Found. Morgan Rice

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СКАЧАТЬ of metal work. Caitlin noticed the faces of children, black with soot, sitting by their father’s sides, watching them work. She felt badly that the children worked at such a young age.

      Caitlin looked everywhere for a sign of Scarlet, of her Dad, of any clue of why they were here – but she found none.

      They turned down yet another street, and this one was filled with masons. Here, men chipped away at huge blocks of limestone, crafting statues, pottery, and huge, flat presses. At first, Caitlin didn’t realize what they were for.

      Caleb reached over and pointed.

      “They’re wine presses,” he said, reading her mind as always. “And olive presses. They use them to crush the grapes and olives, to extract the wine and oil. See those cranks?”

      Caitlin looked closely and admired the craftsmanship, the long slabs of limestone, the intricate metal work of the gears. She was startled to see what sophisticated machinery they had, even for this time and place. She was also startled to realize what an ancient craft winemaking was. Here she was, thousands of years in the past, and people were still making bottles of wine, bottles of olive oil, just like they were in the 21st century. And as she looked at the glass bottles, slowly being filled with wine and oil, she realized they looked just like the olive and wine bottles she’d used.

      A group of children ran past her, chasing each other, laughing, and as they did, clouds of dust rose up and covered Caitlin’s feet. She looked down and realized the roads were not paved in this village – it was probably, she figured, too small to be able to afford paved roads. And yet she knew that Nazareth had been famous for something, and it was bothering her that she could not remember what. Once again, she was kicking herself for not paying more attention in history class.

      “It is the town where Jesus lived,” Caleb said, reading her mind.

      Caitlin felt herself redden once again, as he plucked the thoughts so easily from her mind. She withheld nothing from Caleb, but still, she didn’t want him to read her thoughts when it came to how much she loved him. She might be embarrassed.

      “He lives here?” she asked.

      Caleb nodded.

      “If we’ve arrived in his time,” Caleb said. “Clearly, we are in the first century. I can see by their dress, by the architecture. I was here once before. It’s a hard time and place to forget.”

      Caitlin’s eyes opened wide at the thought.

      “Do you really think he could be here now? Jesus? Walking around? In this time and place? In this town?”

      Caitlin could hardly comprehend it. She tried to imagine herself turning the corner and running into Jesus in the street, casually. The thought seemed inconceivable.

      Caleb furrowed his brow.

      “I don’t know,” he said. “I’m not sensing he’s here now. Maybe we missed him.”

      Caitlin was flabbergasted at the thought. She looked around her with a new sense of awe.

      Could he be here? she wondered.

      She was speechless, and felt an even greater sense of importance to their mission.

      “He might be here, in this time period,” Caleb said. “But not necessarily in Nazareth. He traveled a lot. Bethlehem. Nazareth. Capernaum – and Jerusalem, of course. I don’t even know for sure if we are in his exact time or not. But if we are, he could be anywhere. Israel is a big place. If he were here, in this town, we would sense it.”

      “What do you mean?” Caitlin asked, curious. “What would it feel like?”

      “I can’t explain it. But you would know. It’s his energy. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before.”

      Suddenly, a thought occurred to Caitlin.

      “Have you actually met him?” she asked.

      Caleb slowly shook his head.

      “No, not up close. Once, I was in the same city, at the same time. And the energy was overwhelming. Unlike anything I’ve felt before.”

      Once again, Caitlin was amazed by all the things Caleb had seen, all the times and places he had experienced.

      “There’s only one way to find out,” Caleb said. “We need to know what year it is. But the problem is, of course, that no one started counting the years, like we do, until long after Jesus died. After all, our calendar year is based on the year of his birth. And when he lived, no one counted the year based on Jesus’ birth – most people didn’t even know who he was! So if we ask people what year it is, they’ll think we’re crazy.”

      Caleb looked around, carefully, as if searching for clues, and Caitlin did, too.

      “I do sense that he’s in this time,” Caleb said slowly. “Just not in this place.”

      Caitlin examined the village with a new respect.

      “But this village,” she said, “it seems so small, so humble. It’s not like a great, biblical city, like I would imagine. It just looks like any other desert town.”

      “You’re right,” Caleb answered, “but this is where he lived. It wasn’t some grand place. It was here, among these people.”

      They continued walking and finally turned a corner and came to a small square in the center of town. It was a simple little square, around which were small buildings and in the center of which sat a well. Caitlin looked around and spotted a few elderly men sitting in the shade, holding canes, staring at the empty, dusty town square.

      They made their way over to the well. Caleb reached out and turned the rusty crank, and slowly the weathered rope pulled up a pail of water.

      Caitlin reached out, cupped the cold water with her hands, and splashed her face. It felt so refreshing in the heat. She splashed her face again, then splashed her long hair, running her hands through it. It was dusty and greasy, and the cold water felt like heaven. She’d give anything for a shower. She then leaned over, cupped some more, and drank. Her throat was parched, and it hit the spot. Caleb did the same.

      They both finally leaned back, against the well, and surveyed the square. There didn’t seem to be any special buildings, any special markers or clues of where they should go.

      “So where now?” she finally asked.

      Caleb looked around, squinting into the sun, holding his hands to his eyes. He seemed as at a loss as she.

      “I don’t know,” he said flatly. “I’m stumped.”

      “In other times and places,” he continued, “it seemed like churches and monasteries always held our clues. But in this time period, there is no church. There is no Christianity. There are no Christians. It was only after Jesus died that people began to create a religion after him. In this time period, there is only religion. Jesus’ religion: Judaism. After all, Jesus was Jewish.”

      Caitlin tried to process it all. It was all so complex. If Jesus was Jewish, she figured, that meant he must have prayed in a synagogue. Suddenly, she had a thought.

      “So then, maybe the best place to look is the place where Jesus prayed. Maybe we should be looking for a synagogue.”

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