Fishers of Men

by Gerald N. Lund

  “And you don’t think that anymore?”

  “I’m not sure.” The irritation boiled up. “Is that all you’re going to do? Sit there and fire questions at me? Tell me what you think. Do you think a man who can take five small barley loaves and two fish and feed five thousand men plus some women and children is someone to ignore? What do you think, Yehuda? Is he the Messiah, or isn’t he?”

  Yehuda straightened. His expression was not a happy one. “Maybe others in the crowd had food you didn’t know about. Maybe—”

  Simeon’s look stopped him cold. “That doesn’t work, Yehuda. There is no natural explanation. I was there! I saw basket after basket come back full after hundreds and hundreds of people had been taking food out of them. Don’t try to solve this problem by turning your back on reality.”

  Yehuda flared right back at him. “Well, I wasn’t there, so I can’t answer your question.”

  “You think I’m making this all up?”

  “Of course not.” He stood and faced Simeon. “I believe you. I have to because I know you would never lie to me. But at the same time, I can’t believe it. Give me some time to think about it.”

  Simeon’s anger evaporated. “Yes, that’s exactly where I am. I can’t believe it, and yet I cannot not believe it.”

  “So? We’re going to a meeting this afternoon, and tomorrow we’ll very likely be facing battle. You tell me what all this means to you so I don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

  “About it?” he cried. “You’re not worried about it; you’re worried about me.”

  Beneath the beard, Simeon saw his friend’s mouth tighten into a thin line. “I’m worried about a leader who may hesitate when there is no place for hesitation, who will equivocate when decisiveness is critical.”

  Simeon almost shouted at him. “I want to believe as I did before, but what if I’m wrong? What if Peter and my father are right and Jesus is not the Great Deliverer we’re looking for?” He reached up with both hands and rubbed his face, suddenly very tired. “What if he didn’t come to serve as the Messiah we’ve been wanting? What if what we are about to do is terribly wrong?”

  Yehuda just shook his head. “How can it be wrong to fight against something evil? Come on, Simeon. Have you forgotten so soon what your mother’s family and my family went through? Do you just look away and hope things will be better?”

  “No, I—”

  Yehuda rode him down. “If this Jesus can lead us to victory, then I stand right behind him. If all he’s going to do is sow doubt and fear and hesitation, then I want no part of him.”

  They fell silent, both breathing hard, both surprised at the passions they had triggered in each other. Finally Yehuda sighed. “Peter told you to go to Nazareth and see if you could find your answers there. Well, do it.”

  That surprised Simeon, and his eyes showed it.

  “Go. We’ll have to leave here for Sepphoris about the seventh hour if we are to be at the meeting before sundown. That leaves you time enough. You go and find your answers.”

  “Are you sure?” Simeon said, feeling an immense relief. Nazareth might be the solution.

  “I’m sure, Old Friend,” Yehuda said gravely. “You find your answers, because if you don’t, I’m not sure I want you leading us into whatever it is that’s waiting for us tomorrow.”

  IV

  Simeon had seen the mother of Jesus once before, on that day when he and his family had traveled to Nazareth from Beth Neelah to attend synagogue services and Jesus had been taken out in a rage and nearly killed. But Simeon had seen her only through the latticework partition that separated the men and women, and even then his focus had not been on her but rather on her son. So now he studied her as she sat across the table from him, waiting for him to continue.

  He could see the resemblance between mother and son, especially in the eyes. Mary’s were wide set and full of expression. They carried in them that same gentleness and wisdom that Simeon found so compelling when he watched Jesus. She looked about the same age as his mother, perhaps a little younger. Then he realized that she had probably been married at sixteen or seventeen, the normal marriage age for most girls in the smaller villages. Since Jesus was thirty now, that would make her two or three years older than Deborah. Perhaps Mary looked younger than she was because, unlike his mother’s, her hair had only the first touches of gray.

  He took a quick breath, realizing that she was watching him, waiting for him to speak. “I apologize for barging in without sending word first.”

  She smiled. “If Simon Peter suggested that you come, no additional word was needed. He loves my son, and my son loves him.”

  “I know.” He hesitated, not sure exactly how to begin, but then, seeing the openness on her face, he decided that the only way to get his questions answered was to tell her of the turmoil within him. So for the second time that day he talked through his recent experiences. Much of his account was greatly abbreviated from what he had told Yehuda. Other things—such as his terrible experience with Sextus and the Romans—he skipped altogether. Simeon did explain about his involvement with the Zealots, and summarized the conclusions he had come to about what role Jesus might play in the Zealots’ plans. Only as he came to the feeding of the multitude did he describe in detail what had happened. She seemed pleased to hear of it but wasn’t as surprised as he had expected her to be.

  Simeon finally stopped and sat back, strangely relieved to have unburdened himself to her. To his surprise, when he finished she only nodded. And waited. She knew somehow that all of this was just a prelude to why he had come.

  Realizing it was time to ask his questions, he leaned forward, studying his hands. “I don’t want to ask anything that would offend you or that is inappropriate.”

  She smiled. “I appreciate your concerns, but let me be the judge of that.”

  “All right.” He drew in a deep breath. “Is your son the promised Messiah?”

  “Yes.” It came out softly but without a moment’s hesitation.

  The breath exploded from him. “You know that for certain?”

  “Without any question. I’ll explain why in a moment. But I think you have another question—something else that’s troubling you.”

  “Yes,” he said, surprised at her discernment. “Yes, I do.”

  “Then ask that one first.”

  “Has he come to deliver Israel from the bondage of Rome? Is he just waiting for the right moment to step forward and claim the kingdom?”

  A shadow seemed to momentarily darken her expression, so her answer again caught him unexpectedly. “Yes,” she said in that same firm voice.

  It was all he could do to restrain himself from reaching out and grabbing her hands and shaking them. “Yes?” he exclaimed.

  She nodded. “Yes. The answer to your questions is yes. But the answer to your real question is no.” She smiled quietly when she saw his consternation. “Has my son come to deliver Israel from bondage? Yes. He has come to deliver all the world from bondage. Is he waiting for the right moment to step forward and claim his kingdom? Yes, but not in the way you think. He is not waiting for you or the Zealots or anyone else to raise an army and invite him to take his rightful place at its head. He is not the kind of deliverer you and so many others expect.”

  Simeon fell back, her words puncturing the euphoria as quickly as it had come. “Are you sure?” He didn’t know what else to say.

  “I should like to tell you why Simon Peter asked you to come to me; then I will let you decide if I am right or not. I do so with some reluctance, for I fear it shall only bring deeper questions and more unrest to your soul.”

  “I want to know,” he said after a moment. “If Jesus is the Messiah, then I want to know what that means. For me. For Israel.”

  Again she nodded. Then her hands came together, and she began. “First of all, you have to understand that I am still learning about my son and what he is. I know that sounds strange coming from his mother, but when you hear my
story you will better understand.

  “It all began thirty-one years ago this summer. I was living here in Nazareth, the village of my birth. At that time I was betrothed to the man who would become my husband. His name was Joseph the carpenter.”

  “I too am betrothed,” Simeon volunteered. “To a girl from Beth Neelah.”

  “Good, I wish you happiness.” She went on, now more slowly. “One day I was alone in my house. I don’t even remember what I was doing. Suddenly I realized that there was a brilliant light in the room.”

  That brought Simeon fully alert. “A light?”

  “Yes.” Her eyes had a faraway look in them. “At first I was frightened. Then, even more terrifying, I saw a man standing in the midst of the light.” She shook her head at herself. “No, not in the midst of the light. He was the source of the light. It emanated from him as though he were the sun itself.”

  Simeon felt the same prickling sensation up his back that had come when his father told him about his experience on the hills outside of Bethlehem. “An angel?”

  “Yes. You can imagine. I was a young girl. I was alone. I was so startled, I nearly bolted from the room. But then the angel spoke to me. ‘Hail,’ he said. ‘Hail, thou that art highly favored. The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women.’”

  Her eyes glowed, the wonder of that day back upon her. “As his words filled my heart, I was troubled at his saying. What manner of salutation was this? I wondered. Then he called me by name. That surprised me. I can remember thinking how strange it was that he knew who I was. And again, what he said was very strange. ‘Fear not, Mary,’ he went on, ‘for thou hast found favor with God.’”

  She stopped, and her eyes came back to rest directly on Simeon. As he met her gaze, he saw that there was a challenge in her eyes, and he wasn’t sure why. “I want you to listen very carefully to what I am about to tell you, Simeon.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “What the angel said next was so stunning, so shocking to me, that I could hardly believe what I had heard.”

  He knew he should stop interrupting, but he couldn’t stop himself. “What? What did he say?”

  “He said, ‘Behold, thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and bring forth a son, and shalt call his name Jesus. He shall be great,’ the angel went on, ‘and shall be called the Son of the Highest.’” She stopped, watching him intently. “Do you understand what I just said, Simeon? He said that my son would be called the Son of the Highest.”

  He nodded. He was missing something, and he wasn’t sure what.

  She seemed disappointed that he reacted so calmly. “Then the angel told me that the Lord God shall give unto him the throne of his father David.”

  “The throne of his father David?” Those words leaped out at him.

  “Yes. I am of the lineage of David. So was my husband, Joseph.”

  “But that’s a Messianic promise of kingship. The Messiah is to inherit the throne of David and become a king over Israel again.”

  “Yes, he is.”

  Now she had Simeon’s complete attention. “What else did he tell you?”

  “He told me that he would reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there should be no end.’”

  “So that’s how you know?” Simeon blurted. His spirit soared. This was wonderful. That ended any question left in his mind. An angel had declared it to her. And his kingdom was to have no end.

  “Yes,” she said quietly, “that’s how I know that he is the Messiah. But let me tell you again, the first thing that the angel told me was that this son I was to bear would be called the Son of the Highest.”

  “Yes, the son of God. So? Aren’t we all children of the Highest?”

  She smiled faintly, tolerantly. “I didn’t understand at first either. Of course, I was still reeling from the very experience itself. But there was something else. I still am not sure how I knew this, but as he spoke I knew with complete certainty that he was not talking about some future event. He was telling me that I was going to conceive a son very soon.”

  “Immediately after you were married, you mean.”

  “No. I was to conceive immediately.”

  Simeon gaped at her. “But—” he fumbled for words, afraid that he was moving into a highly personal area. “You said you were only betrothed to Joseph. How soon were you to be married?”

  “Not for several months.” She nodded, very slowly and with the greatest of gravity. “That’s right. The angel was saying I would conceive before I was married.”

  Simeon looked away, so perplexed he was at a loss for words. Was she suggesting what he thought she was suggesting? That the angel was asking her to somehow violate the vows she had made?

  She watched him struggle with it, waited quietly, not helping out. Finally, when he shook his head in complete befuddlement, she smiled faintly and went on. “As I look back on that day, I realize I should have stood in absolute awe. Here was an angel from the presence of God, in my house, speaking to me! I should have asked him a thousand questions, but when I realized what he had just said, that I would conceive a son, all that came out was, ‘How shall this be, seeing I know not a man?’”

  Simeon had frozen into place. “And what did he say?” he whispered.

  She straightened, her voice suddenly filled with power. “The angel answered and said, ‘The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee and the power of the Highest shall overshadow thee. Therefore that holy child that shall be born of thee shall be called the Son of God.’”

  It was as if the very house held its breath. No sound penetrated through the open doorway. Nothing moved. Time itself seemed suspended.

  “Yes, Simeon. I am saying exactly what you think I am saying.”

  “But—”

  “Joseph was the father of all my other children, but he was not the father of Jesus.”

  Unconsciously, his hand came up, and he began rubbing at his eyes.

  Her face softened, and she laughed softly. “Don’t ask anything yet. Let me finish.”

  He could only nod numbly.

  “By that point I was barely hearing anything any longer. I was in a daze. Then the angel told me that my cousin Elisabeth had conceived a son in her old age and was with child. I already knew that. It was the talk of our whole family. Her husband was a priest in Jerusalem. An angel came to him in the temple and told him that Elisabeth was to bear a son, even though she was many years past the time of child-bearing. And then the angel looked at me in such a way that it felt as though his eyes pierced every pore of my body. ‘Remember,’ he said, ‘with God, nothing is impossible.’”

  Simeon stirred, but she held up her hand quickly. “I felt so humbled by then that all I could say was, ‘Behold the handmaid of the Lord. Be it unto me according to thy word.’ When I said that, the angel immediately departed.”

  She rushed on, anxious to lay it all out for him. “I left the next morning for Judea to visit with Elisabeth. I wanted to see her, to see this miracle for myself. I stayed there for three months, until she was delivered of a son.” She paused. “By the way, do you know what they called him?”

  Simeon, surprised that it would matter, shook his head.

  “They called him John. He later came to be known as the Baptist.”

  He jerked forward. “John the Baptist?”

  “Yes, he and Jesus are cousins. But that’s another story. Some wonderful things happened while I was with Elisabeth, but that’s not important now. What happened next is important. When I finally returned to Nazareth, three months had gone by.” She blushed a little. “Not being married, perhaps you may not understand the ways of women, but as time passed, it was no longer possible to hide the fact that I was with child.” There was sudden pain in her voice. “Remember, I was betrothed to Joseph, who knew nothing of any of this. I don’t know who first noticed. Perhaps it was one of the women at the well, perhaps someone in the market. What does it matter? The first pointed finger became a hundred; the first whi
sper became a constant murmur.”

  “And no one knew what had happened to you?”

  “No one except my own family.” She shook her head. “Nazareth is a small village. Small villages are so close they can be merciless. The assumption was that something had happened while I was in Judea. Poor Joseph. How it must have cut him when he heard.”

  “You were still espoused?” Simeon asked, his voice low. He was thinking of his own situation and what he would think if word came to him that Shana was with child. The very thought left him sick inside.

  “Joseph was a good man, Simeon. A just man. As you know, under the Mosaic Law a person guilty of fornication can be condemned to death. At the very least, Joseph could have dragged me before the Council and had me publicly humiliated and condemned. And what could I have said in my defense? That I was a virgin carrying a child? That God himself was the Father?” There was a sorrowful laugh. “I’m sure that would have put an end to all the talk.

  “Fortunately, Joseph was not willing to destroy me publicly. He decided he would just quietly give me a bill of divorcement and be done with it. While he was still brooding about what to do, an angel came to him one night and—”

  “The same angel?”

  “We think so, though we can’t be sure. Anyway, an angel of the Lord appeared to him too. ‘Joseph, thou son of David,’ he said, ‘fear not to take unto thee Mary as thy wife, for that which is conceived in her is done by the power of the Holy Ghost. She shall bring forth a son, and thou shalt call his name Jesus, for he shall save his people from their sins.’”

  Simeon felt as if he were two people, one listening intently to this woman’s story, the other a long way off watching a tableau being reenacted. “So what did he do?”

  “This will tell you a lot about the man I was privileged to marry. It was the middle of the night when the angel came to him. He rose immediately and did as the angel had bidden him. We were formally married before morning.”

  Simeon was trying to picture all of this in his mind. “I’ll bet that stopped the rumors short,” he said in soft sarcasm.