FAITHFUL ENCOUNTERS – Part 052

JORAM THE THIEF
33 AD – Miraculous Sight – Bethany, Judeafaithful-encounters-cover-w

Thieving had always been Joram’s way of life since he was a small boy in the streets of lower Jerusalem. If he was not pocketing fruit from a vendor’s stall, he would be climbing through a third floor window pilfering someone’s valuables. In whatever situation he was in, he could always count on being chased.

Joram was on the run again.

He was spotted pilfering through the packs of some sleeping Roman legionaries in an encampment in the Jordan River valley just north of Jericho. He decided to evacuate the area most haste. He was about six miles from Jerusalem on the Jericho road, when he was recognized by a Roman patrol and he had to desperately flee into the ragged surroundings of the Judean highlands. When he got to the edge of Bethany, he thought he lost the pursuit, when he heard a shout, “There he is!” from behind him. Rather than hiding in the village, Joram high-tailed it down a narrow track that jotted back into the trees. The track wound it’s way to the south-east side of the village then it went about another mile until it went down into a quarry which is utilized by the wealthy dwellers of Bethany as burial places. He also knew of a well hidden spot.

The quarry is situated in a box-canyon with only one entry way. From behind the bushes he was hiding in, Joram had to dash across out in the open through the entryway. Most thieves normally would not get caught dead in a place with only one entrance, but he was not concerned for he knew of a couple ways out of this canyon. The craggly limestone walls of the quarry rose up about thirty feet on both sides of the path until it widens up. The grave sites that he walked by were fenced in by three foot-high rock walls. Some of the enclosures had flowery gardens in them, a sure sign they belong to the rich.

Joram followed the path further in until it went right by a pile of old rock-fall against a sheer roughly hewn wall. He got on the top of the rock pile then finding hand and foot holds on the wall, he began to climb. He went up about fifteen feet where there was a ledge and a hole in the wall. As he squeezed through it, he found the chamber exactly the way he left it. He had used this hole before. And he went in just in time, for he heard voices below him.

The voices he heard were talking in the Roman tongue. Apparently, from what he could make out was one of the soldiers thought he saw him run into the quarry. They spread out and searched. Fortunately, they will not be able to see the hole from the ground nor will they even notice the ledge since it is not easily distinguishable against the ragged wall.

Joram heard a whistle blow twice. A commanding guttural voice called out, probably a command to assemble. As the voices faded, he took a quick peek outside and sighted the tail-end of the line of soldiers leaving the quarry. He smiled to himself.

“That was a little too close,” he said to himself.

He backed back into the chamber. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark then took stock of his small hideaway. The chamber was not natural. It had a very low ceiling and had room enough for three large persons laying side by side. The far wall was stacked with some very old rusted tools and broken crates. He figured that this chamber was a supply cache when the quarry floor was still level to it. He imagined thousands of bedraggled Israelites digging away and mining it for limestone and marble slabs probably way back in the days of Solomon’s building boom hundred of years back. Joram went to one of the crates and tilted it up to reveal a number of items he left when last he was here. He picked out a small oil lamp. Shook it a little to see if there was some oil left in it. Satisfied that it hadn’t dried out, he struck his flint to light the lamp. From his pouch he pulled out a half eaten roll of flat bread and took a bite. Unfortunately, he would have had a big chunk of a roasted fowl from the mess tent of the Roman soldiers, but the cook’s slave came in just as he was about to carve out a slice. The slave called out an alarm and all he got away with was a bit off piece of flatbread and an over ripe plum. That was his meal until the next day. At least, that was how long he had to stay hidden, he figured.

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