This Menacing Umbra

Spring 216 (B.C.)

Dear Father,

I wish I could begin this letter by telling you how marvelous life is in the army, and how wonderfully we’ve been able to do our jobs. Yet, one of the virtues you so faithfully taught me in my childhood was that of honesty. And so, in honesty I confess: life is miserable.

Our atrocities began many months ago (in fact nearly two years now), which I hope will give you reason to forgive my incompetent correspondence since that time. You will remember from previous letters how our acclaimed Hannibal chose, after much dispute amongst the officials, to march our forces across the fearsome Alps. I was, at first, awed at the bravery and endurance of this man Hannibal. He has truly been an example to me of what I might become one day if I follow in his faithful leading of courage. But, despite this admiration, our whole company was soon weary from the tumult which our journey began with, and distraught at the trek to come. How were we, so large a company, to maintain our strength and fortitude for what we knew would be a strenuous struggle?

Whatever miseries we thought we had faced, though, became miniscule in light of what we next encountered. Trouble after trouble placed its way in our path as we went along through the Alps. Many men were lost, and many beasts as well. Yes, our difficulties were many at that time. Of what I informed you after that I do not know, for we have been so preoccupied with our military work. Therefore, I will do my best to summarize for you what has happened since we crossed the Alps.

For a time, after crossing the Alps, fate seemed as though perhaps it was again turning in our favor. After a glorious three battles won on end, I thought that just maybe we could win this war after all. While my strength at Ticinus was little, it became renewed upon victory. Then again at Trebia, despite my strength being worn out from the intensity of the battle, I found myself rejoicing. Still, we remained very busy and so of course the details which I relayed to you were vague. Allow me then to share with you the one time in these past months in which I really did feel at ease. Hannibal was truly at his best at that time, a time in which he saw to it that all our forces hid in the hills while the weary Roman forces swam across the river. Just as they were coming across, we rushed at them and victory was ours! Ah, that was a happy day. Finally, there was one other battle, also showing the wisdom of our general in battle affairs. This one, as I am sure you heard of in Carthage, took place at Lake Trasimenus, and was of equal greatness to the one at Trebia. But that was months ago, Father.

Again I stand without hope. This time, I truly believe it may be the end, at least for this regiment. We have been now, through a painful and truly frustrating series of events, cut off from our food supply. I am just thankful to even have water in this forsaken place. It seems every day that another man falls ill. Those left with strength are so few in number. Frankly, I don’t know if we’ll last the remainder of the spring. Everything is so beautiful here in Italy around us, and yet, our men are feeble and lack anything to renew our old strength.

You know how much I, and the rest of the men here in the camp, admire Hannibal. Any of us would have declared just months ago that we would follow him to death – yet, now, with the reality of this hefty darkness looming before us, none of us is quite sure if even the man himself would go so far. Talk has been around of Hannibal considering a desertion of the mission, though I wonder whether perhaps it is just a rumor spread for the personal comfort of my comrades. For, as you know, our commander has devoted his life to this cause. Leaving it behind now would not only be a treachery to our country: it would be the death of all this man has ever been! His whole time on this earth has been for the sole purpose of conquering Rome. Surely he wouldn’t quit now. Or would he?

Conflicting rumors spread around the camp day after day, night after night, and I do my best to shun them from entering my mind, but still they do! When faced with the reality of near death, especially for a person as young as I- nineteen- even to think of doing it for one’s country is a burden. I want so badly to escape this thing, almost a disease, which is creeping into my mind, but I cannot. Perhaps it is the lingering cold, or my lack of food, that affects me so. Maybe all we need is a jolly song from Carthage, or a war theme to put our minds back at the work that has become such a drudgery to do.

Despite these possibilities, I know it is nothing but wishful thinking. Turning back now would be a foolish thing to do, because it would cause us to die simply on the way back. No, we must stay here. Our only hope is that perhaps some miracle will come about and we shall win whatever may next fall in our line of battle, or some good natured person will have the compassion to send us something in the way of provisions.

Until that time, though, I must endure to the best of my ability. There is nothing more to keep me going except life itself – and even that is an uncertain possibility. Father, please, give me a reason, any reason, just to live! Surely the world was never meant to suffer so, all for the sake of our desire to rule.

Send my love to mother. Speak nothing of this to her: it would alarm her too greatly. And if you still pray, then please, pray that deliverance might come upon us. I feel the end is near.

Your son,

Gisgo

Torrents of Trepidation (and Why I Live in the Hills)

WHOOSH!

The wind swept about me, thrashing its finger in my face. Rain was coming. In Israel, the wet season was upon us. Seeing the storm clouds moving in, I began trudging wearily toward the house. As I gazed back at the crops, I sighed at how much work remained to be done when the rain stopped. But, I reminded myself, I ought to be thankful that I lived in my native country, when so many before me had lived in exile.  

Just then, a figure burst through the gate at the end of the field, and came running straight in my direction.

“Judas!” the man yelled, clearly angered by something. “Go and gather your brothers together, and don’t tarry!”

My father, a priest, was vehement in tone, and whenever he got like this, it was wise not to question his authority. Quickly I turned to fetch my brothers, John, Simon, Eleazar, and Jonathan. Like any other boys, my brothers had their share of quarrels. As the middle child, somehow I always landed being the mediator. Once again, this proved true.

                                                            ~

The news my father had for us was not happy. Israel had been commanded, under Antiochus Epiphanus, to conform to the culture of the pagans. We were to worship as the heathens, dress as the heathens – essentially, we were to be heathen. Moreover, my father, Matthathias, as a respected priest in Israel, was expected to be among the first to comply with this official order. Yet, being the godly patriarch he was, father wouldn’t go along with the heathens and certainly would not lead the people into sin. This burden was heavy, and caused us to lose ourselves to grief for many days. But, at last, we realized this could continue no longer. My father’s intention was to be a man of God, and each of us knew he would stay in God’s will.

                                               

With renewed vigor, our family marched along the way to Jerusalem, ready to greet the officials with a clear refutation.

                                                            ~

“You wish to do what?”

The Seleucid general was clearly in disbelief, but my father remained calm.

“Must I live to see these days?”

Appalled at this show of disrespect toward the government, the soldier took a step closer to us. We, in fear, closed ourselves in tighter to one another.

“I will have no one in this land who does not obey the command of his own authorities!” 

The s hissed through the man’s gritted teeth, giving him an aura of penetrating villainy, and a strong presence of regime throughout his enormous bulk. I felt a shiver run down my spine in full acknowledgement of the evil before me. Almost at once, our family exchanged glances, realizing the danger in which we placed ourselves.

“It is a small matter,” continued the man, “to alter your manner of worship.”

“Perhaps to you it is,” replied my father in his rather notorious vehemence, “but I see it not as you do. Indeed, if you change my practice in worship, you will take away my God whom I love. And if you do so, you shall have me exchange all my other daily practices for your own. No, this is no small matter. If this succeeds, may God be my deliverer!”

A cheer rose up behind me. Gladdened that someone was on our side, I turned.

My heart dropped. The cheer was not for my father’s courage in going before the government – no, it was far from that. A young man, a man I had played with in my childhood, a man from a god-fearing, honorable family, had chosen to side with the general.

Bowing down before an idol of the gentiles, my friend threw himself prostrate and began to pray, “Oh Zeus, most high and blessed above all the gods, the son of Kronos, husband to Hera, and father of Athena, Apollo, Dionysus, and the rest of the most beautiful divinities in Olympus: may your name be great forever.”

Disgusted, my father was filled with fury, as were the rest of my family and those few others who were faithful to Yahweh. Enraged at the denial of the Jewish people toward their God, and all they once held dear, it was apparent that my father was moved to wrath, tensing every muscle in his body. In this heat, my father erupted and began to slay all those worshippers who had left the Hebrew faith for pagan idolatry. Furiously, he swept through the crowd gathered in this square of Jerusalem, trampling those thrown prostrate before the graven images of the gods of the Greek-speaking peoples, tearing down these corrupt statues, and ending the lives of those who sought to defend this rebellion against the one true God. Catastrophe marked the scene in Jerusalem, and all were distraught. Still, my father Mattathias had one purpose: to serve the living God by fulfilling his holy call to lead the people of Israel n righteousness.

                                                                        ~

That day proved to be just the beginning of many great struggles between those Jews faithful to God, and those unfaithful. It was not long before my father took our family away to the hills, to be preserved against the pagan influences and harsh persecution we experienced in the city. Since then, we have remained here, a growing number of others joining us. My father’s wish is that someday Israel may be restored to her full glory, for the Lord has promised this to us. It seems more and more clear, however, that perhaps I am the one the Lord would have go before Israel while she waits, and renew her strength to endure. How I will do so, I know not, but one thing I do know: that this man Antiochus is wicked, and does not follow the true and living God.

I am afraid I must take leave of my writing, and tend to the fields. The work never ends around here, since we are so few in number. But, before I go, I must take one last look over the ridge where I sit. Ah, yes, over there, just in view near the horizon, is my hometown. If I blur my eyes, I can almost see the fields, and feel the wind whipping around my face. The rainy season is back in Israel; and maybe, just maybe – Yahweh’s cleansing rain will heal my people soon.

My Top 10 Favorite Novels...

...in no particular order, because I love them all.  (And the Bible isn't on here because it is not a novel, but that is my favorite book ever =D) Most of these books I have read multiple times, and for the ones tat I haven't read more than once, I have every intention to do so.  Go read these books. And love them like I do. :)

 A Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens. A remarkably moving look at life during the French Revolution. This book had me overwhelmed, amazed, laughing, and even sobbing. Definitely one of the greatest works of literature available.

 Ishmael, by E.D.E.N. Southworth. This book is a sort of rags-to-riches story of a young illegitemate child. He is truly a lovable character, and his life is an inspiring one. Ishmael is out of print, and to my knowledge is only available through Lamplighter Publishing, but do get it! It's sequel, Self Raised, is very good, as well, and satisfies the tragic ending of the first book.

 Tales of the Resistance, by David and Karen Mains. What a book! This is a children's allegory of the Gospel, and is part of a trilogy (Tales of the Kingdom and Tales of the Restoration are the other two books). My friend Cooper recommended it to me, and rightly so! I read the entire book in one sitting, and was brought through smiles, tears, anger, and joy. Tales of the Resistance is a must-have for any family!

 The Chronciles of Narnia series, by C.S. Lewis. If you aren't already familiar with this series, do get acquainted. Enter the story of two children who stumble upon the magical experiments of the absurd Uncle Andrew. Before they know what to think, they are thrust into a wood with mystical pools of water, and the adventure begins! Another allegory, summarizing the key elements of the entire Bible. Absolutely life-changng.

 The Lord of the Rings trilogy, by J.R.R. Tolkien. Lewis and Tolkien both were members of a group of writers known as the Inklings (from which this blog borrows its title), and have become famous for their friendship. Tolkien has erected a true masterpiece of literature as he tells the tale of a magical ring, a fat little "hobbit," and a handful of people thrust together in a mission to destroy this ring. A very compelling story, again one that brings out all sorts of emotions. While I wouldn't call this one an allegory, it does take key elements of Scripture and beautifully portray them in this epic fantasy.

 Elsie Dinsmore, by Martha Finley. A sweet, inspiring story of a young girl who, despite having everything in worldly terms, has only one wish in the whole world: to meet her father. Practically an orphan, yet one who is heiress to plantations and mounds of wealth, Elsie is the dearest little character you'll encounter. This book might be a little more geared to girls, but it is really quite suitable and enjoyable for the whole family.

 Beowulf, unknown author. I know. Right now you are thinking, "GEEK!" Well that's because I am one. But seriously, this is an awesome book. I've read it four times in the last three years. It is poetry, yes, but very easy poetry. Readable in two hours. At least I've done it. :) By the way, get the Seamus Heaney translation. Best translation ever, especially since you get the opportunity to learn a little Old Norse along the way.

 The History of the Kings of Britain, by Geoffrey of Monmouth. Let the real geek arise. Technically, this is not a novel, but there are enough historical innacuracies that I count it as one. Matthew, my brother, who read this at age ten (yes, he is just slightly intelligent), LOVED it! Even if you hate history, though, and you can't stand acts of blood and gore, and you think that medieval people were stupid, you're going to love this book. I can almost guarantee it. Give it a little patience, because it takes time to get used to for some people. This book is HILLARIOUS, given a chance to show itself. Really, who can pass up five-foot men carrying eleven-foot giants for five miles and throwing them over cliffs? You can also find the basis for all the legends of King Arthur and Merlin in this book. The only thing I might skip is the prophecies of Merlin. They're kinda weird. :P

 Emma, by Jane Austen. Hahaha! That's all I can say about this book. It is hillariously amusing, and brings in a sweet romance as well. Most definitely worth reading. Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility are other favorites by Austen.

 The Pilgrim's Progress, by John Bunyan. What a story! You most likely know that this is an allegory, and you may or may not know that it is the most widely selling book in history, only surpassed by the Bible itself. Yes, it is that good! You can read it in the Old English, or get various translations of it. I'e read it both ways. I distinctly remember being about nine or ten years old and actually memorizing whole chapters of the abridged version! Excellent stuff. Very convicting, and inspiring as well.

Well, those are my ten. If I could have, I would have listed dozens more...books like Jane Eyre, The Secret Garden, Little Lord Fauntleroy, Deadline, Little Women, The Nine Tailors, The Great Gatsby, Till We Have Faces, Anne of Green Gables, and a billion others for good measure. :) Plus, I could have a huge list of non-fiction, But, I have restrained myself, and your job in return is to read all the books in this list.

Bye then!

Meridian