Poisoned Honey

by Beatrice Gormley

  A mustard seed! I stared straight ahead, seeing not the well but a brown dot like a grain of sand. As I watched, it sprouted, branched, and bloomed, and my heart expanded with the healthy plant. I felt a mighty power in the seed, stronger than armies. But if the seedling were yanked from the soil …

  The thought hurt me, as if my own roots were being torn up, and I cried out.

  “Mariamne?” Aunt Deborah’s voice brought me out of my vision. I clutched the edge of the well, waiting for my head to stop whirling. The circle of women watched with mixed expressions: puzzlement, hope, worry.

  “It is like the kingdom of heaven,” I gasped.

  “Do you understand that?” asked the young woman. “What did the rabbi mean?”

  I told her what I’d seen, the whole plant unfolding miraculously. “A mustard seed is so tiny; it’s so common. Yet it’s a miracle waiting to happen. And the same thing’s true of us.”

  I looked around the circle, remembering the way Yeshua had looked over a crowd of listeners and spoken to each person’s heart. “We can remain dry little seeds … or we can sprout and grow into the kingdom of heaven.”

  “The kingdom of heaven?” asked another woman, glancing toward the field of mustard. “Right here in Arbel? In us?” She gave an unhappy laugh.

  I started to say yes, but before I could get the word out, the woman with the baby breathed, “Yes.” Her face shone.

  Later, as I lay down to sleep, the young mother’s face came back to me. I thought, My vision helped her see! I was grateful for that, and I said a prayer of thanks.

  The next morning, we thanked my aunt for her hospitality. We took a road through the hills on the far side of the Arbel valley, the same road by which Yeshua had left two days before.

  At first, we walked in silence. It was strange, I thought, to walk alone side by side with a man who was not my father, my brother, my cousin, or even my husband. (Not that Eleazar had ever walked beside me in a companionable way!) And yet, it felt natural.

  After a time, I told Matthew about the women at the well and the mustard seed. He listened intently, then said, “You … see things, don’t you? Not only because you were possessed.”

  My heart tripped. It was one thing to think about my visions by myself, and another to speak freely to someone else about them. “I—I always have, even as a child,” I stammered. Matthew nodded encouragingly, and I went on, “But when I tried to tell other people, they usually thought I was just being odd. Now I wonder … could it be a gift to share? When we find the rabbi, I want to ask him.”

  Glancing up at Matthew, I was struck by his eager expression, and I ventured a guess. “Maybe you, too, have something to ask the rabbi?”

  Matthew admitted, “I have an idea. There must be others like me, not only tax collectors, but landowners, merchants, judges—many people who grow rich by cheating the poor and helpless. Meanwhile, their souls wither. Maybe I could seek them out, the way Yeshua sought me out….” Matthew’s voice trailed off, and he glanced at me. “It’s foolish of me to think I could help the rabbi in that way. He can inspire people to repent because he’s a great prophet—maybe as great as Elijah.”

  “Still, you should ask him,” I said. “Maybe Yeshua does need our help.”

  As we followed the road downhill, I puzzled over my own words. It hadn’t occurred to me that Yeshua might need us in order to accomplish his mission.

  The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, Rabbi Yeshua had said. I quickened my steps, and so did Matthew. He must have felt the same sense of urgency. Suddenly it seemed to me that in spite of Yeshua’s power, his mission could be crushed as easily as a young seedling.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  YESHUA’S FAMILY

  Following a trail that wound through the folds of the hills, we caught up with Yeshua in Rumah. It was midday as we neared the village, and we could tell from a distance that there was a celebration going on. The music of wooden flutes and drums, as well as the smell of roasting meat, wafted in the breeze up the gorge. The village’s threshing floor was full of circling dancers, with merrymakers around them clapping and singing.

  “Simon?” said Matthew to a burly man on the edge of the group. “Shalom. I am Matthew bar Alphaeus. I used to work at a … er, a post near Capernaum.”

  “I remember you, toll collector,” said Simon. He grinned. “That was some dinner party at your house! Well, here we are at another party. The rabbi loves celebrations.”

  He went on to explain that this was a feast for a childless couple who’d been blessed by Yeshua the previous year. Now they were celebrating a brit milah, the circumcision and naming of their baby boy.

  While the two men talked, I caught sight of Yeshua bobbing among the dancers, hands raised. It was a moment before I was sure it was him, because he looked so carefree, laughing and calling out like any party guest. The last time I’d seen Yeshua, I’d felt he was taking on the needs and longings of every person in the crowd—including mine.

  “James!” At the urgent note in Matthew’s shout, I turned to stare at him, and so did several of the partygoers.

  One of them broke from the rest and pushed his way toward Matthew. “Brother!” he shouted back. Even if he hadn’t said that, I would have known they were brothers. James was slighter than Matthew, but he had the same thick, mild-looking eyebrows.

  “I thought you were lost to the Dead Sea sect,” muttered Matthew as they embraced, his fine but threadbare robe pressing against James’s rough homespun coat.

  “I thought you were lost to the Romans,” said James pointedly. Even as tears ran down their faces, they burst out laughing, punching each other’s shoulders like boys.

  Now Yeshua, too, separated himself from the dancers and came to greet us. “Matthew, Miryam!” he exclaimed, looking from one to the other. “Have you come to join our family?” With a delighted smile, he answered for us: “Yes!” Matthew and James grinned helplessly, and I felt the same foolish smile on my face.

  There was a touch on my arm, and then a woman hugged me. “Welcome, Miryam!” It was Joanna, the disciple who’d offered me water after my healing.

  As the celebration wound down, the rabbi’s disciples followed him out of the village to a shady grove of oaks. We sat on the grass around Yeshua. I felt uneasy with all these strange men, and I seated myself near Joanna and the few other women.

  “Friends,” said Yeshua, “you already know Matthew, son of Alphaeus. He’s one of us now. So is Miryam from Magdala.” The rabbi went on around the circle, naming each disciple for us. “Simon, otherwise known as the Rock.” Yeshua said this with a teasing smile, knocking on Simon’s head with his knuckles. Simon grinned sheepishly.

  There was Simon’s brother, Andrew, and then there were the two sons of the fisherman Zebedee. Yeshua called them Sons of Thunder. (As I learned later, they tended to talk in loud, self-important voices.) Several others also had affectionate nicknames, and I wished I did, too.

  After naming all the disciples, Yeshua looked up through the leaves of the oaks and said quite naturally, “Lord, Abba, I thank you for drawing Matthew and Miryam to us.” Then he turned to the two of us with an eager light in his eyes. “Tell me what you bring for our mission.”

  This was our chance to explain our ideas, but I was taken aback, and Matthew looked dismayed. “I—I’m afraid I don’t have much to offer,” he stammered.

  Simon spoke up, in a tone of good-natured teasing: “Matthew can keep our money for us! He’s had a lot of experience handling coins.”

  Some of the others laughed, but Judas said stiffly, “Keeping the money is my job.”

  Yeshua didn’t laugh either; he waited quietly for Matthew’s answer. Speaking haltingly, Matthew explained what he’d told me earlier. After he finished, Yeshua nodded. “I want to think more about this. It’s already come to me that soon some of you should go out on your own missions. There’s so much to do. I won’t have time…. Thank you, Matthew.”

  Now was the mom
ent I’d been dreading. My heart seemed to beat in my throat. Yeshua turned to me. “What about you, Miryam? What do you bring us?”

  It seemed like an unfair question. I had gone through so much, dared so much, just to get here. I was only a woman. Why couldn’t I just quietly join the group?

  Joanna was nodding encouragingly at me, and finally she spoke up. “Rabbi, Miryam has some land and a share in her family’s business. She can help support us.”

  “No,” I said quickly. At their puzzled stares, I added, “I mean, of course I’ll share my income, but what I really want to bring …” I thought of the young woman at the well in Arbel, and how she drank in my description of the mustard seed. “I want to share my visions.”

  The disciples didn’t laugh at me as they had at Matthew. “You claim to have visions from heaven?” asked Andrew. “Like a prophet?”

  “I think she does have them,” protested Matthew, but the others ignored him. They looked appalled.

  Joanna whispered to me, “You didn’t mean it, did you?”

  I didn’t dare to look at the rabbi, for fear he’d be as shocked as the others. I saw now how close to blasphemy it was, for me to talk as if I could be a prophet. Had a demon spoken through my mouth again, even in Yeshua’s presence? “I do want to share my bride-gift,” I said, trembling. “Please let me stay.”

  The rabbi looked intently into my eyes, as if he was turning over new ideas. Finally, he said in a reassuring tone, “There’s no need to understand everything all at once. I do understand one thing: everyone the Lord sends us brings gifts.” But I hardly heard him, I was so shaken.

  Again Yeshua thanked the Lord for us two new disciples. Then he told the group, “Friends, it’s time to move on. There’s so much to do. We’ll start out for the next village tomorrow morning.”

  Various villagers invited Yeshua’s followers into their homes for the night. Joanna and another woman, Arsinoe, took me with them to the potter’s house. Before we lay down on our pallets, Joanna whispered to me, “Don’t worry, Miryam. The rabbi won’t be angry with you.”

  Although I was weary, I lay awake for a while after the others had gone to sleep. My mood shifted, and I felt I had been slighted. I was the one who was angry. We could teach that Andrew a thing or two, whispered a voice.

  “Be gone!” I exclaimed aloud, causing the other two women to moan in their sleep.

  The voice did not speak again, but I felt sad and confused. Were my visions, which had inspired Matthew and the woman in Arbel, only demon’s tricks? Where was the freedom and joy I’d expected to find in Yeshua’s presence? The rabbi’s family appeared to be just as difficult as my own. Or … maybe I was the one who was difficult.

  The next morning at dawn, we thanked our hosts and set off with the rising sun on our backs. We were on the road that led to the city of Sepphoris, Joanna said, although Yeshua would avoid that city. It was a stronghold of Herod Antipas. Joanna thought Yeshua wanted to visit his mother, who still lived in Nazareth. He’d have to be careful there, too, since he’d been thrown out of that village on his last visit.

  For the most part, the men walked ahead of the women, as one would expect. Matthew and James walked together, each with a hand on the other’s shoulder, talking and gesturing without pause to catch up on their years apart. Yeshua moved freely up and down the road, first conferring with Zebedee’s sons and Simon, then laughing with Joanna and Arsinoe, then talking quietly with Matthew and James.

  In the fresh morning, traveling as one of Yeshua’s twenty or so disciples, I felt more cheerful. They might think I was peculiar, but they were an odd mix themselves! Here was Joanna, apparently a noblewoman, but she didn’t ride in a litter or even on a donkey. She walked the dusty road along with the farmers and fisherfolk. No one called her Lady Joanna, not even the former beggars in our band, who had been lower than stray dogs.

  Then there was Matthew, the despicable, Roman-loving, neighbor-gouging toll collector. Not only did Yeshua and all his followers not spit at Matthew, they ate meals with him. So a strange young woman who was seized with visions now and then should fit right into this group. A smile tugged at my lips.

  As I looked up and down the road at the little band, I felt something I hadn’t felt for years. I felt like my young self back in the days when I took it for granted that I was safe and cared for. I felt like a chick, one in a nestful. I felt at home.

  Tears stung my eyes. Joanna must have noticed, because she put an arm around my shoulders as we walked. “Don’t grieve, Miryam. The sadness is behind you now. Yeshua tells us to rejoice in being together, as if we were at a wedding.”

  I wiped my eyes with a corner of my scarf and smiled at her. “I am rejoicing. But I’m not used to it, so it makes me cry.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  MIRYAM, MY SISTER

  When the sun was overhead, we paused by a creek. These streams dried up in the summer’s heat, but now they were still running, watering the oaks and bay trees in the folds of the hills. Yeshua blessed the bread and broke it, we ate, and then most of the group lay down in the shade for a rest.

  I wasn’t tired, and I noticed Yeshua going off by himself. He climbed the grassy hillside for a distance and sat down under a tree. On an impulse, I stood up and followed him. I almost turned back, thinking that he might want to be alone for a while. But he could see me climbing toward him. I thought that if he didn’t want my company, he had only to frown or make a gesture.

  Instead, Yeshua watched me with friendly interest. As I came closer, he motioned to the grass nearby, and I sat down. “What is on your heart, Miryam?” he asked.

  I wanted to tell him, but at the same time, I was afraid I would give the wrong answer. Speaking hesitantly, watching the rabbi for any sign of disgust or anger, I told him about my worry that the demons could reinfest me. “When you first healed me, I thought they were gone for good. You’d driven them out, so how could they return? But now I’m worried that they’re only awaiting their chance….” Frightened by my own words, I stopped talking.

  Yeshua nodded. “I think you’re right. That’s the way of demons.”

  I stared at him, horror-struck. I’d expected him to reassure me that the demons were banished forever.

  Yeshua himself looked sober but not worried. He gazed into the distance as if remembering. Then he said, “Miryam … tell me about your visions.”

  My throat constricted, and I was afraid to speak. What if the rabbi decided that I might infect the whole group with unclean spirits and ordered me not to follow him? At the same time, I wanted very badly to tell him about the mission that had beckoned to me since I was a child. So I began, haltingly at first, and then more easily as his face showed wonder and delight.

  I told Yeshua about my vision of the mustard seed, and about the mustard seedling that Chava tore up. Encouraged by his attention, I went on to tell him about the time I stood on Mount Arbel with my father and saw the world with the eyes of my soul. And I told him how the prophet Miryam had appeared to me in a dream, and cleansed me in her well in the mikvah.

  Yeshua’s eyes shone as he listened. He was silent for a moment, and then he said hoarsely, “Miryam, my sister. I’ve been so lonely. I’ve prayed for a companion who would understand….” He looked into my eyes, and then suddenly he laughed. “To tell the truth, I prayed for a brother to be my soul mate. The Lord loves a joke, doesn’t he?”

  Light with relief, I laughed, too. All I cared about was that Yeshua was glad for my company.

  He nodded in the direction of the creek, where the others were rousing themselves, splashing water on their faces, shaking out their cloaks. “Good, then!” said Yeshua. “It’s time to go on.”

  “Wait—” I jumped to my feet, remembering his first comment on my visions. “You said I was right that they”—I didn’t want to name the demons—“were only waiting for their chance. You’ll protect me, won’t you?”

  He gazed at me with his deep eyes. “Your own visions will protect you
, if you honor them. I’m sure of that.”

  I didn’t really understand what he meant, but for now, I was happy. I climbed down the slope after him.

  Over the next few days, Yeshua led us from village to village in the Galilee hills. Almost every day, either walking or resting, Yeshua took time to talk with me. He explained further what he’d meant about my visions protecting me. “If you try not to use the gift, your soul will be like an empty house, and the demons will move back in. But if you choose to nurture the gift and use it for other people, you’ll be filled with sophia, the spirit of holy wisdom. Your soul will be like a house full of fierce angels, and the demons will flee from you.” Yeshua was so free in his own way of thinking that he freed me to say aloud my most startling ideas. The day before we reached Nazareth, I told him that the prophet Miryam had appeared to me once again, in a dream. “I’m meant to be the sister of your soul, as she was Moses’s sister,” I said. “She says you are the new Moses that everyone has been waiting for. I am to watch over you, the way Miryam of old watched over her brother Moses in the Nile River.” A further thought struck me, and I smiled. “And I actually did find you in the reeds at the water’s edge!”

  “You’ll watch over me?” Yeshua gave me a teasing look. “You found me? I seem to remember finding you in the reeds, rolled up in a net like a poisonous fish.” Immediately his face softened into a tender expression. “The Lord did send you to me. I know that.”

  Toward evening, we reached Nazareth, a large village of stone houses clustered around a stone synagogue. Yeshua stopped outside the village. On his last visit, the elders had told him in no uncertain terms never to come back. Since Joanna and I had not been with the group at that time, we were sent to find his mother, Miryam, the widow of Yosef.