by Joan Wolf
“What’s happening?” Ruth asked.
I stood on tiptoe and saw that the pushing crowd had created a pathway and two men were walking through the opened space. Their immaculate white garments shone in the bright spring sun. The pristine tunics and their arrogant manner told me that they must be Temple priests.
They stopped just short of the water’s edge, making sure their spotless sandals stayed dry.
The crowd was eerily quiet. Even John’s nasal voice had fallen silent as he looked at the two men standing on the shore.
One of the priests called out, “You. Who do you think you are? Is it true that you have been telling people that you’re the Messiah?”
John took a step toward the shore, the water eddying around him. “You want to know who I am?”
“Yes. That is precisely what we want to know.”
A harsh, rusty-sounding laugh came from John, and then he raised his voice. “Who am I? ‘I am a voice crying aloud in the wilderness.’” He took another step toward the priests. “I have been sent to prepare the way of the Lord. That is who I am.”
I looked at Lazarus, and he looked back at me, raising his eyebrows. There were murmurs all around us from the crowd.
The priest’s voice reverberated with anger. “Don’t dare quote scripture to me. We have come here to find out if you are the Messiah. If you’re afraid to answer us, then you must be a fraud.”
John bent and cupped some water in his hand. He watched it as it trickled through his fingers. Then he looked up and this time his voice was quiet, “I baptize with water for repentance; but I tell you there is one coming after me who is mightier than I, and he will baptize with the fire of the Holy Spirit.”
Even from a distance I could see the priest stiffen. “What man? Of whom are you speaking?”
John’s face contorted with fury. He began to wade toward the shore, yelling as he came, “You viper’s brood! Do you really think you will escape retribution for what you do?”
The priests backed away. Then, as John continued to come toward them, they turned and hurried back up the path. John shouted insults after them until they were out of sight.
The crowd was buzzing with excitement.
Moses said in a trembling voice, “I’m not sure if I like prophets, Papa.”
“We’ll go,” Nathaniel said. Holding his sons’ hands, he nodded to Ruth to join them, and they began to retrace their steps to the road.
Lazarus remained where he was, his eyes fixed on the figure still standing in the river.
“What are you thinking?” I asked.
“I’m wondering who he is. And I’m wondering who he might be speaking about.”
He turned away and put a hand on my arm. “Come along, Mary. We had better go with your cousins.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
I hadn’t been to the Temple for Passover in years. As I waited for Ruth to come out of the house with her family, I chatted with Lazarus and tried not to show how uneasy I was. I had come a long way from the girl who had stood on the Mount of Olives and regarded the beauty of the Temple with awe and respect. It might still be a beautiful building, but now I had serious doubts about what went on inside its walls.
The Temple had driven Daniel away, and he was the most deeply religious person I knew. Daniel loved the Lord with all his heart, yet he had turned his back on the heart of Jewish worship. I still remembered every word he had said to me: “Our religious leaders have been corrupted by money. Animal sacrifice, and the money it brings in, is the business of the Temple these days, not prayer. We need to be saved from ourselves as well as from the Romans.”
During the years I dutifully accompanied Aaron to the Temple, I had seen the truth of Daniel’s words for myself. I hated the selling of animals. I hated the stench of the burned offerings that engulfed the city as the priests, for a price, slaughtered hundreds of thousands of lambs and burned their entrails and fat in supposed sacrifice to the Lord.
I spoke none of these dangerous thoughts to my companions. Instead I kept them to myself as I accompanied them along the well-worn road from Bethany to Jerusalem. Then I remained with Ruth and her children in the Court of the Women while Nathaniel and Lazarus took the lambs they had purchased up to the Court of the Priests.
We returned home well before sunset so Martha could have supper ready when the light died and Passover officially began. Martha took the basket of lamb’s meat from Lazarus, saying, “The rest of you, go to the courtyard and let us begin to prepare the meal.”
Martha and Ruth started toward the kitchen, and I took a few steps after them. Martha saw me, stopped, and said kindly, “Go along to the courtyard and help with the children, Mary. Ruth and I will be fine. I have two girls coming in to assist us.”
I was hurt. “But I want to help with the meal.”
Martha smiled. “You haven’t been inside a kitchen since you left Magdala, Mary. You’ll only be in the way.”
Ruth said to Martha, “She didn’t do much cooking in Magdala either. But she was always good with the children.” She looked at her girls. “Do you want Aunt Mary to go with you?”
Adah took my hand and beamed up at me. “Yes!”
I had no choice but to turn and go with the men and children into the courtyard. But I felt rejected.
By the time the sun had set and supper was ready, I had gotten over my ruffled feelings. We sat in the front room, where tables had been arranged in a square, with one side of the square left empty. Lazarus, as our host, sat at the top of the square, with the rest of us filling in the other two sides.
The Passover meal is long, with many hand washings and prayers between courses. I sat through it all with a warm glow of happiness at being here with my family.
I listened as Lazarus told us about the evil deeds of Pharaoh and about the Israelites’ escape from captivity in Egypt. The ancient story of the lamb’s blood marking the doors of all Jews, so the angel of Death would pass them by, always made a chill run up and down my spine.
As I looked around the table, I felt deeply and profoundly that this was where my life was meant to be rooted. These good and kind people were my people. Impulsively, I leaned over and kissed Martha on the cheek.
She smiled at me, showing her dimples. “What was that for?”
“It’s to thank you for this wonderful meal and because I love you.”
Her dimples deepened. “I love you too, Mary. We’re so happy to have you here with us on this holy night.”
“I’m happy to be here,” I said. And I meant it with all my heart.
I had been back in Capernaum for a few weeks when I heard talk going around the marketplace that John the Baptizer had named another man as his successor. John had baptized many of the people in town, and they were agog at this news. Everyone wanted to know who the new prophet might be.
A few weeks later, news came to Fulvius Petrus that Herod Antipas had arrested John. The Romans were always the first to hear any news of importance because it came by horseback via the Roman Messenger Service.
Fulvius immediately informed the rabbi of John’s arrest, knowing it would be of great interest to the town. Sharing of information wasn’t common among Roman commanders, but in the short time Fulvius had been in Capernaum, he had reached out to the Jewish leaders, even donating money to the synagogue. If a Roman could ever be said to be popular in a Jewish community, Fulvius was popular in Capernaum.
He came in person to tell me about John. I took him to sit in my garden, which sloped down almost to the lakeshore. It was a sunny day, and Jeremiah brought us wine and a plate of olives.
Fulvius waited until we had been served before he told me about the arrest. “It all dates back to Antipas’ seduction of his brother Philip’s wife, Herodias,” he said as he rolled an olive in his fingers before popping it into his mouth.
Everyone in Galilee knew about that scandal. Philip was the Tetrarch of the region north of Galilee, and he and Antipas were both sons of Herod the Great.
Even worse than the seduction of a brother’s wife was the fact that Antipas had proceeded to marry her while his brother was still living.
This action went directly against Jewish law, and Antipas had been denounced by virtually every Jew in Galilee. The situation—the seduction of a married woman and the subsequent marriage—hit too close to my own life for me to be comfortable discussing it, and I avoided it whenever possible.
Fulvius continued, “John made the mistake of publicly accusing Antipas of committing incest by marrying his brother’s wife.”
I said, “I don’t imagine Antipas cared to be reprimanded by a prophet everyone was listening to,”
“Not at all. John was safe enough while he remained in Judea, which is under Roman rule, but once he crossed into Galilee, he came under the jurisdiction of Antipas, who had him arrested and thrown into the fortress of Machaerus.”
I felt a rush of pity as I thought of that wild figure standing in the river. How terrible it would be for such a man to live without fresh air and light.
Soon after the news of John’s imprisonment, rumors came to Capernaum about his chosen successor. Instead of baptizing, he was preaching in all the towns around the lake.
Again, Fulvius Petrus was the one who brought me the information. I knew the local Pharisees were outraged that I should entertain a man who wasn’t a member of my family—and a Roman!—but I ignored them. I enjoyed Fulvius’ visits too much to put a halt to them, and my friends, and the families to whom I had loaned money, all stood behind me.
I was still officially an anonymous donor, but the recipients had figured out where the money was coming from. We kept up the pretense of anonymity to save face, and the rabbi continued to be the official dispenser of funds.
The pleasure I took in Fulvius’ visits made me feel slightly guilty. Like Julia, he was a connection to a life I had renounced, but it was enjoyable to talk to a well-read person about poetry and philosophy. I had bought quite a number of books for my new library, and I still ordered books from Julia’s bookseller in Rome. I had tried to get a Greek translation of the Hebrew Scriptures, but the bookseller had informed me it was impossible. There was no such translation. To read Jewish scripture you had to know Hebrew, and the only people trained to read Hebrew were the Jewish hierarchy.
This disturbed me. I had wanted very much to read the Word of the Lord for myself.
On one pleasant afternoon Fulvius and I were sitting in my garden, looking out at the lake with all the fishing boats bobbing on its rippling surface.
Fulvius took a sip of wine and said, “The new teacher’s name is Jesus of Nazareth. He’s creating a frenzy all along the lake because he is supposedly working miracles.”
Miracles, I thought. Miracles always made me skeptical. “What kind of miracles?”
“He is said to have cured many sick people.”
I shrugged. “Sometimes sick people get well on their own, especially when they believe they’ll get well. I’ve seen it happen more than once.”
“True, but I must confess I’m curious to see him. He’s working his way around the lake, so he’s sure to come to Capernaum soon. Then we can judge for ourselves.”
I smiled, but I didn’t share Fulvius’ curiosity. Nothing any prophet could say or do would bring back what I most longed for—my baby.
Chapter Twenty-Three
A week later Jesus of Nazareth came to Capernaum. He preached at synagogue on the Sabbath, but I wasn’t there to hear him because I was menstruating. Rebecca wasn’t able to go either, as her mother, who lived with them, was very ill. Simon Peter came home sparking with excitement about the new teacher, and Rebecca stopped by to tell me about it after their Sabbath meal.
She brought along her two youngest daughters, Leah and Deborah, because she knew I loved the little girls. I gave them the dolls I kept for them, and Rebecca and I settled at the table in the courtyard where we could keep an eye on the children as they played.
“I needed a rest,” Rebecca confessed, as she sipped fresh pomegranate juice. “Andrew’s wife volunteered to sit with my mother for a bit, and I wanted to tell you what Peter said about the wonders of this new teacher.”
“What is so wonderful about him?”
“Quite a lot, according to my husband. He started off as usual, reading a passage from scripture, and then he spoke to the congregation about what it meant.”
I nodded. This was indeed the synagogue procedure. The rabbi could ask anyone to read the scripture and give the address. Often it was a scribe or a Pharisee, but the rabbi could call upon any Jewish man who had a message. Our rabbi had called upon this new teacher.
Rebecca continued, “Peter said that what made Jesus’ talk so different was that he never once called upon the rabbinical rules to back up his teaching. You know how it is when the scribes preach. They say something, and then they tell you about all the scripture and rabbinical references that support their comment. Jesus spoke as if he were the authority, as if he needed no one else to testify to the truth of what he preached. Peter said he was exhilarating.”
I knew what it was like to endure lengthy lists of citations, and I could understand why everyone found this refreshing. But was that enough to have created such enthusiasm in Peter? True, he was an emotional man, but—
“Mama!” Leah called.
We looked at the girls. Deborah had both the dolls. Rebecca said, “Deborah, give your sister’s doll back to her, and play nicely.”
After Deborah had restored the doll to Leah, Rebecca turned to me. I said, “It must have made a nice change, to have someone speak out directly, but is that all?”
“No,” Rebecca said. “Listen to this. There was a man in the synagogue possessed by an evil spirit. When he heard the words of Jesus, his demon cried out, ‘What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? I know who you are, you are the Holy One of God.’”
My eyes widened. “What happened after that?”
“Jesus said to the demon, ‘Be silent and come out of him.’” She paused.
“Rebecca! Don’t tease. What happened next?”
“The man threw himself to the floor and rolled around. The demon howled and then—it came out! The man was himself again, and the demon was gone.”
I was silent. This was truly an amazing story. Jews believed there were many demons in the world, malignant beings that hated God and took possession of people’s bodies to do their evil work. There were special people who had the power to lure the demons out with charms, rituals, and incantations. Sometimes this ceremony worked; often it did not.
However, for a demon to be vanquished by one simple command was certainly extraordinary enough to make people take notice.
I was still unclean the following day, but the day after that I was able to go to the marketplace. The name of Jesus was on everyone’s lips. I hadn’t heard such passionate interest in a single topic since the Baptizer’s arrest.
It was a hot day, and when I got home I asked Jeremiah to bring some water to the garden. I wanted to sit by the lake, where there was always a breeze. I pulled off my veil and pushed up the long sleeves of my tunic, wistfully remembering the light silk sleeveless Roman clothes I used to wear. When I heard Jeremiah’s steps I turned to ask him something and saw that Rebecca was following him.
She looked furious.
“What is it?” I asked as she came up beside me.
“You won’t believe what has happened!” Her cheeks were red, and she was out of breath.
I pointed to the bench beside me. “Sit, before you collapse in this heat. Jeremiah, put the water on the table, and bring another cup, please.”
“Yes, my lady.”
I filled the single cup and passed it to Rebecca. “Drink this.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to drink your water.”
“Jeremiah is bringing another cup. Drink this, and then you can tell me what has upset you.”
She accepted the cup and drained it. As she put it down o
n the small table in front of us, I said, “Now, what is it?”
The words exploded out of her. “That man, that Jesus of Nazareth, has k-kidnapped my h-husband!”
She was so furious that she stuttered as she spoke.
“What are you talking about?”
“Simon and Andrew were fishing from the shore this morning, and this teacher, or whatever he calls himself, came walking down the beach. And he took them! Just like that. He took them!”
She wasn’t making sense. “How did he take them, Rebecca? He didn’t drag the both of them away by himself.”
“Don’t be funny,” she snapped.
“I’m not trying to be funny. I’m trying to understand what happened.”
Her face went from furious to frightened. I reached over and put my hand over hers, as they lay clenched in her lap. “Tell me.”
She nodded and shut her eyes for a moment. Then she opened them and looked at me. “This is what I heard from old Isaac. You know how he’s always hanging around the lake?”
I nodded.
“He saw it happen. He said Peter and Andrew had cast their nets into the water and were slowly dragging them back to the shore, when this man, this Jesus of Nazareth, went up to them and told them to follow him, that he would make them fishers of men.”
“Fishers of men?” I repeated.
“Yes. And they went, Mary! They dropped their nets on the shore, with whatever fish they had caught still in them, and wandered off after this man as if he were King David.”
Her anger had burned itself out, and now her lips began to tremble.
“When did this happen?” I asked.
“Yesterday.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “I haven’t seen Peter since. He asked old Isaac to tell me he wouldn’t be home for supper, and he hasn’t come back yet.” She sniffed.
I was having a hard time believing this story. What could the man have meant, fishers of men?