Page 21 of Go First
Santos folded his hands loosely on the table.“And you believe your role is to restore that taste?To make the law sharp again?”
Cox inclined his head slightly.“The commandments are not suggestions.They are the framework of all creation.The Jews understood this: their word for a commandment ismitzvah, and the root of it comes from the verb ‘to do’ or ‘to make’.God built His universe with laws. So when men exploit faith for profit, when they take the Lord’s name in vain by draping it over greed… the judgment is not cruelty.It is adjustment.Alignment with the divine order.Another Jewish term:tikkun ha-olam.Mending the world.”
The guard scratched his nose.Santos leaned forward a fraction.“You speak of order.But order administered by whom?Who chooses the guilty, Reverend Cox?Who wields the knife?”
Cox allowed himself a pause.His mouth curved faintly again.“Would you have us wait for lightning from heaven?Or for courts run by men who themselves bow to money, or the baubles you can buy with it?No, Father Santos.The commandments name the crimes.The scriptures name the punishments.Judgment only requires an obedient hand.”
Santos’s brow furrowed slightly.Not disagreement—consideration.“But obedience to whom?To your own understanding?To a prophet?To the still, small voice you claim is God?”
Cox leaned closer, the chain on his wrist clinking softly.“Obedience to truth, Father.Truth is not relative.The Lord Himself wrote it with His finger on stone.Thou shalt not steal.Thou shalt not bear false witness.Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain.These are not interpretations.They are absolute.The man who violates them brands himself.The hand that corrects him merely restores the balance.”
Santos let the words settle, like dust in sunlight.His eyes did not waver.“And yet—” he said softly.“The Christ you claim as Lord also said, ‘Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.’Do you consider yourself sinless, Reverend Cox?”
A flicker touched Cox’s expression.Not anger.Not shame.Something closer to interest.
“I consider myself obedient,” he said.“And obedience is counted as righteousness.”
“By Abraham’s faith,” Santos countered gently.“But Abraham’s test was not to kill Isaac.His test was to trust God enough not to.”
The room fell into stillness.Even the guard seemed to hold his breath.
“Tell me, Father,” Cox said at last, “do you condemn those who profit from lies in God’s name?Do you excuse them?”
Santos’s jaw tightened briefly.“I have seen many men twist scripture to build empires.I have seen poor families emptied of their last savings by promises of healing that never came.Do I condemn it?Yes.But I have not acted as their executioner.”
“Then you have left them uncorrected.”
“I considered that I was leaving them to God’s judgement.”
“And now?”
Santos smiled.“Well, we all serve, in so many different ways.”
Cox smiled back.The guard looked at them both through narrowed eyes, as if unsure what was going on.He had the look of a tourist who suspects he’s being ripped-off.
“You have been called a zealot,” Santos said quietly.“Like thesicarii.Men of the first century, Judas Iscariot was one of them.They would strike with curved daggers in crowded places, believing themselves to be God’s hand against Rome.”
“But they targeted crowds of people,” Cox countered.“Anyone, everyone.They hid their weapons beforehand, to evade the searches by the soldiers.And then they ran amok.My concept of justice is targeted, not random.For that reason, I am no zealot, no sicari.”
“There’s a fascinating description in Tacitus,” Santos said, seemingly at a tangent.“The soldiers hunting the weapons down, flipping up tables in the taverna, even cutting up a fish.”
“Careful, Father,” Cox said, icily.“You’re supposed to be horrified by violence.”
The older guard shifted, muttering under his breath, but Santos ignored it.
Instead, he leaned back in his chair, regarding Cox as though they had all the time in the world.“I may visit again on a Sunday.”
“Sunday,” Cox repeated.“Yes.”
“Is there anything I can bring in?”
“I have everything in place now.But I could do with some gloves.It gets mighty cold on the exercise yard.”
“Are you allowed to wear your own things?”Santos cast a concerned glance at the guard, who stared straight ahead, unresponsive.
“Well now, I haven’t been convicted of anything yet, so all the while I’m here awaiting trial, I get to avoid the orange jumpsuit, and I’m afforded certain privileges in terms of possessions and commissary and so on.”
“I see.”