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Chapter Twenty-Two
Jesus and the Tempest
During the weeks that followed, as Nehemiah, Simon
and I did our chores and then romped in the backyard, we caught snatches of
conversation between James and Joseph. The dual notion, as Jesus expressed in
his letters from Egypt and Greece, that God was universal and meant for all
peoples, had filled our older brothers with misgivings. Nothing, however, would be as
contentious as the letter Jesus sent us from Rome. Mama would not even let Papa read the letter to us. We were not supposed to know about the
letter’s contents, but it troubled us all for several days. Because of Jesus’ heresy—or so James
and Joseph claimed—Papa became selective in what he imparted to us. He simply, in an off-handed way, gave
us the gist of Jesus’ letter after the courier dropped it off. After the last scroll, this was all
right with me. I looked forward to
the day Jesus returned and personally told us of his adventures. Perhaps, when he sat before us in the
flesh. he would stow all that religious talk and give us concrete details of
what he saw on his trips.
For
several days, however, as we went about our daily lives, my curiosity about the
last letter grew. James and
Joseph, who were only worried about the heresies in Jesus’ correspondence,
feared that the latest scroll would be the worst, but what if there were
interesting portions in the letter?
Rome, I had been told, was the world’s greatest city. Jesus latest adventure might be more
interesting than his journey to Egypt, certainly more than all that boring
stuff during his trip to Greece.
It was, after much temptation (probably from the Evil One, himself),
when Papa was on a business trip and Mama was making her daily visit to the
ailing Samuel, that I went to the cabinet where Papa kept the letter. I knew I would have to make peace with
James or Joseph, it didn’t matter whom.
They had attended synagogue school longer and applied themselves much
more diligently than Simon and I.
Nehemiah and I had been learning to read in school, but Simon, as I
recall, was as illiterate as Mama and the twins. Unfortunately, Nehemiah and I were still unable to read
Jesus’ letter. It would require
James or Joseph to decipher the document, especially with all its big,
unfriendly words. The question
was, Nehemiah and I pondered, how could we talk one of my older brothers into
reading Jesus scroll?
Jesus’
third letter would be the greatest of them all. All the letters that followed I was certain would fall far
short of his account of his exciting sea voyage to Rome and his escapades in
this great city. Of course, I
didn’t know that yet; it was just a hunch. I just knew somehow that it would be special. While James and Joseph labored in the
shop and Simon idled somewhere in the front or backyard, Nehemiah and I
approached, as supplicants, fearful of James and Joseph’s rebuke. Unfortunately, Simon had seen me
sneaking out of the house with the letter in my hands.
“Hey,
what are you up to?” He appeared suddenly, tapping my shoulder
James
looked out of the shop that moment. “You better put that back before Mama
returns!” He called out in a singsong voice.
“It’s
probably filled with heresies,” Joseph scowled, as he emerged from the shadows.
“Those
last letters were outrageous,” James growled indignantly. “That part about
accepting Gentiles is insulting.
Jesus is being corrupted by pagan knowledge.”
“Please
James.” I held it out shakily. “Aren’t you curious? I can’t read very well. I don’t understand the words. Would you read it for us.”
“I
can’t read at all,” Simon said, glancing over my shoulder. “It gets blurred
together when I try and hurts my head.”
We
all laughed at this absurdity.
Simon was always saying silly things. One day, however, we would learn that he saw everything
backwards, as if in a mirror, and was actually quite smart. James put his scraper aside, blew
shavings off the table leg clamped to the bench then swaggered down the
steps. It was an opportunity for
him to act smugly once more.
Joseph vaulted from the doorway, an anxious expression twitching on his
face.
“Well,” James snorted, spitting on the ground,
“that’s all right boys. Joachim
wasn’t a very good teacher. He
became lazy, like you. James and I
don’t need a rabbi to apply ourselves to the Torah. Not only have we learned some Hebrew but we can read our
Galilean tongue as well.”
“So, will you read the letter?” I hopped up and down
expectantly.
“Not a good idea,” protested Joseph.
“Here, let me see that.” James snapped his fingers
impatiently. “It couldn’t be any worse than the last.”
For a moment, I thought it might be a trick to
confiscate the scroll, especially with Joseph reaching out as well. As James waited for me to hand him the
document, I glanced back at Nehemiah and saw him shake his head. I retreated a few paces and shook my
head.
“Come
on, hand it over.” James snapped his fingers. “Let’s take a peek. Humph, it looks fatter than the other
two. Maybe it won’t be so bad.”
“We’re
gonna get caught.” Simon whistled under his breath.
“No,
no,” Joseph cried, waving his hands. “They’ll be furious. Put it back in the cabinet. Don’t read that infernal scroll!”
“Calm
down.” James shook his head thoughtfully. “Papa won’t be back for awhile. Mama left chopped fruit, cheese, and
bread for our lunch. She won’t be
home until this afternoon.” “Don’t
worry, Joseph,” he said, pulling the letter out of my hands. “We got time to
kill. You’re the one who
didn’t want to read it. Let’s
finish it before Mama comes home!”
Joseph kicked the dirt angrily. “Why’re are you doing this James? Papa doesn’t want us to read this
letter. We agreed not to
peek. Lord knows what else he’s
written. Simon can’t keep a
secret. Papa will never trust us
again, if he finds out we’ve disobeyed.”
“Well,
I’ve changed my mind.” James set his jaw. “We’ll read it during our noon
break.”
“No,
no,” groaned Joseph, shaking his head.
“What if Mama walks in while your reading it? She might be tempted to eavesdrop outside by the window if
she hears your voice. We must read
it in the orchard. I’ll read half
if you want, but let’s get out of earshot, away from he house.”
“What about lunch?” Simon faced dropped. “That might
take a long time.”
“We’ll
take it with us.” James signaled to Nehemiah and me. “You two get the bowel of
fruit and basket of bread and cheese.
Simon, you bring some mugs and the flask of juice.”
By the time Simon, Nehemiah, and I emerged with our
lunch, James and Joseph were already in the orchard glancing through the
scroll. As we hurried down the
path from our yard, we could hear them mumbling amongst themselves. A shaft of sunlight cascaded down upon
them as they sat on a rotting log. James, who would one day become an apostle, looked so mature
that moment as he studied the scroll.
“Phew!
This is really something,” he exclaimed to Joseph. “There was a great
whale and a storm. Joseph of
Arimathea and his ship almost sank at sea!”
“What?” I cried excitedly, racing through the trees.
“Read it to us James. Start at the
very beginning.”
Hastily, I offered them the basket, as Simon plopped
down the flask and mugs. “Let’s eat first,” he said, reaching for the food.
“Wait,” Joseph said, grabbing his hand. “I don’t
trust you. Promise, on Abraham’s
grave, you won’t inform on us.”
“No,” James shook his head, “that’s not good
enough. This time he has to swear
an oath.”
“All right,” Joseph agreed, “but he can’t use God’s
name. That’s against the
Torah. We’ll have Simon swear to
all three patriarchs: Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.”
James, Nehemiah, and I nodded hesitantly. Since the patriarchs were very
important to our people, we hoped Simon would take this oath seriously. He gave us a solemn look, mumbled the
oath, and joined hands with all of us in our “circle of trust,” an invention of
James, who was enjoying his new role.
With that out of the way, he began, in surprisingly dramatic tones, to
narrate Jesus’ adventures in Rome.
“Greetings my family and my new brother
Nehemiah. I’ve also sent Samuel a
letter about my latest adventure.
When the courier arrives in Nazareth, please give him a letter that will
let me know that my family’s happy and well. Hopefully, Samuel will feel up to placing a letter in the
courier’s pouch, too. I’m worried
about his health. On the subject
of health, family, I have a tale to tell.
Joseph of Arimathea sends his best wishes and
regards. So do our guards, Loftus,
Strabo, Glychon, and Tycho. I wish
I could say the same for Joseph’s sons.
They barely talk to me.
Hopefully their attitudes will change and they’ll become my
friends. Joseph and I have had
many talks about our faith. Our
guards listened to us as we talk.
They don’t understand how we can believe in only one god. Of all the places on our schedule to
visit, Rome causes Joseph the most concern. It was, he told me as we looked ahead, a great city but one
filled with greed, avarice, and lust.
Yet, when our ship left Athens, I was looking forward to another
exciting voyage. Our last voyage
from Egypt to Athens over the Great Sea went smoothly, but I was shocked to
find so many rowers chained below.
I could hear the crack of the whip, and groan of the oarsmen. According to a seaman on deck, the ship’s
sails aren’t used unless there’s a good tail wind. He explained to me that most military ships are rowed by
professional oarsmen, but certain merchant vessels, such as his ship, employed
slaves. He spoke matter-of-factly,
as though it was but a trifling matter.
I was disturbed by this knowledge, but Joseph asked me to keep my
dissatisfaction to myself. It was,
I learned later, not a common practice, and oarsmen were normally paid good
wages. Joseph gave me a proverb
this time as our ship set its course for Rome: “when in Rome, you must do as
the Romans do.” I knew that this
proverb had applied to Greece and would apply to all the lands we visited. Could Rome be any worse than Alexandria
or Athens? Even in Jerusalem, I
saw things that greatly offended my eyes, but those men chained as rowers
offended me the most.
As our ship crossed the Great Sea, I chatted with my
benefactor and his guards about simple things. The friendly weather and cloudless sky inspired our
discussion. There, above us, flew
a formation of noisy sea birds heralding our departure. Those strange, sleek creatures, that
looked like the ones I saw in Egypt, leaped out of the water, cavorting beside
our ship, until land slipped away in the horizon. That morning I also saw the fins, tale, and a distant spout
of water from one of the great sea creatures mentioned in the Tenakh. When I pointed him out to Matthias and
Levi, they scowled at me, but Joseph enjoyed this moment with me and encouraged
the four guards to join in. The
great dark creature, unlike whales Joseph had seen before, who had large lower
jaws and rather feeble mouths, had a massive upper jaw and a long row of large,
sharp teeth. From a distance,
growing larger and larger, this fearsome-looking beast appeared to be heading
our way. He came so very close to
us, in fact, Matthias and Levi ran fearfully to the other side of the
ship. I could hear Joseph gasp
with fear, yet, to save face, he and the guards held onto the rails as the
beast frolicked alongside of our boat.
I laughed like fool. I had
never seen such a wondrous sight.
Though Joseph left to inspect his cargo, I was transfixed by this
scene. Closer and closer came the
leviathan. “Prepare for
collusion!” I heard someone cry.
After slapping the waves a few times, it seemed as if the wake generated
by its monstrous tale might swamp our ship, and yet I wasn’t afraid. A strange, innervating feeling of
wonder and well-being overtook me.
Loftus and Strabo reached out to grip my shoulders, to prevent me, in my
foolishness, from being pitched overboard, as I called out gleefully to the
beast. I swear, my family, I nor
my shipmates were in any danger.
That whale was playing with our ship!
As he coasted
alongside of us, I could see one of its huge eyes staring with mirth as a
waterspout burst from the blowhole in its snout. Suddenly, as water rained down, everyone standing behind us
ran for cover. The guards ducked
their heads below the rail, giggling hysterically as the leviathan made a wide
turn then swam away. Fortunately
for us the deluge was deflected by the bellowing mainsail overhead, and yet
many of the crewman in the center of the deck, who tried to avoid the deluge
were thoroughly drenched. I had no
idea yet how I appeared to the guards and crewmen, but there was a look of awe
on many of their faces as they approached.
“Whoa!” Loftus slapped my shoulder. “I thought he
was going to ram us. We ducked for
cover, but not you. You
weren’t afraid. You just stood
there tempting the gods!”
“Aye,” shouted a crewman, “it was like he was
charming that monster!”
“He bewitched him,” a third man cried. “Like
Poseidon’s daughters luring sailors, he called to him. I’ve never seen such a beast!”
The spell seemed broken, as the great whale returned
to the depths. “What?” I blinked,
looking back at the men. Like all
Gentiles the seaman were superstitious.
Their exclamations weren’t accusations but statements of awe and a good
measure of light-headed relief. I
couldn’t think of a rejoinder. All
I could see were a shipload of drenched, disheveled men.
“ They think you’re a sorcerer,” Loftus said from
the corner of his mouth.
“Oh
really,” I sighed wistfully, as if awakening from a dream. “That was
incredible. I’ve never seen such a
sight?”
“It was very stupid.” Strabo made one of his
rare statements. “We could’ve all been
swept
overboard!”
“Yes,” Tycho agreed,“that beast could’ve capsized
our ship”
“I never saw one act like that,” Glychon marveled.
“He seemed to have a sense of humor—like he was teasing us.”
“Exactly!” I grinned at them. “You saw that too?”
Everyone, even Strabo, nodded.
“You showed no fear,” Loftus observed solemnly. “The
crewmen and Joseph’s son ran like frightened lambs but you held your ground.”
“Jesus must have great power,” offered Tycho. “It
was as if it was under his spell.”
It appeared as though half of my admirers likened me
to a snake charmer and the other half to a sorcerer or magician. I should have corrected their
misconceptions, but I was still in a daze. The imprint of the whale was hard to shake. Had I bewitched this beast? I thought giddily. It did appear to look me squarely in
the eyes. Though I had made a
spectacle of myself, no one had called me a blasphemer or heretic as they had
back home. Then Loftus said
something that moment that caught me completely off guard. “Is it possible your
Jewish god protects us because of your presence on this ship?”
For a moment I felt trapped. Though I sensed God, in fact, watched
over me and would protect our ship, I couldn’t admit this. What conceit that would be. On the other hand, I reasoned, could I
deny what I believed was the truth?
Shaking my head slowly, I tried to explain to Loftus that God protected
all believers equally. We were
protected by prayer, not sorcery, magic or my own special powers. The big Nubian, however, didn’t believe
this at all. He was, as was most
of passengers, crew, and slaves aboard ship, a pagan. In a conspiratorial whisper, he told me that my god wouldn’t
save the scurvy bunch on this ship, if it wasn’t for me. I was in such high spirits that moment
I began laughing at his apparent jest.
It was, if anything, an improvement over some of the outlandish things
I’ve heard him say. In the
distance, as the mighty sea creature resurfaced, vaulted magnificently out of
the water, then plunged down in a great splash, I recited an appropriate verse:
“God created the large sea creatures and every
living creature that moves in the waters and every winged bird after its
kind. And God saw that it was good.”
Loftus laughed at my effort at changing the
subject. For a moment, as he and
the other guards stood there muttering to themselves about the whale, the sea
grew agitated. My hand flew up to
my mouth as a notion filled my head.
Had I angered God with my vanity?
I had made a complete spectacle of myself. Why had I acted so foolishly about that whale? There, before my eyes, I could see
those telltale whitecaps on the waves.
I recalled seeing this before on the way to Greece, but that storm
passed, as we made landfall. At
this point in our voyage we were several leagues from port. The weather I had praised only a few
hours ago began to change quickly through the stages Joseph had once explained
to me on our last voyage: a breeze, a gust, a gale, and then a tempest—all
within a short span of time.
Before taking cover in our cabin, the four guards gave me expectant
looks, as I might use my “magic” to dispel the storm. It appeared that God was going to test my faith with a
tempest and churning sea. Joseph,
his sons, and our guards crowded into our cabin, as I moved to the bow of the
ship, unnoticed by the crew scrambling back and forth, pulling in the sails,
stowing unfastened crates and equipment, and checking the moorings to the
merchandise tied to the deck.
“Lord,” I called out, as the conditions worsened,
“have I tempted you with my curiosity for that beast? Did I appear vain and foolish? Please, believe me—I didn’t put those thoughts in Loftus’
head. I don’t presume to be more
important than anyone else, but if you would silence the thunder and give us
safe passage, I know one man who is at the threshold of believing in the one
and only God. Show them all,
Lord—the guards and crew—that the power of prayer is enough for any action or
change of heart. Stop the storm
and bring peace to the waters so that our ship won’t flounder in the waves.”
But flounder it did. As they dragged me into our cabin, Joseph and Loftus scolded
me for my foolishness. No one
criticized me for the prayer, itself, except Matthias and Levi, who cursed me
for my pretensions. I couldn’t
blame them this time. So far my
prayer had no effect upon the storm.
The ship tossed and turned in terrible convulsions, throwing us back and
forth into the bulkheads and, at one frightful moment, rocking forward and
backward as the vessel hit a great wave, causing our heads to nearly crash
against overhead beams.
“We’re going to die!” Matthias cried out in a panic.
“That was some prayer,” snarled Levi, as he held
onto a post for dear life.
“What went wrong?” Loftus looked helplessly at me.
“I thought you had divine powers.”
“I’m a mortal being,” I said defensively. “The Lord
doesn’t have to answer our prayers.”
Though I was sincere, I knew this wasn’t true. The Spirit of the Lord moved inside me
that moment. I had been on the
verge of bawling, but now a feeling of peace overcame me. The Lord would, in deed, watch over us. Already, as I closed my eyes and prayed
quietly to myself, oblivious to those around me, the shaking of the ship began
to lessen. The roar of the storm
ceased gradually back to a whistling gale. The cries of shipmates and slaves faded to sporadic calls
from seaman, calling back and forth from various parts of the ship. At one point, as the realization sank
in, there was a knock on the door.
I opened my eyes to see the four guards, Loftus, Strabo, Glychon, and
Tycho, looking down at me. Joseph
was answering the cabin door.
“It seems, little prince.” Loftus said, placing his
hand reverently on my head, “your God listened to your prayer.”
To verify Loftus’ assessment of the situation, came
the voice of a sailor who had seen me pray. “It took your God long enough, but
the deed is done,” he declared wryly. “We lost some of your goods on deck, but
the remainder held firm in the hold.”
“Very good.” Joseph sighed, looking back at me.
“Please convey my thanks to the captain and all his men.”
“My name’s Tabor.” The sailor bowed politely. “I’ll
be in command of the ship until the captain’s health returns.”
“Is it serious?” I asked with concern.
“Captain Menalek has a recurrent sickness.” Tabor
winked slyly, pantomiming a drinking motion with his thumb and fist. “Ever
since his wife ran off with that Greek merchant, he has these bouts. When the storm came, he was in his bunk,
sound asleep.”
“Sound asleep, in the midst of that storm?” Joseph
slapped his forehead. “That’s dreadful!”
“Dereliction of duty’s the word I was looking for,”
grumbled Matthias.
“Oh, I’ve handled this ship many times myself.”
Tabor gave me an appraising look. “The first thing a good captain does when it
looks bad is haul in the sails.
Then he brings up the oars, tosses unneeded cargo overboard, and battens
everything else, including man and beast, to the deck. Most everyone, except fools, will be
waiting it out below. Hopefully
it’ll be a head- or aft wind and not come crashing against the ship. That way its possible to steer through
it. A side wind would swamp the
ship, even break it apart. Much of
it, you see, is luck, perhaps fate, or, as some believe, the will of the
gods.” “This time,” he said,
giving me a nod, “was different.
That was a killer storm we had.
The waves lapped over the rails many times and no one was lost, not so
much as a slave.”
“No, no” I said, waving my hands, “believe me Tabor,
the Lord, not me, saved your ship.
I’m sure my friends were praying too.”
“Not me,” Loftus mumbled under his breath.
“I was too busy being sick.” Tycho uttered a dry
laugh.
A moment of silence followed Tabor’s
declaration. A few sailors
standing behind him looked in at me.
Joseph seemed to be giving me a troubled look, both smiling and frowning
at the same time. Joseph sons,
were, as expected, appalled at this new heresy. The four guards had expressions of awe or respect on their
faces, as word of the apparent “miracle” began spreading throughout the ship.
“You don’t seriously believe Jesus quieted that
storm?” Matthias shook his head in disbelief. “I saw their expressions; those men think Jesus is some kind
of god.”
“We’re just lucky Tabor could steer the ship,” Levi
muttered with a sigh.
I couldn’t understand the attitude of Joseph’s sons,
especially Matthias. Didn’t the
prophets tell us that if our prayers were strong enough, we could move
mountains? Why is it that pagans
are so receptive to this idea and my own people aren’t? Even my benefactor Joseph seems worried
about this. My guards, however,
especially Loftus, grew even closer to me that day. In their presence, with God’s watchful eye on us, nothing
could happen to us. I knew this as
surely as I drew breath but I wouldn’t dare tell the others. What happened when our ship set out to
sea was as incredible as the storm in Nazareth, but only the pagans aboard ship
rejoiced. Unfortunately, they
didn’t understand our invisible God.
Loftus and Strabo couldn’t fathom why our Lord didn’t take corporal
form, like Zeus or Poseidon.
Joseph, though impressed with my knowledge and perception, was taken
back by the evidence before his eyes.
He must have been regretting taking me along with him on this trip. Though my prayers appeared to have
helped save their lives, Matthias and Levi resented my relationship with
God. Would they have preferred
that our ship sank with everyone aboard?
Perhaps, I should have prayed more quietly and to myself instead making
such a spectacle of myself on the deck.
From that day forward until we arrived in Ostia, I
was held in awe by the crewmembers but looked upon with contempt by Joseph’s
sons, who thought I was a pretentious blasphemer. Joseph, himself, was torn by what he felt. He took me aside the following day,
after he had time to brood on the matter, to explain the dilemma he was in. As we looked out upon Mare Nostrum (the
Latin name for the Great Sea), I could see another leviathan splashing in the
deep. I couldn’t help but marvel
again at such a magnificent sea creature.
There were few birds this far out to sea, and yet a dove appeared out of
nowhere, landing only a few feet from me on the rail. Impulsively, I held out my hand. The little white bird hopped over pertly and perched
awkwardly on my finger. It cooed
to me and seemed to study me a moment before flying up and disappearing in the
rays of the sun.
“Just who are you Jesus?” Joseph asked, stroking his
long gray beard.
“I’m Jesus, the son of Joseph, carpenter of
Nazareth,” I answered with a shrug.
“No-no,” he said, exhaling deeply, “I mean what
are you? I heard about your
miracles, Jesus, but I’ve never seen one.
I was impressed with your mind and personality, never about those
alleged miracles.” “Now,” he added thoughtfully, “after that storm, I wonder if
they aren’t true. . . . Did you bedazzle that whale? Did you quiet that storm? Out of nowhere a white dove, the symbol of the Holy Spirit
to Noah, sat on your finger. How
did you manage that?”
I detected nervous humor in Joseph’s questions, and
yet I shook my head vigorously at his inquiry. I’m sure that the Pharisee had prayed, himself about this
crisis, but I was certain, as I had been other times, that God had answered my
prayer. Joseph had asked me a
question that has plagued me for many months. I dare not say the words. I have no desire to be special. Am I merely able to more effectively use the power of prayer
than others who have less faith?
Or, as my parents words and actions imply, have I been given this
special blessing directly from God.
It comes so easily for me, which leads me to believe it’s
God-driven. Because of this, I
know I have a purpose in this world, but I don’t know what. Just how great is God’s control over my
destiny? What does He have in mind
for me? Was I not given free
choice from a pure state, as Adam and Eve, to do good or evil deeds. Would I one day fail as had the first
man and woman? My cousin John once
told me that he had a purpose too but only because Aunt Elizabeth often told
him this. I, on the other hand,
need no one to tell me I’m special.
Always, I’ve felt continually driven by a force beyond my control. From the day when the sparrow flew from
my hands, I knew I was not a normal boy.
Now, as I journey in the world of men, the fog in my childhood begins to
fade: I’ve begun to see my destiny as a servant of God. . . . But in what
capacity: rabbi, Pharisee, surely not as a Sadducee priest. I have always thought that I would be a
carpenter. Yet my voyage with
Joseph of Arimathea has further opened the portholes of my mind. He would not understand it if I tried
to explain to him what I’m attempting to explain to you now. That storm should have torn our ship to
pieces, according to the crewmen, and yet God listened to me as he had times
before.
Finally, at Joseph’s gentle coaxing I answered, “The
Lord has done his will through me.
I’ve done nothing that you or anyone else can’t do with prayer. If a man has the faith of a mustard
seed, he can move mountains.”
The Lord had spoken through me that moment, and yet
Joseph was shocked by my words.
“You, a mere youth, claim to know the mind of God,”
his voice shook. “I prayed too Jesus.
So did Matthias and Levi.
And yet you take credit for this miracle. Is this not arrogance, coming from a carpenter’s son, with
little formal education.”
“I made no such claim.” I said, folding my arms. “A
man prays and God listens. All
men, great and small, have God’s ear.”
“God’s ear?” Joseph waved irritably. “You’re still a
youth, Jesus. You believe you have
God’s ear? I’ve lived to see fifty
summers and I’m not sure I have God’s ear.”
“I pray and God listens.” I stood firm, my hands
shifting to my hips.
Joseph wasn’t trying to be unkind. He was, as everyone else, simply
troubled by my claim. It was all
based upon faith. How could I
possibly convince this man of learning that all of this—the bird, the rain, and
the storm—were merely answers from God.
It didn’t help that I was so young. Was it any wonder that he found these marvels hard to
accept? For the Pharisees, rabbis,
and priests, the age of miracles had long since passed.
“Jesus, my young friend,” his voice calmed, while he
stroked his beard, “perhaps the Spirit moves in you as it once did for Isaiah,
Ezekiel and Jeremiah. I like to
think it once moved me. It’s
true that David was selected by God during his youth to become a great
king. But none of these men were
miracle workers.”
“Men don’t work miracles by themselves.” I frowned
in disbelief. “God works through men, and without His blessing, they’re empty
vessels, incapable of such deeds.”
“Are you, Jesus of Nazareth, such a vessel?”
“Perhaps,” I whispered, feeling trapped in Joseph’s
gaze.
“What?” His eyebrows shot up. “After being asleep
for so long, Israel’s spiritual greatness has returned in the form of a
stripling barely out of childhood, and not a doctor of the law or desert
prophet with years of wisdom and service?
Why would God pick you out of the thousands of religious men in Judah
and Galilee? Moses and the
prophets who followed were men well into their years before they found such
favor, and yet he looks passed Jerusalem, Sepphoris, and all of the other great
cities of Israel into the town of Nazareth and selects a carpenter’s son?”
A rush of warmth and peace filled me, but I dare not
answer Joseph with “yes” or an affirmative nod. I heaved a sigh as I turned to meet his gaze. At that point, I realized I must tell
Joseph of Arimathea the truth as I knew it to be, at least for now.
“You have said it,” I said quietly. “Whence came my
knowledge or mastery of prayer, if not from God? Truthfully, Joseph, I don’t know what’s God’s plan. It’s still a great mystery to me. Perhaps I will be a teacher or just a
good carpenter someday. I have no
special powers, only the power of prayer, which all believers have.”
Though it was an honest answer, it sounded lame as
it poured from my lips. Yet Joseph
smiled thoughtfully, giving me a faint, approving nod.
“You try to be modest Jesus,” he replied wryly, “but
I know its much more. You are one
of those rare souls who can’t lie.
You must have God’s ear.
He watches over you. If I
didn’t know about your father’s plans that you be a carpenter, like himself, I
might think that one day you’d become a prophet, another Elijah or Jeremiah.”
I sensed an element of sarcasm in Joseph’s voice and
yet I knew it was not mean-spirited.
It was foolish for me to expect him to accept my simplistic
answers. He was held back by his Pharisaic
beliefs, which were, in spite of his worldliness, essentially black and
white. Nevertheless, I saw a gleam
in his dark eyes. He wanted to
believe. His silence, as he
reached out to grip my shoulder, said much to me. Looking out over the water, we quietly shared our vision of
the Great Sea. After awhile of
watching a distant ship break the horizon then reappear and disappear below
rolling swells, he changed the subject.
“Have you written your parents and family, Jesus?”
“Yes,” I answered with relief, “I wrote them letters
about Alexandria and Greece.”
“I’ve been remiss in my correspondence to my wife
and daughters,” he confessed, scanning the sky. “When you’re forced to write so
many business letters it’s easy to forget the important things. I’ve been a poor father, Jesus. My wife’s alone most of the time, as
are my daughters. My two sons are
spoiled and arrogant creatures.
I’ve traveled so much I’ve almost forgotten the faces of my relatives in
Arimathea, Sepphoris, and Jerusalem.” “What’s that old saying?” He scratched
his beard. “Oh yes, you reap what you sow!”
“You’re a good man,” I replied, patting his arm.
“Someday, when you retire from your business, you’ll be a excellent
grandfather. Your wife and
children don’t blame you for your diligence. They love you dearly.
You walk with God and keep his counsel. Your only sin, perhaps, is ambition, but my father’s
ambitious, and it’s never seemed wrong for him.”
Joseph appeared taken back. “Oh, so now you’re reading my
mind. How do you know what my wife
thinks?”
My words, though well meaning, had poured recklessly
out from my mouth, and yet I knew, as certainly as what I had told him about my
knowledge of prayer, that they were true.
In spite of his misgivings, Joseph of Arimathea was a righteous man—to
his family, friends and God. I
sensed something dark yet wonderful in my mind; Joseph’s future was entwined
with mine. An awesome event loomed
ahead of us shielded from our knowledge, hidden in the shadow of time. As I stood at the rail of the
ship with my benefactor and friend, I realized the real purpose of my journey
with him was not simply to learn about the world. It was also to learn about myself. The Lord works in mysterious ways. As he had worked through my parents and our neighbor Samuel,
he was now working through Joseph.
I was reminded that moment, feeling an element of foreboding, that my
life was a journey of both mind and spirit. My destiny has some importance for our people. . . perhaps
for the Gentiles too, but what could it be?”
******
James paused in his reading of the letter. I was greatly impressed with his
delivery and mastery of Jesus’ complex words. Before becoming a disciple like myself, he would work as a
scribe in Jerusalem. Right now,
however, he was just showing off.
Though Joseph fancied himself a religious scholar, James had a better
memory and a gift with words. As
Joseph reached out for his turn, James dangled it in front of his nose but
then, seeing the reaction in Joseph’s eyes, pulled it back.
“No, not yet,” he snickered, placing it behind his
back. “Wait for your turn!”
I was glad James changed his mind. He was also a better reader than
Joseph. Joseph was too critical
and would make faces as he read and constantly stop to analyze Jesus’
words.
“Now you know why Papa didn’t want to read Jesus
letter!” He cried, jumping to his feet. “Jesus so much as told that Pharisee
that he’s divine!”
“No,” I
said, shaking my head, “he never said he was divine. Jesus said he was special, that’s all, and he is.”
“Quite so.” James took a long sip of juice. “All
that stuff about the whale and storm sounds like heresy, but I haven’t heard
him say he was divine. Perhaps one
day he’ll be a great rabbi or teacher.
That wouldn’t be so bad, would it Joseph? I’ve given this a lot of thought myself. I’m not so sure I want to be a
carpenter all my life.” “For
once,” he announced, raising the scroll back up to his eyes, “I agree with
Jude. Jude has great ambition
too. Ho-ho, he wants to be a Roman
soldier! We all know Jesus is
special and has done many wondrous things, so this notion he has that he’ll
change the world, in itself, isn’t bad.
How could one measly sea storm or whale compare to the miracles we’ve
seen?” “No.” He shook his head thoughtfully. “The storm didn’t stop
immediately, like poof! It took
awhile. It was pretty scary. I can’t explain the whale. Maybe that was an accident too. Jesus continues to say to everyone ‘I
didn’t do anything. I just prayed. You could’ve done the same thing,
yourselves.’ I’ve heard about
storms on the sea, Joseph; they end as quickly as they begin. There must be something else in the
letter troubling Papa far worse than what we’ve heard so far.”
Joseph gave him an I-told-you-so look. “I bet there is! You just wait and see.” Looking around at us, he added
gloatingly, “Jesus is going to get
in big trouble in Rome. You’ll see.
You’ll all see!”
“You don’t like Jesus, do you?” Nehemiah stuck out
his lower lip.
“Humph!” Joseph snorted, folding his arms.
“What do you think, James?” I scooted closer. “You
think Jesus is going to get into trouble?
Or perform another miracle—a really big one this time?”
“I dunno.” James shrugged, clearing his throat.
“Papa seemed pretty upset. Joseph
might be right. Why don’t we find
out!”
Ironically the most exciting thing that happened to
Jesus so far had been downplayed by James, and yet, as I look back on this
event, it does appear that making it rain is far greater than merely stopping a
storm. As we hung upon James’
words, he continued, with dramatic inflections, to read from the scroll. Even Simon had stayed alert this
time. It was a memorable moment
for the second oldest son, but it seemed as if he was, himself, looking for
difficulties in Jesus’ letter:
“On
our last day out to sea we all gathered on deck to witness crew members
sacrifice a pig to Neptune as a thank offering for our safe voyage. Matthias and Levi protested this pagan
rite. Joseph tried to hide my eyes
by raising his cloak, but I insisted upon witnessing this abomination for
myself. In truth, I was more
concerned for the poor pig. My
protector dragged me against my will to the farthest end of the ship. Several crewmen, including the captain,
apologized for this affront to the Jewish God. Mariners, Captain Menalek explained, were a superstitious
lot and required all the help they could get.
When I thought about it, though it was sanctified by
God, our own animal sacrifice seemed just as bad. I’ve never liked this aspect of temple worship. I remembered being horrified by the
blood and gore when Papa took me inside the inner sanctum to view these
ceremonies. Out of respect for
tradition, I didn’t bring this up when I discussed religion with the doctors of
the law, but I was sorely tempted this time.
“Perhaps,” I suggested to Joseph, “there’ll be a day
when sacrifice will be replaced by prayer directly to God without the
intercession of priests.”
Joseph immediately took me aside, away from the
others, scolding me for this lapse.
This heresy came straightaway into my head, as if the Lord, Himself,
said it, but it would only make matters worse if I told him this.
“Jesus,” he sputtered, “you’ve said many outrageous
things, but this it the worst. Do
you also forsake the law of Moses and the holy priesthood?”
“No,” I replied forthrightly, “I’ve forsaken
nothing. The law and the sacrifice
are important to our people, but in the days of old sacrifice was a simple
affair. All righteous men could be
priests. The sacrifice was
intended to please God, not man.
Our priests have grown fattened on the endless line of beasts being
slaughtered, yet most people don’t understand the vast subtleties of our
faith. They’re just going through
the motions. The ceremonies and
endless writ have not made the priesthood or doctors of the law one jot purer
in spirit than Noah’s simple faith and Abraham’s offerings to God.”
“Enough!” Joseph held up his hand. “You don’t need
to lecture me on Sadducee excesses.
I don’t approve of priestly exploitation and the Pharisee’s
narrow-minded interpretations of our law.
Such sweeping generalizations!
This is my fault. I’ve
encouraged a free exchange of thought between us, but you mustn’t criticize our
religion. It’s not for us to
question the sacred books.”
“I’m sorry Joseph,” I said, bowing my head. “The
Spirit moved me.”
“The Spirit—the Holy Spirit of God?” Joseph’s mouth dropped and eyebrows
plunged.
As Matthias and Levi appeared suddenly on the deck
with our guards, he drew his finger up to his lips and whispered, “Say nothing
of this to the others. We’ll speak
of this another day.”
“I’m
sorry,” I whispered discreetly, “I didn’t want to upset you. . . . Things just
come into my head.”
“I understand this Jesus,” he mumbled from the
corner of his mouth, “but my sons won’t.
Already they think you’re a blasphemer. Our guards and half the ship’s crew are half convinced
you’re a god.”
“Ho!
There’s the wonder child!” Matthias cried.
“You missed the sacrifice.” Loftus cuffed me
mischievously. “They’re going to cook the pig before we arrive. What a feast!”
“You
know very well we don’t eat pork,” scolded Levi. “This made the sacrifice that
much more of an abomination.”
“It’s outrageous!” Joseph grumbled. “Of all the
animals on board to use!”
“Forgive me master,” Loftus laughed foolishly, “I
was just teasing. The captain
should’ve known better than sacrifice a pig instead of a cow.”
“It’s still blasphemy,” Joseph gripped the big man’s
shoulder. “You must set an example for the others. Even though you don’t believe in my God, please respect his
commandment against idolatry and false gods.”
Nodding faintly, Loftus backed away deferentially to
allow Matthias and Levi to bluster in.
Joseph’s sons explained the scene at the bow of the ship, the sounds of which
we couldn’t avoid. I had cringed
at the squeal of the pig, which bothered me far more than the intonations of
the pagan worshippers. According
to Matthias, they actually stuck their hands into the animal’s entrails after
killing it and smeared some of the blood on their faces and arms. This description outraged Joseph so
much I thought he might strike his eldest son. Levi then told us about the grisly aftermath in which the
sacrificial victim was cut up crudely for the crewmen to cook in sections over
an improvised spit near the bow.
Such an innovation, Loftus suggested, was irresponsible for the captain,
since it might catch the ship on fire.
“So you didn’t join the sacrifice?” Joseph looked
around at our guards.
“No, master,” they replied in unison.
“Good.” He nodded with approval. “It’s an
abomination.”
“I bet they’d eat the offering.” Levi taunted
accusingly. “All Gentiles eat pork.”
“Not so!” Loftus said indignantly, giving my head a
pat. “Forgive my gross humor, Joseph, but I respect your invisible god. I much prefer spring lamb than
pork. Though it’s tasty when
cooked with lentils and herbs, you’ve taught me that pig is unclean, so I avoid
it unless I visit my family. In my
country pork is the favorite meat, and a guest must not offend his host.”
“What if your host asked you to eat bugs or a
snake?” Levi made a face.
“That depends,” Loftus replied after some thought.
“Some bugs and certain river snakes, when prepared properly, are quite tasty.”
I smiled with affection at the big Nubian. Loftus, who winked at me that moment,
was in a buoyant mood. I don’t
believe for one moment that he would purposely offend Joseph, but he loved to
tease Joseph’s narrow-minded sons.
In good-natured banter, the other guards, Strabo, Glychon, and Tycho,
offered their own favorites to the list, including the Roman delicacies of
dormice and peacock brain.
“That’s revolting!” Matthias made a face. “I’d
rather die than pollute my body with unclean things.”
“So easy for a rich man’s son to say,” Tycho tossed
his head. “A starving man will eat anything—pork, snake, even dog meat—to save
his life!”
“According to the Torah,” the spirit moved me again, “it’s
permissible to eat grasshoppers in the desert. David once stole the sacrifice from the temple to lessen his
hunger. What’s unclean is that
which pollutes our hearts and mind.”
“You hear that?” Tycho looked back at Matthias. “My
thoughts exactly!”
“Yes,” Glychon’s head bobbed, “I agree with
Jesus. I certainly do.”
“All
right everyone that’s enough!” Joseph held up his hands. “Jesus has brought up
an important point: the spirit of our law. We mustn’t forget, however, the prohibition against unclean
food was given to us by Moses even though David, himself, didn’t always follow
the Lord’s will.”
I
didn’t argue with Joseph, but he had almost said it himself: the spirit is
greater than the letter of the law.
I felt as if I had made a spiritual breakthrough with the stubborn
Pharisee. According to
the law, David, my father and mother’s ancestor, should not have taken the
offering, and yet he felt justified because of his hunger and his righteous
cause. The Lord didn’t punish
him. Nor did he punish the
prophets for eating locusts and wild honey. Joseph had four faithful guards, whose goodwill he needed
for a safe journey. Later, I would
be scolded for my liberal interpretation of the law, but I was certain the Lord
had been communicating with me again.
It’s as if, every once in awhile, a whole new chapter of revelation is
being written piecemeal in my head.
The urge to find a pen and scrap of parchment and write down my
inspirations filled me once again as I followed the others below. Fearful that the crew would defile us
with pig’s blood in their merriment, Joseph instructed us to lay low in our
compartment until our ship reached port.
******
Loftus
taught us a new game as we waited to disembark. It’s an ancient game in which one player takes three nut
shells, places a small pebble in one of them, and moves the three shells around
rapidly before asking the other players, one-by-one, where the pebble is. I can imagine various peoples of the
worlds using different items to play this game: cups, sea or snail shells, as
well as a assortment of nut shells, and, in place of a pebble inside, peas,
dried berries, or nuts. Some how—a
feat which my brothers might once have considered magic—Loftus fooled us each
time we guessed, winking mischievously at me each time. Stopping short of calling him a cheat,
Levi suggested that it was a slight-of-hand trick instead of a true game of
chance. Fortunately for Matthias,
who accused me of using black magic in consort with the guard, Joseph was just
this moment in a heated discussion with our truant captain about the loss of goods
on the deck.
Hearing shouts from crewmen to attendants,
relatives, and friends on the dock, we all looked at Joseph for his nod. When he gave his silent consent, we
rushed out the cabin door to join the sailors and other passengers on deck. Joseph had told us earlier that
Publius, a Jewish merchant he did business with, would be waiting on the pier
with his family. Gently pushing my
way through onlookers to the rail, I joined in this festive occasion with
uplifted heart. For here at last
was Ostia, the port of Rome.
Inexplicably, I also felt a momentary foreboding about this city. I had these feelings before about my
future but they had been abstractions: mental shadows and bursts of light. Occasionally, I would have a dream that
appeared to be prophetic. It
appears to me that Jude has had these kind of dreams too. I know Mama does. The feeling I had, as I looked at the
crowd on the dock, realizing that these were Romans, the oppressors of our people,
was strong but not hostile. One
can’t blame them for their way of life and system of government, no more than
our people can be blamed for the machinations of our priests and collaboration
of our religious leaders with the Roman occupiers . . . . It was something
deeper, darker. . . . But what?
Dozens of well-wishers waited for passengers and
crewmen, but as Joseph scanned the bodies bunched up on the wharf, there was no
sign of Publius or his family.
According to Joseph’s description, the Jewish merchant was short and
portly, with a well-groomed beard.
His wife, son, and daughter were also heavy-set and squat. So far, as we waited for Joseph’s goods
to be loaded onto the dock, no one with those descriptions appeared. The four guards, always vigilant for
threats, looked quite menacing with their spears in hand and swords tucked in
their belts as they studied the crowd.
Matthias and Levi were especially jittery among the noisy relatives,
friends, attendants, and hawkers of foods and delicacies.
At one point, when Levi walked over to purchase a
bag of sweet meats, Loftus moved swiftly to cut him off. “Your father wants us
to stay in one group.”
“Unhand me, you brute,” he shrugged off Loftus’
beefy hands.
“Levi, you know the rules.” Joseph snapped his
fingers. “This is Ostia. There must
be a hundred or so desperate men swarming in this harbor: thieves, cutthroats,
and pickpockets. Let our guards do
their job, until we’re safely on our way to Publius’ estate.
“I’m sorry young master,” Loftus bowed to Levi. “My
instincts are very strong here. A
dock is a place where brigands and prostitutes ply their trade. Some of these light fingered people can
steal your innermost valuables before you have a chance to blink.”
“You don’t owe him an apology,” Joseph said
dismissively. “Why not call the vendor over here to see if he has anything
worthwhile.”
Strabo, who had a booming voice, made the call. Joseph watched the workers haul his
goods while the vendor displayed his candied dates and various sweet
meats. Because the items were
packed in leaves inside his straw basket they looked clean and sanitary to me,
and yet Loftus took one look at them and waved the vendor away.
“Why’d you do that?” Levi stomped his foot. “I
thought you people would eat anything.”
“Sir, his wares were tainted. I’ve seen quality sweat meats and
candied dates before. Those
weren’t fit for consumption.”
“With the threat of disease,” Tycho offered
politely, “we shouldn’t take the chance.”
“They looked all right to me,” Matthias grumbled.
“The man had them in little leaves.
He looked clean enough.”
“No,” Glychon said, shaking his head, “that sleazy
man put dirty food in shiny little leaves. For all you know sir, he just used the cloaca. Did you happen to notice his teeth when
he smiled? They were green!”
Suddenly, as the guards argued quietly with Joseph’s
sons, a familiar face loomed through the crowd. “Joseph of Arimathea!” Publius called in a high-pitched
voice.
“Dear Publius.
At last!” A look of relief fell over Joseph’s face.
“Joseph!
Matthias! Levi!” The little
merchant waddled forward, arms outstretched.
To Loftus, Strabo, Glychon, and Tycho, whose names
he couldn’t remember, he reached out to grasp their hands, after embracing
Joseph and his sons. When his eyes
fell on me, his mouth fell and eyes popped wide. “Ah,” he cried, “this must be the famous Jesus of Nazareth!”
Publius’ wife, son and daughter politely greeted us,
by smiling and patting our arms, and inquiring about our voyage. Publius introduced his family to us and
Joseph introduced the remainder of his group. Without hesitation, Loftus immediately told them how Jesus
prayer had quieted a terrible storm.
“Where it not for you proscription for eating pork,”
he exclaimed, “I might become a Jew myself.”
Matthias and Levi frowned severely, but Publius
burst into laughter. “Oh yes,” he declared to his wife Diana, “this is Loftus,
the funny one. I remember his rude
humor. What a valuable prize this
fellow is!”
“Valuable yes, but he’s not a prize,” Joseph gently
corrected. “I don’t believe in slavery.
All of my guards were purchased and then freed. Were it not for my noble guards, I
would’ve never left Judea. They’re
loyalty has also made them my friends.”
“Well,” Publius said, bobbing his head, “I have many
freed men myself, but I can’t really call them friends.”
I can’t say that I approved of Publius’ airs, but he
seemed to be a good-natured fellow.
As the workers finished loading the goods Joseph planned on having
Publius sell in Rome, he and the Romanized Jew discussed business awhile before
Publius told Joseph of the latest gossip in the capital.
“Tiberius was threatening to expel the Jews,” he
began discreetly. “It’s been a difficult week for our people. I must’ve drunk a barrel of wine.”
“What?” Joseph’s mouth dropped. “Are you
serious? There’s thousands of Jews
in Rome. Why would he do
that? ”
Publius rolled his eyes left and right, as if making
sure no one overheard. “A
prominent Jewish matron converted to our faith. Following this affront, a gang of Jews talked her into
removing treasure from our temple in Jerusalem.”
“That’s awful,” Joseph grabbed his forehead,” “just
awful!”
“What’s going to happen now?” Matthias asked in
quivering voice.
“I heard that the alleged culprits will be sent to
copper mines in Spain—a dreadful place,” he made a face. “But that’s not all,”
his eyes popped wide. “Because the Jews of Rome refuse to offer incense to
Jupiter, four thousand young men were shipped to Sardinia to fight
bandits. That’s even worse. Sardinia is a pestilential swamp. It’s a death sentence unless Tiberius
changes his mind.”
It occurred to me as I listened to them discuss this
anti-Jewish sentiment, that Publius had not said Tiberius is threatening
to expel the Jews; he said that Tiberius was threatening to expel the
Jews. This struck me as
significant. I whispered this
tactfully to Joseph, as Publius described the public outcry of Tiberius
measures. Joseph’s eyebrows shot
up but he placed a finger before his lips.
“This all started in the palace,” prattled Publius,
“I get along perfectly well with the patricians. Those soldiers roaming the city causing problems don’t
represent Rome. There’s strong
pressure on Tiberius from senators and businessmen in the city to recall the
conscripts from Sardinia.”
“Then the Roman populace isn’t anti-Jewish?” Levi
heaved a sigh.
“I wouldn’t say that.” Publius shrugged. “Jews are
never completely safe here. The
Romans are not happy that we refuse to acknowledge their gods, but most of them
accept the status quo. Thanks to our
friend Pompey and Augustus, we had been given special treatment, even status in
the empire. Even Tiberius had
exempted us from military service, until that woman’s conversion and that
incident at the temple.”
“So,” Joseph pursed his lips, “there’s not really a
threat.”
“Dear me no,” Publius tittered, “nothing
immediate. Don’t worry folks. We should be safe for a while. Tiberius’ friends in Rome have strong
business ties with the Jews. This
should blow over soon.”
“You sounded worried.” I studied the
merchant.
Shaking his head indecisively, Publius squirmed a
moment before regaining his composure.
Matthias and Levi seemed greatly irritated with the merchant. I sensed something dark behind his idle
chatter. After listening to my
benefactor during our journey and hearing this feedback from our host, I was
reminded of the general attitude between Gentiles and Jews. I had always heard from my father and
others that Rome was tolerant of its melting pot of peoples. There was every race and language constituted
in the empire, living and doing business in the great city, and yet there would
always be that undercurrent of resentment for Jews and the division between
pagan and Jew.
As Joseph and Publius talked business a moment, we
moved out of earshot to discuss this important subject. Matthias, Levi, and even the guards
gave their opinions. Joseph’s
sons, like me, were suspicious of Publius’ words. Why would he even bring this up if the emergency had
passed?
“What if the emperor just wanted to confiscate the
wealth of rich Jews?” Loftus suggested wryly. “You people own half the real
estate in Rome.”
“The fact is,” shrugged Tycho, “you people have
influence. Joseph is the most
respectable merchant in Palestine or Rome.”
“That doesn’t change deep-seated feelings.” Matthias
frowned. “It’s there below the surface.
Believe me. I’ve seen
it. We’ve all seen: that hatred
for Jews.”
“Precisely,” I chimed, “an undercurrent. I thought the same thing myself.
“Humph,” grumbled Matthias.
“I’ve
often wondered,” I followed this train of thought, “if it’s not the privileged
status of Jews that’s perceived as a problem by Romans and Greeks. Everyone else has to observe the gods
with incense and obeisance, while we Jews turn up our noses. When the legions march off to war,
Jewish men remain snug in their homes, safe from conscription into the army.”
“That’s
not fair.” Levi protested. “Our religion doesn’t allow Jews to serve in foreign
armies. Roman soldiers eat pork
and all manner of vile foods. They
murder innocent people and must bow to Roman gods. We have commandments, Jesus. We obey the Lord’s will.”
“The little prince is right.” Loftus gave Levi a
severe look. “I once resented Jewish exemption myself, but that’s not the
issue. Jews can’t be blamed for not
wanting a split skull or arrow in the gut, but on the matter of respect for
other people’s religions they’re unreasonable and hardheaded. What would it hurt to give Jupiter or
Mars a friendly pinch of incense?
Why, for that matter, when soldiers move about freely in the cities in
protection of Jews don’t they allow Gentiles into their homes?”
Though rarely talking, Strabo, now voiced his
objection that he and the other guards couldn’t even set foot in the master’s
house whom they guarded with their lives, and yet because of Jesus, Samuel, a
Pharisee in Nazareth, allowed them to enter his estate.
“The Jews think they’re better than anyone else,”
exclaimed Tycho. “And look at them—a conquered people like the rest of us, not
paying homage to their conqueror’s gods.”
As Syrians, Glychon and Tycho, had seen firsthand
the arrogance of the priests in Jerusalem who posted a sign on the door of the
temple promising death for anyone entering the inner sanctum. Realizing that the guards were trying
to goad them into another argument, Matthias and Levi had stomped away from the
circle, grumbling amongst themselves, but with Tycho’ last slur, the two young
men came racing back, eyes ablaze.
“What did you say?” Levi looked accusingly at the
speaker.
“I was
saying,” snorted Tycho, going one step further, “anyone can visit Jupiter or
Mars’ temple without threat, and yet curiosity would be fatal in yours. What’s
so special about a temple built for an invisible god? I heard there’s nothing in your holy of holies but an alter
and a few dusty old scrolls. How
could a visitor defile that barren room?”
“Are you listening to them?” Matthias looked over at
his father in disbelief.
Joseph and Publius were still in a quiet discussion
when Levi pointed an accusing finger at his father. “You’ve always given these men free rein, but this is going
too far. It’s disrespectable of
our faith. It’s sacrilegious!”
“I’m not sacrilegious.” The big Syrian spat on the
ground. “I could care less what you do quietly, unseen from Roman eyes, but you
must be more careful here than in those provincial towns. This is Rome, not Jerusalem or
Sepphoris where you’re a majority.”
“No, no, you don’t understand our religion,”
Matthias shook his head, “we can’t appease blasphemers or heretics. You cross the line Tycho—you too Loftus
and Strabo—when you tell us how to behave.”
“These are common opinions among our Gentile
neighbors and friends.” Joseph laughed good-naturedly. “I’ve heard much worse. Matthias and Levi, our guards, have
reason to worry this time. Trust
me. I know their hearts on this
matter. They would give their
lives to save us. Through their
eyes, I know the Gentile mind and I’m alerted to threats on our paths. They’ve come along way since I gave
them their freedom. One day, I
pray, they’ll give up their pagan beliefs and become children of God, but until
then their rude wit serves a purpose: they see the world not how we would wish
it to be but how it is.”
“I don’t know if I can ever pray to an invisible
god,” I heard Glychon grumble to Strabo. “What would be wrong with a little
statue to carry around, like Loftus has around is neck—perhaps, for the Jewish
god, an old man with a long spear in his hand. How can you focus on thin air? A god needs an identity, just like mortal men, and yet we’re
told that Yahweh is a powerful god.”
Such was the dilemma of most Gentiles. I reached out that moment to pat Tycho
muscular arm. I heard from Loftus
that this fellow, though much shorter than himself, was as strong as three men and
had once pulled a small tree out of the ground to prove a point. All four of Joseph’s guards, the
Pharisee once boasted, would have made fine gladiators if he had not come
along. Now, by God’s graces, they
were his servants. He felt blessed
with such powerful and brave guards.
At that moment, however, I saw, as the Spirit moved me, children seeking
reason in the mystery of our faith.
Tycho’s dark eyes, belying the snarl on this face, yearned for inner
peace.
“You’re not far from the Kingdom,” I whispered to
him, as Matthias shook his head.
I had, Matthias probably thought, bewitched the
guards.
“So,” he muttered to Levi, “if we let him whittle a
little idol like the serpent around Loftus’s neck, he’ll convert.” “You ever hear of the first commandment?”
He taunted me.
“Yes, Jesus, what kingdom are you talking about?”
Levi frowned. “Heaven or Gahenna, where pagans and sinners roast in internal
fire.”
Overhearing this discord, as he chatted with
Publius, Joseph made a slicing motion into this palm. Silence fell over the group. I had been tempted to answer Levi’s question and set
Matthias straight. I fully intended
to make believers out of the four guards, but I knew it would take patience and
time. The Kingdom, I spoke of,
appeared in my mind one day as I strolled the hills in Nazareth talking to
God. Pictured in my mind
then was a wondrous place much greater than the intangible, unknowable heaven
discussed by Pharisees and rabbis.
There were trees, animals, and singing, laughing people, who walked with
angels in the presence of God. It
was a place of endless day, perfect peace, without want or care. Though Levi was referring to that vague
paradise hinted at in the Torah, I knew it was much more.”
******
“With
his goods and merchandise safely stored in a rented warehouse, the doors of
warehouse locked tight, and a detail of paid attendants left watching over his
goods, Joseph and his company followed his host and his family to the waiting
carriages. Fresh horses had been
requisitioned by Joseph for the guards.
Once again, as I withdrew into myself, a feeling of urgency filled me,
this time about the Kingdom. I was
certain this notion was not in the scriptures. What did it have to do with me, a carpenter’s son? It comforted me as a warm blanket as I
was lulled by the rocking of our carriage. I knew I had a great destiny. My parents had told me this as did Samuel, our friend, and
Joseph, himself. As our guards
road alongside of us on their mounts, chattering about the scenery and what
they expected to happen in Rome, I could hear Matthias and Levi grumbling about
their boisterous talk and Joseph scolding them gently for their intolerance
toward the guards. I had been
moved by the sincerity of these simple men, though I couldn’t blame Joseph’s
sons for being offended by what they said. I felt great sympathy toward the guards because of their
resentment at being left out. A
part of me, perhaps the heretical part Joachim had ranted about, wished that
all men, Gentile and Jew, who believed in God, could share in our faith.
A more immediate question in my mind, however, took
a hold of me as our carriage rattled and bumped on the cobbled road winding its
way to Publius’ estate: Would Rome prove to be a hostile and dangerous place
for us with the new emperor in power?
It seemed as if there would always be someone like Tiberius persecuting
our people. I just hoped it
wouldn’t be as bad as Publius implied.
To witness the persecution of Rome’s Jews firsthand is not what I had in
mind during our visit to Rome. It
appears, like it or not, that God was leading me into the Shadow of the Valley
of Death spoken by of the Psalmist.
As I write this letter, I pray that our Lord will
protect the Chosen People living in Rome.
This
letter, the first installment of my letters from Rome, I have dashed off and
entrusted to our captain upon his voyage back to Joppa. Joseph of Arimathea and his guards send
their greetings and prayers for your good health. My prayers for our family, Samuel’s health, and the success
of Papa’s business. Forgive the
hastiness in this chapter. There
was no time to waste.
Your son, brother, and subject of Our Lord,
Jesus
of Nazareth
******
“Well,” James snorted, “it started off good.”
“That part about the monster and the storm was
fantastic!” Nehemiah clapped his hands.
“Until he started preaching,” Simon grunted. “That
ruined it.”
James stood up and stretched, glancing
self-consciously up at the house.
“Wait!” I reached out to the scroll. “Is that all
you’re going to read?”
“It’s
quite enough,” James sighed with relief. “I’m sure another letter will arrive
this week, but Mama will be home soon.
I can understand why Papa didn’t want to read this aloud. Jesus said some strange things. We’ve got to get this back in the
pantry before our parents return.”
“But when will another letter come?” Nehemiah’s
small mouth drew into a pout.
“Whenever the courier returns,” James replied, out
of breath as he scurried up the path.
Catching his urgency, we fell into step behind
him. Joseph had grown quiet during
the reading. Upon entering the
empty house, however, he broke into sharp criticism of Jesus’ latest heresies.
“So tell me,” he began self-righteously. “What’s
this business about sacrifice being replaced by prayer and there being no more
priests? And that notion about the
universal, unknown god—where’s that written? Did Jesus just make that up? Why did Joseph of Arimathea allow such talk? When Jews eat pork and bugs, as Jesus
condones, is that not heresy? When he questioned our faith, is he not
blaspheming the Lord? Who is he to
question our faith? Who is he to
interpret our laws? That Pharisee
gives Jesus great license. He
should have been more offended by his words!”
“He was offended,” James cocked an eyebrow.
“In the letter he scolded Jesus several times.”
“Hah!”
Joseph tossed his head. “Why did he tell Jesus he might be a prophet like
Elijah or Jeremiah? That’s
outrageous! Why would Joseph of
Arimathea tell him a thing like that?”
“I don’t know,” James waved irritably, “but keep
your voice down! They could walk
up any moment. Let’s go outside,
out of earshot. We’ll pretend
we’re playing a game: tag, stones, or hide and go seek.”
Placing the food basket, pitcher and mugs on the
table, Nehemiah, Simon, and I followed our brothers out of the house. I wasn’t surprised with Joseph’s
reaction. He was simply being himself,
but James responded differently.
He was showing control, even leadership, qualities that resurfaced later
in his life. Looking back at us,
he pointed to the spot where we gathered before.
“All right,” Joseph said, sitting on the log, “we’re
away from the house. Explain to
me, James, why Jesus is reinterpreting scripture? Who is he to criticize our laws against unclean food? He speaks of a spiritual breakthrough,
as if he is the Lord’s anointed.
What is this special Kingdom he speaks of? What did he mean when he implied that revelation was being
written in his head?”
“I dunno,” James heaved a sigh. “I wish I hadn’t of
read it now.”
“I’ve heard him talk that way before,” I came to
Jesus defense. “Sometimes he talks in riddles. He thinks he hears things.”
“Those weren’t riddles.” James shook his head.
“Those were plain statements. I’m
half certain Jesus has God’s ear.
How can you explain the sparrow or the rain? That bird was dead, and the sky opened up as Jesus prayed.
The only really serious issue, I believe, is his criticism of the temple and
the priests. That’s important
stuff. Except those statements
about the Kingdom, all those other words aren’t much worse than what we heard
in his letters from Egypt and Greece.”
“But why is he trying to make everyone think he’s
God’s anointed?” cried Joseph.
“Stop it!” James put his hands on his ears. “We mustn’t
talk about this anymore.”
“That’s fine we me,” grunted Simon.
“I know,” Nehemiah chirped sweetly, “let’s play hide
and go seek,”
James looked down at the frail youth and
laughed. While Joseph sulked in
the backyard, we strolled back to the woods, leaving Joseph to grumble fitfully
to himself. Instead of hide and go
seek, the four of us threw rocks at tree stumps and boulders until our parents
returned. Not much was said about
Jesus last letter. I was glad that
James didn’t criticize Jesus this time.
In spite of his many gifts, it did appear as if Jesus might be speaking
heresy, even blasphemy, at times, and yet Joseph of Arimathea seemed to be a
tolerant host with both his guards and guest. I was not surprised that, under these circumstances, Jesus’
views had grown more radical.
After awhile, Joseph joined us in the shadow of the tree, where we stood
in moody silence, reflecting upon Jesus first letter from Rome.
Later, when Mama returned home, we were called into
the house for dinner. She and the
twins had visited Samuel, now on the mend, and brought her herbal potion to
Habakkuk’s wife Rachel, who recently suffered a stroke. Mama was tired and cranky. The five of us kept silent about the
letter’s contents, while she set about fixing a hasty dinner and Papa, who now
had three new orders, went into his shop to take inventory of his supplies. For the first time since the healing of
the sparrow, James and Joseph treated me civilly and were even polite to
Nehemiah as we amused ourselves by chasing a snake across the floor. Mama put a stop to this at once,
scooping it up frantically and running for the door.
“Who brought that serpent into my home?” She looked
at us accusingly.
We stifled our laughter that moment when the little
snake slithered up her arm and onto her bosom before she could toss it into the
yard.
“You think that’s funny?” She glared at us. “What if
it got loose in our house?”
“Sorry, Mama!” we chimed.
Nehemiah, the only one of us actually contrite,
dropped his chin to his chest, receiving a pat on his head. The remainder of us, recalling her
comical expression, giggled foolishly behind our hands. The last time we witnessed her jump and
gyrate like that was when a wasp flew into the window. To change the subject and avoid further
scolding, I turned to my brothers and suggested we play a game I shared with my
friends. James, Joseph, and Simon
continued to snicker as I made scooting motions to the table. Mama stood there a moment, her hands on
her hips, as I explained the rules, then turned back to the kitchen, shaking
her head.
“This is nothing but a stupid guessing game,” Simon
grumbled.
“Come on.” I elbowed him. “It’ll be fun.”
As we waited for dinner to begin, we divided into two uneven teams—Joseph, Simon and Nehemiah versus James and me (the smartest of the five.), keeping a tally of our points with pebbles collected from the yard. James and I, of course, won, which made Joseph grow sensitive and defensive of his knowledge. Though he prided himself on following our law and tradition, he was basically close-minded and ignorant. I can’t remember when poor Joseph was in a truly good mood. He was, as James at times, jealous of Jesus’ popularity and power and resented his high-handed ways. Considering Joseph’s frame of mind, it was logical that he condemn Jesus’ opinions of religious sacrifice and ritual after what James read. Some of Jesus’ views shocked even me. Jesus was, from his first miracle, a revolutionary, going against many things we believed.
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