I will speak to him privately on the matter when he returns.
Miryam Big-Heart cries many tears of rage. She hates this man who did her wrong. I am sick to my death on her crying. I wish she would set the matter aside. I do not know what to do with her. She is more bitter than any woman ever was.
My heart begins beating fast.
I know how she feels, a little, for I also hate a man who did me wrong, and I cannot set the matter aside.
I cannot. I will not.
Now I see why Yeshua brought this woman to meet me.
He wishes to show me a thing.
Fine, he has shown me a thing.
She is bitter and angry.
I am bitter and angry.
I am ashamed that I am bitter and angry.
But that does not change the fact that I am bitter and angry.
I would set the matter aside if I could, but the knife cuts too deep. I will never set the matter aside.
I would if I could. Yes, I would. But I cannot. There is a thing in my heart that is twisted, and I cannot untwist it.
Nobody can untwist it. Not even HaShem can untwist it.
But … I wish that he could.
Chapter Seventy-Three
Miryam of Nazareth
I do not like weeping women. We have been in Jerusalem a whole month, first for Rosh HaShanah, then for Yom Kippur, then for the feast of Sukkot, and finally for Shabbat. Today we leave for Nazareth with my son and his men.
We stayed overnight in Bethany with Yeshua’s friend Elazar, who is a very rich man. His parents are dead, but his sister Marta is a wise woman and runs a good house. His sister Miryam Big-Heart is not so wise. Right now, she is weeping and clinging on Yeshua and making a fool on herself.
I am glad Yeshua has not made an offer to her brother. I do not think she is a right woman for him. A woman with rage in her heart will burn every man she touches. I do not want her scorching my son.
Besides that, she is twenty-six! I found it out yesterday. She could almost be a grandmother. That is too old for my son, even if she looks no more than twenty.
Yeshua gives her a kiss and a kiss and a kiss. “Thank you for your kindness, little sister.”
Her face crumples when he says little sister.
I do not think Yeshua knows anything about women or he would see how she longs for him. When we are gone far from here, I will explain the matter. Or I will make Shlomi Dancefeet do it.
At last we pick up our packs and leave to join up with the Jericho Road. We are a big group. We have my five sons and two of their women who do not have small children. We have one of my daughters and my son-in-law. We have Yeshua’s eight men. Usually, we go by the Samaritan Road, but there has been trouble that way lately, so this time we will go around. We will join with some large group going down the Jericho Road and will not fear bandits. There are many thousand people leaving Jerusalem for Galilee.
Yeshua finds me and takes my hand.
My heart feels warmed. My son is strong. We have been gone long from Nazareth, a whole month, and now we are going back, all of us.
And Yeshua is going with us to Nazareth.
I do not know what will happen when we get there. The men of Nazareth always loved my son, for he is kind. Most of them did, anyway. Not Old Yonatan the leather-man. Not his wicked son. But most of them.
That changed this summer. They all heard tale on the big things he did in other villages, and their hearts became angry on him, for he never came. They heard tale on this tax-farmer, and their anger turned to rage, like a boil on their heart. They have some plan to hurt him. He means to show kindness to them, and he thinks they will love him again. Not the leather-man and his son, but the others will. That is what he thinks.
I think he is wrong. I think their hate is too great. I think they will try to smite him.
I wish they will try to smite him. I wish they will force him to fight back. I wish he will punish them. I wish he will burn their houses down. I wish he will crush their bones to dust. He will have the Power now to do it. When they put his back against the wall, he will use it.
“Rabbi Yeshua, tell us a tale!” says Yoni.
I like that boy. He is cheerful and makes everyone laugh. His brother Big Yaakov acts as Yoni is a fool, but Yeshua says the boy is a genius. That is a good praise. I think Big Yaakov is the fool.
“What tale should I tell?” Yeshua asks.
“Daniel and the lions!” says Yoni.
“Father Abraham and the wicked men of Sodom!” says Little Yaakov.
“Jonah and the big fish!” says Shlomi Dancefeet.
Nobody tells tales like my son. His tales will make the road go faster.
First, he tells the tale of our prophet Daniel, who was stolen away to Babylon when the wicked king came and destroyed our Temple and burned our city and left our people dead in the Hinnom Valley. But Daniel was wise, and the king saw he was honest and made him his chief prince. The other princes were jealous on Daniel and fooled the king to make a law that for thirty days no man should pray to any but the king. Daniel saw it was a trap, but he prayed to HaShem anyway.
They came and threw him in the den with many hungry lions, but HaShem shut their mouths and they could not eat Daniel. In the morning, the king came to see if any bones of Daniel remained, and he had a big joy when he saw Daniel alive. The king was angry on his other princes and threw them all in with the lions.
I see them in my mind as clear as they are right here before me. The evil men cower in a corner.
The lions rush on them, roaring in their rage.
The evil men shout for their fear.
I am glad to see their fear.
The lions fall on them and tear them apart. They eat them until nothing is left.
I am glad, for they are wicked men and deserve it.
But there is more. It is not only the evil men who were thrown in. Their women and children were put in with the lions too. I had forgot that part of the tale.
The women wail and wail for their grief. The children shriek and shriek for their terror. I see a little girl of the age of three, holding a small doll. She clings to her brothers and her mother. She is screaming.
I see the lions pounce again. They tear apart the women. They tear apart the children. Last of all is the little girl, hiding in the corner.
A lion comes to her, snarling for his fury.
She screams.
The lion claws her face.
She begs for Imma and Abba, but they are dead.
The lion eats her left leg while she is still alive.
She screams and cries in a big agony.
The lion eats her right leg.
She calls out to HaShem for help.
The lion eats her left arm. He eats her right arm. He eats her belly.
All the while she screams and begs.
Last of all he eats her face.
There is nothing left of her but the terrible screaming in my head. I do not think it will ever end.
When Yeshua finishes the tale, I am shaking. I never heard it told this way. I do not like this tale. Yoni did a bad thing to ask for this tale. I do not wish to hear this tale again.
Next, Yeshua tells the tale of Father Abraham and the wicked men of Sodom. HaShem came to Father Abraham in the shape of three men. Father Abraham told his woman, Sarah, to make a big feast. She made bread from three measures of flour, which is enough for a hundred men. Father Abraham killed a fat calf. They fed the men.
Then HaShem told how he would crush the city of Sodom on account of its wickedness. Father Abraham begged mercy in case there were fifty righteous men in the city, and HaShem promised mercy if there were fifty. Then he begged mercy in case there were forty-five, and HaShem promised mercy. Then he begged mercy in case of forty. Then thirty. Then twenty. Last of all, ten. HaShem promised mercy each time.
But there were not ten righteous men in Sodom. There was only one—Father Abraham’s nephew Lot. When HaShem sent two Messengers
to visit Sodom, Lot gave them hospitality in his own house. The wicked men of the city came to the house after dark and asked for the visiting men, to lie with them as a man lies with a woman. That is a big dishonor on a man, to use him like a woman. Lot told them no. The wicked men cried out for their rage. Lot offered them his own virgin daughters.
I would not offer my virgin daughters to save the honor of a man. I do not think Lot was so righteous. But the wicked men refused the girls. All night they howled for the men. The Messengers put blind eyes on them all and took Lot and his woman and his daughters, and they ran away fast from that evil city, and HaShem burned it with fire.
I see the city burn. The flames are so hot they are white, as when you burn pitch. I see the evil men shriek for their agony. I see their women roll on the ground in big flames, screaming and screaming. I see a small boy in a pit of pitch up to his waist. He has a beautiful face like my Yeshua when he was a child.
His face twists, and he screams and screams while the fire burns hot around him. He begs HaShem for mercy. His skin turns black from the fire. He claws at his skin until it rips. Watching him gives me a big agony. His voice rises higher and higher to heaven until it rings in my head.
I would tear off my ears to make that voice go away, but it will not. Tears run down my cheeks. I would vomit if I had food in my belly.
I wish to beat Little Yaakov for asking for this tale. It is a bad tale. It is an evil tale. I do not care if it is in the Torah. I hate this tale.
When Yeshua finishes the tale, I think I will never breathe again.
Yoni says, “Rabbi Yeshua, what would have happened if Father Abraham begged mercy on account of five righteous men, and then three, and then two, and then one?”
Yeshua says, “What do you think, Yoni?”
Yoni says, “Also, if HaShem is righteous, why did Father Abraham have to beg mercy to make HaShem do right? That is not a good logic.”
Yeshua says, “What do you think, Yoni?”
I am no genius, but I wish Father Abraham had begged mercy more, whether it is a good logic or no.
Yeshua tells the tale of Jonah and the big fish. Jonah was a prophet, and HaShem told him to tell repentance to the great city of Nineveh.
I do not know where is Nineveh, but it was a wicked city and its sins reached up to heaven.
Jonah hated Nineveh and did not wish to tell it repentance, so he ran away from HaShem on a boat.
That was foolish, for you cannot run away from HaShem.
HaShem made a big storm on the boat, and the sailors cried out for their fear. They sacrificed to their false gods, but the storm howled more. Finally, Jonah told them the storm was on account of his sin, and they threw him in the sea and he drowned and a big fish ate him.
I do not like the tale told this way, that Jonah died. I like it told that the fish took Jonah in his mouth and saved him from dying. I wish Yeshua would tell the tale that way, but Shlomi Dancefeet likes it this way, and she asked for the tale.
Jonah’s shade was in Sheol, and it cried out to HaShem. After three days, the fish came up on dry land and vomited out his bones, and HaShem made him live again.
Jonah went to Nineveh and told them repentance forty days, that the wrath of HaShem would fall on them. The people of Nineveh made a mock on Jonah, but there was one man who did not, and that was the king. He repented his sins, and he made all the people repent. They fasted and threw off their fine clothes and wore saq and begged mercy on HaShem.
At the end of forty days, Jonah went out of the city to watch the wrath of HaShem fall on the city. HaShem made a gourd spring up and shade Jonah, and he was glad, for it was hot. Jonah watched all day, but the wrath of HaShem did not fall on the city. The sun blazed like fire, and it dried up the gourd, and all the shade went away. Jonah looked up at the sky and shook his fist on the sun and complained to HaShem.
He told his rage to HaShem. The wicked people repented their sin and begged mercy, and HaShem repented his wrath and did not destroy them. That was not fair, to escape wrath for their sins, only because they repented and begged mercy.
Jonah complained and complained to HaShem on the matter, but HaShem only said he wished to show mercy on those who repent.
I do not understand this story.
Yoni says, “Rabbi, why did HaShem show mercy on Nineveh? It was the greatest city of Assyria. After this tale, Assyria grew mighty and destroyed Samaria and took away the ten tribes of Israel and laid siege to Jerusalem and would have destroyed it, only good King Hezekiah outfoxed them.”
I do not know how Yoni knows all these things.
He makes it sound as HaShem did a wrong thing to show mercy.
I do not know what to think on the matter.
Father Abraham begged mercy on Sodom, but not enough, and little children were burned with fire. Jonah did not beg mercy on Nineveh, but they repented and escaped fire, and their children lived to destroy ten tribes of Israel.
That is not fair.
I think there is a time to show mercy and a time not to show mercy.
I wish HaShem will send his wrath on Nazareth.
But I will not beg mercy on them.
Never, ever, ever.
Chapter Seventy-Four
Yaakov of Nazareth
We have been on the road five full days and a little extra. When we arrive home to Nazareth, it is late morning on the day before Shabbat. I have told Yeshua the village is angry. Until now, I have not told Yeshua what he must do. First I must show him his great danger. Then I must persuade him to fight.
If he will not fight, then I will, because that is what a man does, but it will not be enough.
If he will not fight, he will be killed.
The village elders sit inside the gate. None of them rise to greet us, nor say a word of welcome to Yeshua, who has been gone many months. Old Yonatan the leather-man makes a cruel grin like a hawk. None of the others smile.
Fear twists in my belly. We are five brothers, all strong men. Yeshua has eight men with him. We have Uncle Halfai the winemaker and my cousin, Fat Shimon. They live in this village and did not go to the feast because they must tend their farm. They will stand with us. That is fifteen men. It is just enough, if we all fight. But I do not know if Yeshua will fight.
We walk through the village square.
I call greeting to Shimon the baker.
He turns his back.
My woman calls greeting to our neighbor Marta.
She scowls and goes in her house.
Three small girls see us and begin singing that song about Imma. They are too young to know what is a zonah, yet they sing it with hate in their eyes.
When we reach our house, Yosi’s woman and Thin Shimon’s woman come out to greet us with their children. They stayed here all this time we were gone to the feast, but the village does not hate them. It hates Imma. And now it hates Yeshua.
We all take off our packs and put them in our house.
Yeshua shows his men the rooftop where they will sleep. The weather is still fine, and they will sleep well there.
The women set to work to make food, for we are all hungry.
Thin Shimon goes out of the house wearing a hard smile.
I do not know what that means.
Yeshua catches my eye. “Come walk with me, Little Yaakov.”
I take his hand and we walk.
That boy Yoni makes a move to follow us.
Yeshua shakes his head. “Yoni, please, you will stay here and make a watch over my house. If there is trouble, run fast to find us. We are going south to the lookout place. It is far, but you will not lose your way if you follow the path.”
Yoni grins as he has been given a big job.
Yeshua and I walk in silence.
The path is more than a mile, but it goes downhill most of the way and is easy. We do not talk. The sun beats down on us all the way.
We sit on a large stone at the edge of the precipice and look south over the broad green Jezreel Valle
y. Far to our right is a mountain range that leads to the Great Sea. Straight ahead in the distance, the hill country of Samaria. To our left, Mount Tabor, shimmering in the sun, and beyond the range of seeing, the Lake of Ginosar and the Jordan Valley. Beneath us, slanting down to the valley, is a steep slope studded with jagged boulders.
“The village has an angry look,” Yeshua says. “Nobody called shalom as we walked to our house. I smiled on two children, and they ran away as I was a wolf.”
“I tried to explain the matter on the road, but you would not hear.”
“I heard. I did not realize—”
“You should have made a move this summer.”
“I did make—”
“You should have raised up an army.”
“HaShem said—”
“You should have come back to Nazareth.”
“I never—”
“You should have called your own village to join with you.”
“But—”
“All summer, we heard tales on you from travelers, how you did a big thing in other villages. We waited and waited, and what did we see?”
“I did not promise—”
“Nothing! We heard tales how you sent away evil spirits in other villages, but we never saw you do it in your own. We heard tales how you healed sick in other villages, but we never saw you do it in your own. We heard tales how you said the kingdom of HaShem is coming in other villages, but we never heard you say it in your own. You called men of Capernaum your friends. You called men of Bethsaida friends. You called men of Cana friends. You called a tax-farmer friend! But you did not come to your own village and call them friends. You have dishonored yourself, and you have dishonored the village. And now you are surprised they are angry on you.”
“I did only what HaShem—”
“All the village is in a rage on you now.”
Yeshua says nothing.
The whole long summer runs before my mind. The village is angry on Yeshua, and they should be angry, for he dishonored them. My blood burns hot in my veins. “What do you have to say?”
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