Another Pharisee scoffed. “Where is your Father?”
“You know neither me nor my Father. If you had known me, you would have known the Father also.”
Mary turned to Lazarus. “They heckle him. Will they try to arrest him?”
He shook his head. “They are just testing him. I don’t think they will do anything with all the people present.”
After another session of words with the Pharisees, Jesus shook his head. “I am going away, and you will seek me, and will die in your sin. Where I go you cannot come.”
The leaders standing near Martha murmured to themselves. “Will he kill himself, because he says, ‘Where I go you cannot come’?”
Jesus answered their thoughts. “You are from beneath, I am from above. You are of this world; I am not of this world. Therefore I said to you that you will die in your sins; for if you do not believe that I am he, you will die in your sins.”
“Who are you?” someone in the crowd called out.
“Just what I have been saying to you from the beginning. I have many things to say and to judge concerning you, but he who sent me is true, and I speak to the world those things which I heard from him.”
People were shaking their heads. Martha listened along with her brother and sister and tried to understand what he was saying.
Jesus spoke again. “When you lift up the Son of Man, then you will know that I am he and that I do nothing of myself; but as my Father taught me, I speak these things. And he who sent me is with me. The Father has not left me alone, for I always do those things that please him.”
Thinking of all the miracles he’d done, and listening to him, not only in their home but here, Martha affirmed to herself, He is the Messiah. The One we have waited for all these many years.
As another of the religious leaders began to question Jesus, he leaned over to Thomas and whispered something. Thomas smiled, nodded, and slipped through the crowd to where Martha, Mary, and Lazarus stood.
Thomas reached Mary’s side. “The Master requests me to tell you he wishes to come to your house tonight.”
The two young people stood for a moment looking at each other before Mary found her voice. “Thank you, Thomas, we will be glad to have him . . . and all of you too.”
Thomas reluctantly left Mary’s side to return to be near Jesus. The disciples were grouped around, not enough to keep him from the people, but to observe the crowd with watchful eyes, ever protective of their Master.
Martha and her family needed to return home, for there was work to be done. She was already planning the meal in her head. At Lazarus’s signal, the three slipped through the crowd and were soon out of the city on the road to Bethany.
The two sisters worked feverishly to make sure the house was ready. Lazarus returned to the fields to check the barley planting, but when he came to the house at the end of the day, he was nearly ready to return to the fields.
“Martha, Jesus is coming to see us as a friend. He is not going to inspect our house for dust.”
She made a face at him and went on vigorously sweeping the courtyard and sent Mary to take inventory of their storeroom, to see what they had on hand.
Lazarus tried to stay out of the way of his sister’s zealous efforts, and it was almost with relief when he responded to a familiar voice at the gate and welcomed the Master into the courtyard.
Not wanting to attract a crowd, Jesus wore a dark cloak and brought only three of his disciples, Thomas, Matthew, and Judas Iscariot. Martha learned the others were again with their families in Jerusalem. The small band greeted the family warmly—with the exception of Judas Iscariot. His smile did not reach his eyes as he dipped his head in acknowledgment and then slipped past them to sit in a quiet corner again. Martha looked after him a moment, but with so much to do she returned to her tasks. Over Mary’s whispered protests, Martha sent her again to check the storeroom.
Simon, his wife Judith, Tobias, and Chloe, as well as their friend Nathan, were quietly summoned, and they slipped into the courtyard after darkness had fallen. Martha’s small courtyard could not contain all the villagers who would crowd in to see and hear Jesus if they knew he was there.
Martha brought fresh-baked bread out of the oven with the wooden paddles and slid it onto the table to cool. A bowl of fresh fava beans, simmered to tenderness, was poured into a bowl with onions, olive oil, garlic, vinegar, and cumin. She added a dash of salt and placed it on the table along with a bowl of brine-cured olives. Millet had been cooked with dried almonds, raisins, and small green onions. She had added chicken to their usual lentil stew and the aroma of the various dishes filled the courtyard. Just then, she looked for Mary to have her put the wooden platters on the table, but her sister was nowhere in sight.
Martha frowned. Where could she have gone? With the group of men gathered around Jesus, Martha had to look twice before spotting Mary sitting at the Master’s feet, listening intently to his words. Indignation rose up in her breast. Am I to feed these men all by myself? She strode over to the group gathered in the shady side of the courtyard and, without thinking, interrupted Jesus as he was talking on prayer.
“Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Please, tell her to help me.”
Jesus paused and looked up, his dark eyes taking in her expression as she stood with her hands on her hips. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he looked from Martha to her sister.
“Martha, Martha, you are worried and troubled about many things, but one thing is needed, and Mary has chosen that good part, which will not be taken away.”
She took a step backward, feeling the rebuke, and struggled to retain her composure. Tears of frustration threatened to escape her eyes, and she held them back by sheer willpower. Slowly she sank down on a nearby bench, unsure of what to do.
Mary looked at her sister with a gentle smile. “Jesus was telling us about prayer and the prayer he’s taught his disciples.”
Martha took a deep breath and, seeing no condemnation in the eyes of Jesus, ventured, “I . . . I would like to hear that prayer.”
Jesus seemed pleased with her request. “The prayer I’ve taught them is this: Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our sins, for we also forgive everyone who is indebted to us. And do not lead us into temptation but deliver us from the evil one.”
Martha contemplated the words. “That is a good prayer, Lord. I will remember it.” She rose almost timidly and spread one hand toward the table. “I pray you, come and partake of the meal, refresh yourselves.”
Mary rose quickly then and brought the bowls of water so they could all wash their hands.
Once again, talk flowed around the table of the places they had been and the miracles Jesus had done.
Matthew spoke up. “We thought there would be retaliation by the Sanhedrin when the Master healed a blind man the first day of the Feast of Tabernacles. It was the Sabbath and the man had been born blind.”
Martha paused in her serving as Lazarus asked, “You say the man had been born blind? Did he have eyes?”
Matthew waved a hand. “Yes, he had eyes, but they were almost pale, milky colored. It was obvious he couldn’t see.”
Thomas spoke thoughtfully. “We were sure that the man or his parents had committed some terrible sin for him to be born blind. What did we know?”
Simon, sitting at Jesus’s right hand, turned to him. “But what did you say?”
“That neither he nor his parents sinned, but that the works of God should be revealed in him.”
Matthew laughed. “You should have seen the faces of the crowd when the Master spat on the ground and mixed it with clay, then he put the clay on the man’s eyes and told him to go and wash in the pool of Siloam.”
Mary burst out, “And then what happened?”
Thomas looked down at the table, remembering. “He washed off the clay and came back
seeing.”
Martha and Mary gasped at once.
Lazarus, on Jesus’s other side, leaned forward. “You said you thought the Sanhedrin would do something? What happened then?”
Judas, who’d been quietly listening, spat out, “The religious leaders couldn’t believe their own eyes. They thought it was a trick of some kind and after questioning him over and over, finally had to call his parents to ask them if the man was truly born blind. When they affirmed that he was, they still wouldn’t give credit to the Master. They wanted him to just give God the glory, calling Jesus a sinner.” He pounded his fist into his hand, causing all to jump. “Instead of acknowledging that a major miracle had been done, they were angry.”
Lazarus shook his head. “Why were they angry?”
Judas leaned back, a sneer on his handsome face. “Because it was done on Sabbath. When the man insisted Jesus must be from God to do such a miracle, they actually threw him out of the Temple.”
Martha pondered this story in her heart. As she heard of the confrontations with Jesus and the religious leaders, a sense of apprehension grew. Sooner or later the leaders would act, but when? She and Mary gathered the empty platters to clean them and, after removing the main dishes and bread from the table, replaced them with date cakes and a platter of fruit. Lazarus poured wine into their wooden goblets, but none of the disciples drank to excess. Jesus only sipped his wine with his meal and they followed his example.
Simon insisted that the next time Jesus was in Bethany that it was his turn, out of gratitude, to host Jesus at his home, and Jesus agreed that he would be there.
Martha and Mary quietly cleaned up after the meal, and Martha then settled down on a nearby bench to listen to Jesus as he shared with his disciples and taught all of them the truths of being a good shepherd. He compared himself to the shepherd and the people to the sheep the shepherd watched over.
“I am the door,” he told them. “If anyone enters by me, he will be saved, and will go in and out and find pasture.”
Martha realized the pasture was heaven. Jesus was the way to heaven. She sighed contentedly, surveying her courtyard and the men who were sharing it with her family. She thought back to the time she had decided to run away with Thaddeus. It was not to be. If she had gone, she never would have had the opportunity to meet and hear Jesus. The God Who Sees knew her life and ordered her days. Whatever was to come, she knew she could trust him.
She looked over at Mary and Thomas, sitting together in a quiet corner of the courtyard, near but not touching, absorbed in Jesus’s words. Whatever tomorrow might bring, it was in God’s hands. A small breeze wafted through the courtyard as she sat very still, holding this moment and this night to her heart.
17
After his brief visit with Martha and her family, Jesus left quietly with his three disciples in the early hours of the morning and went to the Garden of Gethsemane to pray. They would visit other towns and villages before returning to Jerusalem.
Now the twenty-fifth of the month of Kislev had arrived, the time for the Feast of Dedication. Martha, shivering with the winter cold, moved the small cooking stove indoors.
She called out to the courtyard, “Mary, will you get the menorah from the storeroom? I imagine it needs polishing.”
“I have it already,” Mary called back.
Martha went to the door. Mary was already vigorously polishing the candleholder to a high shine. Shaking her head, Martha went back to setting up the winter cooking area. Sometimes she had to remember that Mary was not a child who had to be told what to do. Mary had taken over half the load of work off Martha’s shoulders.
That afternoon, Martha finished the sash she’d woven for Lazarus. Mary’s was already finished and wrapped in a cloth. They were the only gifts she’d be giving her brother and sister during the eight days of Hanukkah. Fortunately they were able to go about their usual work, for no tasks were forbidden or unlawful during the festival of lights, except on the Sabbath.
That evening when Lazarus returned, they lit the shamash, the guard candle, and then used it to light the first menorah candle.
Martha gave Mary and Lazarus their sashes that evening. Mary gave Lazarus and her sister each necklaces she’d made from beads—a large dark brown bead to represent the earth, with smaller black beads on either side on a leather cord for Lazarus. Martha’s necklace was made of small lapis lazuli–colored beads. Lazarus, as keeper of the money of the household, gave Martha and Mary a small leather bag of coins. Though some families gave gifts to each other each night of the Feast, Martha suggested they not try to do that.
“After all, there are no children in the household,” she reasoned.
The family did give small gifts to Tobias and Chloe’s little girl, Reza, a top and a small doll made of fabric scraps, which Mary had carefully sown.
There was no window facing the street, so the family placed the menorah each evening on a stand in the courtyard where it was protected from the cold night breezes, and those passing by could see its light.
The house was filled with the cooking smells of special foods that were prepared during the season.
Mary sang as she fried the potato pancakes in olive oil. Martha had made the jam-filled doughnuts that Lazarus loved. She had to admit she loved them herself and ate three that morning.
They all loved the special cheeses, and Martha unpacked them from the crocks where they had ripened.
It was a festive time in Bethany with neighbors wishing each other “Gemar chatimah tovah.” “May you be sealed totally for good.”
Lazarus wanted to hear Jesus again, and on the fourth day of the Feast, the family went into Jerusalem where Jesus walked and talked in the Temple on Solomon’s Porch. As he again taught the people, the Jewish leaders taunted him.
“How long will you keep us in doubt? If you are the Christ, tell us plainly.”
Jesus answered, “I told you and you do not believe. The works that I do in my Father’s name, they bear witness of me, but you do not believe because you are not of my sheep, as I said to you. My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me. And I shall give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; neither shall anyone snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all; and no one is able to snatch them out of my Father’s hand. I and my Father are one.”
To Martha’s horror, some of the Jews in the courtyard took up stones, and she realized they were going to stone him. She and Mary shrank back against Lazarus, her heart thumping so loud she thought someone could hear it.
Jesus faced his foes calmly. “Many good works I have shown you from my Father. For which of those works do you stone me?”
Someone shouted from the crowd—it was one of the scribes.
“For a good work we do not stone you but for blasphemy, and because you, being a man, make yourself God.”
Jesus stared him down. “Is it not written in your law, ‘I said you are gods’? If he called them gods, to whom the word of God came, do you say of him, whom the Father sanctified and sent into the world, ‘You are blaspheming’ because I said I am the Son of God? If I do not do the works of my Father, do not believe me, but if I do, though you do not believe me, believe the works, that you may know and believe that the Father is in me and I in him.”
Some of the Jews made as if to seize him, but he walked calmly through the midst of them as if they were standing still and, with his disciples following, left the Temple.
Martha stood amazed and looked at her sister and brother.
Lazarus was shaking his head. “If I had not just seen this with my own eyes, I would not have believed it. They were ready to stone him, yet as he passed by, no one made a move.”
“It is because of who he is,” Mary murmured.
Martha looked toward the Temple gate where Jesus left. He was now out of sight. “Yes, sister, I believe you are right.”
The crowd broke up and the three made their way back to Bethany. Many
of their neighbors walked with them and the men murmured quietly among themselves. Martha and Mary walked in silence, absorbed in their own thoughts.
When the Feast of Dedication ended, word came to the village that Jesus and his disciples had returned to the land beyond the Jordan where John had baptized, and he would remain there for a while, teaching and healing those brought to him.
Martha worked hard on her loom to finish a second rug for Lazarus to take into town. They could use the money, for feeding so many had caused their food supply to dwindle quickly. With the rains, Lazarus had not been able to do much brick-making or work on anyone’s home. He spent time with Nathan at the blacksmith’s shop and helped him with some work, just to have something to do. He developed a slight cough. As it worsened, he waved away Martha’s concerns.
“Lazarus, you must wear a warmer cloak when you go out.”
“I’m warm enough, sister. Do not worry about me.”
Martha kept her peace but caught Mary’s concerned look as the cough deepened and settled in his chest.
That night, Martha awoke as Lazarus tossed fitfully on his pallet. She rose and hurried over, putting a hand on his brow. He was hot with fever. She put cool cloths on his forehead and tried to get him to sip some water. When daylight came, Mary, who had watched through the night with Martha, ran to fetch Anna, the healer.
Anna made a compound of some of her herbs and mixed them with hot water. Lazarus took only a little and the rest dribbled down his chin. Anna tried poultices on his chest, but the fever did not abate. Nathan came to inquire and was alarmed as he looked down on Lazarus’s flushed face and glazed eyes.
“I did not realize he was this ill. Has Anna, the healer, not been able to help?”
Martha shook her head. “She has done all she can. The fever rages no matter what we do.”
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