Silence was their first refuge.After the beatings, the public shame, and the collapse of his soul, Jeremiah
decided to speak no more. To not preach. To not warn. To not raise his voice, not
even in his thoughts.
—Enough—he said to himself. —I've given enough.
He shut himself away from the temple, in a small borrowed room where little light
entered. There, the world seemed distant, almost unreal. Jerusalem was still alive
outside, with its markets, laughter, and rituals… but for Jeremiah, everything was
dark.
The physical pain was still there. Every movement reminded him of the stocks.
Every deep breath, the blows. But the most intense pain wasn't in his body.
It was in my heart.
"I won't speak again," he repeated. "No more."
The first few days were easy. The silence felt like a respite. No one was chasing
him.Nobody insulted him. Nobody pointed him out.
"This is what peace feels like,"
he thought. But it was a
deceptive peace.
Because the fire hadn't gone out.
At first it was barely an inconvenience, like an ember buried under ashes.A thought
that returned uninvited. A phrase that appeared in his mind without having been
spoken.
Jeremiah gritted his teeth.
"No," she whispered. "I'm not going to say it."
He paced the room. He sat down. He stood up. He tried to distract himself.But
the fire grew.
It wasn't burning outwards... it was burning inwards.
"Leave me alone," he said one night, staring into space. "I have obeyed you. I have
suffered. Enough."That's enough.
Silence answered.Not with words.
With presence.
And that presence disarmed him.
"Why are you still here?" Jeremiah asked, frustrated. "Can't you see I can't take it
anymore?"
He collapsed to the ground.
"Look what you've done to me," she said, her voice breaking. "I've become a
laughingstock. An enemy. A..."traitor to my people.
The tears returned.
—If I speak, they will destroy me.
If I stay silent… I will wither away.
He put his hands to his chest.
-It's not fair.
The fire burned even
brighter.It didn't burn like
anger.
It burned like a repressed truth.
Jeremiah understood something terrible: remaining silent wasn't saving him. It was
slowly killing him.
The days passed.
One morning, she went out early, covering her face. She walked aimlessly through
the streets,avoiding stares, avoiding places where he could be recognized.
He passed near the market.
He saw a merchant cheating a widow with the weights. The woman didn't protest.
She justHe lowered his head.
The fire roared.
"Don't say anything," he ordered himself. "It's none
of your business." He continued walking.Further on, he saw two men arguing violently. One of them pulled out a knife.No
one intervened.
The fire burned even more.
"No," he murmured. "Don't start again." He
walked past the temple.
The chants rose. The smoke ascended. Everything seemed holy… and empty.
The fire became
unbearable.Jeremiah stopped
dead in his tracks.
His hands were trembling.
"If I speak," he whispered, "the blows will
return." The fire answered from the
depths:
If you don't speak up, you'll break.
Jeremiah closed his
eyes.And then, he
knew.
I couldn't escape.
Not because God forced him to…
but because the truth already lived within him.
"I gave up," he confessed. "I can't run away from who I am."
That night, Jeremiah prayed again. Not as a prophet. Not as a messenger.
Asexhausted man.
"If this is who I am," she said, "then give me strength. Because I don't have
any." And something changed.
Not
outside.
Inside.Fire ceased to be an enemy.She
became a support.Jeremiah understood that he was not called to control the outcome, nor to
measure theimpact, nor to protect himself.
He was called to be faithful… even when it hurt.
The next day, he spoke
again.Not in the temple.
Not in the square.
It started with just one person.
"Listen," he said. "There's still
time." His voice didn't tremble.
The fear was still there, but it no longer ruled.
Jeremiah accepted something irreversible:
His life did not belong to him.
It wouldn't be heard by many. It
wouldn't be loved by most. But
it would be true.
And that was enough.
That night, she wrote words she didn't want to write. She uttered warnings that
haunted her.They broke my heart. She cried as she spoke.
But the fire did not consume
him.He maintained it.
Jeremiah no longer sought to escape from pain. He had learned to walk with it.
"As long as I breathe," he thought, "I will speak."
Because there was something worse than suffering for telling the truth…
And that was betraying her.