Fishers of Men

by Gerald N. Lund

  “Not eight,” David said quietly. “Nine.”

  No one said anything at that. It was deeply sobering. Just the four of them were sitting on the flat roof of their home in the cool of the evening. Leah and Joseph were over with Rachel and the children.

  “You are very fortunate,” his father went on. “If you hadn’t left Damascus immediately after taking delivery of the uniforms, you would very likely have gone back to the inn where you were staying to find soldiers waiting for you.”

  Simeon nodded, absently fingering the scar across his chest. He had thought all of that through as well. “And if I hadn’t driven all that night, staying completely off the main roads, they could have found me that next day. I’m sure they put patrols out.”

  “The Lord was watching over you,” Deborah said, giving Simeon’s hand a gentle squeeze.

  “I’m not sure why. Maybe he takes special mercy on the stupid.”

  Ephraim poked at his brother’s shoulder. “I don’t think I ever said your plan was stupid. Actually, it was brilliant, but it was terribly risky.”

  “I think the word you used was insane,” Simeon noted. Ephraim had never lived the life of excitement and action that his younger brother had, and he was clearly fascinated with all that had happened.

  “So what now?” Ephraim asked.

  “Well, thus far the execution date hasn’t changed, so that still gives us a little time.” He looked directly at his father. “I have never thought about anything so long and so hard as I have this, nor have I ever prayed for anything as fervently.”

  “And?” David said, sensing that Simeon had more to say.

  “After I left Sextus this morning, I spent all day in the hills.” He sighed. “I am sorry that I have been of no use to you in the business of late, Father. You and Ephraim have been left to do it all.” He frowned. “Not that Ihave ever been around enough to be heavily involved.”

  His mother was watching him closely. “That doesn’t matter, Simeon. What matters is that you find an answer.” She hesitated, but only for a moment. “Did you find an answer?”

  “Yes.” A great sense of peace was on him now. “Finally.”

  “We’re listening,” David said softly.

  Simeon plunged in, eager to lay it out for them. “The other day, after seeing Peter pull in that fish with the coin in its mouth, then watching Jesus come to us on the water, Peter asked me what lessons we were supposed to learn from all of that.”

  “Yes,” David said. “We talked of these things yesterday.”

  “Jesus is the Messiah,” Ephraim said. “He is the Son of God. What greater lesson is there than that?”

  “Well, Peter and Andrew and the others taught me an important principle. Jesus typically uses his remarkable powers to help people—to cure disease or return sight or cleanse leprosy. But sometimes he does things as a way of teaching. Think about those two miracles for a moment. Neither was directly beneficial to someone in need—at least not in any physical need.”

  “That’s true,” Deborah agreed. “I hadn’t thought of that. So what have you learned?”

  “First, that I’ve been trying to solve this by myself. Like Peter assuming Jesus needed his help to solve the problem with the tribute money, I thought I had to solve this whole thing myself. I decided that I couldn’t go to the Lord about Yehuda. It was my mistake that sent them there and—”

  He raised his hand to cut off his father’s protest. “I know. I was trying to do the right thing, but it was my mistake, nevertheless. So I felt like I had to work this out by myself, with my own resources. That’s when I came up with this—” he glanced at Ephraim—“insane idea about the uniforms.” He remembered Issachar’s metaphor. “It was kind of like putting your head in a crocodile’s mouth, then slapping its face to see if it notices.”

  “Fortunately, the Lord was kind enough to intervene before I could make another terrible mistake. And that brings me to the second lesson. When Peter started to sink in the water and Jesus pulled him up again, Jesus asked him a question. ‘O ye of little faith,’ he said, ‘wherefore did you doubt?’”

  Deborah shook her head in wonder. “I can’t imagine who wouldn’t have doubted at that point. Standing on water and suddenly you start to sink.”

  “That’s true. But as I thought about it, I decided that Jesus was also saying to me, ‘O ye of little faith, why do you doubt that God can help you? Where is your trust in me and in God? Why don’t you show more faith?’”

  He looked from face to face, seeing the love in their eyes. “So I have come up with another plan. This time I’m not going to put anyone at risk except myself. I’m going to try to demonstrate some faith and put my trust completely in the Lord.”

  There were somber nods from all three of them at that.

  Simeon swallowed quickly, and went on. “The only bad thing is that it will be much more expensive.”

  “How much more expensive?” Ephraim asked.

  “Two talents.”

  Ephraim gave a low exclamation. His mother’s face registered shock. His father finally, with a forced lightness, asked, “Only two?”

  “I don’t expect you to come up with it, Father. Since you have given both Ephraim and me part of our inheritance to invest in trade and merchandising of our own, I plan to liquidate those assets and take my share of the inheritance now.”

  David dismissed that with a wave of his hand. “We can talk about that later. Tell us what you are thinking.”

  So he did. He told them about the lost gold. He told them about the aqueduct project and Pilate’s desperate need for funds. He told them what Sextus said about keeping the offer under the table so Pilate could directly benefit by the recovery of the gold. It was at that point that he stopped because Ephraim was shaking his head. “What?”

  “This is the answer you got today?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t think it’s right.”

  “Why not?”

  “You’re talking about bribing a government official, Simeon. Oh, I know the Romans are corrupt and that is the normal way of doing business, but surely the Lord would not approve of such a thing. If you asked Jesus, what do you think he would say?”

  Stung and feeling terribly deflated, Simeon tried to hold his temper. “It’s not a bribe, Ephraim. It’s returning what Pilate lost. In return for that favor, he grants us a favor.”

  “It’s a bribe,” Ephraim said stubbornly. “Paint it any color you want, shape it to look like whatever you wish, but that doesn’t change things. You are offering him a bribe.”

  “You sound just like Uncle Aaron,” Simeon shot back. “Since when did you become a Pharisee and start counting the hairs on the back of a flea?”

  “You haven’t found Pilate’s gold,” Ephraim shot right back. “If you had, maybe it would be different. But you’re talking about a bribe, and rolling it in honey just makes it easier for you to swallow.”

  David broke in quickly. “We can discuss the issue of the money later, Ephraim. Let Simeon finish.”

  “Pilate doesn’t care about the life of Yehuda one way or another,” Simeon said, clearly still defensive. “He knows that my men were actually trying to save his troops, but that counts for nothing with him. He’s just using Yehuda to divert attention from himself for the disaster he and Mordechai created with all their scheming. The gold will just give him a way to release them and save his pride.”

  “I’ll have to think about that,” Deborah said slowly. “I have some questions about whether it is right too, but there’s a greater issue for me. Pilate knows by now that someone betrayed the whole plan to you. I’m sure he would like very much to get his hands on whoever that was. What’s to stop him from taking the gold and then taking you too, so he can force you to tell him everything?”

  “I know it sounds crazy—insane, if you will—but that’s where faith comes in. I’ve worked out a way to protect myself against any double-dealing, but ultimately I’ve got to trust that i
f this is what the Lord wants me to do, he will help me work it out.”

  “If it is what he wants,” Ephraim said. “That is the critical word, Simeon.” He was suddenly pleading. “Look, I’m not trying to throw cold water on your efforts. I know that you’re trying to do what is right. But you can’t ask God to help you if what you are doing goes against his law.”

  Simeon tried to ignore that. “That’s it,” he said, speaking to his parents. “It will take me a few days in Damascus and Jerusalem and Ptolemais to turn my holdings into cash. Then I’ll go to Caesarea and make Pilate an offer. No intrigue, no elaborate schemes. I just offer Pilate the one thing he wants more than anything else.” He shrugged. “If he chooses not to let his superiors know that the gold has been recovered, that’s his decision, not mine.”

  “Are you at peace with this?” David asked.

  “More than I’ve been in the last two weeks,” Simeon answered without hesitation.

  “Then let’s sleep on it,” David said. “We need time to think about it too. It does have a good chance of working, far better than the other scheme.”

  He stood, signaling that the discussion had ended. Ephraim stood too and went over to face his brother. “Simeon, I—” He took a quick breath. “Look. One thing that Jesus has said perhaps more than any other is, ‘Come unto me.’ ‘Come follow me.’ I’m not sure what that always means. I think we’re all trying to work that out in our minds. But it surely means that we ought to use him as our example, that we try to live as he lives.”

  Simeon’s eyes filled with pain. “Don’t you think that is what I have been agonizing over for the past two or three weeks?”

  “Yes, I do. I know that is what you want, but—”

  “But the world is not quite that simple, Ephraim. The barbarians are at the gates. Our country is slowly being strangled by evil. Do we just stand by and watch it happen? Is that what you think Jesus expects of us?”

  “Well, I—”

  But Simeon bored right on. “Well, here’s a question for you, Ephraim. There are violent and evil men in the world. There always have been, and I suppose there always will be until the great millennial age of peace is brought in. Do we just love everyone and pray for them and wring our hands while they rape the world?”

  Taken aback by Simeon’s passion, Ephraim faltered a little. Deborah and David just watched, for the moment letting the two of them play this out. “Well,” Ephriam began, “Jesus did tell us to love our enemies, to turn the other cheek.”

  “Yes, he did. And as you remember, that infuriated me at first. But I’ve thought a lot about that. Does loving our enemies—remembering that they are God’s children just as we are—does that mean that we ignore or excuse their evil acts? Is that love to be unconditional, no matter what they do?”

  “I didn’t hear Jesus put any conditions on it.”

  “Nor did I hear Jesus say, ‘Ignore evil.’” He paused for a moment, then asked, “Do you think there is a new God in town now, Ephraim?”

  “Simeon!” Deborah cried.

  “No, Mother, I’m not being irreverent. This is the key question for me.” He turned back to his brother. “Do you think Jesus is contradicting what God has done in the past?”

  “Of course not. He is confirming it, perhaps even expanding it.”

  “Agreed. So, answer this for me. In Abraham’s days, all the various kings in Canaan were at war. Abraham’s nephew, Lot, was captured and taken prisoner. What did Abraham do—Abraham who is held up for all of us as a great example of faith? Did he sit back and wring his hands? Did he say simply say, ‘I forgive them’?”

  Ephraim had no answer.

  “I’ll tell you what he did, because I went to the synagogue yesterday and found that account in the Torah. The scripture says that he ‘armed’ three hundred and eighteen of his trained servants, and pursued those kings northward into Dan. And there he ‘smote them.’ Yes, Ephraim. That’s the word that is used. He smote them and delivered Lot from certain death.

  “Or let me ask you another question. Do you think Jesus is courageous?”

  That caught all three of them by surprise.

  “Or does all this talk of love and meekness and humility make him too submissive? Do you think he’s a coward?”

  “Of course not,” Ephraim said, bothered that Simeon would even ask such a question.

  “Neither do I. And here’s something else for you to think about, Ephraim. Miriam and Livia told us about the day that Jesus drove the moneychangers out of the temple.”

  “Yes, and that alone proves he isn’t a coward. He stood up to the soldiers without hesitation.”

  Simeon pounced on that. “Yes, he did. How did he do it?”

  Ephraim hesitated for a moment. “If I remember right, Miriam said he braided a whip.”

  “That’s right. And then he waded into them. He didn’t walk around humbly pleading for them to mend their wicked ways. He didn’t go to a far corner and pray that they would change. He took the whip to them. He broke down the pens. He overthrew the tables. Why? Because he was incensed at the evil he saw. These were evil men doing evil in his Father’s house, and he would not tolerate that. The barbarians were not only at the gate, but inside the courtyard as well, and he drove them out.”

  Of David ben Joseph’s two sons, Ephraim was most like his father in temperament and spirit. But there was a streak of stubbornness in him—if such had ever been part of David’s life, it had long since been overcome. “He is the Son of God. He has the right to react in any way he feels is appropriate.”

  “No, Ephraim. You said that he has asked us to come unto him and to look to him for our example. So that’s what I am doing. The same Jesus who said turn the other cheek also took a whip and drove the moneychangers from the temple. The same Jesus who says love your enemies and forgive those who despitefully use you also calls the Pharisees hypocrites and whited sepulchres. Don’t I have to consider both sides of his example? Isn’t there a time when I, too, can rise up and make a stand against evil, do my part to stop the barbarians from destroying something of great worth?”

  “You had better be careful,” Ephraim warned. “Is the only way to fight the barbarians to become a barbarian yourself? Is violence the only way to combat violence?”

  “No,” Simeon said. “And that is my struggle. I don’t have all the answers, Brother. I wish I did. But it occurred to me that men of great faith in our past have taken the sword in defense of truth and right. Take Moses as another example. When it came time for Israel to enter the promised land, the Lord told Moses to extend an offer of peace to the Canaanites. If they had accepted it, they would have been spared. But they did not. They chose to fight against God and his people. I looked this up today as well, Ephraim. Want to know what God told Moses? ‘If they will make no peace with thee, but will make war against thee, then shalt thou besiege them. Then shalt thou smite them with the edge of the sword.’ Was Moses wrong? Was Abraham wrong?”

  Ephraim sighed wearily. “Simeon, I know that you are trying to do what is right. I really do. But I cannot believe that Jesus would condone bribing a government official. There has to be a better way. I can’t for the life of me picture Jesus doing that himself, no matter how just the cause.”

  Simeon didn’t answer, but turned to his mother and father. “Here’s what I have decided after much wrestling with this issue. I think Jesus is trying to teach us that our hearts cannot be filled with hate for any man, friend or enemy, as mine used to be. I think he’s reminding us that even the Romans are our brothers and that we must feel love for them just as our Father in Heaven does. Isn’t that what he said? ‘Love your enemies’?”

  “That’s precisely the lesson he is trying to help us see,” David answered.

  “And is your heart filled with love for Pontius Pilate right now?” Ephraim broke in softly. “Are you telling me that this is why you’re going to bribe him?”

  “I wish I could say yes to that,” Simeon answered. “Bu
t I can say this. My heart is no longer filled with hate. I don’t glory in the love of battle anymore. That’s a miracle to me, believe it or not. But Yehuda and two other men are in prison awaiting death because I asked them to help me do what I thought was the right thing. You’re right, Ephraim. It is a bribe, and it’s probably wrong to do it. But it is a far greater wrong to turn my back on these men. So I’ll take that gold and I’ll go to Pilate and sue for a peaceful solution. I’ll try to add some faith somewhere in that process and trust more in the Lord. I’ll keep trying to come to some resolution in my mind about what it means when Jesus says, ‘Come unto me.’”

  His head came up and his eyes were sad as they met Ephraim’s one last time. “But if all that fails, then like Abraham and like Moses, I will take up arms against those who are evil. I will make my stand at the gates. And if it comes to that, I will fight violence with violence. May God forgive me if I am wrong, Ephraim, but that is what I have to do.”

  III

  An hour later, Simeon still sat with his parents on the rooftop of their home. Ephraim had left without further comment after Simeon’s final passionate declaration, and after a few minutes Leah and Joseph returned. Joseph immediately went off to bed. Leah joined the three adults to enjoy the cool of the evening.

  By unspoken agreement, nothing further was said about Yehuda or Pilate or gold talents. They spoke of the harvest and all that had to be done in the coming weeks. They laughed together as Leah described Esther’s cleverness in devising ways to delay being put to bed. Two or three times the conversation turned to Jesus—his latest miracle, or something he had said—but both Deborah and David deftly steered those conversations away from any attempt to suggest what those teachings might mean for them personally. Simeon participated, though he was quieter than usual. Two or three times, Leah gave him questioning looks, obviously wondering what had taken place while she had been over at Rachel’s house.