Take This Cup by Brock Thoene, Bodie

shadows on the rocky crags. I spent the hours casting fearful looks over my shoulder, until while doing so I fell over a dead branch. When I tried to catch myself, I skidded along a jagged edge, which sliced parallel grooves in both my palms.
    The old man kept his eyes on the stars as if they were a map that would, in a thousand miles or so, lead us to Jerusalem. The rabbi jabbed a bony finger at the path of the constellations. “See? There is the great lion of the tribe of Judah. He rises in the east and sets in the west. Soon he will be passing over Jerusalem. A thousand miles from where we are yet we will see him even as he looks down on the Temple Mount. The one we seek may be looking up at him even now. Follow the lion in the sky, and you will find Jerusalem. You will also find Messiah . . . Jesus, son of Joseph, son of Jacob.”
    “I won’t follow anything other than you,” I protested. Why did the teacher speak as if I must find my own way, alone, to the Holy City? It could not happen! “We will go together, you and I. We will find my brothers and see the Messiah together.”
    Rabbi Kagba, breathless, did not reply for a long time.He pointed to the east-west track of the stars in the heavens. “You must learn, boy. You will never be lost if you set your course by the twelve star patterns that recount the story of our redemption. From here caravans make their way to Israel and Jerusalem.”
    I trudged in thought for several paces, then asked, “Must we still journey by night, Rabbi? I’m so tired.”
    “Yes. Thirty years ago I journeyed from my homeland, by night. I followed the tale of redemption recorded in the stars. And my companions and I found the newborn King of Israel in Bethlehem. The House of Bread, its name means. Surely by now Jesus is acclaimed in Jerusalem. In his thirties. A fine, strong man. I pray we find him well and soon to sit upon David’s throne.”
    We halted beside a stream just as daybreak lit up the eastern sky. I used the momentary rest and the growing light to pick splinters out of my ravaged hands.
    The horror of the battle in the sheep camp was miles behind us but very near and real in my mind. Had my mother and father survived? Were the bandits still combing the hills in search of any shepherds who might have escaped? There was more money in slaves than in sheep.
    My teacher’s voice cracked as he spoke. “ ‘As the deer pants for water’ . . . I understand the meaning of that thirst better now.” He was clearly suffering the strain of the climb.
    As he rested on a fallen log, beams of light shot through the trees, illuminating the rabbi’s ashen face. We had not had water in many hours. There was a limpid pool nearby. I plucked a large, green frond and fashioned a cup. Scooping it full of clear water, I carried it to the scholar. The rabbi drank slowly.
    I threw myself on the ground beside the pool and sucked up the water greedily, then returned to face Rabbi Kagba.“What has happened to my father? To my mother?” I finally had worked up the courage to ask the unthinkable.
    “Your father is a warrior,” Rabbi Kagba said. “It is written, ‘You will tread on the lion and the cobra; you will trample the great lion and the serpent.’ 1 Any snakes, crawling or human, foolish enough to battle your father will soon learn their mistake. Don’t let your heart be troubled, Nehemiah. Lamsa has killed bears and lions. He has rescued a lamb from the jaws of a leopard. Pity the man who seeks to overthrow your father.”
    “Then may we not turn back now?” I urged. “Return to camp?”
    His grizzled head wagged. “Jerusalem! Lamsa instructed me to take you to find your brothers and see King Jesus. I will not turn back. But I may not be able to go forward if we don’t sleep awhile.”
    The rabbi pointed to the form of a fallen tree. Away from the trail we followed, and not visible until I circled it, the downhill side of the log was propped up by a rock. The soil beneath had