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Chapter Twenty
Letter from Sepphoris
One
morning, not long after Samuel opened his doors to our family, Papa awakened in
a cheerful mood. He seemed to be
his old self again. After a modest
breakfast of warm bread, honey and goat’s milk, we followed him out of the
great doors into a new day.
Samuel, as is the fashion of old men, cried out in parting “He-he-he,
Joseph’s recovered from his love affair with the grape!” Mama, who thought she knew Papa best,
was not amused. His behavior had
been pure foolishness. He would
always have the weakness that so many Galilean men had, but with Jesus by his
side, how could he fail? Mama
believed this until the end. The
truth, however, was crueler than these gentle lies. Papa had not recovered from his love of wine. Even Jesus couldn’t stop Papa’s
cravings for strong drink. It
seemed to be God’s will to test our father, and yet he would return to supervise
and expand our family’s business for many years with full vigor.
Papa’s
energy was inspiring. I decided,
after much soul searching, to ignore the pot of gold in the wall, until a more
opportune day. When and if that
day would ever come I didn’t know.
The lure of my treasure proved to be a constant temptation for me during
the first few days after Papa’s rebirth.
This characterization of Papa’s state of mind was thought up by
Jesus. It would never have
occurred to any of us how significant the notion of rebirth might be. Jesus, of course, during his ministry,
would take it to the next level: from a physical to a spiritual rebirth. One day, as John and I eavesdropped on
his conversation with Nicodemus, we heard him explain to the Pharisee the warning
and promise of salvation: “Except that a man be born again he cannot see the
kingdom of God.” In the darkness
of my cell, I remember the words clearly and often compare them to Jesus’
youthful faith that Papa would stop drinking. I understand now that Papa’s drinking was a physical
problem. The Messiah had come to
save our souls. How could simple
Nazarene folk have understood this idea when a great Pharisee found it
difficult to comprehend? When
Jesus first spoke of being born again, Nicodemus asked him how an old man, like
himself, could be born a second time from his mother’s womb. I still marvel at my brother’s answer:
“Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he can’t enter the kingdom of
God. That which is born of the
flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit. The wind blows where it will and you
hear the sound of it, but you don’t know whence it comes or wither it
goes. So it is with every one who
is born of the Spirit.”
Even
at this hour, as I contemplate my fate, I am comforted by the reward of heaven
and yet I find Jesus answer to Nicodemus hard to digest. During the period of time in my
childhood when we lived in Samuel’s house and helped Papa in his shop, I gave
it no thought whatsoever. Papa’s
rebirth meant one thing to us: staying sober. For his family, Jesus was not yet a god.
******
To
take my mind off of my gold—for I now believe he knew about it all along, Jesus
devoted much of his time in training me to become an apprentice for Papa. Though he watched me the closest and
was always hovering nearby, his supervision helped shape my brothers and friend
into woodworkers too. Jesus,
himself, never claimed to be a master carpenter, and yet he knew the business
as well as Papa now. While Papa
scouted the countryside with his friend Ezra, who also needed more clients,
Jesus was totally in control of the carpenter shop. Inexplicably one night, in response to Michael’s petition to
Papa and him, Jesus snuck Michael back to the house, so that he could be
introduced to the craft of carpentry.
Jesus had such a big heart.
He saw good in everyone and wanted to give Michael another chance, but
it struck everyone, including Mama, as a harebrained idea. Though Papa relented, it meant we would
have to sneak him back to Samuel’s house each time we returned. It was important, Papa explained
without great conviction, that Michael, like us, learn the craft. But Michael had to do his training
inside the shop when he wasn’t in the house, which, from the moment he was
spirited him back to the house, meant he had to be guarded both night and day.
Something else occurred during this busy week that
made our lives even more burdensome.
To show our appreciation for Samuel’s hospitality, we all volunteered to
pick olives in his orchard—the profits to defray the cost of feeding our large
family. Rueben would stay hidden,
and so would Michael, since the path leading into the trees was visible from
the road. Mama decided that we
would also pick olives from the orchard in back of our yard, while we were in
the mood. All of this would take
place after the noon hour break, which meant we would be working almost
continually each day until the picking was complete. Also added to Mama’s schedule, after a courier brought her a
letter from Sepphoris, was a future trip to see her Aunt Elizabeth. Elizabeth’s only living brother,
Zedekiah, dropped dead during a visit to her home. In addition to her grief, her son John was becoming
quite a handful. He had no friends
in Sepphoris and longed to run away and join a sect of wild men in the
desert. Elizabeth, who was still
seriously ill, needed the consolation of her family.
Other than the times he returned at night to our
house, Michael had, until yesterday, obediently stayed put in his
quarters. That day, after walking
boldly into the orchard, he was scolded by the chamberlain and given two burly
servants as guards. The expense
and hardship this created for our host caused my parents great dismay. In an unguarded moment Samuel made a
suggestion he thought would solve our problems here in Nazareth for good. Why not take the moody child with them
to Sepphoris and let him stay with Elizabeth. No one knew him there.
Samuel spoke querulously those moments, making it obvious that he considered
Michael a liability in his household.
Mama shook her head emphatically against this plan, but I could see
Michael’s face brighten at the prospect of seeing the light of day. Papa nodded in agreement. James and Joseph were so enthusiastic
about the idea they proposed a toast at the breakfast table “to Elizabeth’s
adopted son.” Mama was reluctant
to expose her aunt to this troubled youth, but the idea was supported at first
by everyone else, including Jesus, whose two qualifications—Elizabeth must
accept the plan wholeheartedly and she must be paid accordingly—seemed quite
agreeable to Papa and us.
Simon, Uriah, Martha, Abigail, and I danced around
happily as we thought of the pending festivities at Aunt Elizabeth’s
house. Michael sat at the breakfast
table with a blank expression as Papa and Mama discussed his fate. Jesus placed his hand on Michael’s
shoulder and nodded at mother, as if to say, “It’s all right Mama.” When she saw the resignation in Papa
and Jesus’ voices, her normally placid expression change before our eyes. She cocked an eyebrow, placed her hands
on her hips, then a frown became fixed upon her lovely face. Her main concern, she explained to us,
was that Michael would run amuck in Sepphoris as he had in Nazareth. She also feared that he would wander
away as he almost did in Samuel’s orchard. Jesus was too trusting. I could see doubt lined in Papa’s face, after these words. Except for Jesus, the rest of us began
having second thoughts too.
A change of mood settled upon us as we envisioned
Michael in Elizabeth’s house running amuck. Mama flashed him an apologetic look as he stared blankly
into space. “In his current state
of mind,” she reasoned, “he requires constant supervision. He’s mind’s still fragile and
unpredictable. He’s not ready to
be lodged in a stranger’s house.”
“Elizabeth’s servants will keep an eye on him.” Papa
pursed his lips.
“Yes, Mama,” Jesus said thoughtfully. “I saw one of
them; Joash is a big, strong fellow.”
“But he’s only one man,” She replied, shaking her
head. “Samuel has many servants.
Joash can’t keep an eye on him all the time.” Looking around the room
that moment, she avoided Michael’s gaze. “What if he steals from Aunt
Elizabeth?” her voice hardened. “She’s bed-ridden. Her servants will have the authorities put him in jail. What if he tempts John into mischief as
he did Jude?” “Forgive me Michael,” she said, throwing up her hands, “but
you’re just not ready!”
“So you think he’ll misbehave?” Papa frowned.
“It’s possible in his state of mind.” She sighed.
“We’ll tie him up and lock him in one of Elizabeth’s
rooms,” suggested Simon.
“Oh,” muttered Uriah, “this is getting scary.”
“It needn’t be,” she replied. “The earlier solution
was quite simple!”
Jesus stroked the down on his chin. “Mama, I’ve
prayed about this a lot. We must
give Michael a chance.”
This time there wasn’t conviction in Jesus’
voice. He closed his eyes as if
God might be talking to him again.
His words, I noticed, had almost caught in his throat.
“Well,” Joseph offered, “you said he might wander
off like he did before. That
wouldn’t be so bad.”
Joseph had spoken most of our minds. Next to running amuck, this was, we
were reminded, her greatest fear, and yet it was a solution to our
problem. Mama’s argument had
brought James, Joseph, Simon, Uriah, and I back down to earth. Papa scratched his beard and shook his
head. “What were we thinking?” he muttered under his breath. “Mama’s right; we can’t take him
along.”
“Yes,” James murmured, “he’ll ruin everything!”
Jesus nodded faintly to Mama, which, though
unspoken, made it unanimous.
Michael looked up with a flicker of emotion that
moment and shook his head. “No, I’ll be good. I promise.”
“Humph,” grumbled Joseph, “you haven’t changed. You’re just biding your time!”
“What?” Papa raised his bushy eyebrows.
“How can you say that after what he’s gone through?”
Jesus asked in disbelief.
“I’m just being honest.” Joseph folded his
arms. “Our family’s suffered
because of him. What about what we’ve
gone through? Doesn’t that
matter? Now we have to worry about
him stealing Elizabeth’s valuables and running amuck. It’d been better for us if he never returned!”
“Enough Joseph!” Papa exhaled, spreading his palms.
The angry edge in Papa’s voice told Joseph he had
gone too far. As his mood
darkened, Joseph uttered a hasty apology, which diffused Papa’s anger but
didn’t stop him from scolding him severely for insulting our special
guest. I tried to stop up my ears
when I heard Mama jump into the rebuke, thinking how strange it was that my
parents defended this troublesome youth against the convincing arguments Joseph
and Mama, herself, just made. I
saw Simon and even Uriah nod.
James and I held our tongues those moments, but Joseph glared
unrepentantly at our guest. Papa and
Mama’s rebuke of Joseph for being inhospitable seemed unfair after what we had
gone through with Michael and Reuben.
Strangers, widows and orphans were one thing; Reuben and Michael’s stay
were quite another. I agreed
wholeheartedly with a Jewish adage Papa quoted during Reuben’s recovery: “a
man’s family comes first.”
When my parents had finished reprimanding Joseph, I
pulled my fingers out of my ears, opened my eyes and looked around the
room. Despite my efforts, I heard
most of what was said. Joseph
acted as contrite as possible, lightly embracing Mama and receiving Papa’s
blessing on his head. When they weren’t looking, however, he smiled slyly at
us. Tabitha, with the twins in
tow, scampered outside into the garden, while the rest of us stood around the
table where the cause of our family’s discord sat calmly staring into
space. Silently, Uriah, my
brothers, and I presented a united front.
James, always more diplomatic than Joseph, now stepped forth to speak
our minds.
“Mama, Papa, Jesus. I respectively agree with Joseph,” his voice filled the
silence. “Since Michael’s returned, a shadow hangs over our house.” “Look at him!” He pointed accusingly.
“He’s barely said a word in the past few days. Why have we taken this rascal back into our house?”
“He’s sick,” Jesus offered gently. “When someone
recovers from bodily disease and spiritual sickness, it takes more time. The body mends easily, but the mind,
emptied of evil, takes longer to mend.”
“Nonsense,” Joseph muttered, too faintly for our parents
to hear.
Everyone, even Papa (in his heart), agreed with
Joseph. I looked up at my third
oldest brother with newfound respect.
Unlike the rest of us, he had never wavered in his views. One day that close-mindedness would
work against him, but today it overshadowed Michael’s needs. Here, though bowing in parental
respect, was our champion against outsiders threatening our family’s peace—be
they Romans, criminals, or wayward youths.
Shoulder-to-shoulder, mind-to-mind, James, Joseph,
Simon, Uriah and I glared at the source of our grief. Michael returned our look with a straight-faced
expression. Simon made an ugly
face at him, but Uriah just tittered foolishly as I studied my old friend. The thought occurred to me to air my
own views, but James and Joseph anticipated the words building up in my throat.
“Michael’s mind is still healing,” James feigned
sympathy toward our guest. “Look at him.
He can’t help himself.
Jesus said so himself. For
his own sake, and the citizens of Nazareth and Sepphoris, he must come out
gradually. Already, he’s allowed
to learn the trade, though he must be ushered over in the dead of night. But he’s not ready to be around other
people—not in his present state.
He must stay hidden away in Samuel’s house until he’s ready.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, avoiding Michael’s stare, “but
he’s right.” I looked around the room. “Michael needs more time!”
“So what can we do?” Uriah asked, as if on cue.
“What if he runs away and becomes a bandit like Reuben?”
“Mama’s right,” snorted Joseph, “Samuel’s servants
are capable of guarding him. They
caught him sneaking into the orchard and drug him back. He’s not happy about it, but we’ll
offer to pay Samuel for their services, ourselves. That might shame him into doing it for free.”
“Yes,
yes, that’s a good idea.” I hopped up and down. “Samuel has big, strong
servants like Joash. They can
follow him everywhere and even be stationed outside his door. We could ask Reuben to keep an eye on
him too.”
“Oh, we couldn’t do that, could we?” Mama appeared
to consider the possibility.
“Why not?” Simon stomped his foot. “Michael will
spoil everything if he comes along.”
“Wait a minute.” Papa raised a hand. “I’ve been thinking. For the sake of argument, isn’t a good
idea to get him out of Nazareth?
Samuel’s an old man.
Already were taking advantage of his charity by bringing Uriah and
Tabitha over. They weren’t even
part of the deal. Now he has to
provide special guards to watch Michael so he won’t run away?”
I couldn’t believe it. This was insane.
Suddenly it appeared as if Papa was changing his mind.
“I think you’re right Papa.” Mama looked sheepishly
at Michael. “We shouldn’t leave him there. I really haven’t seen any big, strong guards like Joash
there, and Rueben’s not the one to watch that boy. You’re right Papa.
It will be a burden on Samuel’s servants and our friend to have to watch
that boy.”
“What burden?” James scowled. “We’ve only just begun
staying at Samuel’s house. Today
we’re fending for ourselves. This
is something we should do as often as possible to lessen our host’s expenses,
but that old man loves our family.
He seems amused with Reuben.
I thought he approved of Michael being under his roof. We—Joseph, Simon, Jude, and
Uriah— trust Samuel’s servants to keep an eye on Michael while we’re gone. You and Papa should too.”
James, who had rebuked Michael before, sounded the
most reasonable of us all. His
respectful tone caused a smile to break Papa’s beard and Mama to thoughtfully
incline her head.
“I mean no offense to our friend Michael,” she said,
walking over to stroke Michael’s head, “but Nazareth has not yet forgiven his
desecration of the synagogue nor the fact he is his mother’s son.” “This is
unfortunate.” She studied Michael’s unresponsive face. “I would love to have
seen the old Michael who first befriended my son, but, I must repeat, you’re
not ready. James’s right; you
don’t talk enough. I can’t read
your mind. The safest place for
you...and us is in Sepphoris with Aunt Elizabeth. Joash, once a rowdy youth himself, will know how to control
you, though I hope Jesus is right when he says that you’ve changed.”
Mama had used James and Joseph’s argument against
them. Ironically, she had also
used it against herself. All of
us, except the oldest brother, looked at her in disbelief.
“The question is,” Papa mused, looking at Jesus, “in
what way has he changed? A storm
is quiet until it gathers momentum.
It’s unpredictable and, by its nature, dangerous for all those around
it.” “I see nothing in Michael’s eyes.” He looked down at him. “But then I
can’t see into someone’s soul like Jesus.”
Papa had merely tried to make a point. I was certain that moment that Mama had
become addled in the head. James,
Joseph, Simon, Uriah, and I howled in opposition, but my parents grimly stood
their ground, shaky as it was.
Jesus, who had stood in the background listening a
moment, now gave Michael his greatest defense since he came back into our
lives: “During my journey with Joseph of Arimathea, I saw men and women
afflicted with demons. Once, a
rabbi in Rome named Othniel called out in the name of God an evil spirit. I will never forget the blank look on
the woman’s face. Othniel told me
that she had the mind of a child now.
She might never be the same.” “Let us pray that Michael will return to
normal someday,” he added, looking around the room, “but let us not judge him
on his past sins. Everyone has
sinned and fallen short of the grace of God, even Abraham and Moses.” “Judge and ye shall be judged,” he
preached, closing his eyes. “Forgive those who have trespassed against you, as
the Lord has forgiven you. This is
a blessed house—all those who are part of this family must set a higher mark
than the rest of the world. What
we do to the least of us, we do to the Lord, Himself.”
All of us, even Michael, who looked up with
surprise, were shaken by his words.
At this point, Jesus was not merely talking about Michael’s fate. He was using words he would one day say
to the multitudes. I know that as
clearly as the sun sets and rises, but that day, as we accepted our ambivalent
mother’s decision, most of us still felt bitter that we would have to drag
Michael along. I felt ashamed that
I judged him harshly, but, after the way he had been acting, I didn’t trust
him. I didn’t hate him as Joseph
and James did nor did I fear his actions as Mama and Papa did. As Mama, I had wanted to see the old
Michael return, but I sensed deeply he would become a terrible nuisance during
our celebrations at Aunt Elizabeth’s house. Papa’s fear that a storm waited to burst forth in him might
be a real danger, yet I was also worried that Michael would wander away in a
daze and never be seen again. I
wanted to tell him this now, as he gave me a vacant look, but I wasn’t sure it
would even register in his state of mind.
Mama sat next to him a moment but said nothing, as Papa motioned for all
of us to follow him out the front door.
“Well,” Jesus called out cheerfully, “back to
work. We have much to do.”
“I’ll finish up the tables,” Papa looked back at us,
“you boys listen to Jesus. James
and Joseph, you’re fine carpenters now, but you must accept Uriah into our
group. If Jesus is busy, you must
give Uriah guidance, like you do for Simon and Jude.” “Simon, Uriah, Jude,” he added sternly, “no more daydreaming
and slacking off in your work.
While Mama fixes us an old fashioned lunch, we’re gonna finish this
order.”
“What’s Michael going to do this time,” Joseph
grumbled, “whittle more scrapes and sand discarded pieces of wood?”
“What can he do, shut away in the shop?” chided
Jesus. “With all that lumber in there, he barely has room for serious
work. Hopefully, there will be a
day when Nazareth forgives Michael and he can see the light of day.”
“Nazareth will never forget,” James murmured.
“Many of those self-righteous townsmen, have not even forgiven us for
our supposed sins.”
James had spoken for all us. I recalled Jesus sermon in our yard that moment. Gideon and Ethan had been his worst critics, but there was a large number of elders and Pharisees, many of whom were not present that day, who resented Joseph’s ‘heretical’ son and our checkered past. As we began our work, I thought about Michael’s problem that Jesus and James expressed, and it made me feel sorry, not resentful of Michael’s lack of energy. What was actually wrong with him? Had the casting out of demons, as Jesus had done, really addled his head? Or was he pretending? Was all this just an act, as Joseph suspected? Was Michael just biding his time?
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