She too looked around to make sure no one was watching or listening. “Because,” she said quietly, “Livia and I were there when Jesus drove the moneychangers out.”
“You saw it?” he asked incredulously.
“Yes. Most of it.”
“And?”
Miriam shook her head, remembering. “He was magnificent,” she whispered. “He was so angry because of what those people were doing. He kept talking about how they were polluting his Father’s house.”
He seemed to relax a little now. “That’s what I heard too.”
“Have you heard him teach?” Miriam asked, eager now.
Again he was suddenly tense and looked around quickly.
“I want to know, Nicodemus. I promise I will tell no one that I have spoken with you.”
He considered that, searching her face carefully. Though he had not been directly involved in Miriam’s brief interest in Pharisaism, as a leader of the Pharisees in Jerusalem, Nicodemus had known about it. When she had determined it was not for her, unlike some others, he had been kind, telling her that he understood. Perhaps it was the memory of that experience that helped him make up his mind. “Come,” he said.
Including Livia now, he walked quickly around to the west side of the temple, where the crowds were the thinnest. He moved over into the deep shade of Solomon’s Porches. Though the main portico was on the south end of the Temple Mount, a narrower porch—only two columns deep—ran around most of the rest of the Court of the Gentiles. The west side, opposite the entrance to the temple courtyards, usually had the fewest people. He went to a spot behind one of the pillars and motioned for them to sit. When they did so, he sat down as well. He faced them, which, Miriam noticed, also turned his back to the main courtyard so he would not be easily identified.
Once settled, he seemed hesitant again. When he did speak, his first words completely stunned Miriam. “I went and saw Jesus last night,” he said.
She just stared at him. Livia, who had said nothing at all since they had begun speaking with him, leaned closer.
“Yes. I went by night,” he said, with a touch of shame in his voice, “because I was afraid someone might see me. You know what the Council would say to that.”
She nodded gravely. With the current mood of the Council, he could easily lose his seat on it.
“What did he say?”
“Well, it was most strange. I wasn’t sure how to begin, so I didn’t really ask him a question. I just said, ‘Rabbi, we know that thou art a teacher come from God: for no man can do these miracles that you do, except God be with him.’”
Miriam nodded. That was very much along the lines of what she had been thinking. If the stories were true, then . . .
“And then he said the strangest thing. He said, ‘Verily, verily, I say unto you, except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.’”
“Born again?” Livia exclaimed, apparently so caught up that she forgot herself. She looked away quickly, murmuring an apology. Neither Miriam nor Nicodemus even noticed.
“That’s almost exactly what I said,” the Pharisee went on. “‘How can a man who is old like me be born again?’ I asked. ‘Am I supposed to try to enter again into my mother’s womb?’”
“How strange!” Miriam said.
“How did he answer you?” Livia said, seeming to realize that Miriam did not expect her to hold her peace.
Nicodemus leaned forward, his eyes troubled. “He looked right at me and said, ‘Verily, verily, I say to you, Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God. That which is born of the flesh is flesh; and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit.’”
“Of the water and the spirit?”
“Yes, that’s what he said.”
Miriam looked at Livia, deeply puzzled. Livia shrugged.
“I guess I looked as troubled as you do,” Nicodemus said with a faint smile. “Jesus then compared it to the wind. He said we can feel it blowing and know that it is there, but we cannot tell from whence it comes or where it is going. He said that is what it is like for those who are born of the Spirit.”
Miriam was quiet now, deep in thought. Finally she looked up. “Did he explain what he meant?”
The member of the Great Sanhedrin looked a little chagrined. “No. I was so perplexed that all I could think of to say was, ‘But how can these things be?’ I mean, we know that a proselyte to Judaism is immersed in water in the ritual bath as a symbol of his entering a new life, and we say that he has been born again. But—” He rubbed his hands across his eyes. “But he didn’t just talk about this happening to Gentiles who become Jews. He said every man. Can he really mean that we, the children of Abraham, must be baptized of water and the Spirit before we can enter the kingdom of God? That’s when he looked right at me—or through me!—and said, ‘Are you a master of Israel and don’t know these things?’ he asked.”
Miriam winced, feeling the pain that must have caused this good man.
“He wasn’t angry or anything. It was almost as if he was surprised that I would be asking him questions like this.”
“And what did you say to that?”
“Nothing. He told me that if he had taught me earthly things and I couldn’t understand them, what would I do if he taught me of heavenly things?”
“I want to hear him,” Miriam declared suddenly. “Do you think he might be in the temple today?”
He shook his head. “That’s why I came, but I haven’t found him.”
“I am troubled,” Livia said. “You speak of being baptized. In Greek, baptizmos means to immerse in water.”
“Yes,” Nicodemus said. “That’s what John the Baptist was doing. He would take people into the River Jordan and baptize them.”
“Yes, I have heard that,” Livia said. “But what is baptized with the Spirit?”
“This was the question I asked myself over and over,” came the reply.
Miriam’s mind was working furiously. “Maybe he is saying that every one of us, Jew, Gentile, believer, nonbeliever must be immersed in God’s Spirit as well. But why?”
No one spoke, letting her continue to think aloud.
Remembering what she had said to Marcus about symbol and ritual, and how the power of the symbol lies in what it represents spiritually, she began to nod. “Being immersed in the water symbolizes that we have our sins or impurities washed away.”
“Yes,” Nicodemus said eagerly, “and if that happens, you could say that we are in a state of . . . ?” He left the question hanging for her to finish.
Both women looked blank. Finally, Miriam nodded her head.
“Innocence. If we are pure, we are innocent, are we not?”
“Yes.”
“Or you might say,” he said, speaking very slowly, “we become innocent again.”
Miriam was blank for a moment; then suddenly her eyes widened. “Like when we were born.”
He sat back, satisfied now. “Now think about what Jesus told me.”
It was Livia who drew in her breath now. “So if we are baptized with water and with the Spirit, it is like we are being reborn to become clean and pure and innocent.”
“Yes,” Miriam whispered. “Because unless we are clean and pure and innocent, we cannot return to live with God, who is clean and pure and innocent.”
Nicodemus smiled, his eyes soft now. “That is what I came to as well. It feels right to me,” he said. He gave a sorrowful smile. “But what do I know? I am only a master in Israel.”
With that, he gave a quick nod of farewell, stood, and walked away. But he had gone only a few steps when he turned and looked at Miriam. “You will speak of none of this to your father?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I will not, if you will not.”
Again he gave a quick nod, and then he was gone. Both women watched him go, struck by the sadness in the man. Miriam spoke first. “I have never seen him like this. He’s a man of great wealth and confide
nce. But this experience seems to have really humbled him.”
Livia murmured an assent. “This Jesus seems to have a strange effect on people.”
“I know,” Miriam agreed. “That’s why as soon as Passover is finished, I’m going to find him. I want to hear him for myself.”
“I would like that too,” Livia said.
“Good.” She took her hand. “Well, we’d better get home and get ready for Passover. My aunt and her family will be here before sundown.”
VI
8 April, a.d. 30
Miriam’s mother’s sister and her family stayed through Passover and two additional days beyond that, so it was not until the third day after their conversation with Nicodemus that Miriam and Livia were able to return to the Temple Mount. It was a sharp contrast to what they had seen before. The huge crowds were mostly gone now. The custodians of the temple had swept the great Court of the Gentiles. And Jesus of Nazareth was nowhere to be found.
By midday Livia returned home, but Miriam made one more swing through Solomon’s Porches, hoping to find him. As she was about to leave, she saw Nicodemus enter the portico.
She walked swiftly to him. He saw her coming and looked around nervously. She realized this was neither the time nor the place for another conversation, but she had to know. She made as if she were going to walk right by him, then, as she came up beside him, stopped momentarily. “I have looked for this Jesus to hear him for myself. I cannot find him anywhere.”
“He has returned to Galilee.”
“No!”
He bowed slightly and moved on. It was as if they had paused momentarily for a greeting. Miriam walked on, turning her face away so that no one would see the disappointment on it. She went to the edge of the portico and stepped out in the sunshine, then stopped, staring out across the vast courtyard.
Chapter Notes
The account of Nicodemus, who is called both a Pharisee and a ruler of the Jews, is found in John 3:1–21. His conversation with Jesus, which was held at night, is drawn from that scripture. His interpretation of that conversation with Miriam and Livia is, of course, an extrapolation of the author.
Nicodemus is referred to twice more in the Gospel of John—once when he speaks up in the Council in defense of Jesus (7:50), and once when he joins the other disciples in helping to prepare the body of Jesus for burial following the Crucifixion, and brought a gift of a hundred-pound weight of precious spices (19:39). He seems to have been convinced early on that there was more to Jesus than being just another teacher, but whether through timidity or some other factor, he probably did not become a full disciple until after Jesus was crucified.
Tradition says that after the Resurrection, he was fully converted to the Savior and publicly declared his faith. The Jewish religious leaders then stripped him of his office, beat him, and drove him from Jerusalem. A man of enormous wealth, as suggested by his gift at the burial, another account says he lost his entire fortune, and he and his family died in the direst of poverty (see Farrar, pp. 166–67).
Chapter 12
Tradition is a fence around the Law.
—Talmud, Aboth, 3:14
I
20 April, a.d. 30
A week following their return from Judea for the celebration of the Passover, the family of David ben Joseph was surprised when Deborah’s brother, Aaron, showed up in Capernaum. He had stayed in Jerusalem a few extra days; then, being a strict Pharisee, Aaron had taken the longer route from Judea to Galilee that bypassed Samaria by going down to Jericho, then up the Jordan Valley. Passing through the accursed land and mingling with the accursed people was unthinkable except in the gravest emergency. Capernaum was a little north of the road that turned west and led to Sepphoris, but it still made for a convenient stopping place, especially when there was free lodging and food to be had. The family assumed that he would stay only overnight, then continue his journey on to his home in Sepphoris. They were wrong.
As usual, his presence proved to be a source of great irritation to Simeon. It had nothing to do with the fact that Simeon’s younger brother Joseph had to move into Simeon’s room to make a bed available for their uncle. Simeon spent half his life sleeping out beneath the stars, so sharing his bedroom was no bother at all. It was much more than that. It was the constant little digs about the Zealot cause. It was his side curls dangling and dancing, as a constant reminder that he lived a higher law. It was his snide comments about Deborah’s family not being more observant of the Law—meaning, of course, the Law as interpreted by the Pharisees. It was the constant reminders of his spiritual superiority over the rest of the family, who just never seemed to take their faith quite seriously enough. But Simeon gritted his teeth. One night was not too much for him to hold his patience, especially if it kept peace with his mother.
But in the morning, Aaron didn’t go. After breakfast he murmured something about spending the day with Amram and the other Pharisees of Capernaum, and left. That evening Joseph—to his mother’s embarrassment—asked Aaron straight out if he would be leaving in the morning. Joseph didn’t like sleeping on the floor in Simeon’s room. Aaron just laughed and said no, that he wouldn’t be leaving then either.
That’s when Simeon’s irritation began to turn to curiosity. What was going on? Aaron had a family to support. He was a potter of some renown and had a thriving business in Sepphoris. He had not gone down for Passover only, but for the entire Week of Unleavened Bread as well. Not with his family, Simeon noted darkly. They had three young children, and that would have meant that Aaron would have had to spend at least some time in Jerusalem seeing that their needs were met. But he had been gone for almost two weeks now. Why was there no urgency to get back to his home?
After dinner on the third night, Simeon got his questions answered.
II
When the last of the meal was finished, the adults moved to the roof, where the evening breezes were already cooling the humid air. It was customary in the Holy Land for most houses to be built with flat roofs, with parapets around the outside. As the sun settled in the west, the evening breezes would spring up, and all across the land people would go to their roofs to visit and talk. In the worst of the summer heat, many would sleep on the roof rather than in the sweltering house below.
Leah and Joseph had gone over to watch Esther and Boaz and put them to bed so that Ephraim and Rachel could be with the rest of the family. As they found chairs and benches and settled down, Aaron finally revealed his hand. The conversation initially began with David, Simeon, and Ephraim talking about the coming wheat harvest and what it would mean for the merchant business. Deborah and Rachel spoke quietly about other things. Suddenly, without waiting for an opening, Aaron came in. “Did you hear what happened at the Temple Mount during Passover?”
David straightened, trying to bring his thoughts to this new topic. “No. What?”
“About the moneychangers?”
Now David began to nod. “We heard something about some trouble on the Temple Mount, but—” He stopped, his mouth opening slightly. “Was that Jesus?”
Aaron didn’t respond. Again he abruptly changed the subject. “I heard that your fishing partners have become his disciples.”
David’s head came up; then he looked at Deborah. Had she been telling her brother about Simon and Andrew’s interest in Jesus? But she was already shaking her head. “I didn’t say anything to him,” she mouthed.
“So what does that mean for you?” Aaron said with a faint mocking tone. One hand came up, and he began to twirl one of his side curls. “Are you going to have to support them now?”
It was then that Simeon realized that, for some reason he didn’t understand, Aaron was trying to start an argument—and for once, it wasn’t with Simeon. It was with his father. Now his curiosity deepened.
“In the first place,” David said tartly, “they haven’t given up fishing. And why should it bother you if they choose to accept the teachings of Jesus? I’ve been trying to get an opportu
nity to hear what he has to say too.”
Aaron turned to his sister. “Which goes to show that even good men can be fools.”
Simeon scowled darkly, angered by the arrogance in the man. But he spoke with a pretended tone of innocence.“When you speak of fools, Uncle Aaron, are you talking about Father, Simon and Andrew, or the Pharisees?”
His mother shot him a look, and his father made as if to speak, but Aaron was too quick for both of them. “Why didn’t you include the Zealots in there as well?” he sneered.
“Aaron,” Deborah said quickly, “let’s not have any arguments tonight.”
But David wanted to know. “Was it Jesus who drove out the moneychangers?” he asked again.
“Yes, it was. And he is lucky that he got away before the Great Council had him arrested and thrown into prison.”
“That’s not what I heard,” Simeon said sweetly. “I heard that the temple police were afraid to stand up to him and that the Council didn’t have the courage to press any charges.”
David and Ephraim turned to Simeon in surprise. “Where did you hear that?” his father asked.
Simeon shrugged. “I was in Jerusalem too, remember.”
Aaron sniffed in disdain, then turned to his sister. “I’ll be leaving tomorrow afternoon, Deborah.”
The others turned in surprise. Simeon had to look down lest his uncle see the relief in his eyes.
“Oh?” Deborah said, obviously caught off guard by his comment as well. But then she nodded. “I have some things I’d like to send up with you for Hava and the children.”
“I won’t be going directly home,” he said. He shot David a triumphant look. “I will be staying at Amram’s house to work on some things, and then I am going up to Nazareth in a few days with him and some of the other Pharisees.”
David couldn’t help himself. “Nazareth?”
There was a gleam in Aaron’s eye. “Yes, we have learned that this Jesus has returned home. There’s a rumor that he may preach in the synagogue on Shabbat. After that madness he exhibited with the moneychangers, a committee has been formed to look into the whole matter.”
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