Fishers of Men

by Gerald N. Lund

  Jesus waited patiently while the great crowd divided itself. He said something again to Andrew, who responded by retrieving some of the baskets they had brought with them—ten or so in all—and brought them back to Jesus. All of them were empty except the one the young boy had given to them.

  The people were seated in rough circles that spread out in every direction across the hillside. Now all quieted as Jesus took the basket with the small loaves of bread and two smoked fish from the Sea of Kinnereth. He raised it high and closed his eyes. Many closed their eyes as well, but Simeon could not take his gaze away from Jesus. Peter’s story had hit him hard, but strangely enough, it was not as disappointing as this was turning out to be. Could a man who was the Messiah be so blind that he could not see the problems he was about to create for himself? If the food was not sufficient for all, then it was better that none were to get any. Feeding a handful would create only unrest and grumbling. In a crowd this size, that could easily become unmanageable in a hurry.

  He saw Jesus’ lips move and heard the word “thanksgiving,” but nothing more was audible. Finished, Jesus knelt before the empty baskets and began to break the loaves into pieces, distributing them between the empty baskets spread out in front of him. He then gestured to the apostles. They stepped forward, their faces clearly registering some of the same fears that Simeon was feeling. One by one he handed them a basket, and they turned and moved away.

  Simeon was a little surprised to see how much Jesus had put into the basket intended for his own group. The group was not as large as some of the others, and yet the basket was filled with three half-loaves and half of one of the fish.

  Simeon decided he would not partake. He could wait. Part of life as a Zealot was learning to go without food when necessary. He would leave his share for others, especially the women and children. It was Peter who carried the basket to Simeon’s group, and he started at the front. When he reached Simeon, who was near the back, the basket was still half full. Simeon stared, surprised. He had seen a couple of others hesitate, but Peter had given them a sharp look, and they had finally partaken. Simeon had expected nothing but small fragments by the time the basket reached him. But there was still plenty remaining. He looked up. “Eat!” Peter commanded.

  Simeon took one of the half-loaves and broke it in two. There were only three or four others still waiting after him, and seeing that half of one fish was still left, he broke off a piece of that as well.

  He had begun to eat, grateful to get something in his stomach finally, when he noticed Peter again. He was standing in front of their group, staring down at the basket. Simeon stopped, wondering what was wrong. Peter looked up, and his eye fell on Simeon. He held up the basket, tipping it a little so Simeon could see the contents. It looked no less filled than when he had started. Completely surprised at how much was left, Simeon looked around, feeling suddenly guilty. So the others had just pretended to take their share.

  His eyes swung back to Peter, who had turned to Jesus now and was holding out the basket for the Master to see. Jesus smiled, nodded as if he had expected nothing less, then motioned for him to go to the next group.

  It was then that a tiny shiver ran up and down Simeon’s spine, for one by one the rest of the Twelve were finishing with their groups and holding up baskets that were still full for Jesus to see.

  For the next fifteen minutes, any thought of eating was banished from Simeon’s mind. He sat frozen in his place, watching what was transpiring. One by one the apostles would take a small basket of food, with three or four half-loaves of bread and part of a single fish, and start it around one of the seated groups. They would stand there, their eyes wide with amazement, as the basket moved from hand to hand and everyone partook. As Simeon watched closely, he saw that each person took a portion of food before passing the basket on. Yet when the basket was handed back up to the apostles, it was as full as when it had begun.

  Simeon felt almost as if he had been transported out of his body and was watching, from high above, so far-off that he perceived but did not understand. Yet there was no mistake. Again and again the baskets were handed to the people. Hands reached out. The loaves were divided and shared. Strips of fish were torn off and put into waiting mouths. Again and again and again the baskets moved on as full as though no one had touched them.

  Through it all, Jesus stood watching, quietly supervising to make sure all were being served. The crowd had come to realize what was happening too. At first there had been an excited murmuring. Now a total, awestruck silence had settled over the multitude. The only sound was the soft whisper of the breeze.

  Finally it was done. Peter returned first, his face pale and filled with wonder. He handed his basket, still as full as when he had begun, to Jesus. Jesus nodded and set it down on the ground before him. Next came Philip. Then Nathanael and Andrew, Judas, Simon Zelotes, James and John. Each brought a basket; each basket was set beside the next on the ground. Mesmerized, Simeon counted each one as it was placed beside the other. When twelve baskets were lined up together, he finally looked up.

  Jesus glanced at the baskets one more time, each filled as full as that sent up by the young boy to begin with. He nodded in satisfaction. “Return to your homes, good people,” he called out, raising his hands. “And give thanks to God for his glorious mercies.”

  IV

  Simeon had almost reached the bottom of the hill, moving slowly, still trying to make his mind comprehend what it had just witnessed. Twice he almost stumbled because his eyes were not seeing what lay on the path before him. He heard the sound of running feet and turned. Peter was coming down the hillside at a dead run. “Simeon!” he called. “Wait!”

  Simeon stopped, turning fully around. All around him people were streaming slowly back down toward the roadway that ran along the northern shore of the lake. They, too, were strangely subdued, and few spoke. Peter slid to a stop, puffing heavily. He bent over for a moment to catch his breath. When he straightened, he looked deep into Simeon’s eyes. “You came to get certain questions answered today, didn’t you?”

  Simeon could only nod.

  “And now you have more than ever before.”

  “More than my mind can fathom.” He turned and looked back up the hill, nearly empty now. “I did a rough count, Peter. I counted the groups. There were about five thousand people here today.”

  “I know.” He smiled, and his expression was filled with astonishment, wonder, weariness, and bewilderment all at once. “I know.” He paused for a moment. “There is something else you need to know, Simeon. About Jesus.”

  “What?”

  He shook his head. “I want you to go to Nazareth sometime while you are in the highlands.”

  “Nazareth?”

  “Yes. Ask for Mary, the widow of Joseph the carpenter.”

  “Jesus’ mother?”

  “Yes.” He gripped Simeon’s arm, fingers digging into the flesh through his sleeve. “Ask her about her son, Simeon. She has your answers. Go and talk with Mary.”

  Chapter Notes

  The account of the raising of the widow’s son in Nain is found in Luke 7:11–16. Peter’s question about forgiveness, and the parable of the unmerciful servant that followed, is found in Matthew 18:21–35. The feeding of the five thousand is one of the few events of Christ’s ministry recorded by all four Gospel writers (see Matthew 14:15–21; Mark 6:33–44; Luke 9:12–17; John 6:5–14).

  Since Joseph, Mary’s husband, is never mentioned as part of the family once Jesus reaches adulthood, most scholars assume that he had died by this point.

  Chapter 27

  Now the birth of Jesus Christ was on this wise. . . .

  —Matthew 1:18

  I

  7 June, a.d. 30

  To Simeon’s great surprise, just before midday, while he was still some ten or so miles away from Beth Neelah, he saw a familiar figure striding down the road toward him. The figure recognized him at the same moment and shouted out, waving a hand enthusi
astically.

  As Yehuda reached him, his face was wreathed in smiles. “Simeon! But this is wonderful. I was on my way to Capernaum to find you.”

  They gripped each other’s hands. “You were coming for me?”

  Yehuda nodded, the smile fading. “Yes. Word came this morning from Sepphoris.”

  “The meeting has been called?” Simeon exclaimed.

  “Yes. For tomorrow before sundown.”

  Yehuda wasn’t looking at Simeon and thus didn’t see the shadow fall across his countenance. “So the Romans are coming?”

  “Well, you and I are not supposed to know anything at this point, of course, but I assume so. All Gehazi said in the message was that something very big was up.”

  “Any idea how soon?”

  “We know from our own sources that a large column of Romans is scheduled to leave Damascus this morning.”

  Simeon said nothing, his mind working it out from there. Damascus was just over fifty miles from Capernaum and about seventy from the Joknean Pass. It would take a column with wagons two days to reach Capernaum and another day to make it to the pass. So three more days and it would be too late to make any more decisions.

  Yehuda was watching him closely. “Is something wrong?”

  Startled, Simeon forced a smile. “No, I—I was just figuring it out in my mind.”

  “Come then,” the big man said, slapping Simeon on the shoulder. “The men are all at Beth Neelah. They have been working hard. They’re anxious to show you that they are ready.”

  II

  As Livia watched Miriam, she was reminded of a caged tiger she had once seen at one of the gladiatorial games. Miriam padded back and forth in the confined space, her head high, her eyes showing the nervous energy that drove her. The two rooms they had secured at the inn at Ptolemais were small, with only a tiny window that looked out onto the courtyard where their animals were stabled.

  She stopped, whirling to look at Livia. “I can’t stand this any longer,” she cried. “We have to go tonight. I’m going to talk to Ezra again.” Ezra was the husband of Lilly, Miriam’s cousin. He was their escort on this journey.

  Livia didn’t move except to shake her head. “You know he’s right, Miriam. We can’t be making this last part of the journey at night, especially with Romans in the area. They’ll detain us, and then you will be too late.”

  Miriam made an exclamation of both disgust and frustration. She came over and threw herself down on the bed beside Livia. “What if we’re still too late? What if after all this we are too late?”

  Livia sat up, pulling her knees in so she could face Miriam squarely. “We are not going to be too late.” She held up her hand, her fingers extended. “Figure it out. You said that Marcus told your father it would take four hard days of marching to reach Damascus, right?”

  “Yes. And those four days are past,” Miriam cried.

  Livia went on calmly. “That was in the evening, the beginning of the Sabbath, when Marcus came to the house. He said he was leaving the next morning.”

  “Yes,” Miriam was listening in spite of herself. She wanted to be convinced that Livia was right.

  Livia began ticking off her fingers as she talked. “So let’s say that the next day, which was the Sabbath, is day one. We stayed in Jerusalem that day and got things ready to go.”

  “Right.”

  “Day two”—she pushed another finger down—“we left for Joppa. Day three, we arrived at Lilly’s house.”

  “So Marcus is almost to Damascus now!”

  “Almost, but not until day four.”

  Miriam threw up her hands. “And day four we sat in Joppa all day. Why did I let Lilly talk me into that?”

  Livia gave her a stern look. “So Ezra could secure us a horse and carriage and food for the journey. So Ezra could get someone to watch his shop so he could go with us. So two very frightened women didn’t have to make this trip on their own. So your father will never find out what we are doing.”

  “All right, all right. I got that lecture from Lilly already.”

  “Well, I’m glad someone was thinking clearly.” She smiled to soften her words. “Now we’re to day five, the day we left Joppa, but Marcus arrived at Damascus on day four, or night before last, right?”

  Miriam nodded.

  “Day five we made it a little past Caesarea and stopped for the night. Day six—today—we came on here to Ptolemais.”

  Miriam frowned. Originally she had figured only two days from Joppa to Capernaum, going the shortest route through the Joknean Pass. It said something about her mental state that she had not remembered there were Roman patrols prowling about on both sides of the pass now. They had orders to detain anyone who saw them. Ezra refused to take that risk, so they had taken the extra day and continued up the coast to Ptolemais. From there the road to Capernaum would not come close to the Roman lines. Miriam’s despair rushed in again. “But by now, Marcus is on his way to the ambush site.”

  Livia sighed and shook her head. “If he’s marched his men for four full days, he can’t turn around and leave Damascus the very next morning. He’s got to take one day to rest. At least. Maybe two.”

  “No, just count one.”

  “All right, so yesterday, day five, he rests. Even if he left Damascus this morning, he couldn’t be to Capernaum yet. You said it was fifty miles. That’s a minimum of two days’ march, probably three with wagons. So the very earliest he could reach Capernaum would be tomorrow.”

  “All right,” Miriam said begrudgingly, accepting Livia’s measured calm. She could feel the tension in her begin to lessen a little.

  “It’s twenty-five miles from here to Capernaum. Ezra says if we leave at first light, we can be there before sundown.” She smiled, more brightly than she was feeling. “We are not too late. That will give us a full day to tell Simeon and Yehuda and warn them off.”

  Miriam sighed and reached out for Livia’s hand. “If we ever get through this, I swear I’m going to go to bed for a week.”

  Livia smiled and nodded, lying beside her friend. “There’s nothing more we can do, Miriam. We’ve got to get some sleep now.”

  “There is one more thing we can do, Livia.”

  “What?”

  “We can pray that it all works out.” She sat up, taking both of Livia’s hands. “Will you pray with me, Livia?”

  There was a sudden lump in Livia’s throat. “Don’t sisters pray together all the time?” she asked softly.

  III

  8 June, a.d. 30

  “You have done well,” Simeon said. “They are ready.”

  Daniel’s face broke out in a broad grin. “Can I tell the men you said that?”

  Simeon nodded. “Just don’t praise them so much that they get lazy again.”

  Laughing, Daniel turned and trotted away. Simeon looked at Yehuda. “I mean it. The men are as ready as they’ll ever be, thanks mostly to you and Daniel.” He pulled a face. “I’m afraid I haven’t been much use to you these last few days.”

  Yehuda pulled at his beard, looking at his old friend through narrowed eyes. “What’s going on, Simeon?”

  Simeon pulled around. “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean. Where are you?”

  Simeon feigned ignorance. “I’m right here.” He laughed, trying to brush it off. “What are you talking about?”

  “Even Shana commented on it last night. You’re a hundred miles away, Simeon. You have been ever since we got back from Jerusalem. And frankly, that worries me.”

  Simeon bristled a little. “When the time comes, I’ll be there. You know that.”

  “Do I? I’ve never seen you quite like this before. You want to talk about it?”

  He started to shake his head. No, he definitely did not want to talk about it. And yet . . . if all went as planned, tomorrow they could be depending on one another for what might prove to be their very lives. He sighed. “Sit down. You’re right. There has been a lot on my mind lately.�
��

  It took him a full half hour. He started with the day on the hillside when he had listened to Jesus and grown so angry he had walked away before the sermon was over. He told him about his father’s experience in Bethlehem and what Jesus had said that confirmed that it was he who had been born that day in a stable. Yehuda already knew about the situation with Simeon’s father and Sextus Rubrius, so Simeon passed over that lightly and focused on the “day of miracles,” as Leah called it. He told him about his mother’s change of heart and how it had come about.

  When he came to the day in the synagogue when Jesus called forth the man with the withered hand, Simeon’s voice slowed and his uncertainty became obvious. When he started explaining what had happened yesterday with the crowd of five thousand hungry men and their families, he stumbled and faltered, searching for words that would convey what he was feeling.

  Finished at last, he shrugged and sat back. “So that’s where I am. I don’t know what to think anymore.”

  Yehuda leaned forward, his arms on his knees, his eyes staring at the ground. “Do you think he is the Messiah then?”

  Simeon did not hesitate. “I don’t want to, but—” he exhaled wearily. “But yes. I believe that he is the Christ.”

  Yehuda’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “So what does that mean?”

  Simeon threw out his hands in frustration. “What does that mean? If he is the Messiah, Yehuda, you tell me what that means. It means, he is the Messiah!”

  “What does that mean for you as Ha’keedohn?” Yehuda answered evenly. “What does it mean for you and what is about to happen?”

  Shaking his head, Simeon got to his feet. “That’s what is so troubling. I don’t know anymore. I was so sure that this whole thing with the Romans was the answer. We would get the arms. We could do something that would finally unite the people; then Jesus would step forward and lead us to the final conquest.”