Page 8 of Unveiled Tamar’s Story (Mysteries & Wonders of the Bible #1)
T amar let Bithnia pull her into the unfamiliar garden, looking this way and that in search of some familiar landmark…
or people she needed to avoid. She saw only the rose-tinted stones glowing in the sunset and the birds roosting on olive branches for the night.
Her ears heard only the whisper of the wind through those same branches and the skittering of the small stones their sandals sent tumbling down the path.
She’d lived in Jerusalem all her life and had explored much of the countryside around it, but she’d never been to this garden before. Its beauty made her wonder why that was. Surely someone should have told her of this place of lovely tranquility before.
Regardless, she was grateful to Bithnia for introducing her to it now.
It would be the perfect place to hide herself away during the Sabbath, and perhaps she would even emerge more at peace.
This felt like the sort of place where she might hear the still, small voice of the Lord reminding her of His precepts.
Bithnia drew her to a halt, cast a glance around that looked far from settled, and motioned at one of many openings cut into the rock of the hillside. “There. That is where you can hide. No one will bother you, I promise.”
Tamar nodded, taking one step toward the cave but then stopping. She would search it more when Bithnia had gone, but it seemed rude to do so now.
She and her siblings and cousins had explored many a cave in the region when they were children, and she had fun-filled memories of their adventures.
For a while, an uncle had owned a cave outside the city, which he’d used for the family livestock.
Some distant relatives had even made their homes in similar caves throughout the years.
“Does this belong to your family?” she asked Bithnia in a hush.
Whispering seemed more than necessary—it seemed right out here in this quiet place.
Bithnia hesitated a second and then nodded.
“That one, yes. But not the others. You will no doubt see or hear a few people coming and going, but if you stay in there, no one will bother you.” The young woman looked again toward the cave but then angled her body to the path.
“I will bring you food and water as soon as I can.”
Tamar frowned. She didn’t know exactly how far they’d walked to reach this garden of caves, nor what side of the city Bithnia called home, but it seemed likely that this place was more than a Sabbath day’s journey away—certainly if one added up the distance to and from.
“You need not worry about it. You cannot come this far on the Sabbath, and afterward I can simply leave. I am certain I can find a stream somewhere nearby for water, and I can go a day without food.”
A strange, determined look took possession of Bithnia’s face.
“It is not unlawful to do good on the Sabbath, Tamar, and feeding the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty, is certainly good. I grant that I will not be able to make the journey in the darkness, but I will be back first thing in the morning.”
The rumbling of Tamar’s stomach and the dryness of her mouth told her not to argue.
But the band around her chest that insisted this was displeasing to the Lord was stronger.
It had to be stronger. If simple hunger or thirst was an excuse to break the Law, then they were no better than the heathens.
“No. I refuse to be responsible for causing you to sin. I thank you for showing me this place, but hurry back to the city before Sabbath begins—and then stay there until it is over. I will be well.”
Bithnia’s expression didn’t waver. “Twenty minutes after first light. I will be here with charoset and unleavened bread, with cheese and grapes. And enough water to see you through.”
Tamar opened her mouth to argue again, but the young woman didn’t tarry to hear it. She was already scrambling back down the path, far more quickly than they’d ascended it. Tamar huffed out a breath and relented.
She would pray that Bithnia felt the conviction of the Lord during the night and would relent from her determination to sin.
She would find a stream or a well to see her through and resign herself to a rumbling stomach.
If Bithnia did show up in the morning, she would chide her and refuse to partake of what she brought.
If she could not teach the girl with words, she would teach her with her example.
“‘Not a sin to do good on the Sabbath,’” she muttered as she turned back toward the cave.
A slippery slope, that claim. Couldn’t one say anything was good, then, and make an excuse to do it?
Then before long, one wouldn’t honor the Sabbath at all, nor keep it holy.
While she still had light enough, she scouted the garden, her frown growing deeper as she looked about.
It was a lovely spot, yes, but there were no streams or wells nearby.
Most of the caves were sealed with large stones, which was odd.
Clearly no one else lived here, despite the convenience of its nearness to the city.
It made no sense. Caves like this one, in such a prime location, ought to be teeming with life.
There ought to be animals braying from some of them, families laughing in others.
There ought to be cook fires crackling, the smell of roasting lamb wafting her way even now as families prepared their meals.
She returned to Bithnia’s cave, her mind drifting back to the city, where her own family would be celebrating this week of most sacred remembrances. She could almost hear the familiar laughter of her nieces and nephews, the musical voices of her siblings and their spouses.
Her heart squeezed painfully as she stepped into the black interior of the cave and tried to make out any shapes or features in the darkness.
She’d never been away from her family during Pesach, not for more than a necessary shift at the loom.
Tonight, she’d expected to be nestled in with the little ones, telling them the stories not just of the first Passover—that story had been told already last night—but also their own family stories of Pesachs past. The ones that would make them laugh, make them cry, make them feel the connection to the family members they would never meet, who had gone to the bosom of Abraham decades ago.
Would someone else tell the stories in her stead? Or would they go untold without her there to begin the remembering?
Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough that she could make out several shelves carved into the wall, one at the perfect height for her to sit or lie down on.
She looked for a darkened ring on the floor to indicate where past fires had burned, but there wasn’t light enough to make out anything like that.
At the back, the darkness seemed even deeper, making her wonder if this first chamber led into another.
She wasn’t about to investigate, not without light to guide her.
There were no pieces of pottery stashed in the corners though.
No shards to indicate some had been there before and had broken.
No other shelves were carved into the walls for storage, nor troughs for animals.
Only the rows of stacked stone shelves, long enough that she could make one into a bed. Nothing else.
Voices intruded on the silence, too hushed for her to make out words, but startling enough that she slipped quickly and soundlessly nearer to her cave’s opening.
They won’t be coming here , she chanted to herself, over and again. This was Bithnia’s family’s cave, and she wouldn’t have brought Tamar here if there were any chance she’d be discovered. That had to be true. It must be, because she needed it to be.
Careful to stay in the cloaking darkness, she edged as close to the opening as she dared. The last glow of sunset still clung to the hilltop, though it wouldn’t last long. Whoever was climbing that path was in grave danger of being caught out after Sabbath.
She frowned anew when the figures took on form enough to make it clear they were primarily women.
One man led the group. He was older than Tamar by at least a decade, making him perhaps fifty years old.
He was motioning toward another cave nearby.
“This way,” he said, his voice husky and quiet.
“Are you certain I cannot help you carry Him?”
Women crowded behind him, something large and long in their arms. “No, please,” one of them said. “It is our honor. And we are already unclean. But you, Joseph…”
Unclean. Carry Him . A limp form in their arms…
A human form—a man! And if carrying him could make one unclean…
Tamar had to press a hand to her mouth to hold back a horrified gasp. A corpse. Those women were carrying a corpse into the neighboring cave. Which meant…which meant…
Revulsion twisted her stomach, forcing her to her knees. A tomb. Bithnia had led her to a tomb to hide her! Never mind that it had clearly never been used, never mind that it meant fewer people to discover her than if this had been a place of the living.
This was a place of the dead. Where, when people did approach, it was with the unclean bodies of the deceased.
What if she’d stumbled into an old, unsealed tomb where the dead rested? She could have touched something without realizing it. She could have become unclean during this holiest week of the year.
The hard stone beneath her shot pain into her knees.
What a disaster that could have been. No doubt on the first day of the week she would have to offer some sort of defense to the Sanhedrin, something to convince them that neither she nor her weavers were to blame for the tearing of the veil.
How could she do that if she was ceremonially unclean?
It took her a long moment to realize that the heat surging through her veins was anger. How could Bithnia have been so foolish? So shortsighted? Didn’t she realize what could have happened? How it could have impacted them all ?