A state of chronic powerlessness eats away at a person.

Haruki Murakami, 1Q84

His puppyhood was wonderful.

Every day was full of joy. l. There were brothers and sisters to play with. There was always a warm, soft place to sleep cuddled next to his mother. His mother’s milk was sweet and she smelled like love.

Life was good.

Their people paid scant attention to him or his siblings until they begin to eat puppy food. He liked the puppy food, but it was not sweet and warm like his mother’s milk. 

When they took his mother away, he was so confused. He wanted to be with her. He missed her warmth and smell.

The people just threw the food in the kennel. He had to scramble to get his share and he seldom did. The other puppies were more aggressive. 

Hunger made him uneasy and timid, and he missed his mother. Except for mealtime, he spent most of his days at the kennel’s edge in a state of nervousness.

Other people begin to come to see them and take them home. Finally, there was only his runt brother, who got even less food than he did, and him. Soon the two were packed into a crate and put in the back of the truck. The ride was bumpy and cold.  Both brothers urinated in their fear. 

The truck backed up to a grassy spot where it was crowded and noisy and had so many smells that he was overcome with the stories they told by. Feeling frantic from the chaos, he saw danger everywhere.

His brother barked at the people walking by. Most just glanced over and continued their way, but that didn’t stop his brother from barking at every new person.

One little girl holding her father’s hand stopped to look at them. His brother barked and put his face up to the bars of the crate.

“Oh, Daddy!” she said. “Look at that cute little puppy. He’s so small.”

“He’s probably the runt,” her father replied. He hoped she would follow him as he walked on but she didn’t.

She put her hands up to where his brother began to lick her fingers.

“Oh look, Daddy. He likes me. Can we take him home? Oh please Daddy. I’ll take good care of him.”

The father sighed. Who could resist those eyes. He wished they had not walked down this way, but he knew the puppy would be going home with them.

The man told him the price and opened the crate so the little girl could take his brother into her arms. His brother was wagging his tail and licking the girl’s face. She was giggling and kissing him back.

He watched them walk away.

A long time passed with no one else stopping. He softly whimpered. He was all alone and it was getting colder.

“Looks like the side of the road for you, bud.”

Right after he said it, a young boy stopped in front of the truck bed.

“ Your puppy looks cold and sad,” he said.

“Yeah, he needs a new home.” 

The man looked at the boy examining him. He was a Latino boy, probably around 9-10.  He doubted he had any money to spend. 

“This puppy ain’t free, amigo.”

The boy sighed.

“I can’t buy him. I only have five dollars.”

The man paused. “Better than going to the trouble of dumping him,” the man thought to himself.

“You know what, you look like you really want this dog, and I need to be getting back home. I’ll let you have him for the five dollars.”

The boy’s eyes brightened but then he frowned.

“Does he eat a lot?”

“Look at him. Does he look like he eats a lot?”

“ I guess not.”

The boy carefully counted out his change. He had a three dollar bills, six quarters, four dimes and two nickels. The man almost changed his mind but took the money and shoved it into his pocket.

The boy smelled good.  He buried his head beneath the boy’s arm as they began to walk away. He was still trembling but the boy kept up a soft murmur that he found comforting. This boy smelled good, not like the man. He began to breathe more easily.

“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’

Matthew 25:40

The boy named him Feliz.

The boy’s name was Pablo.

Feliz truly was happy.

Pablo’s father smelled good like Pablo. He didn’t try to take Feliz from Pablo’s arms. He seemed to know Feliz felt safe there. Like the girl’s father, he could see immediately how Pablo and Feliz already loved each other. Feliz could not get close enough to Pablo and kept trying to squeeze deeper into his jacket.

The cost of the food bothered Pablo. He knew how little they had to spare. Pablo’s father put has hand on his shoulder and said, “We have enough to feed your puppy, hijo. El es familia.”

Feliz felt like he was truly part of the family. Pablo had a sister, Cecilia, who was delighted to see him. She made him feel so good. At first, it was a little scary when she held his face, but soon he began to look forward to her caresses. 

Having a family to love him changed Feliz. He looked forward to the treats Pablo’s mother gave him when no one was looking. He loved chasing Cecilia and kissing her face when she fell down. She always got up and gave him a hug. 

Pablo’s father would let him ride in his truck to the grocery store. At first, he was afraid of the truck, but Pablo’s father let him sit inside with him and kept his hand on his back when Feliz would shiver. Soon Feliz would jump into the truck whenever Pablo’s father whistled for him.

But Pablo was the best. 

Pablo smelled of all that was good in life. Feliz stayed by his side whenever Pablo sat down. Feliz would wait patiently for the school bus. He knew exactly when Pablo and his sister were due to arrive.

Every arrival was a celebration. Feliz loved Pablo so much.

Each day Feliz felt safer. Each day he became less nervous. Six months passed and no one would guess he had once been timid and afraid.

If you have men who will exclude any of God's creatures from the shelter of compassion and pity, you will have men who will deal likewise with their fellow men.

Francis of Assisi

The day was like most days until the men in black came. Pablo and Cecilia were walking from the school bus with Feliz waiting for them, a ball in his mouth. Feliz knew Pablo would throw the ball with him once he put his backpack down and got a mango for his snack.

The noise from the men in black was deafening. There were shouts and the loud clicking sounds from the metal of their guns and gear. Feliz began barking and howling in terror.

Pablo’s father went running while his mother ran out of the house holding Cecilia and yelling, “I’m a citizen. I have my ID. My husband has a green card.”

Pablo’s father was not to be seen. He had escaped when the men in black appeared. He knew no one would be looking at his green card.

All this happened in a cacophony of fear and sound. Feliz could feel the danger in the air and was frantic. There were hate smells everywhere.

When one of the men in black grabbed Pablo’s arm, Feliz rushed to him barking as loud as he could. He jumped on the man snarling and biting to prevent him from dragging Pablo away. The man let go of Pablo and swung his gun at Feliz.

Feliz’s head exploded with pain as he was tossed to the ground by the blow. The world became dar. He never knew what hit him. Feliz's body shivered and he let out his last breath.

With an inhuman shriek, Pablo ran to Feliz’s body tears flowing down his face. Pablo’s mother moaned as the man in black tried to wrestle Cecilia from her arms so he could cuff her. Holding the limp body of his pet in his arms, Pablo called for his mamacita, but she was doing her best to hold on to Cecilia.

About that time, their neighbors, Tom and Sarah Lewis appeared. Sarah ran immediately to his mama and wrapped her arms around both of them. “She is an American citizen and so are these children. I held both of them when they came home from the hospital." The men ignored her but allowed her to hold on to a crying Cecilia.

The man in black shoved Pablo’s mother to the ground and cuffed her hands behind her back. He looked up at another man in black approaching. The man shook his head. They had all they were going to get.

Leaving his mother on the ground, the man grabbed Pablo from where he was holding Feliz and jerked him to his feet. Tom Lewis advanced to them and took Pablo’s other arm. He got up into the masked man’s face. Tom Lewis was a former marine sergeant and looked every bit of it. 

“You are not taking this boy anywhere, and that woman is a United States citizen.”

The man in black looked around. The crowd was growing, protesting loudly. He released Pablo while another masked man pulled his mother off the ground and forced her into the van.

As quickly as they came, they were gone, leaving crying children and a dead dog behind.

Pablo would have fallen had their neighbor not caught him and taken him into his arms. He didn’t try to speak to Pablo. He simply held him close as Pablo sobbed.

We ourselves feel that what we are doing is just a drop in the ocean. But the ocean would be less because of that missing drop.

- Mother Teresa

The first week, neither child went to school, or stopped crying. The Lewises took both children into their home. Their own children had long since left so they had the space to care for them. The children slept together and rarely left each other’s side. The nightmares came every night. All they could do was hold them and whisper a lie. That it would be okay.

They buried Feliz in the Lewis’s backyard. Several of the neighbors stood over Pablo as he wept. Some prayed the Rosary as Feliz was laid in the ground, their hearts broken by his senseless death. His poor little body was wrapped in a sheet with fading cartoon characters.

Pablo’s father returned to the house the next day. He had been hiding with friends who told him what happened, that the children were safe but his wife had been taken. Cecilia clung to his neck and Pablo to his side as they sat on the sofa talking.

“ We have been trying to find your wife, but the information is hard to get. We have several people working on it. They are hoping that your wife’s proof of citizenship will eventually mean her release.”

“ What should I do?” Pablo’s father asked. “Will they take away my green card?”

“We just don’t know,” Tom told him. “This didn’t seem targeted at you specifically. It seemed random, but since your wife was taken, you probably aren’t safe here,”

Pablo and Cecelia did not want their father to leave but he needed to find them a place to stay while they awaited news of their mother. Mr. and Mrs. Lewis promised their father that they would be safe with them.

Their neighborhood was a mix of ethnicities. John and Sarah Lewis were not the only white people living there, but they were a minority. Most of the neighbors were Latino or black or Asian. They inherited the house from her parents. The neighborhood had been in sort of a reverse gentrification. 

It was a good place to live.

The Lewis’s children had many friends in the neighborhood.  Growing up with so many different cultural experiences was wonderful . Street parties were frequent and fun. When Pablo was born, neighbors brought tamales, cornbread and beans as well as spicy stir-fries. It was all delicious. Their neighborhood was a place of caring and community.

There were other Latino neighbors raided that day where family members were taken. The entire neighborhood was grieving and working to help one another.

***

It was a month before Pablo’s mother was released. Their family moved to a different part of town where they were unknown. It meant starting over, but both were able to find new jobs through friends. They wanted to do as much as they could to keep themselves safe, but they knew there was no longer a certainty of safety anywhere.

It was a sad goodbye. Pablo’s parents thanked their kind neighbors over and over again. They promised to stay in touch but both knew there would be no guarantee that they could. It could be dangerous for Pablo’s family.

There were many tears and embraces, and when they left, the Lewis’s home felt empty. The children had left. Their despair had not.

Mr. Lewis picked up his guitar and went outside to be alone and play. His wife knew he needed the time and the music. She began to clean their already clean house. Her comfort came from moving.

When he came back in hours later, he told his wife he wrote a song. As he strummed his fingers over the strings and began to sing, his wife began to cry and nod her head.

Where does it end, my friend?

Where does it end?

Families torn apart with no regard

For their cries of fear

No reason or justice to be found.

How did we get here, my friend, my friend?

How did we get to this place?

Tears shed for the lifeless body

A brown child holds

But none for the child who holds him

Hatred spews its venom

But it is the apathy that wounds

And the cameras roll on and on

Where does it end, my brother?

How do we find our way?

White arms holding a black child

Blue eyes shedding tears 

For a brown child’s grief

Opening doors to those who flee

Danger we can’t imagine lurking

In all those places we find safe

We look around

We see what is before us

We do what we can and then find more to do.

We smile at strangers

We build bridges crossing man-made lines

And become friends

It all begins with us.

It has to be us.

It has to be me.

If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor. If an elephant has its foot on the tail of a mouse and you say that you are neutral, the mouse will not appreciate your neutrality.

- Desmond Tutu

i know i shouldn't... but the temptation was too great.

trumpery - things that look good but are basically worthless

https://www.npr.org/sections/thetwo-way/2018/03/09/592528659/trumps-military-parade-is-set-for-veterans-day

fudgel - the act of giving the impression of working but actually doing nothing

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rPANJQ6O9bU

ultracrepidarian - someone who gives opinions on subjects they know nothing about

“You know what uranium is, right? This thing called nuclear weapons like lots of things are done with uranium including some bad things."― Donald J. Trump 

mugwump - person in charge who affects to be above petty squabbles

https://www.vox.com/policy-and-politics/2018/3/16/17121196/andrew-mccabe-fired-sessions-trump-fbi

jargogle - to confuse or jumble

https://apnews.com/5af007bd6bd740de83a256398dff4e1d/What-happened-at-dinner?-Trump,-Dems-don%27t-see-eye-to-eye

upcockalorum - a small man with a big opinion of himself

“Actually, throughout my life, my two greatest assets have been mental stability and being, like, really smart,”

and the last one we share...

grumbletonians - people who are unhappy or angry with the government

http://www.newsweek.com/trump-flynn-kushner-ivanka-corruption-ethics-744701


... sometimes when the shoe fits, you got to wear it.

Biblical Sin

 

i'm pretty sure the person who created the image above and i don't agree.

the most literal definition of the word sin in the bible is missing the mark. we don't like that much because that means all of our sin is basically the same. all of us miss the mark because all of us are human.

we prefer sin to be breaking the law.

there are those among us, myself included, who grew up believing this way. although i will say that it is through bible study in my early years that i knew the translation.

like the young ruler, some of us take comfort in the fact that we have kept the law from an early age.

the answer to us is the same as it was to this proudly pious young man. jesus acknowledges that we have done so, that we have done our best to follow all of the rules and been successful.

and then jesus tells him to sell all of his possessions and give it to the poor.

this is the mark, and the young man misses it by a long shot. he has more wealth than most and he wants to keep it. he has the respect of his peers and wants to keep that.

the poor are not respected. it is not only the material wealth that he doesn't want to part with. it is his feeling of superiority. it is the comparison we all make. it tells him he is better.

we all miss the mark.

probably in the most common way we do this is by redefining the mark to make it more attainable.

sin is not a behavior. it is an attitude. 

it is comparing ourselves to others and realizing that we are all of us the same in god's sight. we are equally loved. we are equally important.

when an archer misses the mark, the answer is more practice.

Do we worship a sacred book?

Humans have always shown a desire to connect with the Creator in whatever way that looks. Earliest studies of humans find rituals for burial that testify to the human desire to know what exists beyond the confines of our life on Earth.

The problem as I see it is that we think of God as a single entity. If we believe that God is omniscient, that is impossible. God by that definition is unlimited entities.

We are a tribal animal. We want community for protection and identity. Our tribes have expanded to political and cultural boundaries but still follows the concept of tribe.

If we see God as an omnipresent, then we must include the universe as well as our planet.

It is difficult for the human mind to conceive the enormity of the Spirit of God, a spirit that is life itself. We try to narrow God down to a level we can understand.

And that requires a sacred book.

We want a God that gives meaning to our lives. That explains what it means to be alive, to have a spirit within us that is beyond mind and body.

So we worship a book that we look to in order to define our God. It is our Bible, our Quran, our Vedas, our stories of the gods or God we seek. We claim to follow a divine being, but what we often really worship is the human language that explains what we cannot understand.

My spiritual language is Christainty. It is how I learn the nature of God. It is not the only language there is. How can any one set of understanding cover an endless divine spirit? No human can understand the vastness of what I call God. In my tradition, God is the Alpha and Omega. Yahweh — I exist.

With a sacred book, the nature of God is defined in a way we can learn to commune with God. I believe that is the purpose of a sacred book. My understanding of God comes from the teachings of Jesus and the stories of others through time who have come to a relationship with the divine. It is the way I have found to reach the presence of God. It is what my tradition calls the Holy Spirit that speaks in ways beyond human language.

Early Christians called themselves followers of The Way. It is a listening. It is a following that acknowledges the wonder of the King of the Universe, a term often used in Jewish liturgical prayer. It is living in the presence of God. Worship does not explain what I feel in the presence of the Spirit of God. It is more akin to praise. It is a stillness and a wonder.

It is not a book.

Spoiled Rotten

 

No. We don't have to live in a palace like this to be spoiled... and spoiled isn't really the right word. We, in the United States particularly, take so much for granted. We do not recognize the bounty of our lives. We don't understand the concept of enough.

We can just be working class citizens thinking we are just getting by. We think this because we look at the 1%, or the four bedroom houses in exclusive areas to those who are employed, to those who own their homes.

And it is a struggle. The expenses of living here, especially as regards housing, are numerous. We want to give our children some of what they see that other children have.

However most of us have running water. We can take showers with hot water. We don't have to boil our water or walk for miles to get it. So many in the world do not have this luxury. 

Many are thankful just to be able to get clean water. Most of us take this for granted.

We don't have to leave the United States to find people who have learned that life can change in a moment and all our needs are suddenly out of reach.

it's a hard awakening.

I had such an awakening after Hurricane Micheal entered our house with bay water.

But we were fortunate to have help immediately. Electricity was slow but the water in our house was restored quickly. We think of water for drinking, but water is really important for cleaning. We were able to clean floors and walls and our outside porch where we lived for a couple of months. 

We were able to purchase cleaning supplies (those of us who still had income and the means). For others, the generosity of people from near and far brought them to us. (i must mention UMCOR who prepares these things for disasters before they even happen).

The military came in with bottled water and MREs.

Organizations such as Good Samaritan and individuals came with chainsaws and tarps to clear roads and cover roofs.

We were in need but others supplied us in our need. Others cared that we were suffering. 

As I write, firefighters are working night and day to contain the wildfire that is destroying the beautiful mountains and coast of Los Angeles.

I hiked those mountains less than a year ago and can contest to their beauty.

Going up in smoke.

We take government help in times of crisis for granted. 

We lost our heat on Christmas Eve when a power pole was hit by a motorist and blew out an essential part of our heating system. Several days later a cold spell hit sunny Florida. Our house is now a consistent 52, sometimes higher, but mostly low 50s.

 It feels cold. We're not used to it, but what we are is uncomfortable. We even have a space heater that can bring a room to almost 60. If our rooms were smaller, it would be higher.

But my mind goes to those in the mountains of North Carolina and Tennessee where people are overjoyed to have a winterized camper in this cold front. I think of those poor people in Gaza who have moved from place to place to escape bombs and have little to nothing to keep themselves (and their children!) warm. Hunger decreases the body's ability to generate heat. That takes a lot of energy, energy that comes from food.

We need to be more grateful that our needs are met.

We need to thank those who have been there for us in our need.

We need to recognize the difference between need and want.

 

We need to see in others the needs we have and give to them with the abundance of what we have been given.

Christmas story - 2024

He was oppressed and afflicted,

 yet he did not open his mouth;

he was led like a lamb to the slaughter,

 and as a sheep before its shearers is silent,

 so he did not open his mouth.

• Isaiah 53:7

Intelligence is the only solace a eunuch has.

Zerah could not only read and write; he could do so in six languages and several dialects. By the time he was seven, Zerah could speak both Meroitic and Egyptian. By ten, he had added Greek. Languages came easily to him, a blessing and a curse.

It was for this reason Zerah was chosen to train as an ambassador for Kandake Amanirenas. She selected Zerah herself after hearing him speaking fluent Egyptian to a traveler. She immediately recognized his intelligence. A child able to learn languages would make a valuable addition to her ambassadors.

To work for Kandake Amanirenas, he was required to be cut, to lose his manhood. 

It was not his choice. 

What ten year old boy wants to be mutilated in that way. But he had no say. He was supposed to be honored.

He did not feel honored. He felt afraid.

Zerah knew that the life of a eunuch was one of privilege. He would never lack for food or shelter. He would wear fine clothes. He would be educated.

These advantages did not tempt him. He would rather continue an ordinary slave and remain intact. But he knew they would do as they liked. He had no voice in what would be done to him. He never had and never would be in control of the circumstances of his life.

The procedure was horrifying. Many boys did not survive the cut. Zerah wondered if he would be one of them.

Zerah was a handsome ten year old. His ebony skin was clear and smooth. His eyes were almost black. The curls on his head formed tight intricate swirls. His high brow of glossy skin proved a fitting symmetry to his oval face, while his long dark eyelashes gave him a sultry look, unusual in a child. Others were constantly commenting on his exceptional beauty.

They would no more.

Beauty would not be his as a eunuch. Eunuchs do not look as other men do. He would be tall and his ape-like arms would fall down by his side to his thighs. Small breasts would form. Zerah would never have facial hair. Maybe no hair at all.

No longer would he be the the beautiful boy he was now, basking in the praise of friends and strangers.There would be no pride in his appearance. He would be a freak.

Not only a freak, he would be a freak without friends.  Intrigue and jealousy flourished among eunuchs. There was no trust. There were no friendships, only alliances. He would no longer have contact with all who were his friends before being selected to train as a eunuch..

How does one live without friends?

There are things known and things unknown and in between are the doors.

- Jim Morrison

The pain from the cut was swift and intense. For ten seconds, Zerah felt nothing at all and then the burning between his legs was unbearable. It was sharp and his stomach and bowels emptied instantaneously.

After the cut, a paste was placed where his scrotum had been and something sharp was placed in his penis and left there. For three days Zerah was allowed nothing to eat or drink. The pain and the urgency never left him until the pin was removed. 

During those three days, Zerah yearned for a death that didn’t come.

After two years of training, Zerah began his career accompanying older eunuchs to their destinations. It was customary for a young eunuch to drive the chariot of an ambassador. This was part of Zerah’s training. He observed the negotiations of the older eunuchs without speaking. Only in his practical duties did he ask questions, and of ordinary people. It didn’t take long for Zerah to recognize how he needed to speak in order to achieve the Kandake’s goals. In every country, Zerah learned new languages and cultural practices to use later when he became a senior negotiator. 

Zerah never lost his ease with learning a language or his love of new places and ideas.

Languages became Zerah’s friends. Within the eunuch community, he was thought a recluse. He did not involve himself in the many schemes common to the other eunuchs. Zerah had no desire for greater power.

He was a freak among freaks.

Zerah knew that learning a language takes so much more than knowing the meaning of words. It takes seeing nuance, phrasing, and body language which gives meaning and shades of meaning to what has been said. Zerah immersed himself in a language. He got to know it better every day by being in a place and hearing how ordinary people spoke with each other. He learned how people moved as they spoke, how their faces change, how a change in tone can make a difference in how something is understood.

He found culture a spiritual being, and learning its language an art.

Another advantage in his assignment as chariot driver was learning how to navigate the best route from place to place. This was yet another advantage in proving his worth to the Kandake.  It was a skill not every eunuch could master. Once he was in charge, he would have a young eunuch to accompany and drive him; but he would be the one to teach him to navigate the unwieldy chariot.

…. Him. 

Neither one of them was a him. 

There are no pronouns for a eunuch. Eunuch is the ultimate descriptor. There was no hiding his status. Zerah’s appearance marked him for what he was. He stood out in public with his height, his long arms, and his pudgy physique. The softness of his skin, accented by his lack of hair, gave him a boy’s face on an adult man.

Tribal people sneered at him when they thought he was not looking. It was  dangerous to openly sneer. After all, Zerah was a eunuch. He held political power. Zerah could not inspire love from any, but fear of him came from what he was and what that meant.

No one looked at Zerah as a person. He was a eunuch. Few looked past his physical oddities.

Hidden behind his freakish body was that beautiful boy who loved watching people and learning their language. Inside was the remnants of a man who longed for a family he would never have. Inside was a person who wanted to love and be loved. 

Inside every person is a person who wants to be loved.

Zerah had not found love but he found a measure of acceptance in what he called little while friends. He discovered he could sometimes break through the barriers to have a true relationship with some of the people around him, most often slaves who knew oppression well. It was not love, but there was a kind of bond.

Zerah always initiated contact. He would surprise others with his personal questions and the fact that he actually listened to the answers. Those not involved in direct negotiations, who served the negotiators, were as invisible as Zerah had once been. Men, women and children who cleaned and cooked and tended to the animals were not spoken to beyond instructions, by anyone but Zerah.

Tentatively, as they became used to this strange eunuch that asked their names, that asked about family and religion, some began to trust him. Some came to know him as a person who cared about people and animals and plants, about religions and harvest festivals. They found his voracious curiosity a non-threatening irregularity and relaxed so that Zerah could observe them in their daily lives.

Zerah would pay children generously when he first arrived to show him what he wanted to see -  indigenous animals and religious ceremonies, farming methods and bartering techniques. His interests were all encompassing. Zerah’s peculiarity was lucrative and the children competed with each other for who could tempt him with the best information. 

Every creature is a word of God. 

• Meister Eckhart

Zerah’s trip to Rome was the longest of his career. Trilingualism and more were not uncommon in Rome. There were so many languages spoken from the different parts of the empire. He spent five years studying Latin, Gaulish, Etruscan, Aramaic and Coptic. He also learned the subtle differences in the way Greek and Egyptian were spoken throughout the empire. His last year was spent studying the Hebrews with their odd religious practices and beliefs. As a eunuch he was barred from the inner worship area and had to content himself with asking others. This was a great disappointment as he studied this religion of only one god.

Zandake knew his gifts and used them well. She found his greatest talent was as a learner and teacher. Zarah would go to strategic places and bring back his knowledge to other eunuchs. Zarah was a valuable asset. She knew she had chosen well. Information he brought back provided negotiators a greater chance of peace and continued trade.

His companion on this trip was Horo. Horo was 13 when they left. Zerah watched as Horo’s body changed into that of a eunuch. At each change, he saw Horo’s spirit dim. Zerah saw great anger, an anger Horo held tightly within him.

Horo was chosen to accompany him because of his intelligence and his ability to learn quickly. This was true but he no longer received joy from it. As his body changed, so did his curiosity. He did as told and learned what he was taught, but there was a quiet rage waiting just beneath the surface.

Horo did not tell his story and Zerah did not ask. This was something that must be offered, and in their six years together, Horo never had. He did not respond to Zerah when he told his own story. Horo had found no solace for his pain, no sharing with another who suffered as he did.

The time had come for them to return to Kandake Amaniremas. They had learned so much. However, Zerah was not satisfied with his knowledge of the Hebrew people with their strange religious practices and theology. He had acquired a copy of their sacred text but found it incomprehensible in many places.

• Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you;
  therefore he will rise up to show you compassion.
  For the Lord is a God of justice.
  Blessed are all who wait for him!
  Isaiah 30:18

Zerah understood the Torah more than the other parts of the Hebrew texts. Most religions contained a set of laws, rules and regulations to follow. Some of the stories told in the Torah were similar to other religions he had studied. It was the writings that were considered sacred, those not found in the Torah, that Zerah found obscure.

He was reading aloud from the book of Isaiah, pondering over the passage that read He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; he was led like a lamb to the slaughter,and as a sheep before its shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth.

He read this over and over wondering who these words described. After the third time, Horo said bitterly, “It sounds like us.” Zerah waited to see if Horo would continue, but his lips tightened and he knew that Horo had said all he would say.

Zerah was aware of someone approaching their stopped carriage but continued to read from Isaiah. He looked up as the man approached and saw that he was a Hebrew.

Zerah was surprised when the man spoke to him. He had found the Hebrew people the least likely to engage in conversation with a eunuch. He found no eunuchs in their assemblies. They were not allowed, as he well knew from his own experience.

“ Do you understand what you are reading?” the man asked.

“How can I unless someone explains to me?” Zerah could not keep the frustration out of his voice. “Is the prophet speaking of himself or someone else?”

The man who was called Phillip offered to teach him what this passage was referring to. Zerah invited him into his carriage and told Horo to continue on their journey.

Phillip spoke of recent events that happened since Zerah left Jerusalem to return to the Kandake. Zerah had heard some of this Jesus along with many others who claimed to be what the Hebrews called the Messiah. He knew that many Hebrews wanted to break from Rome and return to governing their homeland. Zerah had not heard the story of Jesus’s crucifixion, the brutal way of execution reserved for slaves and revolutionaries.. This was strange indeed. How could he be the long awaited Messiah of the Hebrews?

Even more confusing were the teachings of Jesus. Phillip shared how the Messiah had come to build a spiritual kingdom on earth rather than a physical one. Jesus taught of radical love to both neighbors and enemies. Jesus told stories about ordinary people. He preached a loving god who cared for all.

Phillip told him about how Jesus had women among his followers and how they traveled together. How many became his disciples, just as men. How could Jesus allow women with men, not eunuchs? Zerah thought.

A woman ruled in his own country but he knew this was unusual from living in other cultures. Women had no rights in Hebrew society. They were treated as property. If Jesus had women as disciples, he was radically different from the Hebrew religion Zerah studied. And yet, Phillip was telling him that it was always the plan of the Hebrew god to send Jesus to mankind. If Zerah were not expected back soon by the kandake, he would return to Rome to study this new branch of the Hebrew religion.

Humans think in stories, and we try to make sense of the world by telling stories.

Yuval Noah Harari

Phillip continued to tell about what was happening after Jesus’s death, word of his resurrection and ascension into the heavens, how his followers lived in community sharing together what they had. It was fascinating and he felt a strange longing to be part of this community of Jesus who didn’t care if he was a eunuch. If all his followers were as kind and accepting as Phillip, he would like to be a part of this religion.

Zerah, having studied many religions, was a follower of none.

Phillip explained further that Jesus’s followers called themselves The Way because the teachings of Jesus brought them into a new way of living.

When Phillip told him about how new followers were being baptized to represent this transition to a new life, to a life of love for believers and non-believers alike, Zerah immediately knew this was something he wanted to do.

As they came to a small pond formed by a slow moving river, Zerah wanted to ask for Phillip to baptize him. Zerah knew that he would never be allowed to practice the Hebrew religion because of what he was, because he was not a real man. But this Jesus religion seemed to include women and men as equals. If women could be accepted, could he be accepted as a man who was not a man?

Zerah finally overcome his fear and made his request. Phillip was overcome with joy. Zerah had never had a person in all his travels treat him as this man did. In all the places he’d traveled, he never stopped being a eunuch, an outsider, a freak.

As Zerah emerged from the water, he was filled with a joy and peace beyond his understanding. He felt loved in a way he never had.

He observed that Horo had come to stand beside the water, his face filled with longing.

“Could I be baptized?” he asked of Phillip.

Phillip embraced Horo and led him to the water.

Zerah knew that Horo had been listening to all that Phillip said. As they walked back to the chariot, Horo and Zerah animatedly talked of what they had been told and of all the implications this newly embraced religion could mean for them. Both knew how much it would affect every part of their lives. Both were anxious to share what they had learned with others.

In their protracted conversation, they forgot all about Phillip. When they realized they had not thanked him, they found that he was already gone.

Horo increased the pace of the chariot as both wanted to return home as quickly as they could. They would not continue at the leisurely pace of before. There would be no stopping by the road to read. 

A name in Meroe is given to a child to determine his destiny. Horo means one who will multiply. When he became a eunuch, this name became a source of sorrow. He would never father a child. How could he be one to multiply?

But Horo would be the one to multiply followers of Jesus. He would return, not as the sad bitter teenager who left, but as the joyful man who returned to tell of a love that has no bounds.

Horo began to tell Zerah his story.

Merry Christmas, Shosha, Matt, Maura, Autumn and Nicholas. You are all beloved.