Glossary
NOTE: Some terms which are used only once and defined in the text are not included here.
Adonai (ah-doh-nai)—Literally, Hebrew for “my lords.” Because of the reverence with which the Jews held the sacred name of Jehovah, or Yahweh, they substituted Adonai, meaning in that case “the Lord.” The translators of the King James Bible (and some other versions), out of respect for that practice, wrote in Lord in all but one or two places where Jehovah was found in the Hebrew version, writing it with small capital letters to distinguish it from the use of the word Lord (the singular adon), which referred to a person of respect. See, for example, Psalm 110:1, where both uses of Lord is found.
bar mitzvah (bar MEETZ-vah)—Literally, “a son of a commandment”; the ceremony whereby a Jewish boy at age thirteen becomes an official adult in the religious community.
bath or bat (BAHT)—Daughter, or daughter of, e.g., Miriam bat Mordechai, or Miriam, daughter of Mordechai.
ben (BEN)—Son, or son of, as in Simeon ben Joseph or Simeon, son of Joseph. An Aramaic translation of ben is bar, as in Peter’s name, Simon Bar-jona, or Simon, son of Jonah (Matthew 16:17), and bar mitzvah.
Beth (BAIT; commonly pronounced as BETH among English speakers)—House of, e.g., Bethlehem, House of Bread; Bethel, the House of God.
caligulas (ca-LIG-yoo-lahs)—A sandal with short spikes in the soles worn by most Roman soldiers.
christos (KRIS-tohs)—In Greek, “anointed one”; in English this becomes “Christ.” The meaning is the same as the Hebrew meshiach.
chuppah (KHOO1-pah)—The canopy under which a couple are married in the Jewish faith.
Diaspora (dee-ASP-or-ah)—Literally, “the dispersion,” meaning the scattering of the Jews among all nations; first begun after the fall of Jerusalem to Babylon in 587 b.c.
gehenna (geh-HEN-ah)—A Latin word derived from the Greek geenna, which comes from the Hebrew ge-hinnom, which literally takes its name from Ge Hinnom, or the Valley of Hinnom, where piles of refuse burned without ceasing. Gehenna refers to the world of spirits or the world where the dead go.
goyim (goy-EEM)—Gentiles, literally in Hebrew, “nations,” a word used for anyone not of the house of Israel, or in modern times, one who is not a Jew; singular is goy.
matzos (MAHT-zos)—Unleavened bread, especially that used during the Feast of Unleavened Bread and with the Passover meal.
menorah (commonly, men-ORE-rah, but also men-ore-RAH)—A candlestick; usually refers to the sacred, seven-branched candlestick used in the tabernacle of Moses and later in the temples.
meshiach (meh-SHEE-ach)—In Hebrew, “anointed one”; in English, “Messiah”; same as the Greek christos.
mezuzah (meh-ZOO-sah)—Literally, in Hebrew, “doorpost”; the small wood or metal container with scriptural passages inside fixed to the doorposts and gates of observant Jewish homes in response to the command in Deuteronomy 6:9.
minyan (meen-YAN)—A “quorum,” the minimum number of adult males (which is ten) required to carry out official worship services.
mitzvah (MEETZ-vah)—“Commandment,” the Hebrew word for all the requirements God places upon his obedient children.
Pesach (pe-SOCK)—The Hebrew name for Passover.
peyot (pay-OHT)—The long side curls worn by strictly observant Jews in obedience to the commandment in Leviticus 19:27. In Hebrew peyot literally means “edge” or “corners.”
phylactery (fil-ACT-ur-ee)—The Greek word for tefillin; comes from the concept of a safeguard or amulet.
praetorium (pree-TOR-ee-um)—Official residence of the Roman governor or procurator or other high government official.
publicani (poo-blee-KHAN-ee)—Latin for “public servant”; the publicans of the New Testament were hired by Romans to serve as the tax assessors and collectors in local districts.
seder (SAY-dur)—From the Hebrew word for “order.” The Passover meal is often called seder; there the various prescribed foods are laid out in a specific order.
Shabbat (sha-BAHT)—Hebrew name for the Lord’s day; the source of our word Sabbath.
shalom (shaw-LOWM)—“Peace,” used as a greeting and a farewell.
Sh’ma (sh-MAH)—Sometimes also Shemah; from the Hebrew imperative for “hear!” One of the most solemn declarations of faith for a religious Jew; it is said every day and, if possible, is the last prayer of the dying. Comes from Deuteronomy 6:4, “Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God is one Lord.”
Talmud (TALL-mood)—A collection of sacred writings and commentaries written by learned rabbis and Hebrew scholars of the Torah over many generations.
tefillin (the-FEE-lin)—From the Hebrew word for “prayers”; the small boxes affixed either to the forehead or the left bicep by observant Jews in keeping with the commandment in Deuteronomy 6:8. Inside are pieces of parchment on which are written scriptural passages.
Torah (TORE-ah)—The writings of Moses; the first five books of the current Old Testament.
yeshiva (yeh-SHEE-vah)—A Jewish school, one that particularly emphasizes the study of the Torah and the Talmud.
Yom Kippur (yam kee-POOR)—The “Day of Atonement,” the most sacred of all Hebrew holy days; it occurs in the early fall in our current calendars.
Pronunciation Guide for Names
Readers may wish to use the common English pronunciations for names that have come to modern times, such as David. The Hebrew pronunciation is for those who wish to say them as they may have been spoken at the time of the Savior. Any such pronunciation guide must be viewed as speculative, however; we simply do not know for certain how Hebrew names were pronounced in antiquity.
Abraham—In Hebrew, ahv-rah-HAM
Anna—ahn-AH
Azariah—ah-zeh-RAI-ah
Bethlehem—English, BETH-leh-hem; Hebrew, BAIT lech-EM
Beth Neelah—BAIT nee-LAH
Bethsaida—English, BETH-say-dah; Hebrew, BAIT sah-EE-dah
Caesarea—see-zar-EE-ah
Capernaum—English, ka-PUR-neh-um; Hebrew, kah-fur-NAY-hum
Chorazin—khor-ah-ZEEN
Daniel—dan-YELL
David—dah-VEED
Deborah—deh-vor-AH
Ephraim—ee-FRAI-eem
Esther—es-TAHR
Eve—hah-VAH
Galilee—English, GAL-leh-lee; Hebrew, gah-LEEL or gah-lee-YAH
Ha-Keedohn—ha-kee-DOHN
Jairus—Some think the Greeks would have pronounced each vowel, therefore, jay-AI-rus. More commonly it is JAIR-yus.
James—Same as Jacob, or yah-ah-KOHV in Hebrew
Jerusalem—ye-roosh-ah-LAI-eem
Jesus—Hebrew form of the name is Yeshua (yesh-oo-AH), which is the same as the Old Testament Joshua; Greek form is hee-AY-soos.
Joachin—yo-ah-KEEN
John—Hebrew form of the name is Johanan (yo-hah-nahn).
Joknean Pass—yohk-NEE-an
Joseph—yo-SEPH
Kidron Valley—English, KID-rohn; Hebrew, kee-DROHN
Kinnereth—English, KIN-ur-eth; Hebrew, keen-ohr-ET
Leah—lay-AH
Menachem—meh-NAKH-em
Miriam—meer-YAM
Mordechai—mor-deh-KAI
Moshe Ya’abin—mohw-SHEH ya-ah-BEEN
Mount Hermon—hur-MOHN
Mount Tabor—English, TAY-bur; Hebrew, tah-BOHR
Phineas—feh-NEE-as
Ptolemais—TOHL-eh-mays
Rachel—rah-KHEL
Samuel—shmoo-EL
Sepphoris—seh-PHOR-us
Shana—SHAW-nah
Simeon—shee-MOHN
Simon—see-MOHN
Tabgha—tab-GAH
Yehuda—yeh-HOO-dah; other forms, Judah or Judas
1 The CH sound in Hebrew is a throaty guttural, pronounced like KH together but with air coming through the throat.
Prologue
The Lord shall bring a nation against thee from far, . . . as swift as the eagle flieth; . . . a nation of fierce countenance, which shall n
ot regard the person of the old, nor shew favour to the young.
—Deuteronomy 28:49–50
I
14 October, a.d. 29
The waters of the Sea of Gennesaret—or Kinnereth as the Galileans called it in their breathy, guttural Aramaic—were usually a deep blue-green, but under the leaden winter sky, the waters were a slate gray. The basin in which the lake rested looked like a huge bowl with brown sides and a gray bottom. Even then, it provided a stunning backdrop for the men of the second cohort of the Tenth Legion Fretensis. The line of about two hundred men had just crested a long ridge where the land dropped off sharply to the waters far below. The first of what the Jews called “the early rains” was drizzling from the sky, and the soldiers moved along with their heads down, enduring one more miserable day as they had so many before it. And yet the bright red capes, the gleaming brass helmets, and the dull glint off the Roman broadswords provided a sharp splash of color in an otherwise dismal landscape.
In the reckoning of the Julian calendar, created by Julius Caesar almost a hundred years before, it was the fourteenth day of October in the fourteenth year of the reign of Tiberias Caesar, or the seven hundred and eighty-first year since the founding of Rome. In the reckoning of the Jews, it was the third day of the month of Marchesvan, in the three thousand seven hundred eighty-ninth year since the coming of Adam, who in their myths and legends was the first man on the earth.
Marcus Quadratus Didius, newest tribune in the tenth legion, shook his head. Was there nothing that these Jews did like other peoples? They even had their own way of reckoning time. He brushed aside the sudden irritation and reined his horse aside to watch his men approaching four abreast.
As the first rank moved past his position, the cohort’s standard straightened, the long pole with its red banner and its glittering golden eagle at the top snapping into position. There was a stiff breeze coming up from the lake, and the flag crackled briskly. The brilliantly dyed fabric was embroidered in gold with the four letters SPQR. Almost without thought, his mind formed the words Senatus Populusque Romanus—the Senate and the Roman people. And that stilled any thoughts of the intransigent Jews. Here in a single symbol was embodied all that he stood for, all that had brought him so far from his home and that would keep him here for the next several years.
Though not a single pair of eyes so much as flicked in his direction, almost imperceptibly heads lifted, chins tucked in, shoulders squared as the men passed by their new commander. It was a stirring sight, and he felt a sudden thrill of pride shoot through him. He was only a month out of Rome, and he was still struggling with a growing conviction that the gods had played a cruel and terrible joke on him by making the province of Judea his first command.
He leaned over and patted the neck of the sorrel mare, feeling her chafing impatience to return to their rightful place at the head of the column. But there would be time enough for that. Now he needed this. This was Rome! This was the pulse that throbbed from Britannia to Libya, from the Pillars of Hercules to the Euphrates River. Fifty million people, frontiers of over four thousand miles, twenty-five Roman legions marching in disciplined ranks throughout the length and breadth of it, making possible pax Romana, the Roman peace. Who would not be stirred to think he was part of that heartbeat, part of the greatest empire in the history of the world? Sennacherib of Assyria, Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon, Cyrus and Xerxes of Persia, even Alexander the Great—all would have stood in awe to see what Rome had created.
Marcus straightened, surprised at the depth of his own emotions. His father was right. The emperor was not Rome. No one man—though powerful beyond belief—could sweep aside the essence of the empire. It was the empire that mattered. It was the empire that welded scores of peoples and dozens of tongues into one vast unity. The emperors came and went, but the empire endured!
The clear green eyes darkened as Marcus thought of Pontius Pilatus, or Pilate, as the people called him, current procurator of Judea and Marcus’s own direct commander. Pilate was a Roman official, an appointee with full power to represent Roman authority in this part of the empire. Haughty, arrogant, more likely to act on impulse than through careful deliberation, Pilate was typical of many of the procurators and legates who governed the various provinces. He was more inept than some, less corrupt than many. But he did the job, and it was clear that for the moment Tiberias Caesar was satisfied with how things were going in Judea. So let the governor strut and posture and throw his power about. Marcus would carry out his commands without question, for in discipline and obedience lay the secret of Rome.
Marcus lifted the reins, preparing to dig his heels into the mare’s flanks and move out ahead of the column again, when he saw that Sextus Rubrius, his senior centurion, had stepped out of position a short distance away. He was not watching his men pass by but rather stared down at the lake below, his rough-hewn features dark and moody. Marcus nudged the horse forward until he came up beside him.
“Worried?”
“Yes, sire, somewhat.”
“Why? Surely you’ve been sent out to assist in collecting taxes before.”
The veteran noncommissioned officer, who was about the same age as Marcus’s father, looked up. He seemed to sense that Marcus’s question was sincere. After a moment’s thought, he spoke. “Yes, sire, I’ve been asked to collect delinquent taxes before. But this is the Galilee. There is a saying among the men, sire. We say that if the Jews are the tinderbox of Rome, then the Galileans are the flint that strikes the spark.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I was stationed here in the Galilee for some of the eight years I have been here in the province. I learned that Galileans are born with a sword in their swaddling clothes, suckled with the milk of rebellion, and weaned with a spear.”
Marcus started to chuckle, then, seeing Rubrius’s expression, let it die. So that was why Rubrius had mustered a full maniple for this assignment. Marcus looked down to where, far below them, the roofs of Capernaum stood waiting, barely visible through the mists of rain. Capernaum contained an important customshouse on the great highway that ran from Alexandria to Damascus, and Marcus knew that the procurator kept a small garrison of legionnaires in the city to see that the duties owed to Rome were collected properly and without difficulty. He had wondered why Pilate had asked them to handle this problem. He looked at Rubrius. “Did you actually live in Capernaum?”
“Yes.”
Marcus reined his horse around. “Good. Let’s hope you didn’t antagonize them too badly.”
He gave a sardonic grin. “Yes, sire. I hope so too.”
II
A Roman legion was made up of ten cohorts. A fully staffed cohort consisted of three maniples, which had two centuries each (companies of a hundred men). Thus a battle-ready legion had about six thousand men, not counting auxiliary troops. Typically, however, in peacetime conditions, a cohort might drop to as low as half their full strength. When Marcus Quadratus Didius had, two nights before, received his orders from Pontius Pilate to go to the Galilee to help collect overdue taxes, Marcus had been a little surprised. The Romans hired local tax collectors who collected most assessments. While it was not uncommon for them to occasionally ask for some muscle to back them up, usually the local garrisons did that. Puzzled, Marcus had sent orders to assemble one maniple, or about a hundred men. The next morning when he went to the assembly area he found that Sextus Rubrius had obeyed his order but had brought the maniple up to full strength, giving them double that number. When Marcus had raised one eyebrow, his senior centurion had only grunted, “We’re going into the Galilee, sire.”
But now that they were here in Capernaum, Marcus understood a little better. He had been here in the Jewish province for only a month, but he was already used to the baleful stares and the open hostility that greeted a Roman whenever he was out among the people. But here it had been more like acid on the flesh. One could feel the contempt pouring from the doorways and every shop. The fact that the four families who
were in arrears were wealthy and powerful only added to the tension. And finally, Marcus had understood. These families were being extorted heavily by the local publican and had refused to pay. Pilate would receive a healthy cut of what they brought in today, all under the table of course. The local soldiers could never have done it. Fortunately, they had made their first three collections without undue incident, the families realizing what a full maniple of soldiers meant. He was tempted to jibe Rubrius a little for being overly cautious, but then decided he would rather have that in his centurions than cocky overconfidence. And he had to admit, even he was glad that he had two hundred men behind him.
He shook his head. These Jews and their belief in one god— no, one true god to the exclusion of all others—was still baffling to Marcus. He had heard about their strange religion before he ever left Rome, but he had put most of it down to wild exaggeration. One god? That was incomprehensible to Marcus. The Roman pantheon was a bewildering collection of gods and goddesses. Selfish, capricious, foul of temper, driven by lust, these divinities of Rome were very ungodlike. Which one would you pick as the god? Even if they had chosen the three brothers—Jupiter, Neptune, and Hades, who between them ruled the heavens, the seas, and the world of the dead—Marcus could have understood that, but one god who ruled all? And to believe in that one god so passionately?
“I find the whole thing still quite incomprehensible.”
“What’s that, sire?” Rubrius asked, looking up at him.
Marcus realized he had spoken aloud. “These Jews and their religion.”
The centurion removed his helmet and began to wipe the drops of rain off against his tunic. “Odd as it may sound, sire, once you come to understand how they feel, it does have a kind of strange attraction about it.”
That brought Marcus up. Did he detect a note of admiration there? But the older man didn’t notice. He went back to scanning the rooftops above them. The street was narrow, and an enemy could easily launch stones at them from the roofs on either side of the street. The men were strung out now, no longer four abreast, but going two by two and staying close to the houses. Rubrius turned his back to his tribune. “Do you know the story of Judah, or Judas, as we say it, of Gamla, here in the Galilee, sire?”