Fishers of Men

by Gerald N. Lund

  Livia and Yehuda looked at each another for a moment, then both nodded. “That should work fine for us,” Livia said.

  “Good,” Simeon said. “If you couldn’t be there, we would make different plans.”

  “I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Livia said. “I’m looking forward to being in Jerusalem again. How soon will you be leaving?”

  “Actually,” Miriam answered, “we plan to leave next week.”

  “Next week?” Yehuda said in surprise. “Why so soon? Sukkot is not for another month.”

  Simeon responded. “Well, first off, it turns out that Jesus has decided that he and the Twelve are leaving next week. He wants to take his time going up, cross over Jordan, and travel through Perea, perhaps doing some teaching there. Which is fine with us. Besides getting to journey with him, it will get us to Jerusalem a few days ahead of the feast. That works well for Mother, who wants to be there to help Esther get ready.”

  “We’ve been so busy this last while, and Simeon’s been gone so much,” Miriam was explaining to Livia. “We haven’t been able to spend much time with Jesus. Simeon’s parents decided that it was a good opportunity for all of us. We’ll finish bringing in the harvest, then leave the warehouse in charge of Phineas, David’s chief steward. That will give all the family an opportunity to spend some time with Jesus as we go up to Jerusalem for Sukkot.”

  “Will you try to see your father?” Livia asked.

  Pain twisted Miriam’s mouth, and she looked away. “No.” When they had gone to Jerusalem for Passover in the spring, she had considered it, but Simeon talked her out of it. They had heard nothing from him, and in Simeon’s mind it would not be well to stir up old emotions.

  Simeon blew out his breath, half in disgust, half in sorrow. “Uncle Aaron writes us from time to time. He is, of course, in the middle of things there and is often at the meetings of the Great Council. In one of his letters, he said that Mordechai still forbids anyone to speak Miriam’s name in his presence and refuses to talk about her in any way.”

  “I had hoped,” Livia said softly, “that after almost a year and half, he might start to soften.”

  “Softness is not a quality that Mordechai ben Uzziel has cultivated,” Yehuda growled, frowning darkly. “He’s not going to bend. He’s too proud.”

  Miriam still looked at the ground. “Maybe once we are married and have children, he will soften.”

  No one said anything. Obviously they were not as hopeful as she was.

  Yehuda, having seen the pain in Miriam’s eyes, decided to change the subject. He stood up. “Why don’t you two go on back to the house with Livia? I’ll finish cutting this row of grapes; then I’ll come on in too.”

  “I’ll help you,” Simeon said, standing as well.

  “I can finish,” Livia started to say, but Yehuda waved her away. “If Simeon hasn’t grown too soft living the life of a wealthy merchant, I’ll put him to work. We’ll see you in about an hour.”

  III

  “Tell me about Drusus, Livia.”

  Livia turned. They were in the room that served as kitchen and eating room, starting preparations for the midday meal. “What about him?”

  “You’ve heard from him, I suppose.”

  “Oh, yes,” she said. “He writes every two or three months.”

  “He’s still in Athens?”

  She nodded. “His first year of apprenticeship as a builder is completed, and he seems happy. He even talked about coming to see us in another year, perhaps.”

  “That would be nice,” Miriam said.

  “And what of Leah?” Livia said. “As you know, I had hopes that she and Drusus might become kindred spirits. Does she have any prospects for marriage?”

  “Actually,” Miriam answered, “there is something developing. There is a family in Capernaum that have been longtime associates of David and Deborah. They have a son named Jonathan. He and Leah have been friends since childhood. His father hinted to David the other day that they would be interested in seeing if something might be arranged.”

  “And Leah would find that acceptable?”

  “I think she is quietly pleased, but it’s still too soon to say for sure.”

  “Good for her. She is such a jewel.”

  “And how are things here for you?”

  “Wonderful.”

  Miriam smiled. “I didn’t mean between you and Yehuda. That is obvious. And I’m so happy for you, Livia. But how are things in Beth Neelah? Sometimes small villages can be so tight-knit.”

  She shrugged diffidently. “I’m pretty much accepted now. And it’s getting better all the time. Some of the men, especially those who used to be in Simeon’s and Yehuda’s band, are convinced that I’m the one who forced Yehuda to turn away from being a Zealot. There’s still some resentment, but not much.”

  “And what does Yehuda say to that?” Miriam wondered.

  “No one dares say anything to his face. He’s very protective of me. And—”

  At that moment the door opened, and Yehuda stuck his head in. Livia turned in surprise. “It will be about another quarter of an hour before the food is ready.” She laughed. “Actually, more than that. Miriam and I have been talking.”

  “I know, but Simeon and I just had an idea.”

  “What?”

  “He’s going to help me finish cutting grapes this afternoon and in the morning. Then all we’ll have to do is take them to the winepress. Since tromping grapes in the press is so slippery, I think you’d better not help with that task. You could fall and hurt yourself.”

  “Yehuda, I will be—”

  He was grinning broadly. “So why don’t you go to Jerusalem with Miriam and Simeon and the family?”

  Her mouth dropped open.

  His grin only broadened. “I mean it. Once the wine is done, I’ll come and join you in Bethlehem for the wedding.”

  “Really?” The thought of being with Jesus for almost a month was very tempting.

  “Yes, really. Don’t think about it. Just do it.”

  “Oh, Livia,” Miriam said, “that would be wonderful. We’ll stay up every night talking like we used to do.”

  “Are you sure?” She was searching her husband’s eyes.

  “I’m sure,” he said, soberly. “It’s what you’ve wanted. And since we’re going anyway, why not go now?”

  “Thank you, Yehuda. Thank you very much.”

  Now the smile split his face, and he turned to Miriam. “I think she loves me,” he boomed. Then he laughed aloud, in that boyish way he had. “And can you blame her?”

  Miriam laughed in pure delight as he waved a hand and shut the door again.

  IV

  Capernaum 11 September, a.d. 32

  To a bystander, what was happening in the large, open field just outside Capernaum might have looked like a generous mixture of chaos, pandemonium, and bedlam. But in actuality, except for the children who ran hither and yon, screeching shrilly as they played hide-and-seek among the baggage and the animals, the activity was really quite well organized and moving ahead with remarkable precision.

  It would be a fairly substantial caravan that headed south to Jerusalem. There were close to a hundred people all together. In one way, that was good. Whether they took the road through Samaria or went down through the Jordan River Valley and through Jericho, there was always danger from brigands and robbers. The larger the party traveling together, the less the risk of attack.

  And yet the journey would provide challenges, too. Since this trip to Jerusalem involved staying through the full week of the Feast of Tabernacles, which was still nearly a month away, there was the problem of feeding and bedding a very large group, including babies and numerous children, for an extended time. But it was the time of the harvest, and food was plentiful right now. Each village along the way would welcome the chance to sell to passing groups.

  Most of the disciples closest to Jesus were there. The Twelve and their families, of course, were in the thick o
f organizing things. But also present were Luke the Physician, and Mattathias, a loyal friend. As Simeon looked around, he recognized most of the people. Then, with a start, he realized how many of those in the group had felt the healing touch of Jesus. There was Joachin the leper, whole and cleansed for more than a year and now back at his trade. Mary of Magdala had been possessed of evil spirits. Now she hurried about, smiling and laughing and playing with the children. Joanna, whose husband was chief steward for the family of Herod in Tiberias, had been cured of her infirmity in one day. Near one of the donkeys, Jairus, former ruler of the synagogue in Capernaum, was working with his wife and young daughter. She was the young maid who had actually died before Jairus could bring Jesus to her. “Maid, arise,” Jesus had said. And she arose. There was Ruth, widow of Yohanan the weaver. She was an older woman who for twelve years had been afflicted with an issue of blood, a continual hemorrhaging that drained her of all energy and health. One day, in desperation, she pressed through the crowd, hoping to but touch the hem of Jesus’ robe. In an instant, she had been cured of what no physician had been able to staunch before. And there was Elah ben Reuben, who had been struck down with a paralyzing infirmity that left him bedridden. When friends had tried to get him to Jesus, there had been too many people in the house for them to gain entry. So they had carried Elah up to the roof, removed some of the tiles, and lowered him down to Jesus. That day Elah had picked up his bed and carried it home, perfectly well again.

  It was not a caravan in the traditional sense, with camels and donkeys laden with goods for trade. There would be only about two dozen donkeys, and these were owned by individual families. They would primarily carry bedding, tents for the women and smaller children, some dried food supplies, and a few other necessities. Other than that, most people would walk. Smaller children would occasionally ride atop their father’s shoulders or be nestled into the packs on the backs of the animals, but the pace was leisurely enough that they too walked much of the time. That was one reason for leaving so far in advance of the time of the festival.

  If he pushed it, a man on horseback could make the seventy-mile trip from Capernaum to Jerusalem (eighty miles if one went by way of the Jordan Valley to avoid Samaria) in about two and a half days. A caravan would take closer to six, assuming it made no significant stops along the way. This group planned to be on the road for as much as two weeks, depending on where Jesus decided to go. They would stop for midday meals and camp each night around sundown. If a problem of any kind arose, they might stop for half a day or more to take care of it.

  Family caravans were not the best mode of travel if one was in a hurry, but having family along was part of the excitement of a pilgrimage. For the children, even older ones, it was a grand adventure. Even the adults looked forward to the pilgrimages, for it brought a change from the daily grind of life and an opportunity to participate in the grand festivals of Judaism.

  David ben Joseph looked around, letting his eyes stop where Jesus stood a few paces away. This was the hub of the greatest amount of activity. He could see Peter making the rounds, checking everything for the last time. David turned to his family. “I think it’s time we got everyone together. It looks like they’re almost ready.”

  “Has anyone seen Esther in the last while?” Rachel asked.

  Simeon turned to his sister-in-law. “I saw her a few moments ago over with Peter and Anna’s family.”

  Ephraim gave one last tug on the rope, making sure the pack on their donkey was secure and straightened. “I’ll go find her,” he told his wife.

  Their younger brother, Joseph, appeared from out of nowhere. “I know where Peter is,” he said. “I’ll get her.” And he was off. Though twelve now and soon to be considered an adult, on this day he was pure boy again, and his excitement was hard to contain.

  “Hurry!” Rachel called after him. “It’s almost time to go.”

  Since Rachel was helping Ephraim pack and Lilly was doing the same with Ezra, Livia and Miriam had taken the mothers’ two babies and were seated on a blanket watching the activity. Boaz, Rachel’s second child, sat beside them. He was so pleased to have Livia with him that he chose her over playing with the other children. The two babies were both walking now. Lilly’s little Miriam, now thirteen months old, stood on the other side of Livia, one hand resting on her arm. Amasa, Rachel’s youngest and two weeks older than little Miriam, swayed back and forth on unsteady feet, watching the activity around him with wide eyes.

  They were very different, these two. Miriam was a tiny thing and was going to be a miniature of her mother, a fact that brought Lilly continuing delight every day. Amasa was a heavy boy, with fat cheeks, thighs like the legs of a stool, and a triple chin. He was mellow in temperament, rarely cried, and was always quick to smile at anyone who would pay him the slightest attention.

  Deborah, satisfied at last that their things were ready, went over to where the babies were. She reached down and picked up Amasa. “There’s my boy,” she said. “Are you ready to go?”

  His face split in a grin at the sight of his grandmother, and he made some sound which she took to be assent. Ephraim went over too. He poked his son in the ribs, and Amasa squealed aloud, arching his back. He was very ticklish. “This one is always ready to go,” Ephraim said. “He likes to be in the middle of things.”

  Miriam got to her feet and held out her arms for her namesake. Little Miriam immediately lifted her arms, and Miriam picked her up. “We’re ready when you are, Lilly.”

  Rachel looked around. “Where is Esther?” But even as she asked the question, she saw Joseph threading his way toward them, Esther in tow.

  “Esther,” Ephraim said, “I want you to stay close now. We’re almost ready to go.”

  “Yes, Papa.”

  They heard a shout and turned toward Peter. He had his arms in the air, motioning people in. “If you could all gather in, I think it’s time.”

  They did, parents calling to their children and taking their hands.

  Peter waited until he was completely surrounded and the group quieted. “It looks like all is in readiness,” he said. He had a deep voice that had a tendency to boom out, and there was no problem with anyone hearing him. “Family heads, be sure you have everyone accounted for before moving out.”

  All around, the older members of the group nodded. Once they started on the march, there would be no effort to keep individual families together. The group was like one large family anyway. The children would gather into rough age groups to play and be together. Whichever family was closest to a given group would keep an eye on them. Most of the men would move out to the head of the column, watching for problems and setting the pace. The women would likewise gather in groups to visit as they walked. The caravan was really much like a rolling village, with family groups taking precedence only at meal times and at night.

  “As you all know,” Peter said, “we will be taking the Jordan Valley route, and there is a good chance we may cross over into Perea. It has been some time since Jesus visited there, and he would like to take this opportunity to do so again.”

  Jesus spoke up. “We’ll see what happens. It may be that we’ll go into Perea after the festival. I would like to spend some time there either now or before Passover.”

  Simeon looked at his father in surprise. Passover was seven months away. Was Jesus saying he wouldn’t be returning to Capernaum until after that? David shrugged. That was news to him as well.

  Peter spoke again. “We have no set time to be in Jerusalem, except to arrive in time for Sukkot, so we’ll take it day by day. Are there any concerns before we start?”

  It was Luke who spoke up. He stood beside Andrew, Peter’s brother, and James and John, the sons of Zebedee. “We are going to be with you, Master,” he said. “It doesn’t matter to us what you decide.”

  There was an instant murmur of agreement. Jesus seemed pleased and nodded to them all.

  “We shouldn’t have any problems on the road,” Peter went on
, “but once we stop in a town or village, you know what will happen. As soon as the multitudes know Jesus is with us, they will come out by the hundreds.”

  “Or thousands,” Andrew said.

  “Yes, or thousands. The Master will take time to teach them, and when he does, we’ll try to move away from our camp a ways to protect you from the crowds. But that may not always be possible. Therefore, when those times come, you will want to watch the children, especially the little ones. The crush of people can get pretty heavy at times.”

  That was wise counsel, and everyone was nodding again. Peter turned to Jesus, clearly wanting to know if there was anything else he wished to say. Jesus was thoughtful for a moment, then moved up to stand beside Peter. Parents leaned down and motioned their children to be silent. Very quickly, there was no sound but the breeze rustling the leaves of the trees around them.

  As he looked around on these friends, all of whom were trusted and loved, Jesus grew very somber, almost sorrowful. Finally his shoulders lifted and fell, as if he were trying to shrug off a burden. “My time has now come. I set my face steadfastly toward Jerusalem.”

  Again Simeon gave his father a quick look. What did that mean? They were all going up to the capital. David still looked as perplexed as Simeon.

  “John the Baptist came among the people, and they knew him not. And they did unto him whatsoever they wished.”

  People looked at each other in surprise. John the Baptist had been beheaded by Herod Antipas almost a year and half earlier.

  “Likewise, shall the Son of man suffer of them.”

  That created even more of a stir. The Son of man was a title the Master sometimes used to refer to himself. People looked at each other in dismay. Was he saying . . . ? But that couldn’t be. Simeon glanced at Peter. The big fisherman had his head partly down. He was clearly troubled by what Jesus had said, but he didn’t seem surprised.

  Suddenly Jesus half turned, looking back toward the main part of town. Then his head lifted, and he seemed to be scanning the hillsides that rose northward from Capernaum, golden brown after a long summer of no rain. “Woe unto thee, Chorazin,” he said in a loud voice.