“Yes,” David said again, “isn’t that strange? I hadn’t given it that much thought until Peter reminded me of it.”
“Why?” Leah said. “Why does Peter think Jesus tells them that?”
“Well, Peter is not sure either, but here is what he thinks. And the more I’ve thought about it, the more sense it makes to me. If a person demands evidence of God’s power before he is willing to believe, it is because he has no faith. Signs and evidence come because of faith, not in order to create faith. For example, think of Pharaoh. How many mighty miracles did he see? And did it change his heart? No, it only hardened it the more.”
Leah’s mouth had fallen open slightly. “Are you saying that Simeon and Mother—” She stopped, not sure exactly how to finish her question.
“Peter was saying that Jesus doesn’t want people to believe in him only because of his miracles. He wants them to accept him, to believe in him, not just in what he does.” He too was struggling how to put it. “As I’ve thought about it, I came to realize that Jesus works these great miracles because he is the Messiah. He is not the Messiah because he works miracles.”
Rachel leaned forward. “Say that again.”
“What we saw today happened because Jesus is the Messiah. Performing those wonderful things doesn’t make him the Messiah. Does that make sense?”
They all three were nodding now.
“But,” Ephraim said, “it was seeing those things that he did that convinced me, Father. I wasn’t sure before then.”
“I know. But you were open to him. You said yourself, you and Rachel found the teachings of Jesus the other day quite appealing.”
Ephraim grinned. “Except for the things about going the second mile with some Roman soldier. I’ve got to admit that shook me pretty deeply, just as it did Simeon.”
“All I am saying is this,” David concluded. “When we see Simeon and your mother, I think we need to be a little careful about talking only about the miracles we’ve seen.”
“But they’ll hear about them,” Rachel said. “The whole town is buzzing with what happened today.”
“I’m not talking about trying to keep them a secret. I’m not even saying don’t say anything about them. But let’s be careful that we don’t try to change their hearts by focusing on the miracles alone.”
“I understand,” Leah said slowly. “I’m afraid that’s exactly what I tried to do with Simeon today. It’s like I was saying to him, ‘Simeon, you won’t accept anything else I’m telling you, so listen to this.’”
David leaned forward, studying his hands. “There is something else I would like to say.”
“We are listening, Father,” Ephraim said with great soberness.
“The other day, when Jesus taught us on the mount, he spoke of prayer. He taught us how to pray, and then do you remember what he said?”
Leah had not been there, so she couldn’t answer. Ephraim and his wife were not sure to what specific thing he referred. So David began to quote Jesus as best he could remember. “He said something like this, ‘Ask, and it shall be given unto you. Seek, and you shall find. Knock, and it shall be opened unto you.’”
“Yes, I remember that now,” Rachel said.
“And then he used the example of parents. If our children ask for bread, we don’t hand them a stone. If they want fish, we don’t give them a serpent. Then Jesus said that if we, who are imperfect, know how to give good gifts to our children, how much more will our Father in Heaven give good things to them that ask of him.”
He stopped, and suddenly his emotions rose to the surface. He tried to speak and had to catch himself. He swallowed once, then again, and then finally went on. “I can’t think of any gift I would rather have than to have your mother and Simeon come to know and feel what we now know and feel.”
“Amen,” Leah whispered, her own eyes suddenly glistening.
“Yes,” Rachel said, reaching out to squeeze her father-in-law’s hands quickly.
“Then let’s not just talk to them,” he said. “Let’s first ask God to open their hearts to our words, to help us know what to say and how to say it, to prepare their minds so that they can hear not only what we say, but what is in our hearts.” He looked up now, smiling at each one in turn. “And since we are together here now, this would be a good time to start.”
“And to thank him for this day too,” Leah said.
“Yes,” Rachel said, on the verge of tears, herself. “Matthew is not the only one who was given a new heart this day.”
“Amen,” Ephraim said fervently.
“Amen,” said Leah and David at the same moment.
IV
Deborah wanted to reach out and touch Simeon’s cheek, lean forward and take him in her arms as she had done when he was a little boy, to make the hurt go away. But he was not a little boy any longer and the hurt now was coming out as bitter anger. He wasn’t ready for a caress on the cheek. Not yet.
“Did you know about this, Mother?” he suddenly cried. The light brown eyes had turned dark, like a dust storm blowing in from the deserts of Arabia.
“I learned just the other day that your father knew the centurion and had dealings with him before—”
“And you didn’t tell me?” he blurted.
“Let me finish, Simeon. I knew he had dealings with Rubrius before any of this happened last fall. He has not continued that contact since then, knowing how you would feel about it.”
“Until today!” he exclaimed. “You should have seen them, Mother. That Roman soldier came up to Father like they were cousins or something. Father called him by his first name.”
“Simeon, you told me that Rubrius was not asking anything for himself. His servant is one of us. Your father has known him for many years.”
“Don’t make excuses for him, Mother. I can’t believe he would do this.”
“I’m not making excuses, Son. I’m just trying to explain that it is not like your father went out seeking the centurion.”
He got to his feet. “That doesn’t matter! How could he do that? This is the man who nearly killed me. His own son.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I know. The very sight of him or that tribune would leave me physically ill.”
“Yes, I know. So why doesn’t it affect Father that way?” He blew out his breath. “I’m sorry, Mother, but I can’t just push this aside.”
“I understand, but you can’t just ignore it either. You and your father are going to have to talk about it sometime.”
Suddenly he remembered something and was ashamed. “How is Aunt Naomi?” He had not made it all the way to Beth Neelah yesterday because he had gotten a late afternoon start. He had stopped to sleep in a stand of forest, then rose before dawn to continue. Now it was early morning, and thus far his mother was the only one awake in the household. He had been with her now for half an hour, and in his anger and frustration he had not even thought once about the reason his mother had come here.
“Better,” Deborah said, grateful that he had finally settled down enough to ask. “If she continues to improve, Joseph and I will start home tomorrow.”
“I’m going to stay up here for a time.”
“Simeon.”
“I can’t go back and face him yet, Mother. I need some time to think. Besides, I promised Yehuda we would do some things that need doing. And I have spent scarcely any time with Shana since our betrothal.”
“You know this is a very busy time—”
“Ha!” he cried, cutting her off. “It’s not so busy that Father and Leah and Ephraim can’t all run off after Jesus. Sorry, I’m not too worried about that, Mother.”
She sighed and nodded. “Perhaps I’ll stay a day or two longer as well, and then we can go back down together.”
“Perhaps,” he said. He started toward the door. “I’m going to see Yehuda before he’s off somewhere. He has no idea that I’m here.” He finally managed a smile. “Thank you for listening. And understanding.”
And then he went o
ut the door. She stared at it for several seconds, then dropped her head into her hands. “Oh, David,” she whispered. “What have you done?”
V
“Ho! Simeon.”
“Shalom, Yehuda!”
“I heard you arrived this morning.”
Simeon shook his head. Was there nothing that went undetected in this little village?
“Yes. I came up to see how Cousin Naomi is doing.”
“This is good. I was getting ready to come down to see you.”
Simeon’s eyebrows lifted. “You were?”
“Yes.” He reached in his tunic and withdrew a folded parchment. “This came yesterday.”
“For me?”
“For us.”
He walked over to his friend. “Who is it from?”
“Mordechai ben Uzziel of Jerusalem.”
Simeon’s jaw went slack. “Mordechai?”
Yehuda nodded, then stroked his beard thoughtfully. “He says he has a matter of utmost urgency that he wishes to discuss with us.”
“Don’t tell me he wants another escort,” Simeon frowned.
“No. Actually, he’s asking that you and I come to Jerusalem.”
It was one shock after another. “When?”
“As soon as possible.” He handed the parchment to his friend, and Simeon read it quickly. It was short and terse.
“He doesn’t say what it is,” he noted, his brow furrowing in concentration. “Why us?”
“I’ve thought about that all night. I think it’s because he knows us. After the meeting in Sepphoris fell through, we’re not only the only Zealots he’s actually met, but he knows we can be trusted.”
“Right,” Simeon said sarcastically.
“We didn’t take his money,” Yehuda reminded him. “And we also saved his daughter from a great deal of shame.”
Simeon grunted, not convinced. “He doesn’t want us to say anything to the other leaders.”
“Not yet.”
Simeon pursed his lips, handing the letter back. “What do you think?”
Yehuda’s head bobbed back and forth, half nodding, half shaking negatively. “They are anxious for some kind of a deal with us,” he said. “I’m not sure it is ever going to work, but I suppose it’s worth hearing what he’s got on his mind.”
Simeon nodded after a moment. “All right.” Actually, he was relieved to have a reason for not going home for a time, though he wasn’t going to say that, not even to Yehuda. “How soon do you want to leave?”
“Well, I slept like a baby pup last night. I can be ready in an hour. But you were out on the road, obviously—”
“I’m fine. Let’s do it. I’ll go tell Mother.”
Yehuda cuffed him gently. “And you’d better come say hello to Shana. She’s been up for an hour fretting about what she’ll cook for your supper tonight. Now she’s going to be very unhappy to know I’m taking you away again.”
He smiled. “I was coming over right now to see her.”
Yehuda laughed. “Shana is so afraid that you will find her cooking less than you desire.”
Simeon looked surprised. “I think Shana is a wonderful cook. Better than you and Daniel by a bowshot, that’s for certain.”
“That’s what I told her,” he said. “But since she never had a mother to teach her how, she is convinced that she will displease you once you are married. She planned to work all day on your meal.”
“You tell her that I shall return to Beth Neelah before I go back to Capernaum so I can partake of her cooking. And tell her that I have no worries whatsoever about her abilities as a wife and mother.”
“I will,” Yehuda said, pleased.
“Good. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
Chapter Notes
The surname Iscariot, given to Judas, is thought to have come from ish Keriot, “a man of Keriot,” a town in Judea. Some think it came from iscara, which means “to be strangled.” Since Judas hanged himself, some scholars have supposed the title was given to Judas after his death (see Clarke, 3:117).
In chapter eight and nine of Matthew’s Gospel, he links together a whole series of miracles—those described in this and the previous chapter. Right in the midst of that incredible list of miracles, Matthew inserts the account of his own calling to the discipleship. In Matthew’s record, Jesus said to the paralytic, “Arise, take up thy bed, and go unto thine house.” And then it says that he arose and departed (Matthew 9:6–7). Just two verses later comes this: “As Jesus passed forth from thence, he saw a man, named Matthew, sitting at the receipt of custom: and he saith unto him, Follow me. And he arose, and followed him” (9:9). It was this similarity in language that led the author to have Matthew say what he does here about the greatest of all miracles.
Though they don’t link them together in the same sequence as Matthew does, both Mark and Luke include accounts of these same miracles and give some additional details that are included in this chapter (see Mark 2:1–12; 5:21–43; Luke 5:17–26; 7:1–10; 8:41–56).
Chapter 20
Shafts of lightning will fly with a true aim and will leap to the target as from a well-drawn bow of clouds.
—Wisdom of Solomon 5:21
I
24 May, a.d. 30
Miriam looked up from her writing as she heard the front entrance door below her open with a crash.
“Miriam! Miriam!”
The urgency in Livia’s voice was unmistakable. Miriam stood quickly and walked to the door of the study. “I’m up here, Livia. What is it?”
She heard the sound of footsteps running across the marbled hall, then up the stairs. In a moment Livia appeared, walking swiftly toward her. Her face was red and her long golden hair a little disheveled.
“What is it, Livia? What’s wrong?”
Livia came up to her, breathing heavily. “Jesus is back in Jerusalem.”
Miriam visibly started. “Are you sure?”
“I was just on the Temple Mount. I saw him.”
Miriam started to turn, then remembered something. “Get Levi. I’ll put away my things.”
By the time she had finished capping the ink bottle and cleaning the nib of her pen, the chief household steward of Mordechai ben Uzziel was standing at her door. “Yes, Mistress Miriam?”
“Levi, I’ve got to go up on the Temple Mount.”
He nodded soberly, his eyes showing a little surprise. Normally she did not feel as if she had to account to him for her whereabouts.
“Father said there might be a meeting here sometime today. He wants me to record the proceedings.”
Now he understood. “Ah, yes. Your father did mention that to me, though he said he wasn’t sure if it would be today or tomorrow.”
“I know. But if it is today before we return, you’ll have to send someone for me.”
“I understand.”
“Thank you.” With that she grabbed a shawl of light blue silk and threw it around her shoulders. “Come, Livia. Let’s hurry.”
II
They chose the route across the great western bridge that spanned the Tyropoean Valley. It was the shortest and quickest way from the Upper City to the temple. The moment they were out of her courtyard, Miriam began pressing for more detail. “Tell me more, Livia. Where did you see him?”
“At first it was just the crowds that drew me. I was by the gate of the Court of the Women when I heard some shouting over near the north porticos. Someone said it was the carpenter from Nazareth. Knowing that you would want to know, I went to see.”
“Good,” she exclaimed. “I’ve been hoping he would come to Jerusalem for Pentecost.”
“When I got to where the crowd was, I couldn’t see Jesus, but I quickly learned that the tumult had to do with him.”
“Tumult?”
“Yes. There was a group of scribes and Pharisees there. Azariah was one of them.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Go on.”
“There were also some of your father’s party, from th
e Council. They were very agitated.”
“Over Jesus?”
“At first I didn’t think so. There was a man there. They were questioning him because he was found carrying his bed on the Sabbath.”
Miriam turned to stare at Livia. “His bed? On the Temple Mount?”
There was a quick smile. “Not a bed like yours. A litter. More like a stretcher. He had it folded up and on his shoulder.”
“How odd. Today is the Sabbath. You would think anyone would know better than to carry something like that on the Temple Mount. The Pharisees are always watching for violators of the Law.”
“Well, that’s why they were questioning him. I was going to move on, thinking this had nothing to do with Jesus, when the man said the reason he was carrying his bed was because the man who had made him whole had commanded him to take up his bed and walk.”
Miriam stopped dead. “Made him whole? He said that?”
Livia nodded, eager now to share what she had discovered. “That caught my attention too, so I stayed to listen some more. Here is what the man told them. He said he had been afflicted with an infirmity for more than thirty-eight years. In recent years it had become so terrible that he could no longer walk.”
She looked at Miriam now. “Do you know of a place they call the Pool of Bethesda?”
“Of course. It’s down by the sheep market.”
“Yes. I’ve heard about it, but you’ve never taken me there. Evidently there’s something about the water in the pool.”
Miriam nodded, starting to walk again. “That’s right. From time to time it will bubble up. Some of the people believe that it is an angel that troubles the water. Many of the sick and infirm go there and wait. They believe that the first person into the water after it bubbles will be healed. It’s really very sad,” she went on. “Those poor people. Sometimes I go down there and give alms. Father doesn’t know that, by the way. He thinks the whole idea of an angel in the water is ridiculous.”
Livia’s head was bobbing even as she spoke. “That explains it then. Everyone else but me seemed to understand what he was saying.”
“What happened?”
“He said that he had been down by the pool for a long time now, trying to get into the water so he could be healed. But his infirmity was such that by the time he was able to get up off his bed and crawl down to the water, someone else would always get there first.”
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