A Hardened Zealot Seeks Meaning in Elizabeth George Speare's The Bronze Bow

The month and a half leading up to Easter, and the last week in particular, are meant to be times of deep contemplation for Christians. Thanks to a most timely recommendation, Elizabeth George Speare’s The Bronze Bow rose to the top of my must-read list this month, giving me a beautiful novel to reflect upon for Holy Week.

Speare has received Newbery recognition for two of her other novels, both of which explore themes of faith, friendship and overcoming one’s prejudices. In this 1962 Newbery Medal-winning book, set near Capernaum of 2000 years ago, Biblical characters weave their way in and out of the story of 18-year-old Israelite Daniel, who has lived for nothing but revenge since his father’s crucifixion a decade earlier. Having exchanged apprenticeship to an abusive blacksmith and a dreary home with a withered grandmother and cowed sister for a bandit’s existence in the nearby mountains, Daniel venerates Rosh, a fierce outlaw he believes will lead an army to rise up against the Roman scum who hold the Jewish people under their sway. On the mountain, he feels a sense of belonging, of purpose, of freedom. But his life is about to change dramatically.

Daniel has been part of this pack for five years, yet he remains an isolated individual, focusing all of his emotional energy on his lust for vengeance. He has no need for friendship, or so believes until he meets twins Joel and Thacia, who come from his town of Ketzah but are relocating to bustling Capernaum. Joel, a rabbi in training, studies the Law intensely but echoes Daniel’s thirst for ridding the land of Romans. Thacia, who shares a deep bond with her brother, is by turns fiery and gentle, and her beauty and bravery flummox the hardened Daniel.

The same day the twins ascend the mountain to gaze over their homeland before their departure, Rosh orders a raid on a caravan. His object? An enormous slave the men laughingly name Samson. Daniel takes charge of him, leading him up the mountain to their camp and using his iron-working skills to remove the chains that confine him. Little does he realize that in so doing, he is binding himself to the seemingly deaf-mute lummox, who thereafter will answer only to him. Samson’s strength makes Daniel’s work in the makeshift forge easier, but it’s uncomfortable for him to feel so tied down to one person. It’s a discomfort he will soon be forced to get used to as his childhood returns to haunt him.

Speare paints a vivid picture of the landscape’s unique sights, sounds and smells, transporting readers to dusty streets and salty shorelines and introducing a people hungry for hope. When they meet again, Daniel, Joel and Thacia take heart in the words of King David, adopting as their mantra, “He trains my hands for war, so that my arms can bend a bow of bronze.” Surely a revolution is coming, and they vow to be ready when it does. But threatening Daniel’s ambitions are the looming reminders of his dying grandmother and his sister Leah, traumatized into apparent madness by the events that lit the fire of vigilantism within Daniel. Can he maintain his distance from his only family for the sake of the cause – especially as doubts about Rosh’s leadership style begin to creep in?

And then there is Jesus. Daniel learns of him from village blacksmith Simon the Zealot. From the moment he first sees him, he is transfixed by his “vital, radiant face, lighted from within by a burning intensity of spirit.” The teacher’s quiet words mesmerize him, but Daniel walks away frustrated. Here is a man who can captivate thousands; each time Daniel goes to see him, the crowd around him seems to expand. An unfathomable power seems to flow from him as he talks of the Kingdom of God. Yet usurping the Romans does not seem to be his agenda. Daniel wonders how a man with such influence can fail to use it for the long-awaited liberation of his people. Or might Jesus offer a different kind of freedom?

First and foremost, this is Daniel’s tale. It is not primarily an account of Christ’s ministry, and Speare sprinkles in encounters with Jesus and his followers, particularly Simon Peter and Andrew, sparingly. The parable of the Good Samaritan, the feeding of the five thousand and the raising of Jairus’s daughter are among the notable Gospel passages that are organically integrated into the story, taking on a renewed potency as seen from the perspective of the teen who just can’t quite make out what this man is all about. Speare keeps dialogue directly involving Jesus to a minimum so that every moment with him feels like a cool drink of water in the midst of a barren landscape of rage and despair.

For nearly a third of his life, Daniel has taken orders from a man who regards compassion as a weakness to be filed away like the heaviest chain conceivable. As new responsibilities take him beyond the mountain and the words of a different kind of leader work their way into his soul, Daniel must carefully consider the true meaning of strength, of courage, of devotion. Is his bond with Samson truly a lamentable burden? Is it frailty to care for his troubled sister, whose sweetness shines out of the shadows just a little more with each passing day? Faced with the prospect of heading up his own faction of revolutionaries, which role model will he follow?

While Speare’s The Sign of the Beaver, which I recently read for the first time, has a straightforward simplicity to it, this novel is considerably longer and more complex, with more characters to keep track of and more twists and turns, not to mention the expert way in which Speare intermingles Daniel’s story with Gospel accounts. Each of the major characters has hopes and aspirations that are tested at various points, but their gravest challenges often come in quiet moments. Despite Daniel’s readiness for a violent uprising, his most grueling battle is internal as he struggles under the weight of a torment that only one person truly seems to understand.

I’m glad that this was the week I read The Bronze Bow. Through the stormy eyes of Speare’s passionate protagonist, I gained a fresh appreciation for what those days must have been like and the soft but forceful ways in which Jesus impacted the lives of those around him. When Daniel and his twin friends first read the psalm that will be such a source of inspiration to them, Thacia speculates that David means “that when God strengthens us we can do something that seems impossible.” Daniel’s own impossible feat is both simpler and more daunting than he ever could have imagined. He cannot do it alone. Neither can we.