Dedication: For the Christian communities in Tanta and Alexandria in Egypt, particularly those killed this past Palm Sunday. Please pray for their souls and their loved ones' healing.


"I Thirst"

It was hard to figure out how the soldiers thought. There was a time when Justin assumed they all thought the same way, with their minds bent on cruelty. Tacticus had proven him wrong, because he responded to compassion and forgiveness. He sometimes thought they were all brawn and no brain, but the fact that Nihilus and Capella were able to track them in the catacombs showed that they were cunning and reasonably clever.

Justin was pretty sure the only reason the soldiers took them alive was because they might have information. Perhaps they thought children would be more easily frightened into giving away information. That was probably it.

Justin worried whether Marcus might break under their coercion. He didn't know all of the Christians' hiding places, but he could give names that he had heard the adults discuss. Patronius. Darius. Saleem. Cassius.

Luckily, the brothers were placed in a cell together, so Justin was able to comfort him and keep him company. Of course Ben and two other Christians were only feet away, but they had to call out, almost shout, to make their voices heard through the grille and over the thick stones.

There was not enough room for them both to lie down comfortably. Justin tried sleeping with his back against the curved wall, his legs drawn up to his chest, while Marcus curled up next to him. Justin worried whether Marcus might get sick from being in the cold. The stones were damp at night—and yet not wet enough to slake their thirst. They tried sucking on their fingers to keep salivating.

Thasselas had a suggestion. "What if we said we were ready to give names, but that we needed water first?"

Philo discouraged this idea. "Then they'd punish us worse than they are now. You should be glad the torture hasn't started."

"Hey!" Justin called out hotly. "We've got young ears here!" Marcus was scared enough without them talking about torture.

It did not seem possible that they could feel bored when their lives were at stake, and yet, when they tried to distract themselves from their fear and discomfort, they had very few ways of passing the time. Talking too much exacerbated their thirst. Marcus thought of exercising—they could run in place, or try to grab the metal bars and do chin-ups—but Justin judged it better to conserve their energy; they would need it just to stay alive as long as possible.

With each shift change, Thasselas begged the guards on duty for water. One of them pretended to agree, then squatted by the grille and shot a stream of urine into Thasselas and Philo's cell. Justin's empty stomach twisted, wondering whether they had tried to lick it up.

Please let it rain. Please let it rain. Justin mentally repeated this prayer, with every title he could think of—God, Lord, Father, Jesus, Holy Spirit, Adonai, Jehovah, Emmanuel. At the same time, though, he knew that if his prayer were answered, the rain would probably make them wet, cold, and even more uncomfortable than they were now; they might only trade one form of physical suffering for another; but the fact was, they needed water to stay alive.

He tried to think of any stories or psalms his father had taught him about water and thirst, food and hunger. In the wilderness, Moses had made water come out of a stone, and manna fell for the people to eat. Gideon tested his soldiers by having them drink from a river.

The brothers knew, from Ben's stories, what Jesus had taught about thirst. "Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied." The beatitude was no longer just a metaphor for the imprisoned Christians. They were trying to be righteous, and they were hungering and thirsting for it. Justin remembered how Anna had questioned the series of blessings: did Jesus mean that those forms of suffering were blessings in themselves, or that those kinds of suffering warranted blessings?

On the cross, Jesus said, "I thirst." There was some comfort in that thought, that Jesus had experienced the same kind of suffering they now endured. But as Justin thought about it, he wondered if Jesus had meant something more. Did He "hunger and thirst for righteousness," too? He must have, when He was being subjected to such extreme injustice.

There was another story about Jesus being hungry. He spent forty days fasting in the desert, and then, on top of that, the Devil came to tempt him. "One does not live on bread alone, but on every word the proceeds from the mouth of God." Another time, He meet a Samaritan woman at Jacob's Well, and told her that He was the living water, and that those who drank it would never thirst again.

So every time Capella or Nihilus urged them to reveal the names and locations of their friends, Justin told himself, and Marcus if necessary, that Jesus and His stories and teachings were enough to sustain them.