In Chapter 28, Tova at last finished her story about David of old, being anointed by Samuel the prophet. Shat Sippur -- story time for the children of Bethlehem -- was then adjourned. It was Friday afternoon, and the Sabbath was about to begin.

Now we must go back to the early hours of that Friday, and turn our attention to the three men of Bethlehem who are searching for a place of refuge -- a new homeland -- for their families. When we last spoke of them, in Chapter 22, it was Thursday night, and they were finding their way to the crest of a steep mountain. At that time, they were badly in need of a night's sleep. In Chapter 29, we find them on the outskirts of an ancient village called Nazareth.


Chapter 29 -- Searchings

By the time Eleazar and his two traveling companions found a flat area on the brow of the mount, the moon was high and the air was chilly. Though they were more weary than any of them could remember being in their lives, they knew it would be worth the time to pitch their little one-man tents.

As soon as this was done and they had a prayer together, Matthan, Eleazar's son, crawled into his tent and was snoring softly at the moment he was prone. Even the normally talkative Addi, their Bethlehem kinsman, silently disappeared into his tent and was asleep only moments later.

Off and on all that day, all three of them, and Eleazar in particular, had been harboring unspoken fears for Bethlehem's security. He suspected he might lie awake with these thoughts heavy on his mind. However, though the ground was hard and the future still shrouded in danger, Eleazar was conscious of no fear or thought until early the next morning.

~~~

When young men, such as Matthan or Addi, need to catch up on sleep, they usually get the job done without trouble. Not so with some older ones, such as Eleazar. He was the first to awaken as this Friday, the fourth day of their journey, began. He was awake just enough to crave more sleep. He was not fully recovered from a paralyzing fatigue. As he lay in the cozy darkness of his tent, he was conscious of but one sensation in every bone and muscle: sweet relief.

His mind went back several hours, when he and his companions had finally reached the brim of the hill. They had stared down upon the neighborhood called Nazareth. It was nestled upon the north slope of a shallow, dish-like valley.

No candle nor lamp, nor fire of stove was glowing then, for the hour was too late for poor people to be awake. The homes, most of them jutting out of the north slope of the valley, had been bathed in the soft whiteness of a partial moon. The sight had seemed hardly believable as each man considered the strangely comforting thought that this humble place might soon be his family's home.

That was about all they could think about while pitching their little tents and collapsing into a long-postponed slumber.

But Eleazar was presently aware that something strange was happening in the blackness above him. Were the stars shaking? Could Isaiah's prophecy be coming true? He thought of the words: "Therefore I will shake the heavens, and the earth shall remove out of her place, in the wrath of the Lord of hosts, and in the day of his fierce anger."

Could those shifting stars above him signal the day of Messiah's coming?



But no. Other prophecies must first be satisfied. And why were these stars not in their usual constellations? Could the night sky be so different for Galileans? Indeed, how could Eleazar see the stars at all? Was he not still covered by a tent? Could he not still smell the heavy panels of woven camel hair of which it was made?

Then, with a flush of embarrassment, the simple truth dawned on Eleazar. He was in a tent all right. And those “stars” were but the light of early morning, leaking through holes in the tattered fabric. All it took to shake the "heavens" in this case was a strong morning breeze.

Eleazar grabbed his sandals and clambered out into the stark morning light. With stiff and sluggish steps, he made his way to the highest point along the ridge, the place where they had stood last night while gazing down upon Nazareth.

He looked to the south, and picked out the area where they had stood with Muset and Giddai yesterday morning. His eyes retraced the path they had taken in crossing the valley. He looked far to the west along the great valley floor, recognizing the Carmel range of peaks overseeing the valley. He tried to imagine the famous blue sea that was just out of eyesight in that direction.

Then, gazing back to the east, he beheld the sun just now emerging from an undulating horizon, sending its fair shafts past a rounded mountain called Tabor, just below. The whole ridge on which he stood was spread in light.

They had mounted this ridge in the dark after entering its lower canyon and climbing the tedious serpentine path.

At last Eleazar studied the scene to his north, and especially the little town situated in a shallow depression of land just below him -- Nazareth, "the Branch." He thought again of those words they had reviewed while traveling: "in the hollow of his hand."

Taking a few steps further to the other side of the ridge, Eleazar was just out of view of his campsite and of the town below. Here he knelt and poured out thanks that a watchful heaven had attended them from the time they left Bethlehem more than three days ago. Their mission was like Nazareth itself: quiet, noticed by none but God. That, he realized, was a good way to live.

"Oh my Great Father," he pleaded, "can this be the place where our little branch of David can make a home? Might we in this village, with thy light, raise up our little ones in the hollow of thy hand?"

~~~

In one of the cave-like homes that lined the northern slope of Nazareth's bowl-shaped valley lived the family of a young man named Daniel. His father had passed away not long ago, making him the sole heir to a number of grape vineyards on the hills near Nazareth.

Daniel and his wife Aviva were a poor but happy couple, faithful Jews. They had been married some four years now, and had one child, a daughter of frail health, aged three years, named Nava.

Because this was Friday, Daniel had a half day of work planned at one of the vineyards today -- removing the excess buds from the branches or "canes" of each grape plant so that no one cane was burdened with more than 50 or so buds. It was a vital task for the best possible harvest, and pleasant to do.

This would be a perfect day for little Nava to join him at his work, leaving Aviva free to make Sabbath preparations. They thought it best to let Nava get plenty of sleep this morning.

As the sun rose above the horizon, Nava had still not emerged from her little mound of blankets on her own, so Aviva went around to the back of their earthen oven to make sure the child was all right. That is when, with an audible, horrified intake of breath, Aviva discovered that Nava was not even there. And there was nowhere else she could be inside in the tiny home.

Nor could they find her at the neighbors' or on any of the narrow paths that connected their home to others along Nazareth's north slope. Their small and precious Nava was gone.

~~~


The streets of Bethlehem were filled with turmoil. Various people were noisily gathering to the home of Addi and his wife Jessica. Of course, Addi was not there, so Jessica was especially upset as she huddled in the doorway, holding tightly to her little girl and her son Heli. She looked very much alone before the Roman soldiers glaring down at her. One of the soldiers, the fearsome Tulio, was repeatedly barking out the question, "Where? ... Where?"

Jessica had no idea where her husband and the other men were by now, but of course would not have answered even if she had known.

Tulio pressed his great steed close to the doorway, and with an enraged scowl drew his sword. It rose glistening in the morning sun, poised above the innocent figures crouched upon the ground. Jessica closed her eyes, and heard Tulio's hoarse roar, "For the last time, Where?"

Addi sat up in terror, his hands reaching forward, agonizing over the scene, craving to intercede between the sword and his little family, but somehow forced to be only a paralyzed and helpless observer. He was breathing heavily, looking around in the dimness of his tent. In little waves of wakefulness, he slowly realized that the scene that seemed so was only a dream. "Only a dream," he said rapidly, and then checked himself to be sure that this welcome thought was really true.

He was reminded of his mission, to make sure such a trauma never took place for his family. He remembered bedding down the night before in this little shepherd's tent. He must not shirk the mission for a moment. "Only a dream," he said to himself once again.

But if it was really only a dream, if his family were really not in danger after all, then why did one portion of the dream linger so vividly? Why did he hear the voices of a small crowd of people. Why, amid their worried and impatient clamor, could he still here that question, "Where?!"

The voices were real, all right, becoming more real and numerous with every passing moment. He must face them, dream or not. So he found the tent opening and emerged into the glaring mid-morning light.

Sure enough, there were voices, coming from some 20 or so people, who surrounded the three little tents. Several people in the crowd were indeed asking questions in rapid fire, with their harsh and unpolished Galilean dialect, and common to them all seemed to be the one word -- "where."

Addi was about to find someone in the crowd who could speak for the others, when he heard the voice of Matthan, who himself was now clambering out of his tent. "Hold on, friends," he was saying, even before he was on his feet. "Hold on." And when this plea went unheeded, Matthan spoke more loudly, with a firmness and command Addi had not noticed in his cousin before: "Peace, my friends. Peace!"

At this, total silence suddenly washed over the gathering. If Matthan's unassailable request took Addi by surprise, it had at least that effect on these people from the little village of Nazareth. It occurred to Addi that when Eleazar, heir to David's throne, was not on hand to take charge in his accustomed, calm and graceful manner, Matthan apparently had it in him to fill that role in like fashion.

"Someone -- just one of you, please, kindly tell us of your concern," Matthan announced, "and we will see what we can do to help you."

That is when a young man of solemn and honest countenance stepped forward, accompanied by a tearful woman at his side. "I am Daniel," he said, "a man of this village. We are searching for my little child, who has been missing this morning. We can find her nowhere in Nazareth."

As this, the woman at his side sobbed and two women near her stepped to her side and put their arms around her. Though the man's voice caught, his face became grim and almost threatening. "It seems a little suspicious to all of us," he continued, while several in the crowd nodded vigorously and seemed to close in around the three tents, "that just as she has disappeared, we find you strangers camped nearby. For all we know, you are slave traders. And ..." he added as he pointed first at Addi and then at Matthan, "... you can be sure that we will find out what you know of this."

Everything was silent for a few long moments. Addi was struck with the pain these people must be feeling. He wanted with his whole heart to help them in their search, and was confused that he and his companions should instead be persons of suspicion.

Matthan was thinking fast about how to convince these people that they were friends and certainly not slave-traders. In those hurried thoughts, it occurred to him that a desire to live here had quickly turned into a need to defend themselves against public opinion. The only sound from the group around them was from an older woman, who rattled out an interrogation: "Where do you have her?! Where is she? Is she hidden somewhere in your things here? Come on! Confess!!"

But neither Addi nor Matthan spoke soon enough to answer the challenge leveled at them. The next voice they heard was that of Eleazar, who had managed to approach the group from behind. He had overheard, and already had a suggestion. To the surprise of all 25 or so who were clustered upon that rocky hilltop, this Eleazar, who few of them had ever seen or heard before, broke the silence with some simple questions of his own: "Was this child of yours a girl? Does she walk with a limp? Does she wish to have a pair of sandals?"

Addi and Matthan had assumed that Eleazar was still in his tent, somehow sleeping through this commotion. This, along with the strange series of questions that still hung in the air, left both of them wide-eyed, with no speech coming from their open mouths.

The weeping of the little girl's mother subsided noticeably as she slowly looked up and turned to look at Eleazar. "Yes, these things you ask ...," she said, "they are all true of our little Nava."

Then Daniel of Nazareth looked squarely upon Eleazar and gravely asked, "How do you know to even ask those questions?" He and others now stepped closer to Eleazar, who stood outside the gathering on a raised outcropping of rock. "Did you have something to do with her disappearance?!"

This was not the first time in recent days that Eleazar had made his appearance -- somewhat angel-like -- to a suspicious crowd.


Read Chapter 30 next week on MormonTimes.com.

Wayne E. Brickey also writes a blog on church history called "Sites and Insights" for MormonTimes.com. He lives in Gallatin, Mo., is a retired Church Educational System teacher and curriculum writer and has been a tour guide to Holy Land and Mormon history sites. His novel "Before His Manger: The Long Wait for Christ's First Coming" is being serialized in weekly segments on MormonTimes.com.