I was in biblical Judea, not far from the city of Jericho. The journey I had planned for was starting to unfold along with my singular task: I was going to find Jesus Christ and kill him.
Part 2—The Sixth Commandment
Chapter 12
It didn’t take me any time at all to orient myself. I was Adlai. My memories of the 21st century were vivid but just as vivid were my memories of being a lone wanderer in Judea.
I was angry at my father for losing the damned sheep, but the reality was that he knew I was unlikely to bother hunting for it, at least not very hard. I was born a nomad, and had often left Jericho for months at a time without saying good-bye.
By modern standards, my body was a wreck, and if I appeared in Minneapolis as I currently existed, I would attract stares and gasps. My body was thin, with no obvious muscle tone. Scars covered much of my body, and most of my teeth were gone. I was always in pain from any number of sources, and when I had the chance to eat, I ravished whatever there was, even at the expense of my kin.
I was a very typical wandering Jew.
I wore a simple robe that had started off gray and fresh many years ago but was now full of tatters and looked like crap.
Nobody took a second look at me, though. I was as poor as everybody else.
The river Jordan was my home, and now I took control of our body to start to walk north. The river flowed beside me, a lazy flow of water that seemed to take its own time to wind from the Sea of Galilee in the north down to the Dead Sea a few miles behind me.
“Onward to Nazareth.”
Before I go any further, I need to clarify something. I wasn’t speaking English at all during my time in the distant past. As with all Jews of the time, I spoke the common language of Aramaic.
I expect nobody reading this book is fluent in Aramaic, so I’m going to give you my best English translation of the dialogue.
Even so, it was cool to be able to speak a language that is essentially dead, just as a native would.
Because I was a native.
Within seconds, I was acclimated and no longer thought the temperature particularly hot, no longer thought the rolling hills particularly exotic, and no longer thought my body was a washed-up mess.
Everything was totally normal.
I was half David Abelman and half the wanderer Adlai of Machaerus, a town near the Dead Sea. When I was small, my mother died, and my father took me to live near Jericho. He wanted to leave the memories of his dead wife, who I believe he loved deeply. He has often spoken of her in soft tones, and I wished I could remember more about her.
The whole idea of my mother dying when I was very young seemed to parallel David Abelman’s mother, Molly, dying when he was very young. I filed that away for future consideration but never managed to figure out any reason the two situations had that in common. Just a fluke, I think.
Asher was now old and unable to properly tend his flock of sheep. Soon, I knew he would leave to walk to his homeland, Machaerus, where he would leave this world to join his spiritual father.
It was of no concern to me if I was there when he left. That type of emotional connection wasn’t common in these times. Asher would never consider waiting until I returned, partly because he knew my treks could take me away for long periods, and one day I would leave again, never to return.
He knew I couldn’t be happy if I was rooted to one spot.
Adlai was the perfect ancestor for me. Although, “ancestor” isn’t really the right word for a past life, is it? Maybe “spiritual ancestor,” which sounds awkward. Well, hell, I’m going to stick to ancestor.
We walked north, always keeping an eye on the flow of the Jordan.
The river brought life to Judea, with it’s plentiful fish and the water needed to grow crops and feed livestock.
We had traversed the river at least a half dozen times, and each time, we’d wandered off at points to see the world, such as it was. We’d been to Jerusalem, a much larger city than we were used to, and we had no interest in returning. The Romans were too present, and they could barely stand us lowly Jews. All we were good for was handing over food and other possessions for the precious empire.
No thank you.
My body may have seemed fragile to a modern eye, but in fact it was perfectly built for long walks. Slim, no extra weight, and my mind was full of patience and determination. Once we wanted to go someplace, we went and we arrived. The shortest distance between two points was always found by a nomad.
Our new destination would take time. Several days.
That wasn’t any type of detriment, because I carried my fishing gear, so I could eat, and the river provided my drinking water. I needed nothing else.
God provides for us.
“What?”
I was taken aback when I realized that Adlai was a fierce believer in God, and always had been. Asher had taught him the power of the Lord and Adlai never questioned it.
He knew with absolute certainty that God provided.
It was very odd to have that belief myself, while at the same time knowing the concept of God is ridiculous and infantile.
Nonetheless, we believed.
We kept walking.
Our body didn’t grow weary, and our muscles never cried out for a rest. We would occasionally walk into the Jordan to cleanse our body of sweat and to cool down. A small sip of the cool fresh water rejuvenated our soul.
I couldn’t tell you how far we walked that first day. There were no Fitbits or even a wristwatch. We walked with a known purpose that never wavered.
By evening, we were ready to stop for the night. I estimated we had walked thirty miles or so. We were hungry, but fishing was a task for the morning, and so we lay down and slept.
The morning sun brought fresh energy with it, and we woke full of zest for the day.
As always, we prayed before doing anything else:
Shema Yisrael,
Thank you for providing me with life and to be able to enjoy your creations for another day. I know you will always care for me, and for those I care about. I will do your service unfailingly until you bring me home to your table. Amen.
.We stood for a few extra moments of reflection before walking over to the river. The Jordon smelled like life.
I took out my net and started to cast it out upon the water. In less than a dozen tries, I caught a fish I knew was called a musht, but that I might have called tilapia if I were eating it in my favorite Minneapolis restaurant. We cooked the fish and ate it in silence, thanking the Lord for providing.
We bathed in the river before looking to the north and continuing our journey.
Most of the trip, I let Adlai control our body. He was perfectly content to continue walking, even though he had no particular purpose in mind. Walking was the way of his life.
The purpose behind our trip was buried in David Adelman’s mind. That mind—when I use the “I” pronoun—knew exactly what the trip was about.
Not that far to the north in Galilee was the village of Nazareth, and if the Bible was to be believed, the historic Jesus lived there as a teenager right now.
I wondered if I would have the courage to follow through on my plan to kill him.
I didn’t believe Jesus was a supernatural being. I didn’t believe he was the son of God. I didn’t believe he was capable of performing any miracles.
I did believe he lived, though. He was a man who inspired people to follow him, and those followers created Christianity after Jesus was crucified.
Christianity in turn spread to eventually have more than two billion followers.