66 pages • 2 hours read
Francine RiversA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Hadassah’s journey is long and emotionally wrenching. She loses her entire family in the siege of Jerusalem—including her father, her spiritual anchor. She survives the long march and treacherous sea voyage to Rome, and she is sold to a family whose demanding and condescending daughter claims Hadassah as her own. Finally, Hadassah serves her mistress faithfully through two terrible marriages. Through it all, she weathers her own spiritual crises, doubting her courage and ability to bring God’s word to those she believes most desperately need it. Underlying her trials is the constant threat of death. Any infraction or breach of protocol, no matter how slight, can result in her being thrown to the lions like a sacrificial lamb. She is insulted, physically abused, and demeaned for her faith, but she never loses that faith. In fact, her concern is never for herself but only for those around her who do not enjoy the enlightenment of God’s truth. When most human beings would have cracked under the pressure long ago, Hadassah remains steadfast, and her faith—her belief in something she swears by but never perceives with her senses—sustains her. Even at the very end when she faces a terrifying and gruesome death in the jaws of the lions, she is calm, free from fear, and more certain of her faith than ever.
While Hadassah’s courage and perseverance in the face of unimaginable tragedy is a fictional contrivance, the power of faith to sustain people has definitive psychological underpinnings: “Religion has survived, [researchers] surmise, because it helped us form increasingly larger social groups, held together by common beliefs (Azar, Beth. “A reason to believe.” American Psychological Association. December 2010, Vol. 41, No. 11). The first time Hadassah experiences any real sense of joy is when she discovers other believers and begins worshipping alongside them. The moment she throws her body over Julia’s and takes Caius’s brutal beating is right after she returns from one such worship service. The power of like-minded community has given her the courage to put her life on the line. Her meetings with the apostle John offer similar sustenance. Alone, Hadassah is beset by doubt and fear, but with the support of fellow believers, she is strong. Faith is often portrayed as an individual choice, a solitary communion between the individual and their god, but the real power of faith lies in its ability to forge communities, and it is from those communities that individuals find the resolve to weather life’s many storms.
The Valerians enjoy the wealth and privilege of Roman citizenship. Decimus, an astute businessman of Ephesian birth, understands clearly that citizenship buys power and status, and he uses his wealth to buy his place in Roman society, an advantage passed down to his children who are Roman by birth. His son Marcus inherits his father’s business acumen, building his own fortune at a young age. Yet as Decimus grows older, he begins to question his priorities. He wonders if a financial empire is really the legacy he wants to leave behind. As he witnesses his son’s cutthroat business practices—importing sand for soaking up blood in the arena rather than grain to feed the citizens, and advocating slave labor because it is more profitable—he wonders what values he has modeled for his children. These doubts become acute as he grows sicker and faces imminent death—so acute that he asks to be baptized before he dies as atonement for his lifetime of avarice. Even the hedonistic, live-for-the-moment Marcus experiences flickers of doubt about his own excesses. While he never renounces his lifestyle altogether, Hadassah’s simple compassion exerts a strong influence on him. She wins his love if not his faith.
The Bible has strong opinions on material wealth. Jesus famously cast the merchants and money changers out of the temple, disgusted by their use of a sacred place of worship for commercial purposes. Jesus also said, “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God” (Matthew 19:24). Jesus himself lived as a humble man, gathering around him not wealthy aristocrats but fishermen, a political anarchist, and a thief; Matthew, a tax collector, was the sole apostle of means (“The disciples.” BBC. Last updated June 21, 2011, bbc.co.uk). Blessed are the poor is a common mantra echoed in Scripture, and churches have often been on the forefront of providing assistance to the poor and most vulnerable. Wealth is seen not as a virtue but as an impediment to virtue. Atretes spends the entire narrative pursuing his freedom, and when he earns it, he is also showered with money. For a brief moment, he falls victim to its allure before realizing that wealth is a false god. In a grand gesture of renunciation, he burns down his new villa and reclaims his prior life of a tribesman, forsaking material goods, wearing simple animal skins, and living in a cave. In his final incarnation, Atretes is closer to Heaven than the wealthy, pop icon of the gladiator arena.
One of the central questions posed by the narrative is: What does it mean to be free? Throughout the novel, Hadassah is labeled as “not free” because of her enslavement. Likewise, Atretes is bound to the arena, forced to fight and kill for the entertainment of the mob. While these characters may not be physically free, the narrative argues that they enjoy a very different kind of freedom—spiritual freedom—and that to define “freedom” in such a limited and pedestrian way is to exclude the freedom that Hadassah enjoys over all others. In many ways, Hadassah is the freest character in the story. Decimus bemoan, “But for Julia, I would set you free,” to which Hadassah responds, “I am free, my lord” (428). Atretes also understands that freedom is a relative term. As he prepares to enter the arena for his final match, with death a distinct possibility, Atretes says, “Either way, Sertes, today I leave the arena victorious” (433). Like Hadassah, Atretes knows that freedom cannot be given or taken by another as long it exists in the mind and heart.
The physical hardships of enslavement are quite real and should never be minimized, but the narrative would claim that physical hardships are temporal while spiritual freedom is everlasting. Indeed, Hadassah is more of a prisoner to her fear than to the Valerians, and once she proclaims her faith in public, the fear evaporates, freeing her to face the lions without fear of death. The so-called freemen of Rome are all enslaved in one way or another. Decimus is enslaved by his desire for wealth; Marcus, by his hedonism; Calabah, by her Machiavellian schemes; and even the emperor, the most powerful man in the world, is enslaved to the will of the mob. He must read their mood carefully before rendering a verdict on a gladiator’s life. Political rhetoric in the United States often rests upon vague arguments of freedom. A Voice in the Wind asserts that there is only one freedom that truly matters: the freedom of surrendering one’s life to God.
The Old and New Testaments are vastly different texts, in terms of time period, audience, and tone. The God of the Old Testament is a strict taskmaster, meting out severe punishment—including floods, plagues, and death to infants—for disobedience. The New Testament God, on the other hand, is one of love, forgiveness, and tolerance; but the difference goes beyond divine temperament to a deep seated, dogmatic belief system. Jesus was either the Messiah or a mere human—the son of God or the son of a mortal woman. These essential disparities reveal themselves in the derision and distrust Jews exhibit for Christians in the story. On the sea voyage from Ephesus to Rome, Hadassah comforts a fellow captive, a Jew, who has been sexually assaulted, but when Hadassah reveals herself to be a Christian, the woman reacts with animosity: “‘I lived by the law of Moses all my life. Don’t speak to me of atonement,’ the woman said, her face ravaged by bitter emotion and grief’” (75). Later, Hadassah debates the virtues of selflessness with Enoch, the Valerian’s head servant and a devout Jew. When Bithia, an Egyptian servant, uses unconventional means to cure Decimus, Enoch proclaims her “a deceiver and a sorceress” and prays that God “strikes her dead before she can do more harm to the master with her black arts” (232). This exchange perfectly exemplifies the difference between the faiths, at least as depicted by Rivers. Enoch has no room in his heart for tolerance when his rigid doctrine is violated. Hadassah, on the other hand, prays that Bithia will find the “truth.”
For as long as Hadassah is perceived as Jewish, she has the legal right to worship as she wishes, but to reveal her Christianity is to invite death. Even Imperial Rome recognizes a difference between the two religions. While Jews are disparaged and hated for their rebellion against Rome, they are tolerated. Christians are seen as a threat to the divine power of the emperor, and so they are crucified or thrown to the lions. The narrative makes a compelling statement about religion and faith: While all religions require belief in the unseen to some degree or other, conflict between religions says a good deal about human nature. Each religion wants bragging rights to the Truth, with adherents claiming their Messiah is the only Messiah. Ironically, religions have more in common with one another than they do with secular belief systems, but followers too often focus on their differences as an excuse to elevate their beliefs above others’.
By Francine Rivers