Fishers of Men

by Gerald N. Lund

Just then Yehuda came out the door. He reached up and touched the mezuzah, then came on, smiling at the sight of the reunion.

  “Where’s Leah?” Simeon asked his mother. “Didn’t she come with you?”

  Deborah nodded. “Of course. She is in with Shana. She and I are going to stay here for a couple of days and visit with Naomi.”

  Simeon started to nod. Naomi was his mother’s widowed cousin; she had come up to Beth Neelah to live with her daughter after her husband died. Then he remembered and looked at her more closely. “But what about the meeting?”

  David answered for her. “There’s not going to be any meeting.”

  “What?” The exclamation had come from both Yehuda and Simeon.

  David blew out his breath in disgust. “There was a major clash in the Council yesterday. The Sepphoris leadership sent word down that they don’t want the group from Gischala included. They say they are too radical. That, of course, infuriated the Gischala leaders, and they convinced the towns of Chorazin and Bethsaida that if Gischala wasn’t included, then none of them would come. So they canceled the whole thing.” He threw up his hands. “If our people could ever just once unite—truly be one—we wouldn’t need a Messiah to deliver us. The Romans would have no choice but to leave.”

  Simeon couldn’t believe it. “So after all of that—going all the way down to Jerusalem, taking on Ya’abin, coming thirty miles in one day so the delegation would be out of danger—now the meeting is canceled?” He exhaled in disgust. “What is the matter with these people?”

  “The delegation from Jerusalem is not going to be pleased to hear this,” Yehuda said. “Why didn’t they decide this three days ago?”

  There was no good answer to that, so David said nothing. He let them fume for a time before he went on. “It’s just as well,” he said.

  Simeon snorted softly. “I agree. I have never thought trying to make an alliance with Jerusalem was a wise move.”

  “That’s not what I was referring to,” David said.

  Simeon finally turned to him. “What?”

  “I brought your mother and Leah and Joseph up here for a visit because I want you to go to Bethabara with me and Ephraim.”

  He was bewildered. “Bethabara?”

  “Yes, down in Perea. It’s not far from Jericho.”

  Deborah came in now, amused. “It’s such a famous place that none of us have ever heard of it before.”

  “What’s in Bethabara?”

  His father seemed suddenly hesitant. “We need to go down to Jericho and see to the date harvest contracts anyway.”

  Simeon looked at his mother, sensing his father was stalling for some reason.

  “Just tell him, David,” Deborah said.

  He nodded and began. “There’s a man preaching down there. He’s called John the Baptist.”

  Yehuda stirred. “I’ve heard of him. They say great multitudes are going out to hear him.”

  “They are,” David answered.

  “Not another self-proclaimed Messiah!” Simeon cried.

  Deborah laughed. Those had been almost her exact words. How like her was this son of theirs.

  David gave Simeon the same explanation he had given her, then told him quickly about John claiming to be the forerunner of the Messiah.

  Simeon’s eyes narrowed. “Do you think that’s really possible?”

  “Andrew and Simon were very impressed. They are convinced he speaks the truth.”

  Deborah was watching her husband now, her eyes soft. “Your father is determined to go see for himself,” she said to Simeon. “Simon and Andrew are not easily swayed by foolish prattle. I find it hard to believe that it could really be, but—” She became quite firm now. “I don’t want your father making this journey down into Judea alone, Simeon. Once you leave Galilee, the roads are no longer safe.” She looked away. “Particularly with the likes of Moshe Ya’abin around.”

  “We need to go to Jericho anyway,” David stressed again.

  Simeon shrugged. That was true. He was skeptical about this John, but on the other hand, if he really were . . . The implications of that were staggering. He turned to Yehuda. “How about it?”

  His friend shook his head. “Daniel and I have left Shana to care for things too much as it is. I’d better stay.”

  That wasn’t unexpected. He turned to his father. “When do you want to leave?”

  “Now.”

  “You mean right now?”

  He nodded. “Shana and Leah are preparing food for us. We need to stop in Capernaum and get Ephraim, so the sooner we start the better. Your mother and Leah and Joseph will come back tomorrow or the next day. Yehuda will send someone from the village with them.”

  “All right.” Simeon turned to his mother. “You’ll have to tell our visitors from Jerusalem what’s happened.”

  “That pompous old Pharisee will burst a blood vessel, I’ll wager,” Yehuda said.

  “It’s Mordechai the Sadducee who’s in charge of the delegation,” Simeon explained. “He’s the man with the real power.” Then he had a thought. “They’re going to need an escort back to Jerusalem.”

  Yehuda grunted. “Mordechai told me that he has business in Caesarea after the meeting. I guess Daniel and I could see them safely to the coast. The Roman presence is strong there. They’ll be all right after that.”

  Simeon grinned wickedly. “I thought you had to stay here. Volunteering to escort them wouldn’t have anything to do with that young woman servant, would it?”

  Yehuda cuffed him on the shoulder. “How would you like to go to Bethabara on a stretcher?” he growled.

  They all laughed at Simeon’s pained expression.

  “Go see to the food, David,” Deborah said. “Since you’re taking my son away from me again, I want to spend a few more minutes with him.”

  Her husband nodded, and he and Yehuda went back into the house. Simeon turned immediately to his mother. “I’m surprised you are as positive about this John as you are,” he said.

  She grew thoughtful. “Andrew has convinced your father there is something to all of this.” She shrugged. “And who knows? Andrew and Simon are not ones to be blown off their feet by any little breeze.”

  “True.” There weren’t many men who were more conservative and solid than those two brothers.

  Deborah put her arm around his waist and began to walk with him. “Your father believes that the Messiah is the answer to all the problems that lie before us. If he would come, then it would not be up to the Zealots to rise up and overthrow Rome.”

  “Unless it is by the power of the Zealots that he rises up and overthrows Rome. His armies have to come from somewhere, and Father seems not to have considered that.”

  Deborah seemed to sense his thoughts. “Your father is a wise man, Simeon. I wouldn’t want you to think that because I have doubts about this, I don’t respect his judgment. It is important that we continue to watch for the Messiah. It’s just that—” She stopped to collect her thoughts. “Every generation since the ten tribes were taken captive by Assyria has thought theirs would be the one to see the Messiah finally come. It seems almost unbelievable that it really could be ours.”

  “True,” he answered, “and yet someday he will come, and that generation will probably say exactly what you just said.”

  “I know. And you are right. When he does come, he is going to need the brave and the faithful to stand with him, sword in hand.”

  “I want to be one of them.”

  She smiled sadly. “It frightens me terribly, but I want that for you too. It would be a way to bring our family justice after all these years, to give some meaning to the sacrifice my mother and father and others in the family made. And yet, when I think of things like yesterday with Ya’abin, my whole body goes cold with fear for you.”

  “The death of your family is not the only debt waiting to be paid,” he said bitterly.

  She sighed, suddenly feeling very tired. “Nothing permanent happened to Leah
and me, Simeon, thanks to your father. And your wound is healed now. It’s time to forget about vengeance for what happened that day.”

  He shook his head, quick and hard. “When I think of how close you and Leah—” He stopped, his eyes so cold now that it frightened her a little.

  She laid a hand on his arm. “To be a true Zealot means that we are filled with faith and with courage. It does not mean that we are consumed with blind anger.”

  He barely heard her, and she decided there was something else he should know. “Simeon?”

  “Yes.”

  “There is another reason why this trip to Bethabara is important to your father.”

  “What is it?”

  “I’d rather he tell you. It’s something that he has not spoken of to you before.”

  “Oh?”

  “I think it’s time you knew. Just wait for the right moment, and then ask him to tell you about Bethlehem.”

  “And that’s it?” he said, smiling now. “You’re going to make me wait after dangling a piece of bait like that in front of me?”

  She smiled softly. “Your father is a brave man, Son. Because he is not filled with the same passion as you and me doesn’t mean that he lacks the courage to do whatever is required.”

  Simeon looked surprised. “I’ve never doubted that.”

  “Ask him about Bethlehem,” she said again. “It will help you understand why he is so driven to hear this John and see if he is the forerunner.”

  “I will,” he said. His mood had lightened again. “I promised Joseph that I would take him out shooting this morning. Will you tell him why I can’t?”

  “Yes.” Then she cocked her head. “Yehuda tells me that the daughter of Mordechai ben Uzziel is very beautiful.”

  He looked at her sharply. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  She shrugged innocently. “That was just what he said.”

  “She is the daughter of Jerusalem’s richest and most powerful Sadducee. Did you think you raised a fool for a son?”

  She shook her head sadly. “No, unfortunately, you have never had the luxury of being a fool. But is she as beautiful as Yehuda says?”

  He laughed. “You told me once that your father raised you to be a Zealot first and a woman second. Are you asking this question as a Zealot or as a mother?”

  She nudged him gently, smiling a secretive smile. “This early on a beautiful spring morning, I think it is all right if I am a mother first, don’t you?”

  He chuckled and gave her a squeeze, then instantly sobered again. “As you said, Miriam is the daughter of a rich and powerful man, Mother. She probably spends more on perfume than the village of Beth Neelah spends on food in a year. What more is there to say?”

  That seemed to satisfy her, and she started walking slowly again. “And what of Shana, Simeon? She is as lovely as the lilies of the valley, and you would not have to worry about how much she spends on perfume.”

  Simeon laughed softly. “Mother, you are incorrigible.”

  “Well, you are twenty-one now and not even betrothed yet. The rabbis think you are rapidly becoming a danger to society.”

  “You just want more grandchildren.”

  She nodded immediately. “Other people my age have half a dozen or more by now. I have only two because my second oldest son seems to be afraid to marry.”

  “I’m not afraid. It’s just that—well, for one thing, Shana is only seventeen.”

  “The age when most young women marry,” she said pointedly.

  “I know. And I like Shana. Very much. She would make a good wife.”

  “Would or will?”

  He hesitated. “It is not much of a life to be married to a Zealot, Mother. You know that as well as anyone.”

  “Shana is a Zealot to the core. She and Yehuda and Daniel have paid the price. She would never stand in the way of what you are doing.” She hesitated. “Do you know why I oppose a marriage between Leah and Daniel?”

  He stopped dead. “I didn’t know you did oppose it.”

  “Well, it’s not in the formal stages yet. Leah is only fifteen. But I have discouraged it when Yehuda has brought it up with your father.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she has your father’s gentle heart. She weeps when she sees a bird with a broken wing. Being the wife of a Zealot would be very difficult for her.”

  Simeon nodded slowly. “I think it would destroy her.”

  “But not Shana,” Deborah said. “She is very strong.”

  He was thoughtful now. “She’s very much like you in that respect,” he said.

  “So why do you continue to hesitate? You are ready. She is ready, Simeon. All you have to do is watch her eyes whenever your name is mentioned. It will still be another year before you are wed.”

  “I know, but—” And then he stopped. His mother was right. The battle with Rome could drag on for years. Would he go without a family all that time? If he had to choose, a woman like Miriam was only a passing fantasy. Shana would not only support him in his life of opposition against Rome, she would be a good wife. She too was beautiful. She was a good friend and companion. He finally looked at his mother. “No, you are right. Shana would make a good wife.”

  One eyebrow lifted. “Would or will?” she asked again.

  He laughed at her, shaking his head. How he loved this gracious and wonderful woman, with all the depth of soul that she possessed. “She will make a good wife,” he answered.

  She grabbed his arm. “Do you mean that?”

  “I do.”

  “Enough that I might speak to your father about it?”

  He hesitated and then plunged. “Yes.”

  “Wonderful.” She took his arm, very happy now. “Now,” she said with sudden impishness, “if only we can convince Shana that you are not such a brute.”

  He laughed, and she laid her head against his shoulder. They walked on slowly, enjoying this moment together.

  III

  Mordechai ben Uzziel was fuming. “Is there nothing we can do?” he demanded of the woman who stood before him. “Why didn’t your husband stay here to help us? They say that he commands great respect among the Zealot leaders.”

  “He does,” Deborah of Capernaum said evenly. “But I am sad to say that some of our fellow Galileans have bones in their head that are thicker than a weaver’s beam. Even a man of my husband’s stature cannot pierce through that. He tried to reason with them yesterday and failed, even though he did not agree with the meeting to begin with.”

  The daughter of Mordechai ben Uzziel suppressed a smile. Miriam liked this Deborah, mother of Simeon. She was as slender as a reed, but there was nothing but pure sinew inside.

  Azariah exploded. “So just like that, there is no meeting? We have come a long distance and faced much peril.” There was a little shudder. “I even consented to come by way of Samaria. And now they simply refuse to meet with us?”

  “This is most disturbing,” Miriam’s father agreed. “Most disturbing.”

  “If you knew much of the Zealots,” Deborah said quietly, unperturbed by the anger of these two luminaries from Jerusalem, “you would not have put yourself in such peril in the first place. You seek what you call accommodation with Rome. Well, we don’t use such a fancy word. We simply call it surrender. We call it a pact with the devil. Here in the Galilee, we believe that if you take an adder into your bosom, no matter how good the reasons may be, one of you will die, and it will likely not be the adder.

  “Now listen—” Azariah began to sputter, his angry movement causing his side curls to bob wildly.

  Deborah went on calmly, cutting him off. “Even if today’s meeting had not been canceled, you would have gone home with your bag still heavy with gold and your agreement unsullied by the mark of a pen.”

  “What does a woman know of such matters?” Azariah snapped.

  Deborah’s eyes narrowed. “A woman knows that it will be her sons whose blood is spilt trying to win back what those in
Jerusalem trade away in order to maintain their velvet thrones and marbled halls.”

  Azariah didn’t even give her the satisfaction of a reaction. He looked at Mordechai. “I say we go to Sepphoris in any case. We have the funds. Let those fools from Gischala and Chorazin stay away if they wish. They will find out soon enough what they might have had if they had not been so stubborn.”

  Yehuda had stood back with his arms folded while Deborah had explained the situation to their guests. Now the big Galilean spoke for the first time. “For strangers to venture alone into Sepphoris in times such as these is a good way to prove once and for all who is the greater fool here.”

  “And you won’t take us?” Mordechai asked.

  Yehuda shook his head. “Not unless you are invited. I am not a fool either.”

  “Then we have come for nothing.”

  Miriam turned to her father. “Perhaps if we wrote a letter and sent it.” She looked to Deborah. “Would you be willing to carry it for us?”

  “If they won’t receive Mordechai or myself,” Azariah harrumphed, “they won’t receive a woman.”

  Miriam turned slowly, her eyes turning glacial. “Must you be so—” She searched for the right word. “So like yourself, Azariah? There is no need for rudeness.”

  He ignored her. “I say we go to Capernaum,” he said to Miriam’s father. “I am good friends with Amram, leader of the Pharisees there. He has told me secretly that if we fail in Sepphoris we perhaps could make other arrangements that would still be profitable.”

  Mordechai’s temper snapped. “You heard the Great Council as well as I, Azariah. We are authorized to make no agreements save the ones they have already approved.”

  He turned to Deborah. “I apologize for my associate’s manners. Would you consider taking a letter to Sepphoris in our behalf?”

  Deborah glanced at Yehuda, who nodded. Then she spoke, “We will. I make no promises, for I think your request will fall on deaf ears. But if that is your wish, then I know it would be the wish of my husband that we at least try.”

  “Thank you.” Ignoring the protests coming from Azariah, Mordechai turned to Miriam. “Get your writing things. I would like to do that immediately.”

  IV

  “You do not find the Zealot way at all to your liking, do you?” Deborah asked.