Azariah's Scrolls

(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.