Martha

by Diana Wallis Taylor

  “I wish no rebellion and I don’t plan on gathering followers.”

  “You know that, but the Jewish leaders don’t. You are still a threat to them.”

  Martha spoke urgently. “Please, stay here with us until we know more. We are frightened.”

  Lazarus stroked his beard thoughtfully and then, looking from Martha’s face to Mary’s, relented. “Very well, I don’t wish to leave you unprotected.”

  The Sabbath prayers were spoken as Martha and Mary served the still warm stew and Lazarus said the prayer after their meal. They passed the Sabbath quietly. Reciting the familiar prayers brought a sense of peace to all of them. Since the family had always gone into Jerusalem for the Sabbath, their village being too small for a synagogue, it seemed strange to stay home. More than the fear of not celebrating the Sabbath properly was her fear for Lazarus. What were they to do?

  They spent a quiet day, but Martha’s heart was filled with anxiety as she watched her brother and his friend conferring quietly in the corner of the courtyard.

  When at last they had their final meal of the day, and no Temple police had come, all was quiet. Martha lit the havdalah candle, signifying the end of Sabbath. Then the four looked up into the night sky at the three stars. The night was peaceful. A bird was singing a sweet song in the distance. So much had happened in only two days—it was almost like a bad dream from which they would all awake.

  They laid out their pallets again with Lazarus and Thomas on one side of the room and the women on the other. They fell into exhausted sleep, weary in both mind and spirit.

  The first day of the week, the women prepared a simple breakfast of bread and fruit. Lazarus prayed earnestly, not only thanking God for their blessings, but for Thomas as he returned to the city.

  Mary filled a small traveling bag with food for him to take into Jerusalem—date cakes, two loaves of bread, and some cheese—but he did not leave until midday when the city would be quiet. He told Lazarus he would inquire of trusted believers as to the whereabouts of the other disciples.

  Mary, her eyes bright with unshed tears, walked Thomas to the gate.

  “Please take care, and don’t take any chances. I hope you find the others and that they are safe.”

  He looked down at her, his eyes filled with love, and took her hand. “I will return when I can.” He turned to Lazarus.

  “If I cannot return right away, I will leave word with Hanniel. Somehow I will get word to you through one of the believers in the city. I don’t know what awaits me in Jerusalem.”

  With one last sad smile for Mary and a nod to Martha and Lazarus, Thomas turned and, closing the gate behind him, started on the road to Jerusalem.

  The small family went about the tasks of the day, but jumped at every sound outside in the street, still expecting the Temple police to burst into their courtyard any moment, seeking Lazarus.

  Mary played on her lyre, soothing them all with her music, while Lazarus sat on a bench in the courtyard, staring at the gate. Martha realized he was deep in thought, but she dreaded any decision he was thinking of making. She busied herself sweeping but watched her brother covertly. When Lazarus finally stood up, her heart jumped.

  “I have been thinking of Thomas’s words and the words of Hanniel. It is not safe for me to stay here, sisters. It will only bring danger to you both. It would be better if I leave for a time.”

  Martha dropped her broom. “Leave? Where would you go?”

  “Syria, possibly. I’m not sure. Anywhere outside Judea where the Jewish leaders can’t get to me.”

  Mary put down the lyre and hurried to him. “Oh what are we to do? Can you not wait until Thomas brings word?”

  He smiled at her, acknowledging her concern, but lifted his chin with determination. “I will wait three days. If I hear nothing from Thomas, I will assume the worst has happened and that I too must leave Judea.”

  Martha’s mind whirled. Three days? It was a long time. Anything could happen in three days.

  23

  The first day of the week passed as did the second day. There was no word from Thomas. Tobias offered to go into Jerusalem and see if he could make some discreet inquiries. The family was grateful, knowing he was not someone the Temple police or the Romans were looking for.

  Martha busied herself at her loom. Moving the shuttle and concentrating on the red, orange, soft blues, and cream of her yarns. She had watched the sunrise that morning and the vivid colors touched her heart. She pictured weaving the sunrise into the rug she worked on. Yet the intensity with which she worked didn’t stop the questions that paraded through her mind.

  Mary, preparing their bread for the day, kneaded the dough as though her life depended on it. Though each one found a way to occupy themselves, the time passed slowly. Lazarus took care of the animals, patched the wall in the courtyard, and began repairs to the cracks in their walls. Shaul and other men came to request his help on damage to their homes. To his relief, they treated him as they had before his miracle and it gave him some peace.

  As the afternoon shadows lengthened and the air became cooler, Martha got up and went to get their water pot. Perhaps someone had brought news and the village well was the place to get it. She glanced at Mary, who raised her eyebrows in question.

  “I’m going for water,” Martha said, stating the obvious.

  Mary’s face reflected Martha’s own anxiety, but she merely nodded and began to shape the dough into loaves.

  Martha walked quickly down the road and saw that there were several women in a tight cluster at the well—Lea, Phoebe, and Judith. As she drew near, they made way for her, but Judith touched Martha on the arm, beaming broadly.

  “I have just received news. Esther and Micah have another child, a girl this time. They have named her Sarah.”

  Martha smiled in return. It was good to hear happy news this day. “I’m glad for you, Judith, and for my friend, Esther. Will they be coming to Bethany any time soon?”

  “Perhaps, when the baby is a little older and able to travel, but Simon and I have talked about perhaps journeying to see them in the next few weeks.”

  Women loved news of a new baby, and they spoke blessings on Esther and the new little one, exchanging stories of recent births in the village, how long the woman was in labor, and the topics that women who had experienced childbirth shared.

  Though that news was good, the mood was somber. As Martha started to lower the water pot with the rope, one of the women stepped forward.

  “You have heard the news about the Teacher?”

  Martha paused. “Yes, I’ve heard. Lazarus told me that he is dead.”

  Judith shook her head slowly. “What a terrible death for someone who did so much good.”

  The women murmured among themselves.

  Then Phoebe spoke up. “How will this affect our village? He came here many times. Would the leaders consider us dangerous?” She looked around at the group. “My Eli was there. He saw everything.”

  Martha bristled and out loud she said firmly, “Nonsense. Jesus stayed many places. They cannot arrest the whole country.” Yet she felt the grip of fear on her heart. Would there be soldiers in their village? Would they arrest Lazarus? She drew herself up.

  “We can only wait to see what happens.” She looked around earnestly at each face. “We must pray for our families and our village at this time. The God Who Sees will keep us in his care.” She spoke more bravely than she felt.

  Lea looked at her. “But you had the Teacher in your home. Your brother’s miracle is the talk of Jerusalem and our village. Are you not in danger?”

  Martha just shook her head and occupied herself with drawing the water. Then she turned to the group. “The Teacher is dead. We had hopes, but there is nothing we can do now.”

  Judith’s daughter-in-law, Chloe, who had been silent, spoke up. Since she was usually shy, the women all turned suddenly to listen. She looked at the group of women with wide eyes. “I have heard the men talking in the vill
age. They thought Jesus was the Messiah, the one who would save us from the Romans. If he was truly the Messiah, he would have led a revolt against the Romans. He would not have allowed himself to be killed.”

  It was an impassioned speech for her, and the women listened with amazement.

  Martha realized the girl was echoing her own thoughts and the thoughts of most of the village. She could do nothing for Jesus now except be grateful the rest of her days for his teaching and especially for giving her brother back to them. She could always be thankful for those things the Master did while he was still alive.

  The women spoke in hushed tones about the earthquake and friends who had remained in Jerusalem and saw the crucifixion.

  A thought came to Martha and she turned to Phoebe.

  “Phoebe, what can you tell us of the Master’s last moments? You said your husband was there.”

  Phoebe stepped forward and lifted her chin, proud that she had important news to share.

  “They crucified three that day, the Teacher and also two criminals, one on either side of him. There was only one of his disciples that Eli could see, the one called John. My husband saw him standing below the cross with the Teacher’s mother. He said Jesus spoke to them from the cross, and John led the Teacher’s mother away. Some of the women who traveled with Jesus and his disciples were at the cross also. That woman they call Mary Magdalene for one.” Phoebe sneered in disdain. “His loyal disciples, with the exception of John, were nowhere around. It certainly didn’t take much for them to fall away.”

  A retort rose to Martha’s lips, but she thought better of it. Instead she gazed steadily at Phoebe. “They are in danger also. Would it not be wiser to remain out of sight instead of being in the open?”

  Phoebe shrugged. “Then why was that one disciple there?”

  Martha thought a moment. “I believe he is a relative of someone in the Sanhedrin. Perhaps the leaders were willing to overlook his association with Jesus.”

  The women nodded to each other. That made sense.

  Martha had one last question. “What happened after John took the Teacher’s mother away?”

  Phoebe thought a moment. “I don’t know. When the Teacher died and the earth began to shake, my husband ran with the others. Everyone was afraid. He just wanted to get home to make sure we were all safe.”

  Martha thought for a moment, then, “I wonder who took him down. It was the Sabbath. They would not leave him on the cross.”

  The women turned to Phoebe, but she shrugged and waved one hand. “How would I know? My Eli had already gone.”

  Talk about the death of Jesus cast a pall over the women’s conversation. Suddenly they all had important things to do and hurried away to their homes.

  Martha walked back home slowly, balancing the water jug on her shoulder. So many questions chased themselves around in her mind.

  Who had come to claim the body? What had happened to the disciples? Were they also arrested? Was Lazarus truly in danger? Would he have to run away to save his life? She didn’t know a great deal more, but Tobias had gone into Jerusalem. Surely by now he would have returned with news. She quickened her steps.

  24

  Martha didn’t realize how anxious she’d been until she felt the rush of relief to see Tobias talking with Lazarus and Mary. Her brother was shaking his head and as she approached, he turned to her with a strange look on his face.

  “What is wrong? Has harm come to Thomas or the other disciples?”

  Tobias spoke up. “I went into Jerusalem, to the house of your cousin, Hanniel, as Lazarus asked. Thomas sent a message with a trusted friend, who is a believer and also a scribe. After several discreet inquiries, Thomas found the disciples hiding in the upper room, as he suspected.”

  Mary cried out, “The upper room? That can’t be a safe place. Judas could lead the soldiers there. Thomas could be arrested by now, with all the others.”

  Tobias shook his head. “Judas is dead. He thought that Jesus would rise up and lead a revolt when they arrested him. He’d said all along that Jesus should take his place as a leader of the people. I don’t think he anticipated what would happen when the soldiers arrested Jesus. Judas was found hanging from a tree in the Potter’s Field.”

  So Judas was dead. Martha realized that she understood what Judas had tried to do. He’d betrayed the Lord with a plan in mind, and it hadn’t worked the way he wanted it to. Poor man, he must have been bitterly disillusioned to take his own life.

  Lazarus waved a hand. “Go on, Tobias, tell Martha the rest of the story.”

  “Well, several of the women went to the tomb early the first day of the week, bringing spices to add to the wrappings around Jesus. Pilate had sent soldiers to guard the tomb and the great seal of Rome was placed on the stone at the entrance. They were worried about how to get in to anoint the body of the Lord. And this is the amazing part. Jesus was buried in the tomb of Joseph of Arimathea, who had gone to Pilate to request the body of Jesus.”

  Martha gasped. “He is a member of the High Council. He is a believer?”

  Lazarus shrugged. “He must be. No one would have the courage to go to Pilate for that task.”

  Tobias went on. “The body was wrapped with some spices by Joseph and placed in the tomb quickly because the Sabbath was near.” He paused as if his next words were more than he could speak. “When the women approached the tomb early on the first day of the week, they claimed that two shining beings had rolled the stone away and were sitting on the stone. These beings told the women that Jesus was not there, that he had . . . risen from the dead!”

  Mary clutched at Tobias’s sleeve. “Risen from the dead, just as he raised our brother?”

  “Yes. The beings said, ‘Come and see the place where the Lord lay. And go quickly and tell his disciples . . . and Peter, that he is risen from the dead and will go before you into Galilee; there you will see him as he said to you.’”

  “Did they look in the tomb and see that Jesus was gone? And where were the soldiers?” Martha wanted something substantial to process in her mind.

  “That’s the strange part,” Tobias said. “The soldiers were gone, every one of them.”

  “But they wouldn’t leave their post,” Lazarus murmured. “That is all very strange.”

  Lazarus took up the story. “Mary Magdalene along with the women returned to the upper room and she told the disciples she had seen Jesus and he had spoken to her. She’d thought he was the gardener and wanted to know what he’d done with the body of the Lord. Then she said he spoke to her, and when he said her name, she realized it was the Lord and fell at his feet. He told her not to cling to him as he had not yet ascended to his Father; but to go to his brethren and tell them he was ascending to his Father and their Father and to his God and their God.”

  Mary put an arm around her sister. “We must believe. If Jesus could raise Lazarus and others from the dead, could he not raise himself? Has he not told us he was going to the Father? We must consider the words he spoke when he was with us.”

  Martha sat down on a bench—it was almost too much to take in. “What did the disciples say when Mary Magdalene told them he was alive?”

  Tobias snorted, “They didn’t believe her. Thomas said John and Peter took off at a dead run for the tomb to see for themselves and came back mystified. The grave was indeed empty, and this is the strange part. The burial garments were still there, including the burial cloth which was lying on the stone slab.” Tobias turned to Lazarus. “The cloth that covered his face was set aside by itself and neatly folded.” He waited for the thought to penetrate.

  His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. “The tradition,” Lazarus cried. “The master and his servant—we were taught that in school with the rabbi.”

  Mary looked from Lazarus to Tobias. “What tradition?” She sat down next to Lazarus on the bench and waited for Tobias to continue.

  “Every Jewish boy knows the story. When a servant set the table for his master, he
made sure that it was exactly the way the master wanted it. Then the servant would wait, just out of sight until the master had finished eating, and the servant would not dare touch that table, until the master was finished. Now if the master was done eating, he would rise from the table, wipe his fingers, his mouth, and clean his beard, and would wad up that napkin and toss it onto the table. The servant would then know to clear the table. For the wadded napkin meant, ‘I’m done.’ But if the master got up from the table, folded his napkin, and laid it beside his plate, the servant would not dare touch the table, because . . . the folded napkin meant, ‘I’m coming back!’”

  Tobias shrugged, embarrassed. “It is only a tradition and has to do with a napkin rather than a burial facecloth, but it came to mind when I heard this. I do not even know if the tradition is true. Perhaps it was just a story the rabbi told to keep the interest of squirming young boys.”

  Martha thought a moment. “I’m sure it has some significance, Tobias, or it wouldn’t have come to your mind.”

  Her face alight with joy, Mary cried, “He is alive. I believe with all my heart that he is alive. We should rejoice that he came to us, and supped with us and caused us to observe the miracles so we would believe. Thomas told me once that Jesus said, ‘I am the way and the truth and the life, and no man comes to the Father but through me.’” She clasped her hands. “Don’t you see? He came so that we might believe, and because we believe in him, we too shall see the Father one day.”

  Lazarus nodded sagely. “I believe what you say is true. Our family has good reason to believe, for I am a living example of the resurrection from the dead.”

  He turned to Tobias again. “So what is next? How long will the disciples remain in the upper room?”

  “I don’t know the answer to that. We can only trust the Lord to show them what to do. Thomas said he would come to you sometime in the next two or three days and he’ll know more at that time. He has not seen the Lord and was skeptical about the women’s testimony, but I’m sure he will have further news when he comes.”