The teacher had tried to explain that these were natural feelings but was unable to explain why they were natural. Then he shook his head and told young Maximus he shouldn’t question the ways of the gods. Neither should he question the emotions inherent in man: they were the same powers that drove a wolf to kill for food or a horse to run. Maximus said he believed man to be superior to animals. The teacher tried to convince him that these were not things given for man to understand, that man just reacted to outside forces, including the forces of the gods.
“Then the force to do good comes from what god?” young Maximus would ask. “That is the god I want to worship,” he would say. “I don’t want to worship a god that makes men fight or cause harm or evil to other men.”
The teacher, overwhelmed by Maximus’s questions, had instructed him to think in more established terms in the future, to watch his tongue, and to be cautious where he voiced such troublesome thoughts. They could bring unwelcome consequences.
Maximus thought the teacher a coward for his unwillingness to stretch thought into understanding. He never did get an answer to his inquiries, so he manufactured and applied his own, which became his personal code. That was why over the years he found himself increasingly in conflict with traditional Roman philosophies.
Apart from his teacher, Maximus talked only to his wise father and patient mother about these feelings and later to his best friend, Androcles. His father seemed to understand his son’s thinking but was more a sounding board, offering little advice or guidance. He answered Maximus’s questions with other questions, inspiring him to continue to ponder and study and challenging him to formulate his own answers, because his questions required answers his father didn’t have. His mother simply told him to choose his gods wisely and be loyal and true to his choice. That made the most sense to Maximus: “Be true to the best gods, the gods that inspire man to do good things.” That had satisfied him as a boy but was not definitive enough for the now almost thirty-year-old general.
Maximus knew Androcles had listened to his theories much as a stump listens to falling rain. Androcles thought Maximus spoke heresy and cautioned him to keep his dissident and confusing thoughts to himself. “The gods would be displeased to know your innermost feelings. Let the gods do what they will with you. Fate, fortune, famine—it’s their choosing. You should make offerings to invoke their protection and mercy.”
Maximus didn’t have the heart to accuse Androcles of being a simpleton. His friend could think what he wanted. It was his right, as it was Maximus’s right to think and choose for himself. He hadn’t figured out who the good gods were and to which ones he should pledge his ultimate fealty. It wasn’t logical for him to pledge allegiance to statues, something created from the interpretations of man and the embodiment of arrogant gods. Rome, perhaps, had it wrong.
The ghosts kept him awake most of the night.
5
Liora ran back to the village as quick as her long legs could carry her. She was oblivious to the water sloshing out of the goatskin bag slung over her shoulder. The shawl covering her head fell around her shoulders, exposing her long, dark hair. Running wasn’t the most acceptable behavior from a young lady in a small Jewish community, but Liora had never concerned herself with appearances. So she ran. She was at the well to fetch water for the house when she heard the glorious news: Jesus was returning!
Liora enjoyed her simple life in Magdala. The residents of the dusty village on the western shore of the Sea of Galilee made their living primarily from the sea, and they also benefited from trading with travelers of various cultures who journeyed along the Via Maris, the Way of the Sea, a highway that ran from the coast northeastward to Damascus. Many others worked small holdings in the countryside. The humble homes and shops lining the road were a blend of angles, shadows, and flat roofs embraced by clear blue skies.
Like a desert whirlwind, Liora stormed into the house and hurriedly transferred the remaining contents of the goatskin bag into the cistern used to store water for the household. “David,” she shouted breathlessly. “Where are you?” She could hardly contain her excitement and spilled water on herself and the dirt floor in her haste.
“I’m here,” David answered as he walked through the archway that led to the opposite side of the house. “Why are you shouting?”
David was Liora’s twin brother. He worked in the blacksmith shop connected to their mud-brick dwelling. He had learned the craft from their father, Menachem, who had died over a year before, leaving his son and daughter alone. People said he died of old age, but it was the cruel weight of heartache that had finally crushed his long, good life.
Liora and David were the last two of four children born to the highly respected Menachem and his wife, Anna, in their old age. Twins of any kind were a rarity, so Liora and David were the subject of much talk and speculation in the superstitious community of Magdala. Because he was male, much was expected of David, even at a young age; much less was expected of Liora, though she had entered the world first. She had grown from a gangly little girl into a graceful and beautiful woman. Jewish custom kept her from associating too closely with boys, but as her beauty blossomed in her early teens, her brothers constantly ran interference with the boys in Magdala who not so subtly vied for her attention. Liora had always remained aloof, not responding to any inducement for companionship, to the frustration of many a would-be suitor.
Liora tied her hair with strips of colored cloth and leather. At times she dared to adorn it with flowers in season, causing the women of the town to think her proud, which was entirely opposite her true character. She shared with her twin brother, David, the olive skin and piercing green eyes of their mother. She had also inherited from their late mother the ability to think clearly and express logical opinions on complicated issues. Her outspoken nature many times found her at odds with the opinions of the local rabbi, who believed that interpretation of politics, law, and religion should come from patriarchal elders; women should remain silent. Like her mother before her, Liora did not subscribe to that belief or succumb to the pressure of the elders. She never had the opportunity to learn temperance from her mother, however. Her father allowed Liora to speak her mind freely and found it all but impossible to correct her, as the logic of her opinions was frustratingly sound. Menachem had loved that trait in his cherished wife, so he indulged his forthright daughter.
David was hard working, quiet, and soft-spoken like his father. He would ponder his opinions before he voiced them or just hold his tongue and avoid the conflict that would arise from voicing a dissenting opinion. When David was old enough to walk, his father began to teach him the craft of blacksmithing, which Menachem had learned as a young boy from his own father in Jerusalem. The trade had been in the family for generations. David had worked hard to improve his skills. Now he was considered a master craftsman.
David and Liora’s mother had died giving birth to them. The sadness that overtook their father then never left him. As Liora grew, she looked more and more like her mother, and as her personality unfolded, she displayed the same outspoken persistence. Menachem doted on the twins, especially Liora, because of her resemblance to their mother. As their father grew older, his two older sons, Nahum and Hanan, took responsibility for the family business. David worked closely with his brothers, and they helped him master the craft of their father.
Menachem spent most of his declining years studying scripture. When he had the energy, he would meet with the various elders in the synagogue to debate points of religion and discuss the political issues of the day. Liora nurtured him by washing his feet each evening before she served him supper. She would check on him later to be sure he was covered for the night, tidy up the scrolls he had strewn about, and blow out the oil lamp he used for light.
The final undoing of Menachem had occurred one cold evening a year and a half before when news reached him that his two oldest sons had met an untimely death on a trip to Bethsaida. Within the week Menachem simpl
y let death overcome him.
Liora and David continued to live together in the house, managing on the income David produced from blacksmithing. Fortunately for David and Liora, his command of his craft, learned at the feet of his father and refined through the patient instruction of his older brothers, resulted in their having a respectable living.
On one of their short but infrequent journeys north to visit their aunt and uncle in Capernaum, Liora and David were drawn to a crowd of people surrounding a rabbi preaching on a hillside. As they stood and listened, an unexplainable feeling came over Liora; the comforting warmth of goodness and truth flowed through her as this tall rabbi spoke. Everything he said aligned with her simple logic and open heart. His words echoed and reinforced the words her wise father had taught within the humble walls of their home. Liora bowed her head at that same moment and prayed, asking God to confirm to her the truth of what she was hearing. She was overwhelmed with a peace and warmth that surged through her body. David saw the change in her countenance and reached to give her assistance. All she could do was smile back at him.
Liora willingly became a follower of this rabbi known as Jesus of Nazareth. He spoke with a clarity and authority she had never previously experienced, and she had received her own witness of his teachings.
The Nazarene continued preaching in Capernaum and other places in Galilee. When Liora went to the well that morning to fetch water, she heard the other women talking of this Jesus. One woman had recently heard him teach. She spoke of the throng that now followed him everywhere he went. His popularity wherever he preached had stirred the animosity of the Sanhedrin, the ruling assembly of the Jews in Jerusalem.
The woman by the well said that she had witnessed with her own eyes Jesus restore sight to a blind man. Just hearing her tell the story brought Liora to tears—tears she couldn’t explain, tears that came from a place deep in her soul. The tears further confirmed her belief in the teachings she had heard in his presence, and they also confirmed her belief in him.
The last thing she heard when she so excitedly ran off to find David was that he was coming! He was returning to Capernaum the day after tomorrow.
“David, we must go!” she pleaded. Her tired brother had been working all day in hot weather next to a hot fire with hammer, bellows, and anvil. He had no energy even to think about an impromptu journey to Capernaum, and he had work to do.
“Sister, I know the desires of your heart, but you ask too much of me,” he protested. “You don’t even know that he will preach. What if he’s simply passing through? Then what would you do?” he asked.
“Follow him!” Liora answered without hesitation.
“You could be following him right back here to Magdala. If he is heading to Jerusalem, he could walk right down this very road.” He gestured to the well-traveled dirt highway no more than a stone’s throw from their door.
David turned back to his work. “You are a foolish girl. You would walk away from your responsibilities here to be among thousands just to get a glimpse of him. We could barely hear him the last time.” He turned resolutely and walked away.
“David!” she exclaimed in frustration. “You felt the power in the words he spoke that day. You know what he says is true. You know how he made us feel. Either we are believers or we are not!”
“We can be believers and still be responsible to our duties here, sister,” he responded without facing her, too tired to engage in another losing argument with his determined sister.
“I’ll go by myself!” was her defiant retort. As much as she loved David, he could be so stubborn at times that she found him unbearable. She resisted the urge to follow him and resume her pleading.
Liora began to prepare for the trip to Capernaum. Even though she had not convinced him yet, she was certain she would win him over. Besides, David had been working hard lately and could use the break. He would see the wisdom in getting away.
“What time are we leaving tomorrow?” It was David’s voice.
“What did you say?” Liora turned, not sure she had heard him right.
“I said, What time are we leaving tomorrow?” David repeated.
Liora ran to him and threw her arms around his neck. “I love you, brother!” she exclaimed.
“Yes, I know. I really do need to get away for a few days,” David admitted.
Liora grinned.
She bounced around the house. The chores were no longer chores. She had to remember to find the hair comb her father had given her mother. She wanted to give it to her aunt, her mother’s sister, who lived in Capernaum. She had found it in a small box of her mother’s belongings. Her father had purchased it in Jerusalem long before David and Liora were born. Liora had plenty of keepsakes from her mother, and she knew her aunt would appreciate this one. They were always welcome at her aunt’s home, even though Liora knew their visiting was an inconvenience. The gift of the comb would be proper.
She wondered if they would see Jesus, or better yet, have a chance to hear him teach. He usually stayed in the house of one of the men they called apostles who lived not far from her aunt. Perhaps they could find the house and wait outside. The woman she met at the well said that sometimes the crowd was so large and pressed so close to him that he had to be taken out on a small boat onto the sea, from which he could preach to the multitude on the shoreline. She said the Nazarene spent time discussing important points of the Law with the leaders of the synagogues. The woman also told Liora stories of Jesus constantly healing people wherever he went. This had the effect of increasing his popularity and the size of the crowds that followed him. Liora got emotional just thinking about him. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough. She wanted to run all the way to Capernaum.
The next day broke clear and crisp. Liora woke early after a restless night of anticipation. It only remained to pack some food and water, bridle and load the donkey, and secure the house. If she could get David to move a little faster, they would be in Capernaum by midday. She looked forward to embracing her aunt, presenting her the comb, and seeing her younger cousins, Sariah and Esther. They always had so much fun together. David would enjoy fishing with their uncle and two cousins, Lamech and Seth. Fishing was their trade. It was hard work for those who made a living at it, but for David it was a welcome relief from the heat and hammering of blacksmithing. His uncle appreciated the extra help, and David’s strength made the grueling work of hauling in the net much easier.
“David, what’s taking so long?” Liora called back into the house. David was slow at everything. In contrast, she was like a desert whirlwind, stirring up everything in her wake. David was deliberate and thoughtful. His methodical attention to detail, a trait that he inherited from his father, served him well as a blacksmith.
“I’m checking the fire one last time, and I wanted to take the extra rope to our uncle. I know he can use it on his boat,” he called back.
“Well, hurry, please. I want to get going.” Liora stood impatiently, the donkey’s lead rope in her hand. David finally appeared with a cloth satchel tied at both ends and the rope slung over his shoulder. He secured the door to the house and joined Liora to begin the walk to Capernaum. She was already smiling.
The road wound inland from the shoreline of the Sea of Galilee. Between the lake and the road they passed small family dwellings and were treated to the scent of bougainvillea, oleander, and wildflowers of every kind. Palms, sycamore, and wild fig trees grew beside the highway, offering intermittent shade and softening the heat of the day. For most of their journey, the road wound through rocky brush and grassland under the full sun.
David and Liora talked of many things as they walked: their father, their brothers, fishing, blacksmithing, friends, and extended family.
Liora told David something she had heard spoken of by the women at the well. She said the talk amongst the disciples, and the subject that truly vexed members of the Sanhedrin, was the rumor that Jesus was the Messiah.”
“What do you mean, Liora?”
David asked.
“Some say he is the long promised Messiah. One or two even whisper he is the Son of God in the flesh,” she replied.
“How can that be? He’s from Nazareth. His father was a carpenter,” David argued.
“David, I don’t understand it either, but I believe it. That day in Capernaum when we heard him speak, I prayed to know if what he said was true. David, I received a witness in my heart that day.” Tears welled up in Liora’s eyes. “The feelings I have about him—the feelings we both have—are not made up. They are real. He is different from anyone we have ever seen. When he speaks of the prophets, it’s as if he knows them personally. He interprets their words with authority and deep understanding and then explains them so ordinary people can understand them better.” A familiar warmth welled up in her chest. She knew that the things she had heard and felt were true.
David was touched by her words. He too had later prayed and received a witness about this unique rabbi, but he had questions. Maybe they would be answered for him on this visit.
Liora was excited for her aunt Naomi to dote over her. Her aunt was the closest thing to a mother she knew. She was of an age to need another woman to confide in, one she could trust with her secrets. She had a variety of female friends in Magdala but none to whom she felt comfortable opening her soul. Her aunt would listen intently and ask questions that would have Liora confiding even more. She wanted to talk with her aunt about finding a husband. Liora had rejected her father’s attempted introductions, and now he was gone. The responsibility for finding a husband for her rested now on David. She had thought about it almost constantly for the past few months, but she was reluctant to discuss it with her brother. That was one of those sensitive subjects on which she hoped her aunt would share wise counsel.
David was overwhelmed with his work as a blacksmith. He wanted to talk to his uncle about his cousin Seth returning to Magdala to work with him and learn the trade. Another option would be to move the foundry to Capernaum. Their aunt and uncle had invited them to move to Capernaum when their father died, but they had stubbornly insisted on staying in Magdala to prove their independence. They matured immensely, having to deal with the daily struggle of life on their own, but lately David had questioned their decision. He had not discussed the matter with Liora, however, because he wasn’t sure how she would react.
Maximus Page 3