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Chapter Thirty-Four
In the morning Papa returned to Samuel’s house to
find Nehemiah washed and dressed for burial. The servants had been instructed by the Pharisee in the
proper ritual. It was our custom
to bury the dead as quickly as possible, preferably the same day before
sundown, but darkness had fallen soon after we arrived in town. Though he awakened at dawn, Papa had
much to do to organize a proper funeral with no time to spare. A hole was dug by servants on the
grounds of Samuel’s estate and a large slab of limestone was removed from one
of Samuel’s fountains to serve as a headstone until a proper stone would be
carved. Under the protection of
our guards, Jesus, James and Joseph walked around town inviting our friends in
Nazareth to Nehemiah’s funeral service and burial. Simon and I tagged along after Papa and Ezra until the
festivities began. To avoid further
alienation, many of the townsfolk, who had shunned our family, would at least
be notified but not expected to come.
Papa, Ezra, and Samuel agreed that Rabbi Joachim would not officiate at
any ceremony where Joseph and his family were present, so the rabbi would not
be invited, although I had hoped Uriah could come.
Once again, as so many times before, I was filled
with mixed emotions about Jesus.
As I look back on that day, I feel remorse for my treatment of him. At the same time that I was angry with
him for not saving Nehemiah, I continued to feel ashamed for blaming him for
something that wasn’t his fault.
Nehemiah had been sick for a very long time. As they lowered him into his grave, I kept telling myself it
was not Jesus’ fault. I had expected
too much from him. Nehemiah was
not a bird; he was a little boy.
For reasons, I could not yet fathom, he was able to save Levi, a
one-time foe and revive, through prayer an old woman, who had been at death’s
door, and yet all of our prayers, not merely Jesus’, failed to save my
friend. Jesus had not deceived
me. He told us all along he would
never go against God’s will and had never promised to save Nehemiah’s life. And yet, as I listened to him give a
powerful eulogy for my friend, I still had the irrational hope he would call
down into the abyss and bring him back from the dead.
He said many fine things about Nehemiah, including
praise of his loyalty to our family and faithful friendship with his adopted
brother Jude, but then slipped into a long-winded prayer directed mostly at
me. As he prayed, he looked across
the grave at his audience. Slowly
his eyes traveled around to where I stood. He asked God to heal the wounds caused by my grief and fill
me with abiding peace. He promised
me that Nehemiah suffered only an earthly death and was in Paradise today. Jesus moved around the grave toward me
as his prayer turned into a sermon about forgiveness and the healing of
friendships. Members of the small
crowd present at the funeral looked with embarrassment at me, while James,
Joseph, Simon and I looked at our brother in disbelief. We hated Nazareth for its treatment of
our family. For obvious reasons,
Rabbi Joachim and Uriah had not shown up this morning, but we knew that Jesus’
sermon included them. Fine words
indeed! I thought, clinching my small fists and looking at the ground. That Jesus was even suggesting that we
try mending fences with Joachim again struck me as absurd. Knowing Jesus’ great, unreasonable
compassion, I ignored this foolishness as I listened with disgust to his final
words: “Nehemiah had suffered in
this life but has been healed and given a new indestructible, heavenly body in
Paradise. . .” Nonsense, my mind
cried out, Nehemiah was dead—food for maggots and worms!
At that point, everyone, even James and Joseph,
turned to smile sadly at me. I
felt Papa’s heavy arm on my back and Simon, of all people, suddenly clasping my
hand. I don’t remember breaking
away from them or hearing their protests when I bolted from the crowd, but
finally, after walking around in a daze, I found myself in Samuel’s orchard,
beneath a large olive tree.
With heavy heart, I sank down by the tree trunk,
dropping my brow to my knees.
Jesus had reached out to me last night, and I rebuked him as if he was
to blame for my friend’s death.
Today, I had still expected him to defeat the Angel of Death. Since my brothers appeared to have made
peace with him at the funeral, I felt terribly alone, and I began to doze off
as I thought about my life. Michael
was gone. Nehemiah was dead. Uriah was no longer my friend. Except for Simon, who didn’t seem to
count, I no longer had any friends.
It seemed as though my family had abandoned me too. After the way I had acted, I didn’t
expect them to comfort me now.
When I looked up into the light cascading through
the branches, a shadow emerged overhead.
Though he was only a silhouette, I recognized John’s husky frame and
curly head. A nimbus of light
outlined his body, which gave him an otherworldly look. I was certain that Jesus had sent him
out to find me, so I said nothing at first as I brooded under the tree. As I shielded my eyes from the
sunlight, however, the thought came to me that John, like Jesus, must have some
great purpose in this world.
I
felt his hand on my head, as if in blessing. “Peace be upon you Jude,” he said,
giving my head a pat. Reaching
down in the morning shadow he took my hand and pulled me to my feet.
“Let
us walk, my cousin,” he murmured, leading me through the trees.
His voice rose and fell with idle chatter about his
adventures and the places he had been.
The story sounded familiar.
His mother had taken him with her to Jerusalem, Tarsus, and
Alexandria. He had seen many
wonders, as had Jesus, and, because his father had been a priest, met many
famous men. I thought he might
lead me back to Samuel’s house, but he led me further into the orchard, sharing
his world with me. I hoped that
one day I would also visit such places and now, many weeks after Jesus had
given us glimpses of it, John was reintroducing me to the world. I could scarcely believe that he, like
Jesus, had seen the great library and lighthouse of Alexandria. During a visit to Jerusalem, he had
been close enough to touch Herod Antipas’ robe. According to John, the tetrarch smelled like a Syrian
dancer. I didn’t ask my worldly
cousin how he knew this. I wasn’t
convinced that everything he told me was the truth, but it was an excellent
diversion for my troubled mind.
John had won me over with his chatter. I was glad to have his company on this dark day.
“I heard you’ve had some interesting dreams.” He
motioned for me to sit down. “Tell me about them.”
“They’re just dreams.” I shrugged, sitting down on a
log. “I’ve had several of them.
One of them I promised Jesus never to tell. I dreamed about our enemy Reuben, but the worst were my
dreams about the three crosses.
I’d rather not talk about my dreams. They’re rather stupid—scary too.”
John seemed taken back a moment when I mentioned my
dream of the crosses, and yet he respected my feelings.
“Jude.” He shook his head gently. “Not all dreams
are important; some are just nightmares.
But if you have the same dream over and over it means something. In Jacob’s dream, he wrestled
with God. Your father also had a
special dream. In the Torah great
things come to men as they sleep.”
“I
heard about Papa’s dream.” I nodded thoughtfully. “An angel actually spoke to
him.”
John’s
eyebrows shot up. “Yes, I heard about that. Did you know that an angel came to my father too?”
I
shook my head, feeling a prickling at the back of my neck. John told me in careful detail a story
I overheard Mama and Papa talking about as I pretended to be asleep. Because I caught only snatches of the
story as their voices rose and fell, what I heard—“Zechariah was told by an
angel that Elizabeth was pregnant”—did not leave a great impression on me. After comparing this to all the
wondrous stories of Jesus’ birth, I yawned and finally fell asleep. That moment in the clearing, I sensed,
as I listened to John, that, in consideration for my age, he wasn’t telling me
the whole truth. Much later in my
youth, I would hear the full story of Jesus’ birth, but for now John filled in
the pieces to my parents’ puzzling conversation. I would read in the draft of my friend Luke’s testament a
most poetic account of Mary and Elizabeth’s joint births. According to John, an angel appeared
before his father informing him that his wife Elizabeth would conceive a
son. I would learn one day that my
mother was visited by an angel who announced to her that she would conceive a
child fathered by God. Later—a
fact, which I already knew—an angel told Papa to take Mary and her babe to
Egypt to avoid King Herod’s wrath.
Though John’s birth was, in itself, not a remarkable event, I was
surprised to hear that Zechariah and Elizabeth were quite old when Gabriel
first appeared to Elizabeth and then her husband with this news.
“I
didn’t know old woman had babies.” I whistled under my breath. “That was
a miracle!”
“Yes, it was a wondrous event.” He looked wistfully
into the unknown. “I don’t know how much of this you know about Jude. I don’t know all of it, myself. Much of it comes to me in dreams, as
they did for you.”
“Really?” I considered this news. “Did the angel
come to your father in a dream?”
“No, he came in person,” he answered thoughtfully,
“but my father didn’t believe him.
My father told him that he and my mother were too old to have children,
so the angel struck him deaf and dumb.”
“Really?” I clapped my hands with delight. “Was the
angel joking? I wouldn’t have
believed that story myself.”
“You’re very candid.” John chuckled. “I found it
hard to believe, myself. After the
prophet Malachi, there has been four hundred years of silence in our holy
books: no miracles and no great leaders.
My father couldn’t accept the miracle that had befallen him: a middle
aged woman, long passed the birthing age would give birth to a man child who
would prepare the world for the Messiah.
My father was a priest and should’ve trusted God, but it was just too
fantastic for him to believe.
According to mother, when I was born, father’s hearing and speech
returned to him, yet he died only a few years after my birth.”
“I’m sorry.” I dropped my head contritely. “I’m sure
he was a fine man, but what does all this mean?”
For a moment, as he thought about how he might
answer that question, I heard voices down the path in the orchard. In the moments he had shared his
miracle with me, I felt a rush of excitement. Unless he had made the story up, my cousin John must, as
Jesus, be touched by God. Before
he had a chance to reply, however, Simon came running into the clearing, with
Papa, James, and Joseph trailing behind.
“There he is.” Simon pointed gleefully. “I knew we’d
find him!”
James and Joseph, as they broke into the clearing,
were not as happy to see me.
I could hear James shout in the distance: “Jude,
where have you been?”
Joseph, close behind, grumbled “This was a
sacrilege. A funeral is a sacred
event!”
Huffing and puffing, Papa emerged from the tree
line, calling out wearily, “I knew John would track you down.”
“Jude and I were having ourselves an important
chat,” John said, ruffling my hair.
“Yes,
Papa,” I stepped forward light-headedly, “an angel told Aunt Elizabeth she was
pregnant, but John’s papa didn’t believe him so he was struck deaf and dumb—”
“That’s very nice.” Papa waved impatiently. “I’ve
heard that story before. Jude,
why’d you run away?”
“I’m sorry Papa.” I chewed on my lower lip. “I didn’t
mean to hurt Jesus’ feelings, but I had to leave. . . . Everything was swirling
in my head!”
“You were overwhelmed,” suggested John. “I’ve felt
that way before. It’s not easy to
understand God’s will. Jesus
would’ve saved Nehemiah if it had been in God’s plan.”
Papa’s frown now melted into a smile. My love for my father soared that
moment. Once again John placed his
hand on my head. It was as if he
had read my mind. His unblinking
dark eyes reminded me of Jesus’ unwavering gaze. Standing between these two great souls, I felt very
small as the words spilled from my mouth.
“God’s will is like God’s wrath. Both can kill—the good with the
bad. So tell me Papa and tell me
John, why God would save old people but let children die?” “It’s wrong,” I exclaimed, “and so
unfair!”
“We know that,” Papa said, clasping my hand, “but we
can’t change it Jude. Jesus tried
to explain this to you, as have I.
Now John has said the same thing.
We must obey God. His
reasons are not for us to question or understand.”
As we returned to Samuel’s house, we met Jesus
walking the opposite way. I don’t
know why he waited so long to come up the path. Perhaps he had been hurt by my actions. He might even have been praying for me
all this time. When he was an
arm’s length from me, however, I raced toward him and buried my face in his
chest.
“Forgive me Jesus,” I sobbed.
“Don’t cry little brother,” he whispered, patting my
back, “there’s nothing to forgive.
God forgives our doubts.
It’s our deeds that He judges.
Your mind’s befuddled Jude, but your heart’s pure. Trust His judgment. He has big plans for you.”
Papa pulled me away from him, spun me around, and
looked deeply into my eyes. “Jude, you must stop blaming Jesus. He’s still a youth, barely older than
James, also struggling with God’s will.
Such matters as life and death are not your concern. You’re a child. Think like a child. Romp in the hills and explore the
mysteries of simple things.”
Suddenly, once and for all, it was driven into my
thick skull that Nehemiah’s death was not Jesus’ fault. I was behaving like a fool. It was the fault of his Aunt Deborah
who had starved and mistreated him for so long after he survived the
plague. God did not cause his
death, either. For reasons that
should have made sense to me He had taken my sick friend up to Paradise, where,
after a very long life, I will see him one day.
******
Papa, Jesus, and cousin John had brought me finally
to my senses. As I look back upon
the funeral, I realize it was another turning point in my life. I would endeavor to take Papa’s advice
and not trouble myself about God’s will.
Likewise, from that day forward, until my cousin John baptized him in
the Jordan River, Jesus settled into the mundane routine of apprentice
carpenter. With new orders coming
in and work piling up, there was much to do. Less frequently now, did Jesus gaze at the sky, talk
strangely to us or disappear into the hills. We didn’t notice an immediate change in him, of course. The night before the funeral he had given
us his most prophetic and soul-searching words. Jesus, our extraordinary brother, didn’t disappear, only
those moods which made him seem distant and apart from his family. Unlike my sudden transformation back
into a carefree child, the change for Jesus, other than his work habits, seemed
gradual. Though I couldn’t quite
define it, I noticed in the days following the funeral, a more lighthearted,
less introspective attitude in my oldest brother. At times he would stare into space as a visionary or look
longingly at Nazareth’s hills, until it passed as an ill wind. When he wasn’t working in the
carpenter’s shop, he helped mother in the garden, and sometimes joined Simon
and I in our explorations in the hills.
Jesus might not have joined in many children’s games, but he showed us
many interesting things, including new animals and plants, and continued to
protect me from James and Joseph’s wiles.
A prelude to Jesus’ return to normalcy was evident
in his words to John during our visit to our aunt: “The Lord wants me to obey
my parents and cease acting the fool.”
I know now that Jesus spoke out of modesty, for I never saw him act like
a fool. He was merely telling our
cousin to be an obedient son and enjoy his youth while there was still
time. In retrospect it seems as
though Jesus regretted his maturity over us—a process that began when he
brought that dead sparrow back to life.
I noticed, after I fled into the orchard, that John was older than his
years too. The way he talked and
looked at me reminded me very much of Jesus during our talks. In spite of being six months older than
Jesus, however, John still romped with us as a child in the hills. Unheeding Jesus’ advice it seemed, he
would stoop to making us bows and arrows from olive and fig branches, teaching
Simon and I to be excellent marksmen in hitting cleverly designed targets
placed in the trees. John, of
course, forbade us to shoot indiscriminately at small animals or birds and,
like Jesus, had deep reverence for all forms of life.
While we enjoyed John’s stay at our house, Jesus
would watch our actions with mirth and occasionally take his hand with the
bow. Though we practiced
thoroughly when our chores were done, Jesus, with no practice at all, proved to
be a better shot than John, Simon or I, which annoyed James and Joseph, who had
no aptitude for this game.
Jesus transformation, if that’s what it was, was
most noticeable after Mama and the twins returned, under Roman guard, with her
ailing aunt. Mama seemed happy now
that Jesus was “back down to earth” as Papa would say. Our clothes were washed by Mama and the
twins, and we began eating regular meals again, including many fine dinners at
Samuel’s house. Samuel had
insisted that Elizabeth stay in his large house and be treated by his
physician. Though it seemed that
Abner had enough on his hands, Micah had lost Mama’s trust. Abner, on the other hand, had kept
Samuel alive for nearly a year.
Micah’s bleeding of poor Elizabeth had only seemed to make her condition
worse. My parents agreed that her
physician lost confidence in her recovery, which explained the bleeding—an act
of desperation, and his pessimistic refrain “It’s in God’s hands.” It was obvious, Samuel told Papa, that
Elizabeth’s physician was unfit to treat her anymore.
This arrangement now burdened Abner with another
seriously ill patient and extended John’s visit for several months, which
suited Jesus, Simon and I just fine.
Elizabeth was in good hands.
Unlike James and Joseph, we welcomed our easy-going cousin into our
home. Papa began teaching John the
carpentry trade, which didn’t make James and Joseph very happy at all but
brought he and Jesus even closer together as friends. While James and Joseph in quiet, secret hostility, went off
on their own, John taught us all how to make sling shots, bows, and spears from
various kinds of wood, and Jesus explained God’s marvels to us as John, Simon
and I followed him, as his childhood disciples, through the Nazareth’s
hills. Finally, after several
weeks of routine and fellowship, Jesus transformation seemed complete. Recalling the words he spoke to John at
Aunt Elizabeth’s house in Sepphoris, I sometimes wondered, as I watched him
join in our childhood games, if his divinity would all turn out to be passing
phase.
******
When Elizabeth appeared to be out of danger, Abner
allowed her to walk the premises of Samuel’s estate. On occasion, the old Pharisee would join her and they would
stroll, arm-in-arm through the house, in the garden, and into the orchard. With his eyes twinkling with mirth,
Samuel related to us the great joy he found in her company—two old people
sharing their convalescence in the twilight of years of their life. Though Mama didn’t trust Micah, after
he bled her aunt, Elizabeth defended her old physician. Evidently he had tried everything to
save her. The bleeding he gave
her, which was meant to get rid of vile humors, was a common practice in Greece
and Rome. Perhaps, because of the
care given to her by Abner and the attention that Samuel also gave her, her
color was coming back (from ghastly white to jaundiced, Abner quipped), her
wheeze had grown faint, and she was able to walk several paces without
assistance. Samuel looked much
better than Elizabeth and he was eighty years old! Though John didn’t find Abner’s sarcasm funny, the
physician’s descriptions caused Simon and I to laugh foolishly amongst
ourselves. The real joke for all
of us was the fact that Elizabeth wanted to go home. Zechariah, her husband had died in their bed. As much as she loved her relatives and
was fond of the old Pharisee, it was time, while she still felt better, to go
home. This meant John must go home
too and Elizabeth would once again be under the care of Micah, her old physician.
Jesus and our parents tried to talk her out of
leaving before she was better.
John wasn’t sure this would ever happen, and Abner cautioned against
travel, but Elizabeth was firm in her decision. She wanted John to stay with us, but our cousin, playing the
part of the good son, insisted on watching over his mother, vowing to find
another physician in town. Samuel
was so upset by all this, he took to his bed, so that my parents had three
people to worry about: Samuel, Elizabeth, and her son. I would let my parents and Jesus worry
about Mama’s aunt and the Pharisee.
I was mostly concerned about poor John. Except for Joseph and probably James, we would all miss our
free-spirited, easy-going, fun-loving cousin.
Longinus provided Elizabeth and her son with better
security than what was provided for my family on our journey to Sepphoris. Citing her health as a factor, Papa was
able to talk the centurion into providing six guards instead of two. To my satisfaction, Priam and Falco
would stay with us, and guards were pulled from the garrison for the task. Papa and his friend Ezra would
accompany Elizabeth and John and make sure that the old woman would be properly
cared for when they reached her home.
The servants must make sure she follows Abner’s strict diet and takes
the special potion he made for her.
Whether or not this also meant Papa would, with John’s help, find
another physician or simply trust Micah one more time we would never know. When Papa and Ezra returned later that
week, not much was said about Elizabeth’s condition, except that she was alive
and Micah had sworn not to bleed her again. In muted voices, I chose not to overhear, he consoled Mama,
who wept silently over Elizabeth’s stubbornness. I felt sorry for Mama’s aunt, but mostly I felt sorry for
our cousin. When Samuel’s carriage
arrived in front of his estate and Elizabeth and John climbed aboard, even
Joseph wiped away a tear. Mama was
afraid she would never see her aunt alive again. John had been happy with our family and, though he gave us a
brave face, was heartbroken by this turn of events. We had all thought that Elizabeth might stay much longer
and, even if she returned home, John would stay with us until her health
returned or she died.
As we stood at the entrance of Samuel’s estate
watching the carriage depart, Jesus raised his hand to salute his cousin one
more time. Samuel was not well
enough to be present, but Mordechai, his chamberlain stood in his place,
alongside of Abner, who looked unwell, himself. I half believed that John and Jesus shared a deep secret
between them. As I conclude this
first volume, I think my brother and our cousin clearly understood each other’s
missions already, but that moment Jesus merely smiled. There were no telltale words as there
had been the last time they parted, such “I’ll see you at the river.” All that business about miracles and
Jesus connection to God was tucked away in our memories. For the time being, he was ours! In this hope we were united. We were the family of Joseph, carpenter
of Nazareth. That was enough for
now.
That night Mama served us a special dinner of lentil
stew and fowl with her own special spices. After a hasty Shema by Papa, we devoured the food set before
us with gusto, anxiously waiting for the candied dates Mamas promised for the
last course. While we waited for
this prize, there was a short prayer circle for the healing of Samuel and
Elizabeth. Papa had another mug of
wine. Jesus sat by the window
looking out at the night. With no
cares for the morrow, my brothers, sisters and I whiled away the hours before
bedtime tossing dice and listening to our parents discuss the events of the
day.
Tomorrow would come soon enough.
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