LITMIR.BIZ

      The Rabbi’s daughter

      Copyright © 2015 Alan Sorem. All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in critical publications or reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without prior written permission from the publisher. Write: Permissions, Wipf and Stock Publishers, 199 W. 8th Ave., Suite 3, Eugene, OR 97401.

      Resource Publications

      An Imprint of Wipf and Stock Publishers

      199 W. 8th Ave., Suite 3

      Eugene, OR 97401

      www.wipfandstock.com

      isbn 13: 978-1-4982-1843-6 01/30/2015

      eisbn 13: 978-1-4982-1844-3

      Scripture quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version of the Bible, copyright © 1989 by the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the USA. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

      Manufactured in the U.S.A.

      Some of the text in this novel first appeared in Time: Jesus in Relationships, copyright © 2013 Alan Sorem.

      Surely the Lord is my salvation. Therefore I will trust, and will not be afraid, for the Lord is my strength and my might . . .

      Isaiah 12:2a

      Fides et Fortis

      Prologue

      It was a frigid Wednesday morning in Boston.

      The telephone rang in the other room. Loudly, reminding the old man that he had increased the volume and number of rings to maximum to give him time to reach the phone before the message machine kicked in.

      He lay the morning Globe on the breakfast table, picked up his coffee cup, pushed down on the table with his left hand and rose slowly from the chair.

      Everything was slower lately. Even his morning pills seemed to take longer to kick in.

      He shuffled into the living room and picked up the handset after the eleventh ring. His granddaughter Sigrid was always after him to get one of the newfangled wireless phones he could carry around in his pocket, but he was old-fashioned.

      “Frank, I hope I didn’t wake you.”

      The old man looked at his watch. A little past seven.

      “No, no. I’m always up by now.”

      He recognized the voice. It was Tom, one of his prize Ph.D. students years ago. Now in his fifties, he was the head of The Ephesus Project in Turkey. Frank had written a glowing reference letter to the committee that subsequently appointed Tom.

      “How are things in Boston?”

      “The Celtics won last night, we had ten inches of snow, and I’m wondering if the taxi can get through to pick me up for my doctor’s appointment at one.”

      “I heard you’re having some medical issues.”

      “Yes. I’m still kicking, just not as high. But you’re not calling from Turkey to inquire about my health.”

      A laugh came down the line. “Right. I have some news and wanted to check in with you.” The excitement in Tom’s voice was palpable.

      “Go ahead.”

      “I’m on a secure line at the embassy in Ankara. I’ll be brief.”

      “Something turn up?”

      The words were emphatic. “Yes, two scrolls. In a secure hiding place in the cellar wall of the ruins of the house of a high official.”

      “Age?”

      “Incredible. Had a German lab test it with the smallest sample of both. Authenticated yesterday on an encrypted line at the Embassy in Ankara. We have the larger scroll in a helium wrap. In a secure chamber we unwrapped and unrolled the smaller one and sealed it in the special frame.”

      “And?” He took a sip of coffee.

      “Hold on a sec. Let me close the door.”

      He heard footsteps going and returning.

      “You there, Frank?”

      “Yes.”

      “Sorry, can’t be too careful with something of this magnitude in dating.”

      “How much magnitude?”

      “More than I ever would have dreamed possible.”

      Frank took another sip of coffee. “Early?”

      “Let me put it this way. You know the date of the Codex Sinaiticus.”

      Frank thought for a moment. The earliest discovered complete New Testament in Greek.

      “Of course. Middle of the fourth century.”

      “Now think of the Gospel of Mark.”

      “Well, there’s the P45 fragment, possibly two fifty. Earliest we have.”

      “Until now.”

      “Oh?”

      “Yes. Think maybe a hundred fifty years earlier. Plus a couple of decades.”

      “You’re pulling my leg.”

      “No.”

      “Is this April First? You’ve got to be kidding!”

      The man on the other end laughed. “I’m not kidding.”

      “You have a fragment from the nineties?”

      “Earlier. In the mid-sixties. Nero was emperor.”

      “No such thing exists!”

      “It does now. And much more than a fragment.”

      “You say the German lab confirmed?”

      “Dating? Absolutely. They’re not aware of what’s on the scroll.”

      The telephone line was silent except for humming.

      “Tom?”

      Tom’s voice was a whisper. “What we’ve always hoped for. A golden find like the Isaiah scroll you worked on from Qumran.”

      The old man put his coffee cup down. The earliest Gospel of Mark by far. Dear God! He cleared his throat.

      “How much do you have?”

      “Too early to tell. We only unwrapped the very first part. We want the rest to be done very, very slowly. But the thickness of the wrap indicates a complete scroll.”

      Frank sank into a wing chair by the side table of the telephone. It took him a moment to reply.

      “Tom, be careful. Remember what the Dead Sea scrolls stirred up.”

      “I—we—are being very careful. But I want you to see a facsimile of the very first part. What we have of it is clear. Good penmanship in Greek. Large lettering. Looks like it was meant to be read aloud.”

      “Lussier’s hypothesis. Whole gospel to be read serially during Holy Week.”

      “Yes. What I want to do is send you a copy of the first part by overnight express. See what you think.”

      Frank sighed. “I don’t know that I can help. I’m spending a lot of time with doctors and my eyesight’s not so good.”

      “But this is the big one. I value your opinion, as ever. And you’ve had experience with how to break the news. Please.”

      “All right. I’ll do what I can. No others involved.”

      “Thanks,

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