(This is a historical fiction short story based on 1 Maccabees 1 & 2)
Azariah cautiously stuck his head
around the corner. Yes, the soldiers still had their backs to him. He glanced
the other way and, seeing nothing, snuck across the street. The bag slung
across his shoulder bulged in a peculiar, cylindrical way, not at all like the
bulges caused by the fruit that it normally carried.
He
was about halfway across when his bare foot caught on a stone. The bag flew
through the air as he slammed into the dirt. A good-sized scroll fell out and
rolled to a stop in the street. The noise caused by his fall caused one of the
soldiers to turn around. Shouting to his fellow guards, the soldier ran over to
Azariah and the scroll, but Azariah quickly pulled himself off the dusty
ground, snatched up his belongings and dashed off.
Into
the dark alley he ran, very aware of the pounding footsteps close behind him.
He wasn’t worried, however; he knew that the soldiers would be hindered by
their heavy armor, while his light frame was able to carry him swiftly through
the winding streets and over the sun-baked rooftops of Modein. The knowledge
that the scroll he carried was a part of the book of the Covenant also lent
wings to his feet. He had been collecting and hiding the Books ever since he
came to Modein two years ago.
Azariah
easily lost the soldiers. Half an hour and many twists and turns later, he
arrived at his uncle’s large house. He scanned the area and slunk over to the
cellar in the corner of the backyard. After looking around once again, Azariah
opened the cellar door and slipped inside.
Inside
were numerous jars of all shapes and sizes. Azariah pulled the scroll from his
bag, sat down on a bench in the corner, lit a candle, and began reading. He
read almost an hour before he rolled up the scroll, went over to one of the
shelves and pulled a medium-sized jar out from behind several larger ones. He
removed the lid and carefully placed the scroll inside among four others. He
put the jar back in its place, grabbed a handful of dried fruit, hung his bag
on a hook by the door, and climbed back out of the cellar.
The
sun had already sunk behind the distant hills when he emerged. He crossed over
to the house and went inside. After a short exchange with Hanani, his uncle,
Azariah withdrew to the second-story room where he slept each night. His pallet
lay along the room’s far wall, by the window, as it had every night for the two
years he had been living with his uncle. Without undressing, Azariah lay down
on the mat and slipped into fitful sleep.
Fire. Everywhere, fire. Angry-looking
tongues of yellow and red flames arose from the house and licked at the night
sky, blotting out the stars. Four laughing figures were silhouetted against the
blaze. Soldiers. A fifth stood off to the side, watching in silence as he
juggled a leather pouch. This one was someone Azariah knew well. He was one of
Azariah’s family’s friends, the priest--turned-traitor Phinehas; a greedy man,
he must have turned Azariah’s God-fearing family over to the soldiers for a
reward.
Azariah
cast his eyes about the scene, looking for a sign of his family. Three more
figures lay in a crumpled heap in front of the soldiers, one of which had
another tiny figure hung about her neck.
Azariah’s anger burned hotter than the fire engulfing his home. His
father, his mother, his seven-year-old sister and his newborn brother: all
dead. He began invoking every curse he knew against the villain as his vision
was blurred by tears. Tearing his gaze away from the awful spectacle, he ran
off into the shadows, oblivious to the cutting of his hands every time his
bleary eyes caused him to fall.
He
knew where to go, had known since possession of the books of the Covenant was
outlawed: the Hinnom Valley. In a small cave in the valley’s wall lay his
father’s books of the Covenant. His father had taken him there at the same time
when he hid the scrolls.
“Listen,
my son,” his father had said. “You’ve been a man for two years now. If anything
ever happens to me, I want you to get the rest of our family, come here and
find the scrolls, then go as fast as you can to my brother’s house in Modein.
He’ll take care of you.”
The
words were growing louder in his ears. Now they were changing, no longer the
words of his father. Who was it?
Azariah
bolted awake. Hanani was waving at him from the doorway. “Hurry, Azariah! Everyone has to go down to the sanctuary to
sacrifice, though we all know it won’t be according to God’s laws.”
Azariah
sighed deeply, then stood up. “Coming, uncle.”
The short walk
took to the sanctuary took them about ten minutes. Upon their arrival, Azariah
found himself separated from his uncle and shoved to the front of the crowd,
twenty feet from the altar. One of the king’s officials, the one enforcing the
sacrifice, was speaking earnestly to Mattathias, one of Modein’s leading men,
and possibly the only faithful one.
“You are a leader,
honored and great in this town,” the official was saying, “and supported by
sons and brothers. Now be the first to come and do what the king commands, as
all the Gentiles and the people of Judah and those that are left in Jerusalem
have done. Then you and your sons will be numbered among the friends of the
king, and you and your sons will be honored with silver and gold and many
gifts.”
Mattathias’
rebellious reply could be heard by everyone. “Even if all the nations that live
under the rule of the king obey him, and have chosen to obey his commandments,
every one of them abandoning the religion of their ancestors, I and my sons and
my brothers will continue to live by the covenant of our ancestors. Far be it
from us to desert the law and the ordinances. We will not obey the king’s words
by turning aside from our religion to the right hand or to the left.”
Everyone was
stunned by his words, too stunned to speak, until a man stepped forward. It was
Phinehas. What is he doing here?
Azariah wondered. Phinehas ran up to the altar and prepared to sacrifice the
pig in obedience to the king’s command. Once again, Mattathias shocked the
crowd.
Realizing
Phinehas’ intent, Mattathias dashed up the steps to the altar, took the knife
from Phinehas’ hand, and slit his throat. Mattathias further bloodied the blade
when he stabbed the king’s official. He didn’t stop there, however. The
bloodstained knife clattered on the altar steps as Mattathias, helped by his
five sons, tore the altar apart with his bare hands.
When the altar was
nothing more than a pile of rubble, Mattathias cried out to the crowd. “Let
every one who is zealous for the law and supports the covenant come with me!”
With these words,
Mattathias and his sons fled into the hills. Azariah, blood on fire with zeal
for righteousness, ran as fast as he could back to Hanani’s cellar. He pulled
out his five scrolls, shoved them into his bag along with some food, and ran
back out.
As he hurried
through the streets, intent on joining Mattathias, he went over in his mind
what he had read the night previous: “And [he] shall turn back and take action
against the holy covenant…Forces from him shall appear and profane the
temple…and shall take away the regular burnt offering. And they shall set up
the abomination that makes desolate…but the people who know their God shall
stand firm and take action.”
Azariah wondered
if these were the times that were spoken of in the scroll. Antiochus IV sure
seemed to be taking action against the holy covenant. If Antiochus was the
ruler who “set up the abomination that makes desolate,” could Mattathias and
his sons be the people of God?
*Note: The passage
at the end is from Daniel 11.
