Jerusalem's Hope Read Online Free Page B

glimpse. So much! So many touched, moved, changed!
    We had better get it right. . . .

LO
    T he wind died as morning approached. Stars dimmed. The sur face of the lake became placid, a mirror of reflected pastels.
    This was the first dawn in Emet’s new life. It was teeming with unfamiliar murmurings and the clamor of awakenings.
    At the southern tip of the Sea of Galilee, the trio of boys stopped to watch the golden blade of morning slice through the darkness.
    â€œIs that heaven, then?” Ha-or Tov cried, turning away from the painful brightness.
    Avel replied, “Just the sun. Coming up like it always does.”
    â€œDon’t look at it,” Emet warned. “It will burn your eyes, and you’ll be blind again.”
    For hours they had traveled through a monochrome world awash in moonlight. Their shadows had fallen on the road that skirted the eastern shore of the lake. Campfires of other pilgrims on the way to Jerusalem for Passover had dotted the countryside and caused Ha-or Tov to swivel his head at each manifestation of light. Yet only now, as colors intensified, did Ha-or Tov stop in the middle of the road and refuse to continue until he could absorb it.
    â€œThis may take a while. We might as well eat.” Avel offered the bag of loaves to Emet.
    Emet didn’t reply. He was too busy trying to sort out the resonant hum in the air as the world opened its eyes. Far away a rooster crowed. A dog barked and was answered with the whistle of its master. The bleating of sheep mingled with the sounds of human conversation. And how many different birds called from tree, or vineyard, or brush? Emet couldn’t keep it all in his head. He covered his ears with his hands.
    â€œYou’ll get used to it,” Avel consoled him. “After a while you won’t notice it anymore.”
    â€œBut I want to hear it!” Emet protested. “All of it! I have to figure out what each thing means!”
    â€œSuit yourself.” Avel retrieved a piece of bread. “It was easier going when you were deaf and Ha-or Tov was blind.”
    Emet dipped into the bag. He observed Avel, the mourner. His friend was changed, as if he were not the same boy. Before, Avel’s eyes had been perpetually downcast. It had made it difficult for Emet to read his lips. But now! Avel gazed peacefully at a hawk circling above them. Sun shone on his golden hair. His lips curved in a slight smile.
    Then Emet turned his attention to Ha-or Tov. Before last night, Ha-or Tov had shuffled when he walked. When Ha-or Tov was blind, his face had been perpetually turned skyward, wagging back and forth, as if he were sniffing the air for a hint of what might be around him. And before, when Ha-or Tov had sat on the ground, he’d swayed like a sapling in the wind. This morning, Ha-or Tov was focused, perfectly motionless as he drank in visual wonders.
    Emet was likewise absorbed by a mystic harmony drifting over the countryside. It occurred to Emet that somewhere among the bird conversation was the voice of Yediyd the sparrow. Surely the bird was twittering to friends and relatives about how Yeshua of Nazareth made him alive after Kittim, once the leader of the link boys, had crushed him. This was a comforting thought for Emet. That a creature as insignificant as Yediyd had beat the cruelty of the sparrow killer!
    â€œIs the air always like this?” Emet asked.
    Avel scratched his chin, as if not comprehending the question. “I like the smell of the country air. Better than Yerushalayim, I think.”
    â€œNo. I mean always singing? So . . . full?” Emet asked.
    Avel munched the bread. “The noise you mean? Louder in some places. Yerushalayim is much worse. Every smell has a sound.” Avel nudged Ha-or Tov, including him in this discussion. “And every sound has a color. The people! Everyone talking at the same time.”
    Then, without explanation, Ha-or Tov gasped and groped for a boulder to