointed, a common carpenter's son. They were beside themselves."
"How did he get away?"
Simon slowed his steps. "I'm not quite sure," he said, "though I was there and saw it. I didn't know what it was all about, but you know how it is with a crowd—I ran with them, and I'm ashamed to tell it, I had a stone in my hand too. They dragged him up the hill to a cliff and they meant to push him over. But just at the edge of the cliff they fell back, and he stood there alone looking at them. I don't know how it was with them, but all at once I was ashamed, terribly ashamed, of the stone in my hand. Then he walked back down the hill, and not one of them touched him."
"Didn't he fight to defend himself?"
"No. He was not angry. He was just—not afraid. I have never seen anyone so completely not afraid."
Strange. Daniel would have liked