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Chapter
Thirty-One
Elizabeth
Dies and John Runs Away
The days that followed
Rhoda’s transformation brought my brothers and sisters back to the simple
realities of family, school, and Papa’s carpenter shop. This was quite fine with me. I was tired of all the excitement in
our house. It took us several
weeks after the house dried out to scrape away the “demon vomit” caked on the
floor and walls. After being
scrubbed clean and, in many places, sanded clean, we painted the interior of
the house and, as Samuel insisted, invited a Sadducee priest in to sanctify the
house. I will not bore my readers
with the details of the ritual, for I never liked Sadducee snobbery, and yet it
was a sign of Samuel’s love for my family that he, a Pharisee, who were
despised by the priesthood, brought in such a person to cleanse our home. What the priest could not cleanse from
our lives were my own actions—entering a pagan shrine, hoarding gold, and
consorting with a thief.
One day, as Boaz the blacksmith’s son paid us a
visit, I was reminded of my folly and its impact upon my family. The ungainly, oversized youth had
become a fearsome looking fellow after turning fourteen. Unlike most youths his age, he had
thick, unbroken eyebrows, and was already sprouting a beard. When he said outrageous things we had
to nod in agreement and just consider the source. Boaz could have been, if he had enough intelligence, the
most feared youth in Nazareth.
Fortunately for me, he acted, as usual, rather dull-witted, as I laughed
at his questions about the treasure I supposedly hid in the hills.
“Boaz,” I said, forcing out a series of chuckles,
“where did you get such a silly idea.”
“It’s not silly,” he snarled. “Everyone in town
knows about your gold.”
“That’s a lie,” Uriah screwed up his face.
If anyone else had said that, Boaz might have hit
him. Messing up the little fat
boy’s hair, he led us to the wall where he, Jethro and Obadiah had once spotted
me. I thought I would have another
one of my seizures as Abner called my episodes, but the prayers my family had
uttered over me that terrible day appeared to be working for me as I watched
Boaz hunt for that special spot in the wall. I knew that it was gone. What I didn’t understand was why he was so persistent. Was he just stupid or much smarter than
I once thought?
“It was here.
I was sure it was here!” He cried, kicking at the wall with a monstrous
foot.
“Stop it!” Uriah shouted. “This wall is very
old. You have no right doing
that!”
“It’s
just an old wall,” Boaz sneered. “I know there’s gold here somewhere.”
“Uriah’s right,” I tried to reason with him, “like
the town well, these stones were here long before Nazareth was built. My parents will be very mad at
you. You don’t want Priam and
Falco to catch you tormenting us again.
Come to the house Boaz for some punch and one of Mama’s rolls. There’s no gold. Adam was just teasing us. Please stop kicking our wall!”
I could care less about the wall, which was here
when my parents moved in but looked nothing like the finely carved stone shrine
hidden in the hills. My only
concern now was convincing this dunderhead—this time truthfully—that there was
no gold on our property or in the hills.
Boaz, however, continued to argue with me as we approached the house.
“That
Adam fellow gave us a treasure to find and you took it all!” He was complaining
when Jesus appeared suddenly in the yard.
Jesus appeared out of nowhere often, which seemed to
support his divinity in later years.
Now, as he approached the unwanted visitor there was anger in his
eyes. Boaz’s fearsome appearance
didn’t frighten him at all. We all
knew that Jesus had the power to overcome anyone who threatened us. He was very strong and had God on his
side. This time, though, he merely
pointed to the path leading around our house and out of the yard and said,
“Go!”
Simon arrived on the scene, drawn by the
commotion. Turning his attention
to us, as Boaz slinked away, the angry lines on Jesus’ face softened. There was a reason why he left the shop
to talk to us in the yard.
Something was wrong. For a
brief moment sorrow darkened his face.
Tears gathered in his blue eyes.
“I’m sorry Simon, Jude, and Uriah,” his said, his
outstretched arms encompassing us all. “Justin, the courier, arrived with news
from Sepphoris….Aunt Elizabeth is dead.”
“When?” was my first response.
“Last week, shortly after John returned home.” Jesus
heaved a sigh.
“Aunt Elizabeth dead? Of what? I
thought she was doing better,” Simon muttered to himself. “I thought you were going to tell us
Samuel was dead. He must be a
hundred years old.”
“It’s a shame,” Uriah replied reverently. “I heard
she was a great woman.”
“Yes, yes, I wish you could have known her.” Jesus
gave Uriah a pat.
Halting at the closed door, he said in a
conspiratorial voice, “But that’s not the most serious problem. Aunt Elizabeth, a righteous woman,
walks with the angels. It’s cousin
John who fills me with concern.”
“What?
Is he dead too?” Uriah gave Jesus a stupid look.
“No, he ran away,” he explained, reaching for the
handle. “Her physician, who’s now retired, will watch her house for
awhile. He’s supposed to look
after her wealth until John comes of age, but our cousin told Micah he was
going to live with the Essenes now that his mother’s found her reward.”
Simon whistled under his breath. Uriah had a blank expression as we
entered the house. Mama, Papa, and
the girls were sitting at the table, but James and Joseph were nowhere in
sight. I was still not used to
having Rhoda in our family. Though
surrounded by Tabitha and the twins, she sat there with her hands folded on the
table, as they whispered back and forth, staring mutely into space. Simon waved his hand in front of her
face, as he took his seat, and snapped his fingers as if to say “Wake up!” Justin, our old courier, stood in the
large room, with a mug of wine or fruit juice in one dirty hand, a piece of
bread clutched in the other dirty hand.
A special stool at the head of the table had been placed there for the
courier, as if he had the seat of honor.
“Justin is a convert to our faith,” Papa announced,
raising his mug. “He joined up in Jerusalem after the last Passover. Isn’t that wonderful?”
We knew that this wasn’t the announcement Mama had
in mind. A bittersweet mood filled
our house, as our family, Justin included, gathered around the table. For a few moments, as Papa got up irritably,
and charged out the front door, Mama reached over and shook Rhoda’s wrist.
“Rhoda? Rhoda!” She called under
breath. James and Joseph, who
resented the road weary courier’s presence very much, had to be ordered into
the house by Papa. Waiting for
Mama’s news as the malcontents were rounded up and ushered into the room,
Simon, Uriah, Tabitha, the twins, and I began to fidget. Serving as a distraction to the main
issue, Rhoda reminded us very much of Michael when he awakened from the dark
sleep.
“What’s an Essene?” asked Tabitha, glancing uneasily
at Rhoda. “Why would John want to give up all that wealth?”
“The courier will explain everything,” Jesus made a
shushing motion. “Let’s let him speak.”
Tabitha’s thoughts had mirrored mine. John, I was convinced, had never been
right in the head. He had
obviously been planning to run away for a long time. Uriah had found a scrap of bread and was chewing on it, James
and Joseph sat sullenly on nearby stools, and Simon was falling asleep, when,
at Papa’s signal, Justin began to speak.
“I was making my deliveries—your aunt was my next
stop, when a young man, who introduced himself as John bar Zechariah, hailed me
from the road. These are his
words,” the courier cleared his throat, standing to recite the letter John gave
him: “My mother has gone to her reward.
Because of our strict laws, the necessity to send a message by courier,
and the time it will take for you to make arrangements and travel to our town,
Mama was interred in a garden tomb in accordance with our laws. A town rabbi and several neighbors
attended Micah and I at her funeral.
By the time you, Justin, arrived on your rounds, she had been buried for
several days. I wish I could have
fetched you in time, but it all happened suddenly. When I awakened that day, I
found her body cold. She must have
died early in the morning following my return home, so I immediately awakened
Micah, who had spent a long night trying to save her life. There’s nothing left for me here in
Sepphoris. If I stay on, I will
become an extra burden to Aunt Mary, whose house is already bursting at the
seams. I leave all my earthly
belongings to my relatives in Nazareth and mother’s physician, at their mutual
discretion. Micah has his own
estate and riches and will probably not want anything for himself. Please don’t worry about me. I’ve gone to live with the Essenes in
order to learn God’s will. I write
this letter to inform you of my mother’s passing and my own well being but also
to request that you take care of my estate. Micah is quite ill.
I fear that the shadow of death is also in his eyes.”
“Humph…you have an excellent voice Justin.” Papa
pursed his lips. “I didn’t know you could read so well.”
“Until my wife passed away, I had worked as a
scribe,” the courier confessed, taking a long sip from his cup.
“This is outrageous—that’s what it is!” Mama cried.
“That ungrateful, willful child.
His mother dead in her grave for less than a week, and he’s off in this
wild adventure into the unknown!”
Simon’s eyes popped wide, and he rubbed his
eyes. While the remainder of us
were startled by this outburst, Rhoda didn’t so much as blink.
“I’m sorry,” Justin muttered softly, glancing at the
girl. “This is all very strange.
Your family’s really grown.”
“Why didn’t someone tell us sooner?” Mama pressed forward on the bench.
“You’re not the only courier delivering mail to Sepphoris. What about a legionary messenger? We’ve had messages delivered that way
before.”
“I dunno,” Justin sighed wearily. “Because of their
superstition about your oldest son, you folks have a high status with the
cohort’s prefect and the centurion in charge of this town. But this time, in the mind of the
magistrates and the Roman garrison, it was just one more old woman passing
away. I wish I had arrived sooner,
but there was no way I could’ve known. There just wasn’t enough time. As I was climbing on my horse, a rabbi
dropped by to talk to Micah and told me that Elizabeth’s small funeral had been
special and memorable. She was
well loved by her relatives and friends.”
“That’s an important detail John left out,” Papa
said with a frown.
“John was in a hurry,” explained Justin. “He was
afraid someone like the rabbi would stop him because he’s not legally an
adult. By the time the rabbi
showed up, John was long gone.”
“I should’ve been there,” Mama broke down in tears.
“Why didn’t Elizabeth send me word when her health began to fail.”
“Now wait a minute Mary,” Papa reasoned with her,
“your aunt’s health has been failing for years. It was just a matter of time. We’ll pay our respects—get her affairs in order, visit her
tomb, but there’s nothing we can do about John.”
“Where do the Essenes live?” Uriah wrinkled his
nose.
“Who cares?” snarled James. “John’s addled in the
head.”
“What’s an Essene?” Tabitha looked dumbly into
space.
At this point, Jesus gave us a brief description of
who these peculiar people were. I
agreed with James, especially after Jesus’ explanation. Normally, Jesus was rather long winded
in giving out information, but I could tell by his tone that he was disgusted
with our cousin this time.
According to him, whose knowledge knew no end, “The Essenes are a group
of Jewish men who, because they’re unhappy with the corruption of our religion,
retreated to the desert. They believe,
like many Galileans, that our souls are immortal and, if we live good, faithful
lives, we’ll enter paradise to be with Abraham and all righteous Jews. They live abstinent lives, refraining
from marriage, worldly possessions, and wine. They see the world as a battleground against the forces of
darkness and themselves as the force of good. They believe that they’re the final generation. That’s why they’ve retreated to the
desert to await the end of the world.”
“Sounds
like something John might do,” snickered Joseph.
“How
very grim.” Mama shuddered. “John has always been such carefree boy. Why would he join that bunch? What can they teach him that he can’t
learn in his own house and town?
Why that godforsaken place?”
“John seeks knowledge,” Jesus said
thoughtfully, “and religious truth.
I heard of these hermits.
The Essenes aren’t the first.
They try to separate themselves from the sins of the world—a brave,
admirable venture, but unnecessary.
You can’t escape the world’s temptations by physically fleeing from
them. That comes with prayer. Sin follows the soul, tempting it no
matter where it flies. I learned
many important things during my trip with Joseph of Arimathea. Prayer shielded me against temptation
and sin. You can learn from the
world yet not be a part of it. You
can’t escape it. I’m disappointed
John doesn’t understand this.”
“The desert’s
no place for knowledge.” Joseph shook his head. “There’s nothing there but
sand, scorpions, and snakes.”
“It’s just plain nonsense,” grumbled James. “John’s
insane. He’ll regret doing such a
foolish thing.”
“He’s misguided perhaps,” Jesus said with a sigh,
“but not insane. You’re right
about one thing, James: he’ll regret running away. One day, when he returns to serve the Lord, he’ll understand
his foolishness. I’ve talked
with him about his views. It’s
hard for him to deal with temptation.
That he believes that the world is ending soon or that the Essenes are
the chosen few I find hard to believe.”
Mama
reached across the table to grip Jesus hand. “So, you think he’ll come to his senses?”
“Yes, I do,” Jesus nodded with conviction. “To
change the world, you must go into the world. I learned that.
John will too.”
It was, now that I reflect upon it, one more
defining moment for the oldest brother.
When I thought about the implications of what we I had heard this hour,
all I could think of was that my family would probably become very wealthy if
John didn’t collect his mother’s loot….How naïve I was in my thirteenth year.
“When do we leave for Sepphoris?” I asked, jumping
up and down in my seat.
“Yes,” James caught my enthusiasm, “John wants us to
handle Elizabeth’s estate.”
“Humph,” Papa pursed his lips, “you boys are under
the delusion that your aunt’s still rich.”
“She is, isn’t she?” Joseph’s mouth dropped.
“Shall we tell them?” Mama looked sadly at Papa.
“All things considered, there’s no reason why the children should go.”
“I want to go!
I want to go!” I rocked back and forth on the bench.
“Me too.” James slammed the table. “That greedy
rabbi and physician will strip her house bare.”
“You don’t know that.” Papa laughed tolerantly. “Not
all physicians are greedy and not all rabbis are bad. Look at your teacher Aaron and Samuel’s doctor, Abner. Our aunt was a generous woman. She’s given much of Zechariah’s fortune
away.”
My heart sank in my chest. “So she’s not rich. She squandered John’s legacy away?”
“John’s not like you,” replied Jesus, studying my
face, “money doesn’t interest him.
Worldly goods can entrap us and rob us of what’s important: love, honor,
and respect. I hope someday you’ll
feel the same way as John. In this
way, I pray that my brothers will think like our cousin…I certainly do.”
“Bah!” Joseph made a face. “There’s nothing wrong
with being rich. Look at your
friend Joseph of Arimathea. Look
at Samuel and Papa, who’s trying to build up his fortune in town.”
“He’s got a
point there, Jesus,” Papa reflected, sipping from his cup. “Those two good men
are wealthy. I’m trying to build
up my clientele.”
Jesus now gave us an important parable. Before his mission began, he gave us
many parables not recorded by his disciples. In the years hidden from the world, I documented most of
Jesus’ important words. This
parable, which he told his disciples, stunned all of us, especially Papa and
me—Papa for his humble ambition, me for my greed.
“Listen my family,” his voice rose progressively,
“it’s not having wealth. It’s how
it’s used. It’s very hard for rich
men to go to heaven. Consider a
rich man, like Joseph of Arimathea, clothed in fine clothes, who eats well and
has a vast fortune. In front of
the rich man’s mansion a poor man, we shall call Lazarus, full of sores, lay
dying. All the poor man wanted was
a little food, but somehow the rich man, always busy, overlooked the man. The poor fellow died and was carried by
the angels to Abraham in heaven.
Later the rich man also died but found himself in Satan’s domain, Gahenna,
in torment for his sins, chief of which was greed. He lifted his eyes to Abraham and asked him to have mercy
upon him. If only Lazarus could
dip the end of his finger in water to cool his parched tongue. But Abraham replied ‘In your lifetime
you received many good things while Lazarus had misfortune. Now it’s he that is comforted, while
you are in anguish. You had your
chance. You placed wealth above
charity. Lazarus’ faith was far
greater than yours.’ The rich man then begged Abraham to send Lazarus to his
five brothers to warn them to avoid his mistakes least they one day suffer like
him. Yet Abraham refused. The rich man’s brothers have heard
about Moses and the prophets.
‘Please, father Abraham,’ replied the rich man, ‘if Lazarus could rise
from the dead and go to them, they would believe and repent. How easy that would be for the Lord
God.’ Once again, however, Abraham
refused, saying ‘if they didn’t believe Moses and the prophets, they will not
be convinced even if someone rose from the dead.’”
My friend Luke recorded these words in his work
almost exactly as I heard my brother say them both times: once, as an eighteen
year old, in our kitchen, and once to his disciples in the parable of the Rich
Man and Lazarus. It was, now that
I reflect upon it, more than just a warning to his young brothers about worldly
greed; it was a prediction of how the Jews, with all their understanding of the
law and words of the prophets, would reject him even when he rose from the
dead. I’m still confounded, as I
sit in my dark cell, by the disparity between my Gentile converts and the paltry
number of Jews brought into the Way….But once again I digress. As my Greek friends would say, my
brother had opened a Pandora’s box.
“Jesus,” Papa leaned forward, greatly troubled, “are
you including me?”
“No, of course not,” he answered softly. “What came
into my head had a double meaning.
I’m not sure which is more important: the rich man’s greed or Abraham’s
words.”
“It sounded like nonsense to me,” Joseph grumbled.
“No one rises from the dead.”
Mama had a troubled look on her face. “Are you
saying that God said this to you?”
“Yes,” Jesus nodded slowly, “it just came into my
head.”
“Really?” Uriah lighted up. “Like prophesy?”
“No, I don’t think so.” Jesus shook his head.
“Revelation then,” I offered, inclining my head.
“I’m not sure what I’d call it,” Jesus squirmed,
“maybe just illumination, but I felt the Lord’s presence in my mind.”
“I’ve never felt that, have you ever felt that?”
Joseph looked over at James.
For a moment I thought Joseph might be mocking Jesus
until I noted the expression on his face…Envy.
“Once.” James gazed at Jesus, as something stirred
in his mind. “I felt Him…. That day you made the bandits go away. I knew you were special. I felt God’s presence too.”
For the first time I can remember, James and Joseph
didn’t mock Jesus’ divinity, a subject our family would normally avoid. Pandora’s box had opened again. Jesus was greatly moved by James’s
words. I recall, with bittersweet
memories, that James would be stoned to death, as had Stephen our first martyr,
for his loyalty to the Christ, but right now this confession was between two
brothers: one whom we suspected was divine and one who was mortal, like me.
******
I almost asked Jesus to use his powers to cure me of
the falling sickness, but it was not the right time. Elizabeth was dead.
Our cousin John had ran away.
Rhoda, who had shown no emotion whatsoever this hour, appeared to be
addled in the head. In digressing
from the subject of our aunt’s demise, Jesus had once again shown us a glimpse
of his divinity. Upon reflection,
it almost seems that Jesus was rehearsing that day. When he gave us the parable of Lazarus and the rich man, he
was merely practicing, as he so often did, for his mission on earth. Not one person among my family and our
friends had the foggiest notion of who this youth was, and yet we knew that he
was special. Even James had fully
accepted this fact. Though he
would never admit I was special as Jesus believed, Joseph’s eyes betrayed the
emotion he felt about the oldest son….If James, someone who was Joseph’s
kindred spirit, now accepted Jesus as touched by the Lord, then it must be
true!
“I-I want to feel His presence, Jesus,” Joseph said
in a constricted voice. “Teach me to know God like you. It’s all I ever wanted. I’ve never felt him in my head.”
“Come to think of it,” Simon muttered, “neither have
I.”
Breaking the spell, after Jesus stood up and walked
around to embrace his estranged brother, was Mama’s insistence that we have a
circle of prayer before supper. It
was the first time I could recall that our family prayed for someone dead. After a chat with God in which Jesus
extolled Elizabeth’s many virtues to God and a short prayer that Rhoda would
again speak, our circle quickly broke up.
My brothers and sisters (Uriah included) reconvened in the garden to
ponder the strange things Jesus said.
He almost talked to the Lord as an equal, James said without
malice. Jesus had disappeared, as
he so frequently did, to reappear just before dinnertime, a washed out look on
his face.
“Jesus prays too much,” Simon declared as we filed
in for supper. “I think it’s draining his brain.”
Though we chuckled at Jesus’ expense, we knew that
Simon was serious. Lately, that
dreamy look was returning to Jesus’ eyes.
It was decided at supper that not all of us would
travel to Sepphoris to pay our respects at Aunt Elizabeth’s tomb. James, Joseph, Simon, and I volunteered
to stay home and mind the shop. To
my disgust both Tabitha and Uriah begged our parents to go. Jesus dismissed this foolishness in a
kindly manner, suggesting that our parents go alone and let him watch over the
household while they were gone.
Our parents could take care of Elizabeth’s affairs with her rabbi’s
assistance. There was no need,
during this busy time, to disrupt the carpentry schedule even though Papa would
be away. It struck me as a
milestone that Jesus was entrusted with Papa’s business, as well as Mama’s
household, at such a busy time. He
would, we all understood, not only have to make sure several orders were
finished, but would have to delegate authority to all of us. Not only would we have to get our
separate assignments completed, but the girls would have to cook our meals and
complete their chores. With both
parents away, Jesus was totally in charge.
In
the past this might have caused resentment among our family, but there was a
mood of cooperation this time.
Elizabeth was dead, and John had ran away. Once again we were burdened with an unpredictable
child. Added to these events, I
think, were Jesus strange words on the day the courier visited our house. I wanted to believe that the prayer
circle had helped cure me of the falling sickness, but the threat of suffering
another seizure followed me like a dark cloud. After our parents departed with their Roman escort, we fell
into a hectic regimen. Along with
our chores was the daily drudgery of going to and from school. Jethro, Obadiah and Boaz continued to
dog our trail. Jesus offered his
protection whenever he could, but he was very busy in the shop, so we relied
upon James, Joseph, and their friends to help us present a united front. Because of their admiration of Jesus,
both Isaac and Jeroboam grew gradually closer to my brothers and I until they
became, in effect, Simon, Uriah, and my friends too. The ban from entering our house was removed from them, but
Jesus forbade Jethro, Obadiah and Boaz from visiting our home.
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