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Chapter Twenty-Seven
Our Brother, The Good
Shepherd
That afternoon, as we attempted to finish a table
began that week, Jesus dismissed us suddenly from our chores and, raising his
staff dramatically, led us from the shop.
Uriah wondered if this might be another one of Jesus’ nature hikes. It was, now that I think about it, a
prelude to his role as the Good Shepherd.
It had been a long time since he had treated us to such a hike. Neither James nor Joseph argued, in
spite themselves, since it meant no more work for us today, and yet we all felt
uncomfortable when Jesus walked ahead of us, his shaft clunking the dirt and
free arm around Michael’s slumping shoulders, talking in a muted voice as we
tagged along.
“Is this a good idea Jesus?” James called through
cupped hands. “We’re suppose to be hiding him, not exposing him to the
world. What if someone recognizes
him? How could we explain his
presence so near to our house?”
“Like I explained,” Jesus replied irritably, “it’s
the front yard—the probing eyes of townsmen we should worry about, not back
here where our guards protect us from trespassers. I doubt if Falco or Priam will remember Michael. Eventually, Michael will have to come
out of the shadows. It’s just a
matter of time.”
What did I care? I thought with a sigh. Jesus knew what was best. All that mattered was that the focus
was off me and on Michael. I would
just as soon it stay that way from now on. Michael had realized, once and for all, that there was
nowhere else to go. My feeling of
gratitude for this distraction didn’t blind me to the troubles that lie ahead
for my family and myself.
Michael’s very presence threatened our reputation in town. Although he listened intently to Jesus
scolding, I had seen no visible sign of love or affection from him for my
brothers and me. Something was
missing in Michael’s manner, or perhaps it had never been there. We couldn’t trust him, no matter how
much Jesus prayed.
Lagging far behind Jesus and Michael, we discussed
this familiar scene: Jesus, staff in hand, counseling Michael.
“You’d
think our to brother was Moses, himself, the way he carries on,” James grumbled
under his breath.
“He won’t give up,” Joseph replied from the corner
of his mouth. “For Michael to change his ways will require divine
intervention!”
“Another miracle?” James snorted. “Even Jesus must
see him as a lost cause!”
Simon saw it differently. “You can call a goat a
lamb, but he’s still a goat!”
James and Joseph laughed. Simon had said it best. Uriah, as he did with so many other things, took him
literally.
“What’s wrong with goats?” He wrinkled his pudgy
nose.
“What they’re saying,” I explained, as I watched
Jesus raise his staff and point to the sky, “is that Michael will never
change. This might be his last
chance, Uriah. I hope for all our
sakes that he will.”
“I just hope Samuel will take him back.” James
sighed.
At that point, Jesus whirled around, startling us
half out of our wits. The other
half not frightened by his sudden burst of anger was embarrassed that he had
overheard our remarks. It should
have been obvious to James, Joseph, and Simon that Jesus had eyes and ears at
the back of his head. Though he
was silent, he looked at each one of my brothers separately for what they had
said. Uriah and my words were not
mean-spirited and yet he seemed to look into our hearts, too, his disappointed
expression encompassing us all.
“This is so typical of my brothers,” he spoke
scornfully. “You’ve learned nothing living in our house.”
“Excuse me.” James frowned irritably. “We’ve learned
a lot about Michael. None of it’s
good.”
“You’ve not learned charity nor compassion,” Jesus
replied loftily. “Michael is homeless and friendless. The sin of the mother should not be visited upon her
son. His worse enemy has been
himself!”
“What’s that suppose to mean?” whispered Uriah. “Is
he also talking to me?”
Joseph grew belligerent at Jesus’ defense and took
Simon’s tact.
“A jackal remains jackal.” He folded his arms. “He’ll never change. He doesn’t deserve another chance. How many times are we going to let him
come crawling back?”
Jesus had revised Moses words: the sins of the
fathers shall be visited upon the sons.
Upon remembering Gamaliel’s lectures on the Torah, I uttered a nervous
laugh as his voice rang out on the trail.
“You’ve always been mean-spirited toward anyone not
sharing your narrow-minded views.” He pointed accusingly at Joseph first. “You
hated Nehemiah and Uriah too. You
treated Reuben as if he was a leper though he was transformed before our eyes.”
“Reuben wasn’t transformed.”
Joseph snarled. “Can a leopard change his spots”
Once more Joseph was using Simon’s tact. I hoped he was wrong about Reuben. Ignoring Joseph’s reply, Jesus more
gently scolded James and Simon for not accepting Michael and giving him a
chance.
“You never liked him.” His gaze took in James and
Simon. “Ever since Jude befriended Michael, the shadow of his mother, colored
everyone’s opinion of him—the whole town turned against the widow and her
son. But you, my brothers, were
yourselves orphans and castaways—the recipients of our parent’s charity and
love. All of my siblings were
fortunate to have two caring parents, something Michael never had.”
“Jesus knows a lot of big words,” Uriah whispered to
me.
“We’re not a typical family,” Jesus now spoke to us
all. “I thought you knew this. God
has blessed our house many times.
He expects more from Joseph’s sons and daughters. I expect more from my brothers
too.”
A realization came to me as his voice echoed on the
trail: the Romans were afoot.
With my sharp ears, I was the first to hear commotion on the trail.
“Hey, Jesus,” I tried to get his attention, “we
don’t want them to hear this.
Remember: we’re not suppose to congregate!”
“He’s right,” James said, glancing down the trail,
“they’re quite strict about that.
I still think Michael should hide.”
“Priam and Falco won’t consider our family a
congregation,” Jesus laughed softly. “You just want to change the subject.”
Jesus was right, of course about our family, but not
one of us agreed with Jesus about Michael this time. Perhaps James was correct; Michael should go back into
hiding and stay put, and yet I wasn’t worried about our guards. To these lazy fellows, all Jews looked
the same. Just that moment a
familiar pair appeared far down the trail. We could never be sure about their moods. Out of habit, Michael disappeared into
the nearby woods, which pleased James, Joseph, and Simon very much. For a brief moment, I saw concern
register in Jesus’ eyes.
“Hey everyone,” Uriah cried, in a loud whisper,
“they’re coming up the trail.”
“I can see,” Jesus replied testily. “You have
nothing to fear.” “It’s our friends,” he reassured us “We’re practically on our
own property.”
“Not quite,” said Joseph, pointing to the tree line,
“unless we back up a ways. Out
here were just a bunch of Jews.”
Our small group followed Joseph’s example and backed
up until we reached the tree line, the demarcation line of our property. It seemed like such a foolish gesture,
especially with Jesus in our midst.
It didn’t matter if our guards caught sight of Michael. The story about Mariah, the witch, and
her delinquent son might be old news to townsmen, but our guards had never seen
him up close, only heard about his misdeeds. Why had he fled?
After Priam and Falco’s treatment of Boaz, Jethro, and Obadiah for
trespassing in our yard, James and Joseph were distrustful, though respectful,
of this pair.
“Don’t worry, we can still trust these men.” Jesus
waved to them in greeting. “Peace be upon our friends, Priam and Falco,” he
called warmly. “Nazareth is grateful for Rome’s watchful eye!”
Since Jesus didn’t lie, I assumed that he at least
half believed those ingratiating words.
Jesus, of course, I would learn as a disciple, was friendly to everyone,
even prostitutes and tax collectors.
That day, however, upon seeing those familiar guards, it didn’t matter
to James and Joseph that the Romans were protecting us; the old notion that
Jesus personally collaborated with Romans grated at them. I could see it in their eyes. Simon’s dull expression merely hid his
true emotions, and Uriah, though he might trust Jesus, shared my other
brothers’ mistrust of the Romans in our town.
To show my solidarity with Jesus and Rome, I ran in
greeting to Falco and Priam.
“Vale!” I shouted the Latin salutation.
I could hear Uriah ask Jesus what that word
meant. A short conversation
followed in
which
I asked the two, crusty old Romans if this morning found them in good health
and they asked me if Mama had anymore of that fine Greek wine. This response, so typical of the
uncouth Romans, caused me to look back worriedly at Jesus, for I was certain
Papa, if she hadn’t hidden it a secure place, had drank the last drop. James and Joseph were frowning severely
at me, but Simon merely yawned at this interruption, quite used to my fondness
for all things Rome.
“We’ll
have to borrow some wine from Samuel,” Jesus reassured them lightheartedly.
“I’ll check with our parents.
Perhaps, the next time you drop by, we’ll have a supply.”
“That
would be nice.” Priam grinned. “One can never have enough wine.”
“Why
don’t we slaughter the fatted lamb.” Joseph snarled.
“That
does sound good,” Priam seemed to lick his chops, “though I prefer pork.”
“We
don’t have a fatted lamb.” Simon made a face. “We just have a mangy goat.”
“I
think your brother was joking,” said Falco, ruffling my hair. “I think it’s
called sarcasm. Right, Jude?”
“Right!”
I nodded foolishly.
“Now some of you mother’s fine bread would do,” he
said, winking at me. “Some of that chopped fruit would be fine too.”
Uriah
almost salivated at the thought. “I love lamb. Mary puts herbs and all kinds of spices on hers.”
It appeared that our long-winded lecture from Jesus
had been cut short—at least for the moment, as Simon, Uriah, and I ran ahead to
pilfer food from the kitchen. It
was just like old times again, I thought happily, remembering my great white
horse. I was happy and content
that things were like they were before.
Even though Gamaliel had thought I was a prodigy, I remembered my
onetime goal of seeing the world, perhaps in the service of Rome. In my effort to reach the house first,
I tripped over a stump, picked myself up giddily and tried to catch up. Even Simon was caught up in the
mood. Before the plodding Uriah
and I had a chance to enter the house, he had already grabbed up an armful of
bread and a flask of juice—all intended for our supper. Prudently, I removed half of Simon’s
load and also removed the choicest of the chopped fruit. Priam and Falco wouldn’t know the
difference. The juice, of course,
would not satisfy the guards’ thirst.
Papa’s stash of wine, if it existed, was far too well hidden to be
found, yet I hastily checked the cupboards just to be sure, then, elbowing
Uriah aside, dashed out of the house.
I was getting tired of Uriah following me all the
time.
“You’re face is purple.” I snapped irritably.
“You’re going to drop dead if you don’t lose some of that fat.”
“Jude, Jude,” he called breathlessly, “I saw Regulus
on the trail.”
My irritation for Uriah quickly subsided. “Regulus?”
My breath caught in my throat. “Where’d he come from?”
“I dunno.” He shrugged, taking part of my load. “He
came out of nowhere, like he always does.” “Listen,” he said, as I dragged him
behind a bush, “he’s sounds angry about something.”
“Shut up Uriah.” I whispered, placing a hand on his
mouth.
Fortunately for us, daylight shadows had camouflaged
our bodies.
“Where is he,” we heard Regulus shout, “the red
haired youth known as Michael?
Tell me the truth Jesus. I
heard that you can’t lie. Is your
family harboring this lad?”
All I could think of at first was Jesus was
wrong—the Romans did recognize Michael, but it turned out to be more
complicated than this.
“What did he do now?” Jesus asked in a dull voice.
“Oh no,” I groaned to myself.
“Shhh,” Uriah’s voice tickled my ear, “this is
serious.”
“Wait a minute?” I shook him away. “Why’re we
hiding? We haven’t done anything
wrong. This makes us look guilty,
like Michael. I wonder what he’s
done.”
I was acting like a brazen coward. Rising up light-headedly, I pulled
Uriah up onto his feet. As we
walked sheepishly back down the hill, we could hear the offenses Regulus
leveled against my faithless friend.
For a moment, I felt overwhelming anger for Michael. Luckily, their attention was centered
upon the enraged optio. Evidently,
during his short absence, Michael had been seen by Odeh, the shepherd leader,
skulking in the back hills with a bag of treasure. It was, Odeh swore, the tinkle and glint gold. Regulus knew this because, as he
confided to Jesus, the gold items had been found by the guards Gratian and Leto
in the shepherds’ camp. Odeh, as
any crafty Arab, had quickly retrieved the hidden items and been beaten soundly
by the Romans for his efforts.
When I heard the word ‘items’ I knew it wasn’t my gold coins. They would not have tinkled; the sound
of coins made a clinking sound and would have been too heavy for Michael—that
rogue—to cart in one trip.
He had found Adam’s cache of treasure in the secret shrine, a treasure I
had vowed not to retrieve. My
brothers were right about Michael.
That thief! That
cheat! What if he knew where Mama
had hidden my coins? All the time,
Jesus wanted us to feel sorry for him, he had planned to steal my gold and,
when the time was right, take to the road.
Now I was thinking that it was my gold. Quietly, in the safety of my thoughts,
the truth slipped out.... I had always intended on sneaking back into the
shrine in order to add its treasures to my loot. I would have to if I couldn’t find my coins. Guilt, anger, and a measure of fear
caused my head to swim. Since, as
a good Jew, I wasn’t suppose to enter a pagan shrine, all that really mattered,
I consoled myself, was that Michael had not found my coins.... Or had he?, the
question stabbed me, as Simon and I handed Priam and Falco, the bread, flask of
fruit juice, and bag of chopped fruit.
He could very well have seen her go to the wall, retrieve the gold, and
re-bury it somewhere on our property.
Mama had never been a subtle person.
“You mustn’t be a burden on these Jews,” Regulus
stopped to scold his men. “If they offer you a loaf of bread or mug of wine,
that’s all right with me, but I don’t want you becoming a pest, as you did
before.”
James and Joseph exchanged dubious looks as the
optio helped himself to a loaf of bread, himself, and was the first to drink
from the flask.
“Yuck!” He made a face. “What is this swill?”
“That swill is the finest pomegranate juice in
Nazareth.” James explained coldly. “We were going to have that for our meal.”
“You see what I mean?” Regulus frowned insincerely
at his men. “Next time, when they offer refreshments, ask them if they can
afford to do so.” “You roguish fellows.” He thonked their helmets lightly.
“You’re gonna give us all a bad name!”
I uttered a hysterical laugh, while Jesus gave the
optio a searching look. Regulus’
banter didn’t fool us. Uriah had a
worried look on his pudgy face as he considered his presence. By now, James and Joseph were livid,
and Simon, like myself, having given up most of our lunch, stared dumbly at the
ground.
“Please believe me, Regulus,” Jesus returned to the
subject, “we knew nothing of Michael’s actions. I don’t know where he’s at.”
“Does anyone here know anything about this gold?”
The optio looked around at the group.
“No!” We replied unanimously.
“Do you know where that thief is hiding?” He added
in a growl.
“No!” We cried even more loudly.
Regulus nodded grimly at Jesus. “You, I
believe. I sense this in my
bones. But my bile tells me that
your brothers know more than what they claim.”
As Falco and Priam finished off their refreshments,
the optio’s hawk-like eyes searched each one of us for the expected lie. Because of his fierce countenance, his
mere presence was enough to instill fear in any Jew, but I was especially
afraid. My eyes darted every which
way, in an effort to avoid his stare.
I was sure Regulus could read my mind. I might even suffer Michael’s punishment when they caught
him, for I was certain his fate was sealed. Thanks to Jesus, however, the optio seemed
half-convinced. Once again,
because of the circumstances, he managed to tell the truth. Currently, none of us knew where
Michael was at. At this point, he
could be anywhere in the hills.
Regulus searched our faces. “One of you knows where that scoundrel
is. I can always tell when someone
is lying by looking squarely into his eyes.”
James, the first to be intimidated, replied
succinctly, “We don’t know!”
“That goes for me,” Joseph volunteered less boldly.
“Me too.” Simon slipped behind Jesus where Uriah and
I stood.
Before Regulus caught my guilty expression, Jesus
raised up a hand. “Believe me, Regulus,” he said in a commanding voice “none of
us knew about Michael’s plans. He
did this alone. We don’t know
where he is, but knowing Michael, he could turn up anywhere.”
In this vague but truthful answer, Jesus avoided
denying knowledge of the gold or where Michael was, stressing the fact we
didn’t know. Reaching around him
indelicately, though, Regulus poked me with his forefinger growling, “What
about you? You’re his best
friend. If anyone knew what he was
up to, it would be you.”
“No-o-o,” I whimpered, clutching Jesus’ sleeve.
“Regulus,” Jesus protested, “you’re frightening
him. He knows nothing of Michael’s
actions. Please stop this
interrogation. I thought we were
your friends.”
For the longest moment, the optio and Jesus stared at
each other, eyes unwavering, in breathless silence, until a remarkable thing
happened. Regulus imposing
expression seemed to melt under Jesus scrutiny. The spell broken, his gaze dropped to the ground. I would see this again as a disciple
when he saved a prostitute from stoning while he confronted a mob. Now, in our youth, it was just one more
marvelous event to store away in our thoughts.
Jesus had won the challenge. The optio’ face flushed, embarrassed or
shamed by his indomitable will.
Looking passed him at his guards, Regulus barked, “There’ll be no more
handouts for you men. Get back to
your watch!”
Priam and Falco handed Simon the remainder of the
food. The juice Regulus and his
men rejected lie discarded on the ground.
“Peace be upon Regulus, Falco, and Priam,” Jesus
called as the Romans continued up the hill.
“Bah!” grumbled the optio. “That rascal better not
be in your house.”
After a short pause, Falco could be heard asking
“Are we on report sir?”
Whatever the optio told Falco was drowned in ribald
laughter from the three. It was
obvious to us how insincere had been Regulus’ rebuke to his men, but his
reaction to Jesus glare had been real, at least to Uriah and me.
“They’re not our friends, Jesus,” whispered Joseph. “Why do
you pander to those guards?”
“Michael’s in great danger,” observed Uriah. “The
Romans crucify thieves.”
“No one’s going to catch Michael.” Jesus shook his
head. “I’m more concerned about
Odeh. It sounds like they roughed
him up.”
“We could go down there and see if he’s all right,”
suggested James.
“Are you insane?” Joseph looked at him in disbelief.
“Someone has to.” Jesus shrugged his shoulders.
“James,” he called over his shoulder, “take them home. I shall go down to check on our old
friend.”
James, who heaved a sigh of relief, had sounded even
less sincere than Regulus. Simon,
Uriah, and I had often spied on the shepherds, but it had been a long time
since we visited their camp.
Though the threat of bandits had been removed by the Romans, the optio
had been in a surly mood. The
other sentries, who guarded the hills had never been fond of us. We all remembered Longinus stern
reminder recently that there would be no unauthorized congregations. Here, on the outskirts of Nazareth,
were a bunch of youths congregating right after the Roman optio interrogated
them about stolen gold. No one
argued with the oldest brother as he sauntered calmly down the Shepherd’s
Trail.
“Well, what’re we waiting for? You heard him. Let’s go home.” James began trotting up
the trail.
Without a backward glance, we were right on James’
heels. After scurrying home, we
discussed, in the safety of our kitchen, the strange series of events learned
this hour. Everyone agreed that
Michael was a scoundrel. This was
the final straw. The optio’s
reaction, which we feared might be shared by the Centurion, himself, was caused
by two factors: the Roman code—speak politely to the subjects before cracking
their heads and the optio’s personal embarrassment that he had his men beat up
an innocent man. It was tradition
and honor, James concluded thoughtfully.
Joseph saw it more simply as the Roman hatred for Jews. I, who knew Jesus mind on this subject,
suggested that it was a combination of all three factors: honor, tradition,
dislike of Jews, but also guilt.
Like Jesus, I didn’t think the Romans were bad; they were, he once
explained to me, creatures of habit, but they felt emotions like other men. I couldn’t believe that Regulus was not
ashamed of his treatment of Odeh, the shepherd leader. I also wanted to believe that Priam and
Falco were basically good, though not long ago, after their return, I had a
seen a dark streak in their treatment of Jethro, Obadiah, and Boaz.
The remnant of the food the guards had not eaten and
the juice were placed back in the cupboard as we waited for Mama to return from
Joachim’s house. Mama was late
today. It was already noon, and
she hadn’t returned. When Jesus
appeared in the doorway, my brothers expressed relief, though I had not given
his absence a second thought. I,
more than anybody else, knew Jesus’ powers. I was convinced that he had won a silent mental battle with
the optio. The Romans wouldn’t
trifle with him, after all he had done.
They were convinced that he was a sorcerer, a notion his brothers once
believed, themselves. I agreed
wholeheartedly with Samuel and my parents that Jesus had been touched by
God. Before shutting the door, he
stood there, his back to the sunlight, his shadow stretching across the floor. I had seen this phenomenon before when
Jesus said or did something important.
The spell was broken when he sat down at the table. He was perspiring, shaking with fatigue
or anger. Seldom had we seen him
this upset.
In a dull voice he announced gravely “They blackened
both of Odeh’s eyes, broke his ribs, and injured one of his hands.”
“Those beasts!” Joseph spat. “They tore up his camp
looking for the gold.”
“I can’t help wondering,” he said reflectively, “why
they suspected that Odeh had the gold in the first place. This troubles me very much.”
“I don’t understand.” James scratched the stubble on
his chin. “Where’s the gold? I
thought Odeh saw Michael hiding it somewhere.”
“He saw him in
the hills with the gold, but Odeh didn’t see him hide it. The Romans still think he’s lying. A detachment of Regulus’ guards have
evidently been combing the hills.
I don’t think those lazy fellows Priam and Falco helped, but Leto and
the others are in a nasty mood. I
promised them that I would go to Longinus, even Cornelius, himself, and lodge a
complaint. I would bring the town
elders in, if need be, to make my case.
But Odeh was an innocent bystander who had witnessed the supposed
crime. I also told them that
Michael had probably found that loot.
He’s not a thief. He’s just
stupid.”
Jesus voice
trailed off that moment, as he glanced at me. A realization gripped us. We all knew that there were two separate caches of gold. After telling Regulus he didn’t know
where Michael’s gold was, how could he explain this him? I knew exactly what he might do if need
be, and had to bite down on my tongue to keep my peace. Jesus couldn’t lie. I tried to smile at him but my lips
failed to move upward. A
hysterical giggle flowed out of my twitching mouth, as I looked at the
ground. That thieving, no good
Michael! My mind cried out. He hadn’t changed. He would never change! Jesus might have to give up my coins to
save Michael’s life.
“Jesus,” Joseph
touched his shoulder, “what gold did Michael steal? Was it the coins Jude found in the wall?”
“No,” Jesus
quickly replied, “from what Regulus told us, the objects must’ve been the items
hidden in the shrine.”
“Are you going
to tell him about the coins?” James frowned. “That greedy Roman just wants the
gold for himself.”
Jesus was momentarily torn. “I know.” He sighed. “But it isn’t just
that, James. The gold he was
talking about weren’t coins.
How can I explain the pot Jude found? If I told him truthfully I didn’t know where Michael’s gold
was, how can I explain the second store of gold. Do I walk up to him and say, ‘We have gold Regulus; please
leave our friends alone.”?
“But-but,” I stammered, “you can’t do that. He’ll think you lied to him the first
time. We know you have to tell the
truth. Those coins might
incriminate us, Jesus. What if
Regulus finds out about Adam—Abbas son?
That’ll get us into trouble!”
“He’s
right,” Simon, who had been dozing, came alive, “you can’t do that Jesus. That optio isn’t stupid. He’ll worm it out you. You can’t lie!”
“You don’t have to tell him about the coins.” Joseph
shook his head . “He’s looking for Michael’s gold. Leave it at that!”
“Let’s not forget,” James raised a finger, “Adam
once hid his stolen loot in the pagan shrine. Who’s to say it’s not still there somewhere. Jude and his friends had only his word
that they were gone. It’s even
possible he hid it somewhere else, and Michael snuck in and stole them
himself.”
Jesus gave me an enigmatic smile. “Don’t worry
Jude. Your loot is safe. To give it to that Roman would be wrong. He’s not concerned about Michael being a thief; he wants the
gold. I would much rather we give
to the poor than him. It would
also be foolish to tell him about your coins. He would ask me where they came from. With God’s blessing, I’ve
artfully dodged falsehoods, but I would not want to test the Lord.”
“Let Michael have his loot and leave,” I said, after
some thought.
My brothers nodded in agreement at this
suggestion. It was suddenly so
simple and clear. I would never be
able to retrieve those golden objects.
With everyone watching, especially Jesus’ judgmental eyes, I could not
change the hiding place nor was it likely, after Mama relocated my coins, that
I would ever see that treasure again.”
“Is that what you want?” Jesus asked searchingly.
“That would make Michael a fugitive, like Reuben had been. On the other hand, if the Romans catch
him, they might make an example of him.”
“If he takes it with him,” Simon piped, snapping his
fingers, “its gone!”
“So is Michael.” Joseph muttered with a snarl.
“Well, we can’t force him out of his hiding place,”
Jesus said resolutely. “We are, as the Psalmist said, between a rock and a hard
place.”
“You can save him, Jesus.” Uriah’s head bobbed. “You
can do anything.”
“I can’t change God’s will,” Jesus sighed heavily.
“It’s in the hands of the Lord.”
With a heavy heart, I looked into his blue eyes,
realizing by the silence that followed that we had all, Jesus included, written
Michael off. Unless, the guards
caught him sneaking through the brush, Michael would retrieve the gold and make
his getaway. He would be a fool to
return to Nazareth while the Romans guarded our town. Knowing Michael, however, anything was possible. He might walk this very moment through
our back door.
******
Finally, as we sat quietly, wrapped up in our
thoughts, Mama returned from Joachim’s house. Jesus immediately rushed to the weary matriarch, leading her
gently to a seat. We were all
weary of her long hours keeping Joachim alive, but, with Uriah in the house, we
kept our displeasure to ourselves.
“Joachim is doing much better,” she volunteered
blithely. “I think it’s time for Uriah to visit his father again.”
“I’m not going back there,” Uriah cried. “Please
don’t make me go back!”
“Uriah.” Mama reached across the table to squeeze
his hand. “Your father agrees with Joseph and I that you should stay with us.”
“Oh goodie,” he said, drumming his feet on the
floor. “I like it here. You’re my
family now!”
Jesus shared her concern at this reaction but said
nothing as Uriah carried on.
James, Joseph, and Simon sighed deeply at this reminder. What came next, however, was much
worse. Her eyes downcast, Mama
told us what she heard about Uriah’s mother and sister. Evidently, Hannah was quite unstable,
so her daughter might also be staying with us for a while unless Hannah’s
sister Penelope took the child in.
When Joachim’s wife ran off with little Rhoda, she had taken all of
Joachim’s savings and, during her stay in Sepphoris managed to squander the
money, leaving she and her daughter at the mercy of relatives. She became such a nuisance, she and her
daughter were cast out finally and given just enough money for rental of two
mules home. Unfortunately, her
in-laws are even more hostile to her, which means that she and Rhoda have no
place to go.
“In very real sense,” Mama confessed, “Hannah’s no
better off than Mariah, since no one will take her in, but in her case she has
a daughter to consider. The
woman’s addled in the head, so my sick aunt can’t take her in. Your cousin John, who’s taken charge of
her household, will accompany Hannah and Rhoda back with a Roman escort. He’s turned out to be such a good son.”
“We get to see John again,” I clapped my hands.
“When-when-when?”
“In a few weeks, but for only a short while.” Mama
explained. “Micah, her physician, will be watching her closely now. John will want to get back as soon as
possible after his errand.”
“Are you suggesting that we take them in?”
interrupted Joseph. “We don’t have the room.”
“Rhoda’s a brat!” Uriah groaned. “My mother’s
insane!”
“Now-now, Uriah” She replied with a frown. “I didn’t
say that at all, Joseph. It’s not
so bad boys. I think Hannah will
be coming home to live in her own house.
I can watch her there. I’m
just not sure about Rhoda. If we
keep an eye on her parents, perhaps she can live with them. After all, Joachim’s mind is clearing
and he appears to be on the mend.
But Hannah professes great hatred for her husband.” “No one knew Joachim
was beating her,” she added, patting Uriah’s wrist. “The Lord must help mend
those troubled souls. But that’s
not your fault, Uriah. The Lord
has placed you in our care.” “I’m sorry my sons,” she looked around the room.
“I know this a burden on you.”
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Joseph
grumbled. “Another mouth to feed.
Mama’s going to wear herself out now that Hannah will be back in town.”
“For once I agree with Joseph.” Jesus nodded at his
brother. “You must rouse some of these lazy Nazarene women’s consciences. Joachim was once the town rabbi. Why aren’t they coming to his aid?”
“Naomi and her daughters help me once in awhile.”
Mama shrugged.
“Well, that’s not enough,” Jesus snorted. “I’m going
to talk to Aaron, our new rabbi.
As our town’s religious leader, let him prickle their consciences in the
synagogue with one of his sermons.”
“That’s a great idea,” James patted his back. “Since
Aaron going to be using us as his assistants in school, he can return the favor
by coaxing some of them into helping Mama.”
I was roused out of my melancholy with my own bright
idea. “Make it a daily practice, like our work in the shop. They can take turns each week, but Mama
needs to depend on their help.”
“Very good, Jude.” Jesus gave me sly smile, as he
stood up and stretched. “You’re going to be all right.” “All of you will,” he
added looking around the table.
“What about you Uriah?” Mama studied the rabbi’s
son. “Is Rhoda really that bad.”
“She’s horrible!” His eyes filled with tears. “You
don’t know what your doing, Mary. She’s not right in the head.”
“Are you talking about your sister or your mother?”
Mama cocked her head inquisitively. “They both can’t be addled in the
head. Which one, my dear?”
“Both of them,” Uriah wiped his eyes then
folded his arms. “This is a bad idea, Mary. Let her live with my parents, not here.”
I noted that Uriah called our mother by her name,
rather than Mama, which, curiously enough, caused James and Joseph to bristle
with irritation. Simon, by now,
was dozing in his seat. There was
no crisis too great to deprive him of a nap. I envied easygoing Simon, who ate, slept, and whiled away
his hours in a carefree manner.
Life was simple for him.
At just that moment Tabitha arrived in the kitchen,
with the twins in tow. A frown
creased her lovely face. “I heard
what you said, Mama,” she declared, placing her hands on her hips. “Uriah’s
right: Rhoda’s a brat. There’s
something wrong with that girl.” “One time,” she confessed with a sigh, “my
uncle sent me with fresh bread to the rabbi’s house, and Rhoda, for no reason
whatsoever, other than meanness, pelted me with goat dung. Most folks don’t know her. Her parents kept her locked up most of
the time. But it’s Rhoda who
probably drove her parents mad!”
“How very strange.” Mama rose up, took Tabitha into
her arms, and gave her a motherly hug.
Jesus smiled at this reaction, as did Uriah and I,
but the twins innocent faces darkened with jealousy at this show of
affection. James and Joseph, who
had never accepted Tabitha like Uriah, Simon, and I, shook their heads
indulgently at this display.
“There’s something I must tell you mother.” Jesus
expression became grave.
The room grew suddenly quiet as he took Mama’s
hand. Tabitha and the twins joined
us all at the table, as Jesus told her about Michael’s situation. Mama nodded grimly but didn’t
weep. We had all wept enough for
that rascal. The twins were
giggling amongst themselves. Simon, in fact, grinned with satisfaction. The only one shedding a tear that
moment was me, but not for Michael.
The implications of his flight were, I believed, greatest for me. He had been a blight in our lives for a
long time. It galled me that they
thought I was weeping for him. I
was, I confess contritely now, weeping for my treasure and the gold coins Mama
had hidden from me. I was certain
that Mama would guard the coins even more closely now that Michael was out
there lurking about. The best
thing, in spite of my misgivings, was for Michael to leave and never come
back. On this issue, everyone,
even Mama and Jesus, were agreed.
If the Romans found Michael in our house and even on
our property, we would be implicated in his misdeeds. If he didn’t take his ill-gotten loot with him, that
unrelenting determination of Roman soldiers, some of whom, had hunted Abbas
gang almost into extinction, would find his hiding place just close enough to
our property to cast suspicion upon on my brothers and I. I was, of course, the most suspicious
of anyone in our family. If it
hadn’t been for Adam showing me where he placed the treasure and Michael
finding out, Michael would never have been tempted to retrieve it for
himself. As I thought about it
those moments, while Jesus and Mama discussed our dilemma, I realized I was at
least half to blame. Because of
me, Mama was made an accessory to my folly after relocating the coins. I couldn’t blame Michael for this.
My mind turned to the Gifts of the Magi buried in
distant Bethlehem. A spark of hope
filled me as Mama and Jesus prepared an afternoon meal. Lunch was late today, and everyone,
including me, pitched in to help.
That special feeling of family solidarity illuminated the shadows in my
mind. Look at us, I laughed
hysterically to myself: we’re about to take in another waif, maybe even her
mother, and we have to worry about stolen gold. A strange, irrational excitement filled me as I considered
our plight. It was a good thing
Papa hadn’t returned. He would
probably get drunk. There were
times when I craved a swig myself.
Then it hit me as a bolt of lightning. As I showed Tabitha, Martha, and Abigail the safe way to
chop some fruit, the realization filled me, as a warm, comforting wave. We had Jesus! The thought rang in my mind. For a moment, as I lowered the knife to the chopping block,
Tabitha stood there as I stared into space. I remembered, as she shook my sleeve gently, all the times
when darkness fell over our house—the ordeal of Mariah, the threat of Reuben
and his men, the night that the remnant of Abbas band threatened our family,
and many other lesser occasions when Jesus’ very presence seem to protect
us. That terrible night when the
whole town seemed to turn against us Jesus had walked as a sentry around our
house. He had always been fearless
and kept perfect faith in God.
When the Romans arrived, he remained a buffer between our family and the
guards, from the many times he acted as our emissary to them to that incredible
moment today when he stood up to Regulus, without uttering a word.
“Jude, Jude,” Tabitha called, as if through a long
shadowy tunnel.
I awakened to her bright face, listening to the hum
of voices around me. In a low
voice Jesus was telling Mama that Michael could not return this time. He was in the Lord’s hands. Uriah was groaning, and James and
Joseph were complaining to each other about Rhoda’s possible arrival. Simon had already nabbed a hunk of
cheese and plum and was gobbling them up as he waited for lunch. As the three girls looked up at me, I stopped
and, in typical fashion, patted all three of their heads. “Jesus will protect us,” I whispered to
them. “Because of him, we are in the Lord’s hands.”
******
I was filled with mixed emotions when word came from
Joanna, Ezra’s oldest daughter, that Michael had been reported sneaking out of
Nazareth with nothing but the shirt on his back. I had the satisfaction that Michael would not have the
treasure, but now that he was gone, the Romans would search our property and
the surrounding area relentlessly to find my gold. Odeh must have taken great pleasure in the fact that Michael
had ran into the desert again, this time without supplies and without the
gold. Of course, the wily Arab
might know where Michael had buried the gold and return, in the dead of night,
to confiscate it for himself.
Joanna, who was bringing Odeh an order for wool, had stopped below the
hill to watch the shepherd guiding the Romans on the same narrow trail where
Adam’s earlier treasure had been found.
Her description was unmistakable, causing the hairs on the back of my
neck to prickle. How could Michael
have known about this path? Odeh
had the eyes of an eagle. On this
path, that wound further and further through the prickly underbrush, Odeh
showed him the route Michael had taken while carrying his loot. “So where is it?” Falco had cried,
shaking the little Arab.
Fortunately for Odeh, the Romans found a recently dug hole a ways
further, which was probably the same one Simon, Uriah, Boaz, and I had dug,
ourselves. Naturally, after this
revelation, the guards searched the shepherd’s camp again. This time, because of Odeh’s
cooperation, there were no skulls cracked, though the guards thoroughly tore up
the shepherds’ camp. Of course, if
Odeh had found the treasure, himself, he could have relocated it anywhere in
the hills. After several holes had
been dug in the vicinity Michael was seen, Regulus ordered a thorough
inspection of the orchard for the glint of gold or freshly turned dirt,
managing to overlook the hidden sanctuary and Jesus’ secret cave. Papa had told me how soldiers had built
all of Rome’s roads, but I didn’t realize how much they loved to dig holes. The
search, which lasted several days, enlisting all of the optio’s men, was an
ordeal for me. We could hear them
shouting back and forth from dawn to dusk. I was just certain they would stumble upon the chamber that
Adam had put his treasure in and even find Mama’s hiding place for my
coins. Uriah, Simon, and I
continued to spy on them as we had done in the past. Unlike the last times we spied on the Romans, this was no
longer a game for me. I felt
helpless, lost, and miserable, as the guards came closer and closer to the
hidden shrine and then the wall.
In the past, Leto caught us near the orchard entrance to the shrine a
few times and Priam and Falco saw me creep from my hiding place after checking
on my coins. At the time, nothing
was made of these encounters.
During the exhaustive search, however, why had this slipped their minds? How many times had I been spotted
without being challenged by a guard?
So far, Regulus and his men, engrossed with the facts as they saw them,
failed to see the obvious. How
could they not suspect me after I was seen snooping around the wall?
The next place that he and his guards visited was
our house. It had been just a
matter of time. By now, the greedy
optio and his men were in testy moods.
This caused me great anxiety, but this time they had to contend with
Jesus, who threatened again, before staring the optio down, to go straight to
his commander if they ransacked our house. Once again their eyes locked in a challenge that Regulus
appeared to win. Regulus
personally inspected Mama’s cupboards and every corner of the room, while
Priam, Falco and the other guards searched the shop and the front and back
yard. It struck me as ironic, if
not careless, that they didn’t check the crumbling stonewall in the orchard or
look down into the dark abyss where I discovered the shrine, in which gold had
actually been. These were obvious
hiding places. For that matter the
cloaca seat, another place where I suspected Mama of stashing my coins, was, as
I had prayed, totally ignored. If
she had placed the coins anywhere else, such as the garden or the shop, the
Romans would certainly find them.
As it was, I became half-convinced that Jesus was using his God-given
powers to mislead the guards.
Mama’s garden and both the yards were dug up in
several places, equipment and furniture were tossed around in the shop, and our
house was in disarray when they left, but the Romans had not seriously damaged
any dishes, cups, furniture, or tools.
Regulus had, with a look of guilt, even dropped a gold solidus into
Mama’s tiny hand. When we were all
certain that the Romans were out of earshot, we cheered and slapped Jesus back.
I joined Uriah, Simon, and Tabitha in a merry dance.
“He did it!” we chanted. “He chased the Romans away!”
“He put a hex on him; that’s what he did.” James
teased.
“When
will you all learn?” Jesus threw up his hands. “Not everything’s a miracle!”
“We know the Lord guides you.” Mama looked around
the group for agreement.
Everyone nodded obligingly, except Jesus, who, in
exasperation, stomped out of the house.
The moment had come, to our utter amazement, when the Romans gave up
their search. Whether or not
Jesus’ threats or the apparent futility of this business stopped the hunt, we
decided, in spite of his protests, to give him the credit on behalf of
God. That was the general
consensus, though Tabitha confided to me later that she believed Jesus had
magical powers. It was difficult
not to call Regulus’ decision to end the search a miracle. What impressed us the most was the way
Jesus stared down the steel jawed optio.
He had been bold, fearless, and resolute.
Though there was nothing to do in the shop, Jesus
spent the remainder of the hour straightening up the mess the Romans made,
while the rest of us went around the house and yards erasing signs of the
search. Stools were set right,
disheveled pots—a few cracked or shattered, were placed back in the cupboard, and
the floor was swept by the twins, as Uriah, Simon, and I in the front yard and
James and Joseph in the backyard, covered up holes and attempted, as one group,
to fix Mama’s trampled garden. The
damage was, by Roman standards, minor.
Everything settled back down to normal that day. Uriah, Simon, and I ran around like
children again. The girls giggled
happily, and even the normally surly Joseph, followed James example and joined
us all in games of hide-and-go-seek and tag. To make it a perfect ending to our day, Papa returned that
evening, with a pouch full of orders, exhausted but bubbling with information
about his trip.
So as not to ruin his cheerful mood, Mama downplayed
the episode with the Romans. Papa
gave her a concerned look as she enumerated the week’s events, but let the
matter drop as we congregated in the kitchen for his report. He and Ezra were able to find clients
in both Sepphoris and Nain. We
would be busy filling the orders he brought back for quite some time. There had been, Papa heard, recent
sightings of members of Abbas old gang in Galilee with a new leader, whom we
knew was Jesus Bar Abbas, the great bandit’s son. Roman officials and Jews would later know him simply as
Barabbas, but back then, out of respect for Jesus we referred to him as Adam
whenever his exploits came up.
While at Sepphoris, Papa visited Elizabeth to inquire about her health. Elizabeth had heard about Hannah and her daughter’s predicament from friends in town. In no mood to deal with Joachim’s unstable wife and daughter, themselves, Papa and Ezra arranged, through the magistrates, an escort for Hannah, Rhoda, and her son John next week. I looked forward to seeing John, but the return of Joachim’s wife and daughter greatly offset the good news. Now that Michael was a fugitive of Rome, there was also a measure of melancholy about his flight, but mostly relief. Even though, we doubted that the optio would press his case about the gold, Michael was now marked out by Rome as a felon. Our family wanted no part of that. Reuben had been unconscious when he was found and required a period of convalescence, but Michael was quite healthy and could take care of himself. Even before the latest incident, his reputation as a troublemaker had preceded him, and Longinus had no patience for troublemaking Jews. As I recall, from that day forward, Regulus looked at members of my family with a jaundiced eye. Once in a while, he might smile at Papa and Mama or nod his head, but it seemed to be an effort for him. Priam and Falco continued to mooch food off my parents and, on occasion, Longinus would drop by to chat with them in the front yard, but for a long time the optio was no longer our friend. James and Joseph believed the Romans were just plain stupid. They didn’t realize, as I did, just how careless they had been during the search, but stupidity wasn’t how I would characterize the guards. The guards were, as I study this period in my life, like merciless, carefree children. The same soldiers watching over Nazareth would, if told to by their commander, hunt down and crucify Michael and any other Jew defying Rome. And yet they were honest, forthright, and a generally friendly lot. In this regard I would find out one day that Regulus was no different. Though his pride and ambition had been temporarily thwarted, I had no doubt that he would make sure my family was safe against bandits and scoundrels like Adam and his band.
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