Daniel’s early life is marked by independence. After his parents are killed by the Romans, Daniel is apprenticed to an abusive blacksmith and finally runs away. Rosh, leader of a group of Galilean rebels, grants Daniel a new life as one of his fighters. When Daniel grows used to this free and relatively secure life, he balks at returning to his home village and his younger sister, Leah. But after their grandmother dies, Daniel must care for Leah himself, and this burden threatens to entangle him in the village life he’d hoped to leave behind. In the process, he makes friends for the first time—like siblings Joel and Thacia—and realizes the goodness of connecting with and finding support from others instead of avoiding them. Over the course of the book, Daniel’s growing friendships make him realize the importance of relationships—even caring for and depending on others— for a truly meaningful life.
For years, Daniel has lived with a group of anti-Roman rebels on a nearby mountain—a life of relative freedom. Because of this, Daniel fears being tied down by others, especially having to support them. When Daniel was at his lowest point, Rosh gave him a home and something to live for. At the beginning of the book, as his old schoolmates Joel and Thacia question him about his life on the mountain, Daniel remembers “how Rosh had reached out a hand, nor to strike him but to help him to his feet […] had picked him up and carried him like a baby all the way to the cave.” Up till then, Daniel’s life had been marked by orphanhood and abuse. So Rosh’s rescue—and then getting to live on the mountain and fight for Rosh—felt like a kind of rebirth, even a rejection of conventional family commitment.
Because his life now revolves around Rosh’s cause, Daniel sees his family—namely his troubled younger sister, Leah—as a threat to his independence. When he visits Leah for the first time in years and sees how desperately she needs him, Daniel sees his sister’s dependence on him as a fearful trap: “Suddenly he was afraid again. He looked away, trying to shut out the sight of her [...] Everything he cared about and worked for was threatened by that small helpless figure.” Daniel knows that supporting Leah will hamper his ability to fight for Israel’s future with Rosh, the only commitment he cares about.
After Daniel returns from the mountain to the village and takes up blacksmithing in order to support Leah, he feels imprisoned by his sister’s demands on him. One day he arrives home to find that Leah “had not combed her hair or bothered to get herself breakfast. With irritation he saw that the water jar was empty and that he would have to stand in line at the well with the snickering women. […] [T]he bars of his cage slid into place around him.” Not only is Leah helplessly needy, but her needs feel emasculating to Daniel, the antithesis of the rebellious role he’d rather fill. Instead of living an unfettered life on the mountain and fighting for a higher cause, he’s bound to his sister. Caring for Leah feels like a trap (“the bars of his cage”).
But when he experiences the benefits of friendship for himself, Daniel realizes that connection between people is indispensable for a meaningful life, not a trap to be feared. After getting injured in Capernaum and being secretly nursed back to health by his friend Joel, Daniel realizes he’s been missing something without even knowing it: “He had never admitted to himself that he was lonely here on the mountain. […] But the few days in Joel’s passageway had shown him a new world. He had found someone to talk to, someone who had shared his own thoughts, and who had instantly taken Daniel’s burden as his own.” Before, Daniel has shared common goals with fellow rebels, but he’s never had a real friend—someone who genuinely cares about Daniel and is even willing to put Daniel’s needs first.
As Daniel continues to let Joel and his sister Thacia into his life—even at the cost of becoming more tied to village life—Daniel also sees the benefits of friendship for Leah. Sheltered all her life, Leah blossoms when others finally see her as valuable, a reflection of what Daniel himself is experiencing through friendship. Thacia tells Daniel, “Every time I come, Leah has changed […] It’s like watching a flower opening very slowly. From week to week I can hardly wait to see how it has opened since I saw her last.” Daniel tells Thacia that Leah has never had a friend before, so her blossoming is Thacia’s doing. Friendship—being really recognized and cared for by another person—is indispensable for a fulfilled life.
Daniel’s experiences of trusting friends and serving his family prepare him for what the novel presents as the ultimate step of trust and dependence—trust in Jesus. When Jesus comes to Daniel’s house to heal Leah, Daniel finally gives up his resistance to Jesus: “Suddenly, with a longing that was more than he could bear, he wanted to stop fighting against this man. He knew that he would give everything he possessed in life to follow Jesus. […] To know Jesus would be enough.” Giving up his vow to fight the Romans—the thing that’s given shape and meaning to Daniel’s life—no longer seems like a sacrifice, as it did before. Even though he doesn’t yet know what following Jesus will mean for his past dreams, just knowing Jesus—having a relationship with him—is portrayed as worthwhile in and of itself.
Related Themes from Other Texts
Trust, Dependence, and Friendship ThemeTracker
Trust, Dependence, and Friendship Quotes in The Bronze Bow
“You mustn’t be afraid of him. He is our brother Daniel come home. When he milks you, you must be good and stand still. See how big and strong he is. He will take care of us and keep us safe.”
Suddenly he was afraid again. He looked away, trying to shut out the sight of her with her golden hair shining in the lamplight, trying to shut out the sound of that murmuring voice. Everything he cared about and worked for was threatened by that small helpless figure.
Why did I come here? he thought. Already he yearned to be away from this place. Hunger gnawed at him. Up on the mountain the men would be still sitting about the fire, their stomachs satisfied […] He wondered if Joktan had made sure that Samson had enough to eat. He wondered how long the man had waited at the top of the trail. Suddenly he flung himself on his face and buried his head in his arms and could have wept for homesickness.
For Daniel nothing could ever be the same. He had never admitted to himself that he was lonely here on the mountain. He had worshiped and feared Rosh. He had fought and eaten and slept side by side with the hard-eyed men who made up Rosh’s band. But the few days in Joel’s passageway had shown him a new world. He had found someone to talk to, someone who had shared his own thoughts, and who had instantly taken Daniel’s burden as his own.
He fumbled for the words, and they came, slowly, from the depths of his memory. “‘The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want; He maketh me to lie down in green Pastures: He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul’ […]”
Leah sank down beside him. Side by side, without speaking, the brother and sister sat and listened to the breathing of the old woman. Leah’s hand in his own was like the hand of a small child reaching out to him in trust and helplessness. It was a sign that even now the devils did not have complete dominion. Fear retreated into the shadowy corners.
[Daniel] was almost at the point of tears. Yet in the same instant such a fierce resentment sprang up in him that he dared not look his friend in the face. […] Everyone—the doctor, Leah, the neighbors, and now Simon, took it for granted that he had come home to stay. […] What about his life on the mountain? What about Rosh and Samson, and the work that must be done in the cave? Wasn’t that more important than a few farmers who wanted their wheels mended? Everything he loved […] the irresponsible life, the excitement of the raids, rose up and fought off the shackles that Simon held out to him in kindness.
He lay filled with meat and wine, his old comrades stretched out beside him. It was all just as he had imagined it on those endless steaming nights in the town. Yet sleep did not come. He turned over, twisting his shoulders to fit a hump in the rocky ground. In these few weeks his body had forgotten the feel of pebbles. In the same way, his mind shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a resting place […].
All at once he thought of Leah’s little black goat. Would some child in the village be hungry because of tonight's feast?
Where did he himself belong?
The fire in Simon’s forge had almost gone out. He raked back the ashes, blew on the coals and coaxed it back to life. Then he opened the inner door to the house. Leah looked up at him, her blue eyes as lifeless as the fire. She had not combed her hair or bothered to get herself breakfast. With irritation he saw that the water jar was empty and that he would have to stand in line at the well with the snickering women. He bent and picked up the jar, and the bars of his cage slid into place around him.
“Do the people—crowd together and push each other?”
“It’s all you can do to stay on your two feet sometimes.”
She was silent so long that he thought she had stopped thinking about it. Then she asked, “Are there children, too? […] Jesus wouldn’t let them hurt the children, would he?”
“He won't even let them send the children away when they’re a nuisance. He insists on talking to them, and finding out their names, and listening to their foolishness. It makes some of the men furious—as though he thought children were important.”
“Haven’t you ever wondered,” he attempted, “what good it is for them to be healed, those people that Jesus cures? They’re happy at first. But what happens to them after that? What does a blind man think, when he has wanted for years to see, and then looks at his wife in rags and his children covered with sores? That lame man you saw—is he grateful now? Is it worth it to get on his feet and spend the rest of his life dragging burdens like a mule?”
Unable to endure that smile, Daniel bent his head. Suddenly, with a longing that was more than he could bear, he wanted to stop fighting against this man. He knew that he would give everything he possessed in life to follow Jesus.
Even his vow?
He tried to cling again to the words of David that had always strengthened him. He trains my hands for war—
But Jesus said that the Victory was God’s promise. He called men to make ready their hearts and minds instead.
Was it possible that only love could bend the bow of bronze?
