Loophole

A Novel

JASON HOSTETLER

Copyright 2015 Jason Hostetler

All rights reserved.
ISBN:
ISBN-13:

This book is a work of fiction and should not be taken as

theological treatise, or as the true word of God.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and
incidents are either the products of the authors imagination or used in a fictitious
manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is
purely coincidental.
All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy
Bible, New International Version, NIV. Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011
by Biblica, Inc. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved
worldwide. www.zondervan.com The NIV and New International Version
are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by
Biblica, Inc.

To my girls Alexis Grace and Emma Olivia

You are the book I dreamt of writing.
You are the shining star I reached for,
In my ever hopeful quest for life fulfilled;
The masterpiece I longed to paint.
You are my children.
Now with all things I am blessed.
To my beautiful wife Amy
Whose love, support
And dedication to me
no matter what the circumstance
has undoubtedly made writing this story possible.
You loved me at my darkest.
Romans 5:8

When men began to increase in number on the earth

and daughters were born to them,
the sons of God saw that the daughters of men were beautiful,
and they married any of them they chose.
Then the LORD said,
My spirit will not contend with man forever.
Genesis, chapter six

Prologue
EDEN
5217 B.C.

Through the branches he watched as she walked. She was in

no hurry allowing her hands to run through the long grass. She
stopped at a bush and picked a ripe red berry. She held it up into
the sunlight filtering down through the tops of the trees. The berry
shone red, as if on fire, nearly translucent, it was perfectly round,
skin taut and supple.
She put the berry in her mouth and closed her eyes, then
smiled. Shes enjoying it, he thought.
He hated her.
She picked another berry and then several more, each time
flipping them casually into her waiting mouth. She chewed, her lips
turning bright red from the rich juice. Her hair was long, beyond
her waist and auburn, though it seems to change color with the
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JASON HOSTETLER

seasons and even as she moved in and among the trees it went from
auburn to gold to chestnut to raven black. She let it fall down over
her shoulders and down upon her body covering her nakedness.
She doesnt see me, he said to himself and slid down the branch
and onto the soft grass below.
She walked alone, a few birds flew around her and one
landed on her shoulder. She reached up and rubbed its belly with
her finger and then, humming, she walked on towards a large
clearing in the distance.
He hissed and slithered through the grass ahead of her,
knowing where he would find her. He lay in wait, the sun warming
his skin.
When she entered the edge of the clearing she stopped and
looked first to her left and then to her right, she stopped under a
row of apple trees overlooking a vast meadow. She pulled on a
bright green apple, wrenching it free from the branch. She spun the
fruit around in her hand and then took a large bite. It was crisp and
the snap echoed across the clearing. She giggled and wiped her chin
with the back of her hand.
She took another bite, and then tossed the rest onto the
ground. A small raccoon scurried from under a bush and picked it
up. He raced to a small stream that ran through the clearing and
turned the apple over again and again under the clear, rushing
water, then disappeared under the brush.
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LOOPHOLE

She turned and looked across the clearing. He sat and

waited.
In the center of the meadow was a large tree, so large, in
fact, that she could not see the top, but just the edge, where some
of the highest branches jutted out against the blue sky.
Its leaves were large, the size of a mans hand. In the
morning, as it was then, they appeared light green, fresh and wet;
they glimmered and shone in the sunlight. As the day moved on the
leaves would darken into a rich, velvety olive. They would emit an
aroma, like the scent of fresh-baked bread and strawberries. In the
early evening, the leaves would begin to turn, first gold, then red,
then bright, fiery orange, the warm smell of smoke would fill the
wood and waft out across the glen. Finally, as the sun turned down
behind the horizon, the leaves would change again, dropping their
color, changing to a creamy white, like fresh milk, the sweet aroma
of cream filling the air. In the morning, when the first rays of
sunlight landed on its branches, the leaves would transform yet
again, their frosty white giving way to spring-like green.
She stood at a distance for several moments until he began
to wonder if she might turn and leave. Shes alone. Shes afraid. He
watched as she pulled a long strand of hair from in front of her
face, placing it behind one ear, took a deep breath then a long, bold
stride towards the tree.
There you go, he thought. It is tempting, isnt it?
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JASON HOSTETLER

She left a trail of bent, waist-high grass behind her. Her

hands trailed behind as if something was telling her to stop, but she
did not, and soon she slipped beneath the lowest branches and into
the shade of the great tree.
It is so quiet, she said out loud. The crispness of her voice
surprised her and too the fact that it did not carry but seemed to be
swallowed by the cool air. She could smell the richness of the earth,
its thick, succulent fragrance filled her nostrils and she breathed in
deeply.
I am surprised to see you here, he said, twisting around
the main truck which was easily the thickness of four grown men.
I thought I was alone.
She jumped at the sound of his voice, unfamiliar it was to
her. Yes, we do not come to this part of the garden. It is
forbidden.
I see, he replied moving just a bit closer, but keeping a
comfortable distance, the muscle along his back rolled and flexed.
But you are alone, he observed. She looked out from under the
massive boughs across the clearing to the opening in the woods
from which she had just emerged.
I suppose I am, she confessed. That is unusual. She
looked up into the branches at the fruit hanging all about her.
Its beautiful, isnt it? he said. She nodded, eyes wide.
The fruit was round, but elongated at one end, like a pear,
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LOOPHOLE

but not like anything she had seen before. The skin was translucent
and smooth, so that she could see, she thought, clear to the other
side. Suspended in the middle were small, star-shaped objects, red
and blue and green that floated about like fish in a pool. A faint
light came from the very center, almost too faint to see. I am seeing
things, she thought and then the color changed and she knew that it
was, in fact, a light, like the end of a lightning bug. Her mouth
watered.
Youve never wanted for anything before, have you? he
asked, watching her watching the fruit. She shifted anxiously from
one foot to another.
Why dont you try one, he suggested. I hear theyre
wonderful.
She blinked, as if awakening from a dream and looked at
him. Were not allowed to eat from this tree.
Youre not? That seems odd to me, he baited her.
Of any tree in the garden we may freely eat, she said, then
added softly, slowly, turning her eyes back onto the fruit, But not
this one.
And why do you think that is? he asked. Why would He
refuse you anything? He loves you so.
She looked surprised, as if she had never considered that
question, and indeed, she hadnt. Well, I dont know, she said,
hesitatingly.
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JASON HOSTETLER

Maybe He is the one who afraid, he suggested.

What do you mean? she asked her eyes not moving from
the fruit.
Perhaps, he said, sensing the moment was right, he
wont let you eat this fruit because he knows it will make you like
him. You will become gods, too, like him, and live forever.
Why would he fear that?
The trap is set. Because then you would not need him. He
would no longer be your master. You would be truly free.
She did not take her eyes from the fruit, her eyes watching
the stars fall through and around the light. She blinked and licked
her lips; they were red and wet. One bite cant hurt, she thought. She
rubbed her fingers together, took a deep breath and reached for the
fruit.

The light hovered over the water and they watched as it

moved low and fast towards them. Blood dripped down onto their
feet and ankles. Their fingers were sticky and flies swarmed around
their heads. The animal hides felt heavy, cumbersome and hot. She
could feel her skin rubbing raw along her shoulders, back, and
waist. She turned and looked to him, hoping for a kind smile, but
he did not return her glance. He just looked straight out over the
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LOOPHOLE

water.
Adam, she asked, whats going to happen?
I dont know, he replied, we were hiding from Him. We
disobeyed. I think we have wounded Him deeply.
She turned back to the water. The light was close, but still
off the shore. It pulsed and shimmered, reflecting the water beneath
it. A soft wind was blowing, swirling around the cloud of light. A
voice came from the wind and light, low and powerful, like the
rushing of many waters. Why were you hiding from me? He
asked.
Adam swallowed hard. He felt his voice crack, We were
ashamed because we were naked.
Who told you that you were naked? He asked and then
before they could answer, Did you eat from the tree that I
commanded you not to eat from? His voice was calm, but still
shook the water, rippling it out into the deep and up against the
rocks that lined the shore.
Adam looked at her and hung his head. Then he answered,
This woman you put here with me--she gave me some of the fruit
from the tree, and I ate it.
The light shook and grew to twice its size before
contracting. What is this you have done?
She looked at the ground. Her toes were covered in blood.
Two flies buzzed around her ankle. She felt the sun beating on the
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JASON HOSTETLER

back of her head. The serpent deceived me, and I ate it.
The light came close and they had to look away. They could
feel its warmth and she longed to run and jump into it, like a warm
bath during the winter, a cool pool during the heat of summer. She
took a deep breath, the smell of sweet spices, filled her nose. A
single tear formed in her eye.
She waited for Him to speak again. The sun was setting
beyond the far mountains, and when he spoke, he spoke to the
snake:
Because youve done this, youre cursed, he said, cursed
beyond all cattle and wild animals. Cursed to slink on your belly and
eat dirt all your life.
The light moved out across the water, extending, like a
column of smoke, high into the heavens. Suddenly, it burst into
flames, roaring heat poured down on them as the three stood on
the shore, the air smelled like sulfur and smoke and they started to
cough and choke. His voice bellowed from inside the pillar of fire,
Im declaring war between you and the Woman, between your
offspring and hers.
And then He whispered to him, out of the flames, Her
offspring will crush your head, youll wound his heel.
The pillar fell into the water, shooting a fountain of steam
high into the air, which disappeared into the sky forming small
white clouds. A light rose from beneath the water and settled before
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LOOPHOLE

the man and woman. It was small now; barely the size of her hand,
but it glowed and pulsed with life.
He spoke to her, tender and tormented, Ill multiply your
pains in childbirth; youll give birth to your offspring in pain. You
will want to please your husband, but he will lord it over you.
Adam could not look at Him, but he hung his head. He
looked at his own legs and feet, covered in blood. Because you
listened to your wife and ate from the tree that I commanded you
not to eat from, the very ground is cursed because of you; getting
food from the ground
will be as painful as having children is for your wife; youll be
working in pain all your life long. The ground will sprout thorns
and weeds, youll get your food the hard way, planting and tilling
and harvesting, sweating in the fields from dawn to dusk, until you
return to that ground yourself, dead and buried; you started out as
dirt, youll end up dirt.
Adam fell to his knees and wept and she hung her head and
cried where she stood. The light moved away from the shore. The
snake slithered away and into the grass as the sun departed behind
the mountains.
They stayed by the shore until it was dark. The stars are
brighter than I remember, she thought. A wind blew across the water
and she felt her skin shiver. Adam stood slowly, first onto one foot
and then the next.
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JASON HOSTETLER

Come, Eve, he said. She looked at him in surprise. He has

never called me by that name before. He took her by the hand and started
to walk. We must leave this place. He has told me.
Eve dropped his hand, planting her feet in the ground. But
where? Where will we go? she asked, panic in her voice.
To the west, he said and as he turned to go.
Eve took his hand and walked with him, then asked in a
quiet, timid, voice, Will He come for us?
Adam stopped and looked at her. His eyes were wet and
red. Blood dripped from the skins hung round his shoulders and
waist. He will, he replied. Someday, he will come for us and for
our children.

16

1
PATMOS
45 A.D.

It has to be here somewhere. His foot slipped on the rough

terrain and he could feel the skin rip from his knee. He cursed
under his breath and then quickly muttered a prayer for forgiveness.
He was alone and it was dark, which made progress slow. Below he
could hear the crashing waves. He slipped again and he could hear
the rocks slide off the cliff and into silence.
A thin sliver of the moon though the clouds gave him just
enough light to see up the hill. Large boulders clung to the earth,
tufts of grass and a few small trees propping them up, holding them
in place. Every twenty or thirty feet he could see a dark shadow,
perhaps a cave. Thats what he was looking for.
He climbed again, on all fours, placing each foot carefully,

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JASON HOSTETLER

testing the hold gingerly before fully placing his weight and moving
up. It was a slow process. The ground was loose with dirt and
pebbles and only thin grass for a handhold.
He had left his broadsword and cloak at the barracks and
was glad he had. I would never be able to climb with them, he thought.
And I doubt Ill meet anyone tonight. Still he felt bare and naked without
them. A soldier should never be without his weapon, or his colors.
The sweat started to form on his brow, even though the
breeze from the sea was cool and constant. His fingers were sore
and his knee throbbed.
It has to be close. I am almost to the top.
He pulled himself over a large rock and found himself
standing on a small ledge, between two boulders the size of a small
house. Between them the shadows were dark and he could not see
where they ended. He gathered a pile of dried grass, pulled a small
flint and knife from his tunic. Soon he had a small fire going,
enough to light a small torch, but not enough to alert anyone who
might be watching.
This is it. He had been on guard duty that morning,
overseeing prisoners collecting rocks for a new armory, when one
had wandered to the edge of the cliff, slipped and screamed as he
tumbled down towards the water. Eli had found him, unconscious,
his head cut and bleeding at the entrance of the cave. He had taken
a few steps inside when he saw it, a broken clay pot, and then
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LOOPHOLE

another and another, dozens of them lining the walls. His eyes grew
wide and he wondered, Could this be the place, the cave of the apostle?
Outside he heard voices calling out from above him, he
stole another glance before returning to the wounded prisoner to
wait for the soldiers that would soon be making their way down the
hill to them.
But he could not forget the cave and the pots. And so, a
week later, he stole away, under the cover of night and found the
cave. His torch flickered as he turned sideways and pushed himself
into the opening. He could hear and feel the gravel crunch beneath
his feet. The stone was smooth and cool.
The rocks gave way and opened up wide enough for him to
turn straight and soon he could barely touch both sides with his
arms outstretched. This might be it, he thought as he felt the
temperature drop. The stars above him were gone. All he could see
now were rock and root. He took a deep breath, said a quick prayer,
and pressed on.
He walked into the hill and the cave opened up even more.
It was not a large cave, but tall enough for him to stand, and wide
enough that he could have laid down comfortably if he had wanted.
The floor was sloped downwards from back to front. He could hear
water dripping, echoing from somewhere in the dark. His eyes
slowly adjusted to the low light, but he wished he had brought a
larger torch. He moved deeper into the cave.
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JASON HOSTETLER

You want to join the Roman army? the captain looked up

from the parchment he was reading, a surprised look on his face.
But youre a Jew.
Eli kicked at a rock on the floor. His hair and beard were
long and uncut. His tunic was dirty and torn near the shoulder and
on one elbow. Im not sure any more, he replied.
What do you mean?
I mean my father was a traitor ... they are not my people
anymore.
A traitor?
Eli nodded.
So what makes you think we would want the son of a
traitor in our ranks?
Eli shifted nervously and looked around the room. Several
others had started listening to the conversation. He felt his face
flush and clenched his hands behind his back to keep them from
shaking.
I only know that Rome is the greatest empire the world has
ever seen, his voice shook. Perhaps, I can still bring honor to my
family, by pledging my life to her and to the emperor.
Your family honor means nothing to the Empire, the
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LOOPHOLE

captain said returning to his parchment and waving him away

dismissively.
Eli stood, frozen, unable, unwilling to move. He could hear
the other soldiers returning to their work. Outside men were
training, swords clashing, their grunts and yells wafted through the
open window. The sun shone brightly outside and he could see the
blue sky. A few, thin white clouds hung noiselessly, motionless.
His mind raced, thinking back over the course of the past
few months. He was working when he had heard the news. His
neighbor, a small weasel of a man had called him out into the
courtyard and told him his father had been found hanging from a
tree on the side of a hill, his neck broken.
They didntt know how long he had been dead. The city
had been in an uproar and in the confusion they had not even
known he was missing. His father was gone often, traveling from
town to town, following a new teacher. There were many in the
land in those days, promising freedom, liberation from the
occupation, from the very army he now sought to serve.
He hanged himself, Eli, the neighbor said.
Why? Why would he kill himself? Tears streamed down
his face.
They killed his rabbi. Perhaps he was afraid they would
come for him, the neighbor had said, patting him on the shoulder,
then left him alone in the dust. He ran all the way home, his chest
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JASON HOSTETLER

heaving with grief and exhaustion. The house was empty. Eli
scanned the room: everything seemed in order, but in his spirit he
knew that something was amiss.
Shes gone, a voice said behind him.
Eli wheeled around. A small, bent woman stood in the
door, a shawl pulled up over her head. It was his aunt, Sarah.
Shes ashamed and so shes left. When she heard what your
father did, she could not bear to remain.
What did he do? Eli asked, tears again falling from his
eyes.
She did not answer, but set a small, heavy bag on the table.
This is for you. They said you could use it to buy a place to bury
your father.
He looked at her, eyes wide. Who gave this to you?
The teachers, she had said and turned and left.
Eli walked to the table and lifted the bag. The contents
clinked unmistakably. He pulled on the cord wrapped around the
top. He knew what he would find, but looked inside anyway. The
silver was dirty and dull, but still his heart leapt. Hed never seen so
much in one place.
Eli stood before the captain, tall, as tall as he could. He held
his hands straight down to his side and cleared his voice. The
captain looked up from his work.
Youre still here? I thought I told you we have no need for a
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traitors son.
My father was traitor, true, but not to the Romans. He was
a great man and loyal to the Emperor. He delivered your greatest
enemy to you.
And who was your father, the captain said as he looked at
him, hands folded and under his chin.
My fathers name was Judas, Judas Iscariot.

The bed was rough-hewn wood. They did not give new
recruits a mattress, especially those who were not Roman-born. He
shivered. The wind blew off the sea up a small hill and through the
barracks. He body was sore and bruised. He could feel the bruises
on his back--he had taken several sharp blows in training that
morning. He rolled onto his side and felt his shoulder ache. It is
going to be a long night, he thought.
The bunk above him shifted and a fine cloud of dust and
dirt fell onto face and into his mouth and eyes.. He closed his eyes
and could feel the grit on his mouth, working its way onto his
tongue. He wiped his mouth, his hand rough against his skin. Loud
snoring ripped through the small, cramped building, the acrid scent
of sweat on the breeze.
What a beautiful place, he remembered thinking as he and the
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JASON HOSTETLER

others stepped from the boat onto the beach. The striking cliffs
stood majestically above the crystal blue waters. There were no
buildings other than the few barracks and officers quarters that sat
in a small cleared field just beyond the sand.
They each carried a small bag, a blanket, a short sword, an
extra tunic, a red cape--the color of the Empire--and a skin for
wine. His hair and beard had been cut short and he could feel the
sun warming his scalp. Weeks later it was red and peeling, sore from
long hours training in the hot Mediterranean sun.
He rolled onto his back again and closed his eyes and
mouth. He had no friends here. They were all outcasts. Outcasts,
whose last hope had been to join the enemy, to become
mercenaries, but less than that. He had no training. He was not
skilled in war or fighting. They will use us as fodder, he thought. Human
ammunition to throw at an enemy, to wear them down a bit before the real
army advanced to win the day. We are all expendable. They have told us as
much.
He listened to the waves crashing on the beach. Still it is
better than the alternative, living in Jerusalem, bearing the stares, the ridicule
and the embarrassment of my father. He crossed his arms against his
chest, trying not to shiver.
Eli.
He opened his eyes, the walls of the barracks were blue with
moonlight. He listened wondering if he had been dreaming. The
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LOOPHOLE

room was quiet, even the snoring had stopped.

Nothing. He closed his eyes again and just as he did it spoke
again.
Eli.
This time the room was brighter. He sat up in his bed and
looked. Before him stood a man. His hair was long and uncut. He
wore a white tunic that was cinched around his waist with a bright,
gold belt. His face was glowing, his eyes a brilliant blue.
Who are you? Eli felt like screaming, but something kept
his voice quiet and calm.
I have been sent to you with a message, the man replied.
You have been sent to Patmos for a reason.
What do you mean? he said shaking. He pushed himself
against the wall trying to increase the distance between him and the
man. I came here to train with the Romans.
The mans hand was on the pommel of a long, dangerous
sword. Eli watched as the man stepped closer. He felt behind
himself for his short sword. It was gone or beyond his reach. Id
never survive anyway, he thought.
Do not be afraid, the man said. You have been chosen
for a great task.
Eli did not move. He could feel the breeze; it was warm and
filled the air around him.
What do you mean?
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JASON HOSTETLER

The man smiled, There is a cave on this island.

There are many caves, Eli replied, his voice surprised him,
it was calm and even.
This is a special cave. On the side of a cliff looking over
the sea. You will be lead to it, by another, but you must return to it
alone.
Why? Why must I do this?
Inside, the man continued, his voice was soothing, you
will find many large, clay pots. Eli listened intently. And inside
one, you will find a scroll, written in Aramaic, so you will know
them.
Eli felt himself leaning forward in the bed. He said quietly,
You want me to bring them to you?
No, said the man. His face grew dim and his body started
to disappear as if made of smoke and the wind had started to blow.
Eli could barely hear his voice as he faded from sight, I want you
to destroy them.

The cave was dark and his small torch provided barely
enough light for him to see beyond his outstretched hand. The light
flickered as he felt his foot crash into a large, heavy object on the
floor. He heard a crash and then a second one.
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LOOPHOLE

He lowered his light to reveal the remains of two clay pots,

broken and strewn across the floor. They had both been empty. He
picked up a shard and turned it over in his hand. This is pretty new, he
thought. I wonder how it got here, who made it.
His light flickered again and just as he glanced up his eye
caught the shadow of something in the corner. Another jar.
He stood and stepped over the broken pots. It was a small,
no more than a foot tall and six inches in diameter. It was closed at
the top with a clay lid. Red wax sealed the container around the rim.
He picked it up. It was light.
Eli pulled out his knife and cut the wax from the rim. The
lid stuck for a moment, but then gave as he twisted. He set it aside
and tried to put his hand into the jar. The opening was too small so
he turned it over and shook. A small parchment scroll fell out and
onto the ground.
He sat, his back against the cave wall, wedging his torch into
a crack above him. The paper was crisp and white. It felt smooth
under his rough hand. He was shaking. He pulled the thin string
from around the roll, set it aside then unrolled the parchment.
The handwriting was neat, thin lettering, but familiar.
Aramaic, he thought. His heart raced. He started to read:
It is with heavy heart, I pen these words. Our Savior has died, and
borne on his own self the iniquity of us all. And while he has risen,
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JASON HOSTETLER

conquering the old enemy death, his blood, spilt for many, has given
birth to a new covenant.
Eli swallowed hard. He rubbed his eyes: a new covenant, he
thought. What could this possibly mean? A new covenant and with whom?
He continued to read:
Yah weh is just and good and never-changing. Even to his enemies he
shows justice, even to a traitor. He can never change.
Eli felt a lump form in his throat.
And when our Lord has died, the justice of God, must open a new
door.
A tear formed in the corner of his eye.
For even his enemies are shown grace, to lead any they might persuade
to eternal damnation.
Eli let the parchment roll back onto itself. He leaned his
head back onto the cool stone of the cave. He closed his eyes, then
let his head drop into his hands. Its not over after all, he thought, his
heart racing. There is still a loophole.
28