The Last Man at the Inn

by R. William Bennett

  “Oh, no,” Simon replied. “I don’t think I could count the times I’ve been on these waters. I’m a merchant. I have been doing this for forty years.” He paused. “This particular trip has given me a lot to think about, and I suppose I am lost in my thoughts.”

  “Your trade suffers?”

  “No, not that. In fact, this may have been my best trip ever.”

  “Excuse me for saying more than I should, but you don’t look like a man who may have just had his best trip ever, so I will leave you to your thoughts.”

  “Actually,” Simon said, “it is good to talk to someone. If your son is still handling things to your satisfaction, I’d like to ask you a question.”

  The captain did not look back at his son. Instead, he surveyed the sails, the water, and the direction of this ship before saying, “He’s fine. Go ahead.”

  “Have you heard of this person, Jesus, from Nazareth?”

  The captain’s demeanor suddenly shifted, and he seemed cautious. “Why?”

  “You have, then? It seems to concern you that I asked.”

  Without hesitating, the captain replied. “Again, why do you ask?”

  “My son, my eldest, began this journey with me. We have worked together for eighteen years now. We split up during our journey, and then met again a month later in Tiberias. While he was alone, he ran into people who were coming from the baptism of this Jesus by some wild man named John out in the wilderness by Jericho.”

  The captain watched Simon carefully but said nothing.

  “When I saw him again, he was full of . . .” Simon was not sure what to call it. “Full of . . . zeal for what the people had shared about John’s and about Jesus’s teachings.”

  The captain finally spoke. “This son of yours, this is the one you thought of when you referred to an earnest young man?”

  “It is.”

  “So, then, if this earnest man who was once an earnest young man is enthused about the teachings of these two, what do you think of that?”

  Now Simon was cautious. “I am sorry, but why do you ask?”

  “You brought it up. You seem troubled.”

  Simon trusted this man for some reason, so he decided to continue. “I am a Jew . . .”

  The captain cut him off. “As am I.”

  Simon seemed surprised, and it was not lost on the captain. “There are a great number of us in Rome. We have been there for centuries. My ancestors were brought from Greece as slaves and eventually purchased their freedom.”

  Simon was relieved. “Then you will understand. Jesus is not a scribe, but he claims authority directly from God. My son is so mesmerized by him he has stayed behind to hear more. I am afraid for him.”

  The captain looked at him. “Afraid in what way? What do you fear he will do?”

  Simon paused. “Follow him, I suppose.”

  “And, if he does, what will become of that?”

  “I don’t know. Leave our business? Leave his family?”

  “Well, that would upset me if it happened to my son. What is it that this Jesus teaches that may cause him to do that?”

  Simon could tell these questions were not entirely genuine. This man knew more than he was letting on. However, it was helping him think things through, so he continued.

  “I don’t know that much, but he did share these thoughts . . . let me remember how he put it . . . If you have two coats and another has none, give him one of yours.”

  The captain frowned mockingly. “Oh, I see your concern now, how that could lead to leaving his family.”

  Simon was not amused. “He said they spoke of the publicans being more honest in levying taxes, and the soldier not exacting violence upon any man.”

  The captain put his hands in the air. “Our world is coming apart!” he yelled. The crew members looked his way to see if he was all right. “What would we do with honest publicans and peaceful soldiers? There would then be nothing to complain about, as we would all be warm with our shared coats.”

  This annoyed Simon, and he stopped. The captain slapped him on his back and chuckled. “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. It just doesn’t sound that tragic.”

  Simon then continued. “All right, then. What about John claiming he was called by God to prepare the way for Jesus? And, even more, what about Jesus claiming he is the Son of God? Does that bother you?”

  Before the captain could answer, Simon looked at him. “My assumption is you have heard these points as well?”

  “I have. I concede it’s a little harder to believe John’s calling. And, to accept that Jesus is the Son of God, I have to admit I had to think about it.”

  “That’s what I mean,” said Simon. “It’s troubling.”

  The captain did not respond to Simon’s last comments but continued with what he was saying. “However, I did think about it. And when I did, I felt, for some reason, that he was telling the truth.”

  Simon turned and faced him directly. “So you know all about this. You have heard these things?”

  “I have. I am in and out of the ports all along the eastern shores many times a year. I have recently carried passengers going to Galilee in curiosity and returning practically on fire, like your son. On our long trips in the quiet out here, I have asked them about it, and it makes sense to me inside. It is different than I was brought up on, but to be honest, I have been often troubled by what I was brought up on. I have always cared about others—it’s my nature. When I hear of some of the harshness preached by the priests, it doesn’t sit well with me. But when I hear the teachings of Jesus, I hear what I already believe, and it seems not just to be good admonition but how we are supposed to be—how God wants us to be.”

  Simon turned back to face the side of the ship. He leaned over, elbows on his knees, hands clasped, and hung his head. Almost imperceptibly, he said, “I cannot make sense of all of this.”

  The captain sat quietly for a short time, staring out at the shoreline. Finally, he took a breath, as though he had just come up with something. “Let me tell you this. I have become a follower of this man, but there is a great deal I don’t understand. I know only what I have heard from those who have heard from someone else. But this is something I am going to pursue learning more about. Your journey is your business, and I cannot tell you what to think or do. But I only ask you this: If your son, because of following Jesus, is kinder to the poor, is more honest, is more caring, is that a bad thing?”

  “But,” Simon protested, “he is already those things!”

  “Then perhaps he, like me, has heard affirmation of what he already believes.” The captain put his hand on Simon’s shoulder. “No doubt from a father who is a good example.”

  Simon caught his breath, stifling the emotion that overcame him with that statement.

  “My friend,” the captain continued, “it is my opinion that if it is true that this man is the Son of God, the one prophesied, then you cannot afford not to follow him, which means you need to give his words a chance to grow within you.”

  In the back of his mind, Simon heard Elijah challenging the Israelites to choose. The captain said nothing else but stood and left, resuming his position at the helm of his ship.

  The remaining days on board ship were uneventful. They took on more passengers at the next stop, so Simon and the captain didn’t have the chance to reconnect in private. However, just as Simon was about to go ashore at his destination, the captain called out for him to join him.

  “My friend, I have been thinking about you, and I have been praying for you, and a thought has come to me. May I share it?”

  “Of course,” Simon said warmly. He liked this man, his honesty and humility especially.

  “My thought is this: If you believe what the holy scriptures say—that a Messiah will come—then you must also believe that the Messiah will change our
lives. And if so many others believe this Jesus is the Messiah, isn’t it worth your time to investigate?”

  Simon paused for a moment and looked up and down the shoreline as he thought about it. “Let’s say I believe the scriptures,” he began. “Am I not, then, already investigating? I have listened to my son. I am listening to you.”

  “I suppose in a way,” the captain said. “But you are letting it come to you. Should you not seek it out?”

  Before Simon could respond, the captain went on. “Not long ago, one of my passengers heard Jesus speak in person and shared with me many of the things Jesus taught. A frequent teaching was to ‘seek the kingdom of God.’ I don’t think that means waiting for old, slightly addled men like me to come find you.” The captain smiled.

  Simon looked around to be sure he had privacy from the crew as they unloaded the ship. “Then tell me,” he said in a hushed tone. “How? I want to seek. But I don’t know what to do.”

  He looked pleadingly at the captain, and the captain gestured for them to move to the side of the ship, where they could lean against the rail as they talked.

  “Listen, as I have said, I am just learning myself. But I had the same question. One of my passengers and I discussed it, and he said Jesus had spoken to this very thing, that he had taught how one should seek.”

  Simon looked intently at him, and the sounds of the crew around them seemed to fade away, as if they were being muted or blocked somehow.

  “There are three things Jesus says one should do,” the captain said. “The first is to ask.” He pointed to the sky.

  Simon looked up, puzzled.

  The captain chuckled and pointed up again. “He has all the answers, all of them, every single one. Ask him for what you wish.”

  Simon did not move.

  “This man told me that Jesus promised if you ask, it will be given to you what you are asking. Not maybe, not partially. Just simply, ‘It shall be given you.’”

  The captain folded his arms as he leaned against the gunwale, looking out to sea. “So many times, I have been out on these waters when they’ve become angry and wanted me in their depths. There have been dark nights and massive waves. I’ve felt totally lost. And what did I do? What you or anyone would do. I asked God to help me. I asked him to keep me safe.”

  Simon hung on every word. “And did he?”

  The captain looked at him for a moment and then burst out laughing. Simon was confused but then felt sheepish as the captain spread his arms wide. “Well, here is the proof.”

  “Of course, I know you were kept alive. But did he always protect you perfectly?”

  “Ahh, that, my friend, is a very good question. I suppose it depends on what you mean by ‘perfectly.’ Was I never injured? Was my boat never damaged? No, both these things have happened. I have broken limbs, I have had to repair my ship. Other times, I have arrived at shore without harm. But! Each time I was safe, as I had asked for.”

  “When you were hurt,” Simon proceeded, “do you think it was because you did not ask as well as another time? Why would he answer you differently when your request was always the same?”

  The captain shook his head. “I suppose I always could do better, but I don’t think that’s it. I think he answered me in the way I needed to be answered at the time. When I was not harmed, I was grateful. When I was harmed, I found I learned something that helped me be safer after that. Experience has taught me that I should be patient, should wait upon the Lord and see what he has in store for me.”

  Simon sighed in exasperation. “Seek. Ask. You tell me I should do these things. You say he will answer any questions. Then, in the next sentence, you say I should wait and be patient when he doesn’t answer. Which is it?”

  The captain thought for a moment. “You said you have a son. May I ask his name?”

  “Three sons, actually, but the one I referred to is my oldest, Alexander.”

  “When Alexander was young, did you require him to help you with tasks the family needed done?”

  “Of course, always.”

  “Very good. And did he ever complain?”

  Simon laughed. “Always as well—at least when he was young. And particularly when we cleaned the stables.”

  The captain shook his finger. “Very good. And I suppose, when he did complain, you did not give in and let him stop working?”

  “No, never.”

  “But couldn’t you have done his work in half the time yourself? And were he to give up anyway and not finish, would the sun not have risen the next morning?”

  “Yes, I could have. And I am sure the sun would have been fine. But he needed to learn to work hard, to be responsible, to follow through.”

  “And did he learn those things?”

  Simon paused for a moment and then quietly answered, “Remarkably so. He does everything with such commitment. If you need to count on someone, he is the best you will ever meet.”

  The captain waited a moment to let that thought settle in—for both of them. “So I suppose the young Alexander needed to wait, to suffer a little—at least in his mind—to be patient as you taught him, so that he might gain the greater gift of responsibility. You knew that. And you let him wait until he learned for himself.”

  Simon shook his head and smiled. “I first heard that phrase ‘Wait upon the Lord’ many years ago, but this is the first time it has made sense to me.”

  Both men looked out to sea, watching the sun’s rays glimmer off the water.

  “Oh,” Simon said. “There were three things. That is one. What are the other two?”

  The captain smiled. “The first was ask, as we said. The second, is to seek, as you are doing right now. Look for answers. The Lord speaks in many different voices and in many different ways. Words, memories, examples, through others, and more. And, like asking, he said if you seek, you will find.”

  “And the last?”

  The captain became more serious. “This last one strikes me as most profound. I have pondered it a great deal, and if it makes sense to you, I would encourage you to learn more about it than I can tell you. The last is ‘Knock, and it shall be opened unto you.’”

  “Knock, as in on a door?”

  “I believe that is what it means.”

  They both stood in silence once again, until finally the captain nodded toward his busy crew and said, “Well, I am not a passenger. I need to get to work.”

  Simon clasped the captain’s hand and shook it firmly. “Thank you. You’ve been helpful to me—” He hesitated momentarily. “One more question, if I may. Why is it that you, and all these followers of this man, seem to want to engage anyone you can in a conversation about him? Has he ordered you to do so?”

  “No.” The captain chuckled. “I believe it is this. When you find something that brings you this much happiness, this much fulfillment, you want to share it with those you care about. I care about you—you are my brother, and I would like you to find the happiness I feel.”

  “Well, thank you. I hope we cross paths again sometime.”

  “And I as well.” The captain leaned forward and added, “And I will pray for you. I will ask God to give you what you ask.”

  With that, the captain waved his hand and joined his crew in unloading and loading cargo.

  Around noon, Simon exited the ship and set off on the ten-mile walk from the docks to his village. He’d easily be there by dinnertime.

  As he crested the last hill on his approach, children playing nearby shouted with excitement, alerting everyone within hearing distance that someone was arriving. Soon he saw Mara walking out to greet him, just as she had every time he returned home from a long journey over the past three decades. For a moment his thoughts rushed back in time: she was nine months pregnant with Alexander and, oh, so beautiful! He looked at her now and thought her just as beautiful. Gray was slowly
appearing in her dark hair. Lines near her eyes reminded him of all the smiles and happiness they had enjoyed. She walked with her arms extended out toward him.

  His thoughts quickly turned to Alexander, who should have been with him at this moment and whom Mara was certainly expecting to see. He dreaded telling her what had happened between them.

  “Welcome, welcome, my husband!” She enveloped his neck and kissed his cheek. “You are home sooner than I thought you’d be. And where is Alexander?”

  “He’s fine. Nothing to worry about, but stories to share. He will be here in a few days. Let me get cleaned up, and perhaps we can eat, and then we will talk.”

  She knew him. She could hear in his voice all was not well, but she did not hear panic or fear, so she gave him his silence and they walked arm-in-arm to their home.

  He had been right. He’d arrived home just before dinnertime, so his other children were all there, gathered near the table when he and Mara walked in. Rufus, five years younger than Alexander, was there with his pregnant wife, Batya. Simon’s daughters, Miriam and Adinah, aged thirteen and eleven, stood and hugged him tightly. But only for a moment before ten-year-old Samuel, his youngest, pushed them aside and enthusiastically embraced his father.

  Simon deposited his things and went to the well to wash. He tossed over and over in his mind how he would open the conversation. Should he involve the other children? Maybe just the older ones? Would Mara be upset or happy?

  When he came back in, they were all at the table, ready for prayers. Simon took his seat at the head, grasped the hands of his children on either side of him, and closed his eyes. “Blessed are you, Lord our God, King of the earth, who creates fruit of the vine, fruit of the tree, and fruit of the earth. Oh, God, bless Alexander to return to us safely, and my thanks for keeping my family safe while I was gone. Amen.”

  “Amen,” most of the family responded.

  Simon looked up to see Mara staring at him. “Amen,” she uttered softly, with a curious smile.

  “So, stories to tell,” Simon said quickly as he grabbed a piece of challah bread and started talking before anyone else could get a word in. He told them about the good prices he had received and how they had split up to take two different routes to Galilee, therefore making their profits better than any before in his long service.