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She wanted to go and comfort her mother, who was obviously in great distress, but she sat on her bed, listening uneasily, until the sobs subsided and her father finally left the room.
    Abraham came looking for her. “Your mother is too upset to leave the house,” he told Rebecca. “Take the food and make the visit she had planned.”
    Her father’s face sagged with sorrow, and his eyes were red from weeping. Rebecca wanted desperately to ask what was wrong, but he turned on his heel and walked briskly out. She went downstairs and retrieved the basket her mother had prepared, then left to call on the family of Africanus, a former slave originally from Carthage, who had recently died. His wife and children were now dependent on the charity of fellow believers to survive.
    Later that day the atmosphere at the family dinner was strained. Her mother did not come downstairs, and that worried Rebecca; she could scarcely remember an occasion when her mother had been too ill to dine with the family. Her father was brooding and silent, and she could tell he was simply going through the motions. He ate little, and his repeated glances at Jacob’s empty place made Rebecca suspect that the crisis in their home had something to do with her brother.
    Naomi chattered about trivial matters, and even Peter seemed to talk more than usual, or perhaps it was just that for once he was not overshadowed by his more charismatic twin.
    With obvious relish, Naomi disclosed the latest gossip she’d heard. “I wouldn’t mention this if Jacob were here because we’d have to listen to another one of his sermons, but I learned today that the city is planning a big festival for the twenty-fourth of this month because it’s Emperor Domitian’s birthday. There will be games in his honor at the stadium, and of course a celebration at his temple. I know our family won’t go to that because people will be ‘sacrificing,’ although it’s really just paying respect to the emperor because of the greatness of the Empire.”
    â€œJacob never draws the fine line,” Peter said, “that the state religion calls for worship of the genius —the guardian spirit of the gens, or family clan—of the emperor.”
    Offended at her siblings’ flirtation with Roman religion, Rebecca said, “I for one would never sacrifice to the genius of the emperor. It’s pagan—and blasphemous.”
    â€œJacob preaches against it,” Peter said, “but I personally don’t see what is so different between that and our faith’s frequent references to the patriarchs, such as Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, or Moses.”
    â€œBut we don’t worship the patriarchs,” Rebecca countered, believing she should champion Jacob’s cause although she felt completely inadequate to argue theology.
    â€œWe honor them, don’t we? What’s the difference between worship and honor or respect?” Peter asked.
    â€œWell, we don’t sacrifice to them,” Rebecca said. “We sacrifice only to God.” She paused, trying to formulate her thoughts. “Except we don’t actually make sacrifices anymore. I mean, not like animal sacrifices or incense . . .” She looked to her father, silently appealing for support.
    â€œWe do not worship idols, and we do not worship any man, including the patriarchs,” Abraham said, finally joining the conversation. “And you’re wrong, Peter. It’s no longer a question of sacrificing to the genius of the emperor. Domitian has declared himself to be divine. And the sacrifice is no longer an optional way of paying respect. ‘Lord’ Domitian, as he demands to be called, has made the sacrifice mandatory. Anyone who does not perform it is guilty of a crime.”
    â€œMandatory!” Rebecca suddenly understood why her father had wanted to hasten Jacob’s departure, and why her mother was so