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Chapter Thirty-Five
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In
the days following the auxilia’s return to the Galilean fort, I was
re-introduced to carpentry. With a
little prodding and occasional scolding, I fell into the rhythm of the job. Because of my uncanny memory it all
came back to me, and I found myself working side-by-side with Simon under
Jesus’ tutelage, as if nothing had changed. Aulus’ fever passed and he gradually regained his strength. Reminiscent of Mama’s treatment and
Papa’s sanctuary given to Reuben was our family’s actions toward the ailing
Roman. As before, he was kept in
Jesus’ room to avoid disclosure to sudden visitors in the house. Once in awhile, during the week
following my homecoming, Papa’s old friend Ezra or a customer would show up for
a visit and no one would be the wiser.
When James and Joseph returned, however, everything changed for the
worse.
Inexplicably,
the two had been gone for several days.
Our parents had been worried they might not return at all. Though Jesus tried not to show it, he
was, he confided to me shortly before their return, more concerned about the
reception Aulus would receive.
James and Joseph had finally accepted the fact that Reuben would be a
patient in our house until he was able to strike out on his own. Aulus, however, unlike Reuben, was not
even Jew. He was, in Joseph’s
narrow mind, a hated Gentile—a Roman to boot. For James, whom Jesus worried about less, it would simply be
a great annoyance. Nothing could
be as bad as our ordeal with Reuben, who had once been our family’s enemy. Aulus, a simple Roman soldier, had
taken care of me during my travels and deserved their respect. Jesus would be able to placate James,
but not Joseph, with this logic when they arrived unexpectedly in front of the
shop. A large cart filled with
lumber and other supplies and harnessed to pair of donkeys sat in the
background. Not far away, I could
see two more mules similar to my own pets tethered to the fence. Shielding my eyes against the glare, as
did Jesus and Simon, I cringed as two shadows stood silhouetted against the
afternoon sun.
“Uh
oh,” Simon mumbled, laying down his awl, “it’s them!”
“Moses
bones,” I groaned, “they’re back!”
“Don’t
worry,” Jesus reassured us, “let me explain everything. Don’t frown Jude. Greet your long, lost brothers!”
“Shalom,
James and Joseph.” I presented my best smile.
Joseph
held back a moment, as James rushed to give me a hug.
“So,
you’re still alive,” he cried, patting my back. “We were afraid you wouldn’t
return.”
“I
was afraid you wouldn’t return!” Jesus scowled. “You’ve been gone over a
week. What took you so long?”
James
glanced back at Joseph as if he wanted to get the story straight. “Papa told us to pay Uncle Zedekiah a
visit. I’m sorry it took so long,
but the lumber merchant was ill.”
“Yes,”
Joseph jumped in quickly, “ We had to wait for his son to arrive and cut fresh
wood.”
“Which
is it?” Jesus raised an eyebrow. “What caused the delay? Was a visit to Uncle Zedekiah the cause
or was it the sick merchant’s fault?
Zedekiah is a wealthy man with fine food and wine. Since it shouldn’t have taken that long
to cut lumber, you obviously dallied at his house all that time.” “Do you
remember what I told you about telling the truth?” he looked at James.
When
James didn’t answer, he turned to Joseph, who shrugged his shoulders and stared
at the ground. “A half truth is the same as a lie.” He took us all in at a
glance. “There is no common ground between truth and lies.”
“Zedekiah
was glad to see us,” James exhaled nervously, “but we shouldn’t have stayed so
long.” “I’m sorry.” He looked up into Jesus’ eyes. “…It
won’t happen again.”
“That’s
good enough for me,” Jesus gripped his shoulder. “What about you?” He turned to
Joseph. “Have you learned a lesson out of this?”
Joseph,
who had always resented Jesus authority, was less contrite. “We are men, not
children. Was it our fault the merchant was ill and the merchant’s son is a
lazy oaf?”
Jesus
shouted angrily, “It’s your fault, Joseph, that you never admit that you’re
wrong! I sent you and James to
Sepphoris for business, not pleasure.
After we unload the lumber and supplies, you two return the mules,
donkeys, and cart to Menalech before we have to pay another day’s rent!”
He
handed James more coins to cover the delay. Joseph managed to mumble “Shalom!” to me that moment as
Simon and I trotted out to the cart.
I know he wasn’t glad to see me.
We had never liked each other very much. In spite of my willfulness as a child, however, James had
grown to accept my peculiarities as he did Jesus’ strange ways. When I left home, Jesus had been Papa’s
right arm. Now because of Papa’s
illness, he was in control of his brothers. Unfortunately, that very moment, Aulus, who had decided to
stretch his legs in the backyard, was spotted by Joseph patting one of my
mules. It had been just a glimpse
between the house and shop, but Joseph caught it immediately and flew into a
rage.
“Who
is that man on our property?” he cried, stomping his foot. “He’s dressed like a
Roman. Are those mules in our
backyard? What is going on
Jesus? Is that man another one of
Mama’s patients? Is that Gentile
living in our house?”
“There
are people walking up and down the road, looking at our house,” James said
indignantly. “Now we know why!”
“You
shall meet Aulus later,” Jesus explained, several boards balanced on his sturdy
shoulders. “That man watched over Jude during his trip and helped bring him
safely home.
He was very sick and is on the mend, so you will
treat him kindly, as we do all our guests.”
“Guests,”
protested Joseph, “is that what he is—a guest? Explain to me, Jesus, why does Mama bring sick people into
our house? This time it’s a
soldier, one of Jude’s Gentile friends.
We’ll be shunned again for housing that man. We’ve finally got our reputation back, and Jude brings a
Roman soldier home! When will it
stop?”
Though
visibly upset, James said nothing as Jesus set down his load of lumber and took
Joseph to task.
Jesus
pointed at him accusingly. “You selfish soul! Have never learned charity? It’s our family’s way.
It seems as though we alone carry on our fathers’ tradition. Once all men were Gentiles. You, despite everything you’ve seen and
heard, still separate men between Gentile and Jew. This is mean-spirited.
In God’s eyes there are only believers and non-believers—good and
evil. Have you learned nothing in
our house?”
“I’ve
learned one thing,” grumbled Joseph, “I can no longer live in this house and
backwoods village. I must make my own
way!”
“And
you?” Jesus searched James face. “Will you be leaving again?”
“Soon.”
James nodded. “I only returned for a visit.”
Jesus
was visibly upset with this mutiny. “We’ve talked about this before,” his voice
broke. “You must at least wait until we build Samuel’s new stables. There’s so much to do!”
“Stables,” I whispered to Simon, “we’re
going to build stables?”
“Uh huh.” He nodded with a sigh.
My
letter from Aurelian flashed into my mind. Samuel was a very rich man. I could just imagine how grand this project would be. The very thought made me also think of
wine. How I needed a cup those
moments. In spite of my sudden
dread for this occupation, I felt sorry for Jesus. Not one of his brothers cared a wit for carpentry. If Uriah had not gone to live with his
relatives in Jerusalem, he might be here now helping in the shop. I could not have imagined then what
Uriah’s fortunes would be one-day, but I would sorely miss him in the coming
days.
As
Simon and I showed our solidarity with Jesus by quickly returning to work,
James and Joseph went into the house to greet our parents but also to avoid
being in the shop. James had said
only a few words on the subject.
‘Soon’ for him could mean a week, a month, through the summer or,
hopefully, until the stables were done.
For Joseph, however, who was in a state of rebellion, he might leave at
any time.
“I
can’t force them to stay,” he confided to me. “It was Papa who forbade them, and he’s ill. At least for a while James is back. I’m thankful that Papa can leave his
bed, and he seems to be on the mend, but Ira, Samuel’s new physician, visited
us the week before you came. He
believes that Papa’s heart is failing him—”
“Oh
no!” I cried.
“He’s
doing better.” Jesus held up his hand.
“That’s not the point. Our
problem is our brothers, especially Joseph, who might leave us in the lurch.”
“I
hate them,” Simon interrupted, “because of them, we have to work much
harder. If they leave, we won’t be
able to finish Samuel’s stables.”
“Hate
no one, not even your enemies.” He
counseled Simon. “I’ve almost
given up on Joseph. I’ll try to
reason with James. Many times,
Simon, when you were shirking your work, I was alone in the shop.”
“I’ve
helped you more than them!” he replied defensively, pointing to the house.
“That’s
like comparing a little with nothing at all.” Jesus laughed softly. “I also
need your enthusiasm. Your heart’s
not in this either. I’ll be
depending on you and Jude one hundred percent.”
I
felt badly about Jesus’ plight. I
hadn’t helped him at all and had no right to cast stones, but, like Simon, I
felt great resentment for Joseph and James. A memory came to me that moment, as I looked around the
shop.
“I
dreamed of this!” I exclaimed, snapping my fingers. “On my journey back, I had
dreams of you being alone in the shop and one with you quarreling with our
brothers. Papa was missing in the
picture, which made me believe he might be ill, which he is. Uriah was also missing as you worked
alone. I couldn’t see
Tabitha. I can’t wait to see her
again. ”
“It’s
happened again, didn’t it?” Jesus looked at me thoughtfully. “I can’t explain
the battle you had at the imperial camp, but that was prophecy, Jude. It took awhile, but it led you back to
us. It’s here where you belong.”
My
heart sank, but I knew he was right.
Feeling Jesus’ heavy hand on my shoulder, I promised myself that I would
never abandon him again. If I
stayed in Nazareth, I would see Tabitha again, maybe Uriah if he returned. If I ran off again to take Aurelian up
on his offer, I would leave Jesus practically alone. I wouldn’t see my family and friends for a long time. Sooner or later, James and Joseph would
leave. Because Simon was not happy
with this kind of work, Jesus couldn’t depend on him either; he might leave
too…. But not me! I thought, returning Jesus’ stare.
With
our hands on each other’s shoulders, I said, “I’m staying, Jesus. You can count
on me.”
Jesus
shook his head vigorously, replying shortly, “Don’t promise what you can’t
control. We’re all in God’s
hands. He has a purpose for
us—Jude and Simon. For now, we’re
carpenters. Tomorrow, God may
changes His plans. Now let’s get
back to work!”
Though I couldn’t possible
know it, Jesus hinted that God had plans for him. God also had plans for me that had nothing to do with
carpentry or the Roman cohort. I
would be torn between my “Gentile” half and “Jewish” half the rest of my life,
but on that day I made my vow to Jesus such a notion was the furthest thing
from my mind.
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