They came out of the desert darkness with a swiftness and brutality only men who live by violence can do without fear or remorse. They were on a mission from a warlord king, they took a falconer and his precious hunting birds, also his son, had their way with his fifteen-year-old daughter, and disappeared into the grieving night. Trained peregrine falcons were prized by warlord kings because they gave such status and esteem to otherwise base and fractious men. The birds killed with speed and precision, characteristics that appealed to this ravaging band that created such horrific carnage before stealing away into the darkness again.
It was especially horrific for Sophia. Ravaged and alone in the darkness, in pain and overwhelmed by the horror, she lay as though dead. She almost was, and as little as she could think, wondered if it were better if she was. She endured the night, saw the sun’s rays emerge from the desert flatness, and with painstaking slowness, managed to make her way toward some shelter. She lapsed into a sleep that, while fitful, blanked out the horror.
When Sophia awoke, it was late afternoon and she realised that water was going to be her most pressing concern. A small wadi was nearby, and although dry, she knew the overnight dew would be on the leaves and by early morning she could quench her thirst a little. She was in pain from the frenzied violence, so movement was difficult. She managed to make her way to some green plants, found some berries to eat and lay down exhausted. Darkness fell swiftly, and Sophia, used to sleeping rough, was soon asleep.
There was something in the night sky that wasn’t asleep. A young kestrel, cared for and trained by Sophia since leaving the nest, had escaped the clutches of the night raiders and was looking for her. She found her. Raptor’s vision being quite beyond our comprehension, it is impossible to know what that young kestrel saw that we never could. It didn’t need, however, that special vision to see that Sophia was waking slowly, somewhat rested, but dreadfully tormented.
Old Shamuel didn’t have a raptor’s vision. However, after a lifetime spent looking at fine print and temple walls, he did have a new-found delight in being able to see into the distance. After such a cloistered existence, walking at the steady pace of laden donkeys, he looked about him with a child-like sense of awe in the simple things of nature. He noticed things his fellow travellers missed, despite them having walked these same roads for years.
It was not surprising, then, that Shamuel noticed the kestrel hovering over the dry wadi. Looking for small reptiles he thought, but something else intrigued him. The kestrel was looking directly at him, an intense demanding gaze, if that were possible from such small eyes. Then Shamuel noticed the kestrel turning and looking directly below to a distressed and disheveled Sophia. He wouldn’t have seen her if it were not for noticing the kestrel first.
Shamuel approached her cautiously, and already his gentle caring heart was grieving for her. He told her he would help her, not harm her. When he saw the bloodstains, he wasn’t sure that there was much he would be able to do. He wished his daughter were with him. But at least they could speak and understand each other, for the old man spoke Greek as she did.
“We were attacked the night before last by Bedouins who took my father, my brother and their hunting birds. They abused me and while my brother distracted them I was able to escape and hide”. Then Sophia added, “And this is my kestrel who has escaped and found me in the night. He won’t come close however, and I don’t know why”.
Then the kestrel spoke, and both the old man and the distressed teenager heard it, so it is from the mouths of two witnesses that I am able to share this confidently.
“I now know what true freedom is, so I won’t be coming back Sophia. I appreciate the years we had together and your love for me, but I must be free. You see, while I was with you, my food came from you, and I wasn’t aware that it could possibly be any other way. Now I know it was a contract, an exchange whereby I hunted for you and you gave me a place to live and daily food. It worked, but it wasn’t freedom. Now the contract is gone, and I can love you because I choose to”.
There was silence. Even the donkeys paused their grazing and turned around with that bearded face and long-eared donkey look. The kestrel continued to hover, suspended by thought, and watching with the eyes of a friend not a predator. Then Sophia spoke.
“I am sorry it took desert raiders and their violence to make you free, but I am pleased it is so. I look forward to a new relationship where we look out for each other and both keep each other free. And no contract or expectations”.
The kestrel flew off into the desert haze, a dust-driven thing that limits what we can see, but there is something in the raptors’ eye-sight that is more than seeing, it is a special kind of knowing.
The old man and the teenager were keen to get moving. Shamuel rearranged the loading of the packs so Sophia could ride, and in an act of consideration that endeared him to Sophia, he gave her his coat and hat. “You don’t need any more attention from desert travellers, so you can be my son. That is until we get home where you can get the kind of attention you need from my daughter”.
It was Eli, Shamuel’s son-in-law that saw them first. He was holding Levi, who, upon seeing his grandfather, reached out for him, straining against his father’s arms. Then Levi saw Sophia, and what motivated him to act the way he did we may never know. He wanted her to hold him, and what started at that moment was a bond that transcended all barriers. Like the kestrel who sees in a way we can’t, little Levi must have known that one of the most helpful things to begin the healing for that teenager was the embrace of unconditional love. An action from a child with a motive as pure as any could be. No words needed.
When Hannah came out of the house, she was startled to see her son in the arms of a stranger wearing her father’s coat. Shamuel, wise old man that he was, said “Sophia has been molested and abandoned, she needs your help, and we can explain things later. I’ll tend to the donkeys, and then go and get warm”. Then with his hand on Sophia’s shoulder said “I hope you have a good night’s rest my child, you are safe here, and we will look after you as long as you need it”. He kissed his grandson tenderly and followed Eli who had taken the donkeys to the stable. None of the people in the scene playing out that evening realised it, the donkeys either, but they were the last words they would hear this old man of God utter.
When Hannah went to give him his pre-dawn cup of tea, he was dead, still sitting in his chair with a copy of the sayings of Yeshua on his knee. Funeral arrangements were made quickly and word of his passing spread throughout Nazareth and beyond. He was formerly a well-known and much loved rabbi, and judging by the church dignitaries that attended his funeral, the view they held about his choosing to follow that well-known carpenter was put aside in a show of brotherly respect.
At the simple funeral, Eli spoke of the carpenter, how he taught a code for living, how he broke every barrier to knowing Yahweh as father, and by his rising from the guarded tomb, showed he had taken the pain and sting of death away. He added that Shamuel had not left the synagogue as an apostate, but as one moving into a relationship with the God of heaven he had never thought possible.
Sophia was not the only one listening to words and ideas that seemed too good to be true. The big difference however, was she had never been exposed to anything like this, while many of the other listeners, especially the religious dignitaries, were shackled to a set of ideas that made any genuine consideration of these too-good-to-be-true ideas nigh on impossible.
After the last of the mourners had left the house, Hannah and Sophia with Levi in her arms went for a walk. Hannah was keen to know Sophia’s story, not in a prying sort of way but more out of a recognition that this damaged teenager was likely to become part of Hannah’s world. She needed to know more than the fact that she certainly was not Jewish.
“I don’t know where my people come from” Sophia began. “People often call us Samaritans, but my father is Greek. My mother has Egyptian ancestors, and I was born in Babylon, so I am not sure what you make of that”.
Hannah didn’t feel like making anything of that. “I would rather you think of yourself as my sister, not where you come from. But I would like to know why you were on the road where the desert thieves attacked you”.
“My father has hunting falcons. They are trained to go out and capture birds, mainly quail and doves, but sometimes other birds. We would cut the strips of meat off them, dry the pieces, then salt them before selling them at the markets. My brother worked with my father too, and had his own birds. The falcons are valuable, but will only work for one person. That’s why the Bedouins took my father and my brother as well as the birds. I managed to escape, but my kestrel was taken. She later escaped and found me and helped your father find me. She now flies free, but has promised to still keep an eye on me. Eli spoke of your father finding a shepherd, well I like to think of my kestrel as a kind of shepherd”.
“That’s beautiful” Hannah replied. “My father’s shepherd is the carpenter who promised to always be with us, even though he is not here in person”.
“How does he do that?” Sophia asked.
“Eli, who actually met him and talked with him, said he talked about leaving his spirit to be with us and guide us. People referred to his spirit as like a dove, but I think a kestrel is a good metaphor too. I think that’s why your kestrel needed to be free. To appear at the right time and hover over us” said Hannah, somewhat surprised at how profound it sounded.
Levi was sound asleep in Sophia’s arms when they came inside the house, and Hannah let Sophia place him on his little bed. The two sisters paused, and as they looked in awe, the child woke, smiled at each of them and went back to sleep. The spontaneous benediction over, Hannah took Sophia by the arm and without saying anything, walked her to her father’s room. His meagre belongings were gone and a vase of flowers was beside the bed.
“This is your room now. I will miss my father, but having you with us will help me see that life goes on” said Hannah.
Sophia was overwhelmed with the kindness, and being welcomed and shown such love. There was something about the timing that, were she not so overcome with emotions, she could probably articulate. What she did sense, however, was that a deep healing had started. Hannah kissed Sophia warmly, and left her to settle for the night.
When Hannah saw Eli waiting with a hot drink for her, she wept for the first time that day, and felt her husband’s strong arms enfolding her. Even while sobbing, she told Eli how touched she was at the way he had spoken at her father’s funeral, and how impressed she was that her husband presented Yeshua to his fellow villagers in a way that made him more than the carpenter they knew. Then she composed herself and told Eli about her walk with Sophia, her background, the bedroom, and of course the significance of the kestrel. Eli listened eagerly, still holding Hannah, and making her feel heard completely.
“Would you like to hear a story about your father? Or is it too soon, he asked.
Eli hadn’t recognised the traveller that approached him at Shamuel’s graveside. The traveller said he remembered Eli as the person who prayed with his donkeys, and that he had come to the funeral as a representative of many men who wanted to come but couldn’t.
Eli was curious. The traveller continued.
“Shamuel was the finest example of a human being who ever walked with us” he began. “And the reason I say that is because we saw how he lived in a way that everyone should live, and if they did the world would be free of fighting and squabbles. You see, someone stole one of his donkeys, and sometime later we saw the person who stole it come into the camp, and seeing Shamuel, quickly headed off.
We told him about seeing the man who stole his donkey. Shamuel became agitated and asked if we would chase him and ask if he would come back so Shamuel could free him from his guilt”.
“We brought him back, and do you know what he did? He gave him another donkey. He said they had always been together, but the main thing was to free the man from having to avoid seeing Shamuel on the road and in the camps. Everyone was shocked, and I asked Shamuel why he would do such a thing. He told us the carpenter from Nazareth, who was actually Yahweh in human form, told us to treat people how we would like to be treated ourselves. Then he looked at each one of us with a question ‘Is there anyone of you, if you had taken something that didn’t belong to you, would not want to have it all made right?’ The men wanted you to know all this, seeing you don’t take the road anymore, so they sent me to pay our respects to one who treated us as brothers, and to tell you why we loved him”.
It wasn’t too soon for Hannah. In fact, the timing was perfect. Perfect in a way neither she nor her husband could fully grasp. For outside in the night sky waited a kestrel with a keen eye and a special way of knowing. Knowing for example, that the morning after the funeral, Sophia would be looking for confirmation that the healing had begun. Confirmation from her protector and guide, the one that hovers, and shows up when needed most.
And, like Sophia, the one that once was a captive, but now is free.
