Poured Out

A fictitious story based on the historical events of the Maccabean revolt

His blood ran cold. The footfall was heavy, languid as it lumbered clumsily closer towards his door. The all-too familiar scent cloaked every corner of the house - the stronger the smell, the stronger the drink, and the worse the beating. For 16-year-old Jabbok this scene was the recurring nightmare of living with a degenerate, Hellenised father who bowed the knee to the brutish rule of Antiochus IV Epiphanes and his Seleucid Empire. Clinging with the zealous faith of his late grandfather Judah to YHWH, young Jabbok was persecuted, not by the red-crested militia casting their ominous shadow periodically across the streets, but by the only family member he had left. Summoning the last of his shattered strength, he made his decision – it was time to leave.

Outside the walls of Jerusalem and in the Judean countryside, Jabbok channelled all the survival instincts learned in his boyhood to find the elusive and renowned tribe of bandits to whose cause he planned to dedicate the rest of his life. Growing in fame and inspiring fear across the Seleucid Empire, the Maccabees were a rebel force of Orthodox Jews seeking to overthrow their Greek occupiers who had been on a rampage of destruction, set on the sacrilege and desecration of all that was holy. Not only had Antiochus Epiphanes defiled the temple and set up idols throughout Judea, but a forced Hellenization had been decreed; the two options being: adopt the Greek practices and thus reject YHWH, or face certain death. The Maccabees had been employing a tactic of guerrilla warfare to terrorise their Seleucid oppressors, assassinating army officers and engaging in minor skirmishes. Jabbok knew the fighters were roaming the Judean wilderness and that he had only a few days to find them before his small satchel of food and water ran out. Whatever happened, he would not return home.

Early on the morning of his third day of searching he awoke suddenly in the cave he had stumbled upon the previous evening. Fighting the urge to return to slumber he realised the cause of his disturbance: a soft scraping and the gentle percussion of sandaled soles walking towards him were being bounced around the dull sandstone interior. Quickly he reached for his dagger, jumping up and retreating further into the darkness. In his haste he tripped on a patch of wet moss, the intruder closed the distance. Curling into a foetal position he prepared for the worst, reliving moments of terror beneath his father’s hateful hand. Instead of assault, the unknown hand slid gently around his head, lifting him slowly off the ground and gradually revealing an elderly face etched with concern and compassion. With eyes deeper than wisdom he gazed at him in an unspoken understanding before whispering, “YHWH is with you son.”

After meeting Priest Mattathias in the cave, Jabbok immediately joined his group of Maccabean fighters. He trained tirelessly, studying the precepts of YHWH at Mattathias’ feet who taught him to channel his emotions like the true warrior he was to become and let go of his past. Living off the land and engaging the enemy in regular skirmishes, Jabbok soon proved himself to be an adept addition to the force and served alongside the most feared warriors in high-profile missions. In the intervening years he grew in fame, gaining a status akin to Mattathias’s son Judas who gradually assumed leadership of the group from the priest. Jabbok commanded the most elite special operations division of the growing army, using his exceptional physical prowess, fearlessness and perspicacious ambush tactics to wreak havoc in the ranks of even the most numerous and well-trained Seleucid units.

The day Mattathias died was a day that young Jabbok would never forget. Upon this man’s sagacious leadership he had come to depend. More than that, Mattathias was everything he had ever needed – and never received – from a father. For the fearless warrior though, there was no time to mourn, as the Maccabees had just received wind that Antiochus Epiphanes was sending his most feared general, Lysias, to get rid of the Maccabean threat once and for all. Jabbok knew that this decision changed everything; it was time to meet the full might of the Greeks, to death or to glory.

Deciding to meet their foes on the hills of the fortified town of Beth Zur, just south of Jerusalem, Jabbok and his special operatives lay in wait among the brush and rocky outcrops. Their objective was simple: perform a swift flanking manoeuvre and destroy the famed phalanx formation. It was a daring move, but one Jabbok knew was the only path to victory. His prayers were interrupted by the shrill cry of war horns as the ground responded beneath him, shuddering under the soles of innumerable men. Peering through the brush he swept over the ocean of shimmering brass and swelling crimson crests and found his objective: 16 men deep the phalanx and its forest of spears appeared to his eyes an unstoppable machine of death. Jumping up, he and his men leaped into action. He needed to act now. Fail to destroy phalanx and they would lose the war…they were outnumbered 10 to 1.

Finding the weak rear of the formation, Jabbok took the enemy by surprise, slashing relentlessly into rows and rows of tightly packed men who were unable to swivel their long sarissas to meet their assailants. A cheer rose from the hilltop as the once invincible machine scattered in all directions, cut down from all sides. It was then that he felt it, a searing pain in his chest as he staggered and gasped for breath. An enemy arrow had found its mark.

Jabbok would cling to his life long enough to be borne into Jerusalem surrounded by thousands of cheering friends and brothers as the Maccabean rebels retook and purified the Holy City. The story of his heroism circulated through the elated populace as the first Hanukkah was celebrated under the glow of the rededicated temple. Jabbok knew as he breathed his last and like a pilgrim escaped the clutches of his life’s wrestle, that he had done something worth every drop of his blood. As his Hebrew name prophesied, he had been poured out before his God.