From the Shores of Eden

by Shelley Penner

  “Yeshua! Stop this!” The sharp rebuke in Boethus’s voice made the young man pause. “What gives you the authority to undo what your superiors have allowed?”

  Yeshua glared at him, breathing hard with anger. He had always seemed such a mild, compliant student that now his defiant attitude shocked and dismayed the priests. The noise brought a crowd to the doorway to watch, including Jonas and his sons.

  “I am the Son of God!” Yeshua thundered. “God speaks through me, and He is not pleased! You defile the temple with this common trade! Is it not written, My house shall be a house of prayer? But you have made it a den of thieves! You exploit the poor and sell fillets of God like fishmongers in a marketplace. God’s Truth is a gift to all mankind! It is a Holy Spirit running through the heart of all things, binding us all together like beads of dew on a spider web. It cannot and should not ever be bought, sold or bartered.”

  The priests stood silent, their expressions ranging from guilty shame to angry resentment.

  Yeshua’s voice became quieter, but no less accusatory. “A good woman died recently, a kind and gentle woman whom I loved like a second mother. When her grieving husband came to you for comfort, wanting to make a sacrifice of doves to guide her spirit, you turned him away. Not enough money. So now God is only for the rich? Well, I think when the time comes for you to face our Heavenly Father’s judgement you will discover just how He feels about that.”

  “We have to pay trappers to catch the doves,” one of the priests said defensively. “If we give them away, where is the sacrifice? The price petitioners pay is their sacrifice.”

  “Such a sacrifice should remain proportional to an individual’s ability to pay. A family should not have to go hungry or homeless in order to honor a loved one.”

  One of the priests sneered, “The Unclean breed like rats. We can’t afford to give all of them special treatment.”

  Yeshua’s eyes flashed and once more his voice rolled like thunder. “God made this world and all that is in it and nothing that comes from God can make you unclean. What makes you unclean before God comes from within you, the thoughts and actions that hurt other people, the petty jealousy, greed, pride, hatred and dishonesty, cruelty and neglect.

  “The common people are of the earth, God’s children just like you. They represent the nurturing of the Mother, feeding the hungry. But you, who call yourselves the Poor, are not suckling children, nor do you truly understand what it means to be poor or to have to work for your bread. The common people work hard, help each other when they can and save their coin, only to have it eaten up by taxes — a share to Rome and then another share to the temple. But Rome at least gives them good roads, aqueducts and public baths. You give them nothing, not even hope.

  “They live in fear, die in fear, spend their entire lives in fear of sinning. You show them a harsh, unforgiving God who sends calamity and disaster as punishment for transgressions. From the innocence of birth, you weigh them down with the stain of ‘original sin’. But calamity and disaster can happen even to the best of people, while the wicked often go unmarked. The rich pay for exemption while the poor suffer the scourge for all our sins.

  “In truth, those you call Unclean live closer to God’s heart than you who claim to speak for Him. Their industry, honesty and compassion for one another exemplify a righteous path. You, on the other hand, have become parasites sucking them dry. The common people remain humble before God’s will, while you would force your own desires on the world through war. A war in which you would sacrifice the humble in order to advance your own interests. Your treasury and the army for which it pays have become your golden calf and you cannot even see it!”

  * * *

  In his mother’s home, Yeshua sat quietly in meditation. He felt depressed after his outburst at the temple. Such aggressive behavior went against his nature, but the combination of grief, anger over the callous treatment Jonas had suffered and shock at what they had done to the temple combined to overcome him with righteous outrage.

  He heard voices in the outer chamber, then his brother James entered, looking grim and angry. At this time, with Boethus and the Pharisees in power, James was considered the legitimate heir and he took his position as the son of the David seriously. Though he had only recently passed his adult initiation, he had already participated in two raids with the zealots and indicated his intention to follow his father into the nationalist party.

  James paced back and forth, scowling at Yeshua. At last, he snarled, “Do you have any idea what you have done? Boethus is a powerful and dangerous man and you have made him your enemy.”

  “I could not let pass his defiling of the temple. How could you condone such behavior?”

  “It is not my place to either condone or censure what the priests choose to do. Neither is it yours.”

  “What then do you see as ‘my place’? Is it not every man’s place to defend what is holy?”

  “We are princes of the royal family. It is our duty to defend the kingdom, to restore the throne of David and free Jerusalem. By rebuking the priests, you have declared yourself opposed to that restoration and therefore not the future Hand.”

  “The Pharisees name me illegitimate anyway. The Man of a Lie they call me. They accept you, James, as the true heir. If you wish to become the Hand of God, you have my blessing. I prefer to remain His Voice.”

  James looked puzzled. “How can you be the Voice of God? Ananas is the Voice. You’re just an angel, and a renegade angel at that, who marries a common whore and preaches contrary doctrines to peasants and beggars. Even to Romans.”

  “I will not have you throwing such stones at my wife, James,” Yeshua replied, his voice tight with anger, “especially when you would tolerate the prostitution of our faith, selling God on street corners for a few coins.”

  His brother’s lip curled and James answered, “And are you not just as guilty of that sin? Your preaching has brought us more converts lately than any other mission.”

  “I share the Word of God freely. What people choose to donate, I use to feed the hungry. Your Pharisees are the ones charging Gentiles for baptism, choosing to accept only those rich enough to pay. Well, I say no man can buy his way into Heaven. The rich man who passes a starving beggar and does not feed him has no place in God’s Kingdom. But God will glorify the poverty-stricken widow who donates her last coin to help someone even less fortunate. The pagan Roman who defends a slave will win God’s approval quicker than the devout but hard-hearted believer. We are all God’s children. God made and loves us all. And anyone who hears God’s words in their heart can become God’s Voice to share His Word. God’s Word is love — for one another, for all Creation, even for our enemies.”

  “That’s ridiculous! Love makes you weak. If you love your enemies, they will trample you into dust!”

  Yeshua sighed and shook his head. “I have no wish to argue with you, brother. We can never reach the Truth through conflict. And the truth is, James, we are both fighting to free our people — you to free their bodies, I to free their souls.”

  * * *

  Yeshua walked down to the shore, feeling miserable after arguing with his brother. The sight of Peter, Andrew, John and James of Zebadee out in the water casting their nets felt soothing, like coming home. As he watched them, he recognized for the first time what kept drawing him back to them. It was more than just their friendship, it was the fact that they simply accepted him without judgement, without deference, without the pressures and expectations the aristocracy and his own family placed on him. He sat in the sand to watch and think, and when they waded ashore with their final catch of the day, he rose to greet them.

  “My friends,” he said, “many years ago, you taught me to catch fish and with that kindness you changed my life. Your friendship, more than anything else, has shaped my understanding of God’s love. Come with me now and do the same for others. I will teach you to be fishers of men.”

  * * *

/>   In the four years since Bartholomew left the temple, he had travelled thousands of miles and visited many cities of Israel. At planting and harvest times, he worked as a laborer, growing lean and muscular, his hands callused. Though many employers liked his honest industry, he never stayed more than a season before drifting on, continuing the search for Myra. When work became scarce, he just travelled, carrying little more than a bedroll and a weighted fishing net.

  At present he had taken temporary work for a farmer near the town of Pella. The farmer, Jacob ben Ephraim, had recently bought a new plot of land that needed breaking. Bartholomew looked at that beautiful field, lush with wildflowers and herbs. With resignation, he set the plow and urged the ox forward, plunging the blade deep into the earth, forcing it into a straight line as it ripped open the soil and laid it bare.

  The sound of voices distracted him, and Bartholomew stopped the ox to watch as four groups of people strolled past on the road that had seen almost no traffic in the two weeks while he worked for Jacob. He noticed several more groups passing as he continued the plowing. When he finished the final rows, he gazed over the tilled field with all its natural beauty buried beneath the weight of broken soil. By the time he’d finished taking care of the ox and cleaning the plow, he still found a few scattered people walking the road, all in the same direction.

  He strolled over and leaned on the stone wall. When a pair of middle-aged women walked by, he called out, “Where is everyone going?”

  “The Master Jesus is speaking tonight. His words feel so inspiring. Even some of the Romans come to hear him. Sometimes he even heals people miraculously.”

  Intrigued, Bartholomew swung his legs over the wall and crossed to the road. “May I walk with you? I would like to listen to this man too. He sounds remarkable.”

  “We welcome your escort, young man.”

  As they walked, Bartholomew asked the women, “What do you know of this Jesus? I’ve not heard of him.”

  The one woman sighed, and her lined, care-worn face looked radiantly worshipful. “We heard him speak at Cana during the last Passover. His words filled my heart with such peace! Our nephew trained at the village synagogue and had recently passed his initiation as a lay priest. He invited my sister and myself to hear Jesus and join him for the Passover supper. Jesus and the Levites sat above us, looking down from the second floor. They broke bread first, eating of the Purity, the sacred bread and wine that they said represents a wedding between God and man. Ordinary people like us may not share in this holy meal and even the lay priests like our nephew are only permitted bread and water. But Jesus said this commitment to God should not be reserved only for the Levites, but should be accessible to all God’s servants, and he ordered the water served to the lay priests exchanged for wine, allowing them to take full communion. Our nephew felt so blessed and transformed. He now follows Jesus as one of his acolytes and my sister and I will never miss a chance to hear the words of the Master.”

  Bartholomew considered his experience at the temple and what he knew about the stern attitudes of most priests. He doubted they appreciated the unprecedented actions of Jesus that went against all tradition.

  They reached a meadow that formed a natural amphitheater surrounded by trees and low hills. A multitude of people had gathered in the hollow, waiting for Jesus to appear. Children scampered and played wherever they could find room. The ladies Bartholomew escorted found some friends and began chatting away with them, so he left them and found a quiet spot in the shade of the trees where he could watch and remain unobtrusive.

  At last, Jesus arrived, accompanied by five of his disciples. With a start of surprise, Bartholomew recognized Yeshua. He reassessed what the women had told him in the light of knowing the Master’s true identity. Illegitimate or not, as the son of the David, Jesus wielded power that went far beyond that of any ordinary priest, even a Levite. The crowd hushed as soon as they saw Jesus, but the children ran forward with glad cries to greet him enthusiastically. Two of the disciples blocked their way, acting as a buffer to keep the Master from being overwhelmed by crowds of people. But Jesus crouched down and said, “Let the little children come to me. The Kingdom of Heaven belongs to such as these.”

  The children crowded around him, and he spoke with them quietly for several minutes while everyone waited. He touched each on the head lightly, blessing them. Then they went back to sit with their parents, quietly attentive as Jesus mounted a small rise where everyone could see him. He smiled and Bartholomew’s heart warmed in response. He felt convinced that Yeshua had saved his life that day at the temple. The quest that began with a young man’s friendly advice remained ongoing and difficult, but it gave Bartholomew purpose and hope. Through the trials he had undergone, he learned to become self-sufficient and industrious. But he still craved his father’s forgiveness, and especially his mother’s.

  “Bless you all for coming,” Jesus began. He smiled down at the innocence of the little ones and said, “We all need to become like children, who explore the world with wonder, awe and respect. They, so freshly come from God, understand that Creation remains a gift we need to cherish, not exploit. As they accept their parents’ will, so must we accept God’s will. Learn to embrace the joys, endure the sorrows and afflictions and let that experience strengthen your spirits. As the bow arm grows stronger for every pull, so the spirit grows stronger for every difficulty overcome.”

  The sun sank lower and disappeared behind the distant mountains while Jesus continued to offer words of wisdom and kindness. At times Bartholomew felt as if those words spoke directly to his own heart. Later that night, as he lay in the fragrant hay in the stable, he found he couldn’t sleep; he felt so energized and inspired by what he had heard. He rose in the morning determined to approach Jesus and make himself known, to express his deep appreciation for the kindness shown to him those long years ago at the temple. He said goodbye to the farmer, Jacob, and made his way back to the little valley. He found it empty, so he went to the nearby village and inquired. An elderly shopkeeper told him Jesus and the disciples left at sunrise, heading toward Jerusalem.

  Bartholomew set off to follow. His quest had not yet taken him to the holy city, so he resolved that, even if he didn’t catch up with Yeshua, he at least could carry his search for Myra that much farther.

  * * *

  Joseph, the David, who had remained ill for several years, finally passed away, just a year after the birth of his first grandchild, a boy born in the proper season to Mary Magdalene and Yeshua. With the peace faction once more in power, Yeshua became the new David, the King of the Jews. After over two years of his teachings among the common people and acts that many of the priesthood considered outrageous, even Ananas, who had always supported Yeshua’s claim to the throne, began to look on him with disapproval. But the kingship was a hereditary position, which meant the choices remained either Yeshua, who had begun to erode the control the church exerted over the masses, or James, who would quite likely embroil the country in a full-scale rebellion against Rome.

  Yeshua returned to Qumran for the ceremony that anointed him king. Then, despite his new position and against the wishes of the hierarchy, Yeshua continued his mission, ministering to the common people. His position as the David meant few had the authority to overrule his decisions, however they might disapprove. But he had made enemies at the temple, where the primary ambition remained the restoration to power of the Jewish aristocracy. The two factions of the hierarchy came together in cooperative accord for the first time in decades, secretly agreeing to work together to try to minimize his influence, or to eliminate him if necessary. But his growing popularity amongst the people meant they needed to remain secretive. To keep an eye on his activities, they enlisted the aid of an ambitious man who had already insinuated himself into Yeshua’s inner circle, the disciple Judas Iscariot.

  A little over a year later, Rome replaced the tetrarch, the Roman governor over Israel. The new tetrarch ordered stri
ct and onerous sanctions against anyone suspected of rebel activities. This catapulted the Pharisees once more into power amongst the Jewish elite. With Yeshua already anointed and established as the new David, the zealots felt a pretender had taken the highest position, not only because they considered him illegitimate, but also because his teachings remained in direct opposition to their strict eastern doctrines. They plotted his death and awaited their chance, hoping to replace him with James.

  * * *

  When Bartholomew couldn’t locate Jesus in Jerusalem, he found work in one of the bathhouses, helping to keep it clean, laundering towels and refilling soap receptacles. The Roman overseer kindly allowed him to sleep on a bench in the dressing room. It seemed the ideal place to spend the colder months of autumn and winter. Whenever he had free time, Bartholomew spent it searching, questioning everyone he met, asking whether they knew anything about a beautiful slave woman named Myra. By spring he had failed to find any new information.

  Then one day he overheard a buzz of talk amongst the patrons of the bathhouse — Jesus had come to Jerusalem and planned to preach that evening. As soon as he completed his duties for the day, Bartholomew made his way to the location mentioned. Already a crowd assembled, wanting to seat themselves as close as possible. Bartholomew once again found a discrete spot at a distance in the shade of the olive trees. He would not approach Jesus until after the sermon, if at all. He wondered if Yeshua would still remember him after almost five years. He had changed both physically and emotionally. Physical labor and times of deprivation had filled him out and fined him down, so he now looked lean and hard, a mature man rather than an indulged teenage boy. The expression in his eyes had changed too. He had learned humility but also self-confidence. He had learned respect for people who worked hard to earn their bread and compassion for the maimed and afflicted who needed to beg for scraps. He came to realize that, despite a privileged birth, he remained no better than the worst of them and no worse than the best, and at any time circumstances could arise that would place him amongst those who must depend on the charity of others.