The Last Man at the Inn

by R. William Bennett

  She did as she always did when her husband needed comfort. She put both of her hands on his cheeks. It was, he thought, the greatest expression of love she showed him. “If it were not for you, I would be sad. I would not have these beautiful children. I would not have my comfortable home. I would not have this man as my husband, a man who is strong in his values and dedicated to us.”

  “That is not what I meant,” he protested.

  “I know exactly what you meant,” she responded. “And this is what I mean. If you have not heard that call, then my place, all our places, are here, together.”

  Simon was surprised at what happened next. He broke down in tears, his arms tight around Mara. He cried—hard. Not a word passed between them, but he knew she understood it all.

  She just held him silently until it was time for evening prayers.

  The following morning, Simon was out tending to the animals as the sun came up. He heard a noise and turned to see Alexander. He had known this moment would come and thought quickly through how he wanted to appear. He turned, stood tall, and gave his son a smile.

  “So, my son, how soon will you be leaving?” Despite the deliberate effort, he did not quite sound cheery, but he did sound supportive.

  “Tomorrow morning, Father. We will, of course, go by ship. Passover is coming, and the captains are taking advantage of it. There will be many ships.”

  “Yes,” Simon said, “and they will make you pay for the privilege.”

  “I know.” Alexander laughed. “We can manage. It’s time, and it will get us there.”

  There was silence for a moment, and then Alexander said, “Father, obviously you realize that I will no longer be a merchant with you . . .”

  “Oh!” Simon exclaimed. “That reminds me. I have your earnings from our last journey. You will need those.” He started to turn into the house, but Alexander grabbed his arm and stopped him.

  “Father, that is not why I said that. I have my earnings. Those are yours. Keep them . . .”

  “No, we have a business, good and fair. These are yours and I want to give them to you.” Simon walked into the house and returned with a leather pouch he handed to his son.

  Alexander weighed the bag in his hand. “You know this is not fair. This is too much.”

  “It seems to me,” Simon said with false sternness, while he returned to brushing down the cow, “that though we were partners, I was in charge, was I not? So don’t challenge me. That is your share.”

  His son just smiled and nodded. “Thank you.” He looked at his father for a moment, and then emotion welled up. “I want you to know I have loved working with you. I . . .”

  Simon slowly spread his arms toward his son. They embraced, and both men sobbed. Simon put one hand on the back of his son’s head and held him firm, which just made them both shake harder. There was no sound. Simon could think of only one thing: he wanted his son to know that he loved him. That was more important than anything he was struggling with.

  Inside their home, Mara stood quietly, peeking around the edge of the door. She stifled her own tears and quietly offered a thank-you to God for answering her prayer.

  And so Simon found a new balance in his life. Rufus had decided long before this time that his destiny was not to follow his father’s vocation. He had found a trade in town as a carpenter. Simon was proud of him. The years on the road with Alexander had been a special time, and he missed that, but he had never wanted his children to choose that way of life simply because he had. It was a hard lifestyle from a family standpoint. Mara had long ago found a way to make it work, but it was not for everyone. Besides, Rufus having a carpentry shop in town meant he was nearby to look after Simon’s family when he was traveling.

  The number of followers of Jesus in their community was growing slowly but steadily. It surprised Simon a little that this could happen so far from Galilee. But the influence of this man seemed to have no boundaries. Rufus, like Alexander, was a complete believer and had become somewhat of a . . . what? Simon was not sure what to call him. Rufus had a knowledge of the scriptures that Simon could take no credit for. When he spoke, people listened to him. He was not bold, but was quiet and sure of himself and patient, and his carpentry shop was often crowded with people just wanting to ask questions while he worked. He never was too busy to stop and spend time with someone who sincerely wanted to understand.

  He told Simon his work teaching Jesus’s principles was that of an apprentice—his knowledge was nowhere close to that of the Master, but he was learning and trying. He called it being a disciple.

  Over the next several months, Simon made many trips but tried to keep them shorter. He found he could go out for a only few weeks at a time. He went more often; it seemed to work out, and he was able to provide. There was so much happening, and he wanted to stay close to what Mara was learning. One evening, he was helping Mara clean up the evening meal when he casually mentioned his next journey.

  “You know how popular silphium is in Galilee?”

  “Yes, of course,” she said. “It has meant so much to your business I think we should have named one of the children Silphium to honor it.” Mara laughed, and it made Simon laugh.

  “Well, as you know, the supply is good right now. And the farther I get from here, the better prices I can get. So I will be leaving in a few days.” She stopped but did not look up.

  “And I thought I would go to Galilee. They seem to have a great fondness for it there. And . . .”

  She turned and looked anxiously at him.

  “And . . . I thought as long as I was there, I might wander up to Capernaum . . .”

  “Do you think you could find him?” she interrupted.

  “Who?” said Simon, feigning confusion.

  She turned from where she was putting away food. “The girls and I will start preparing some things for them right now.” She walked away, calling her daughters.

  He called after her. “There is no guarantee, you know.”

  “You’ll find him,” she said simply. I know it.”

  Simon looked at her quizzically. “Are you referring to Alexander, or . . .” He let the words hang.

  Mara went back to her work with a satisfied grin, saying nothing.

  Simon had filled his bags with as much of the rare spice as he could. In his hip pouch, he carried small gifts and letters from his family to Alexander and his wife and children. When his ship docked in Tyre a few days later, he wondered if it had been perhaps foolish to give Mara so much hope. These lands were not small. Would it even be possible to find his son? And then he remembered what Alexander had said some months earlier, before he and his young family departed: “Ask after Jesus. Wherever he is, you will find me.”

  Simon purchased his animals and made a decision. The profitable thing to do would have been to sell his way through each town on the way to Capernaum. Such a journey would take ten days at least, maybe two weeks. But he felt a sense of urgency, not anxiety or worry, just the need to act quickly. He did as Alexander suggested, and while still in Tyre, he inquired about the Messiah and where he might be found. Each person he asked pointed toward Capernaum.

  I knew it would be Capernaum, Simon mused with awe.

  He started out right away, pushing his beasts as hard as was possible. After only two nights on the road, he arrived.

  The city was busy. He could tell right away that many walking the streets were visitors. Clothing styles marked a foreigner, and he recognized many robes, tunics, and footwear from other regions of the Empire; there were even some he had never seen before. He went about securing a room for the night, settled his animals, and then set out with his hip bag to explore the city.

  Capernaum was a maze of streets—walkways converging and diverging again and again. Simon had no idea where to go. After a few minutes, he did not even know where he was. As he walked, he could hear M
ara’s voice in his mind, telling him she knew he would find Alexander. He noticed a section in a nearby wall where the stone curved inward slightly, creating a small spot to step off the road. There, he leaned against the wall and self-consciously lowered his head slightly. He hoped any who looked his way would think he was contemplating the dirt at his feet. Ever so slightly, with barely a breath, he prayed.

  “Adonay . . .”

  Simon immediately stopped. It struck him that he had not uttered God’s name in that way in decades. At the table in his home and on the Sabbath when he led his family in prayer, he used the name, but it was always formal, if not cold. When he was a child, he had loved to hear his father pray. When his father spoke the name Adonay, it always seemed like he was referring to a beloved friend. It was gentle, respectful, and almost familiar. Today Simon realized his relationship with the Almighty was changing. He too had just addressed God as a friend. He continued.

  “Adonay, you know Mara feels so strongly that I will find Alexander. And you know that I felt I should come to Capernaum.”

  He paused once more and quietly laughed at himself. Felt! He recalled the near disdain that had often broiled inside him when someone else claimed to base their belief in Jesus on what they had felt. But here he was, praying on the road after traveling hundreds and hundreds of miles—all because of a feeling.

  “Adonay, I have felt this, and I could be wrong. But I know you love Mara, and it would mean a great deal if I could find our son.”

  There were many passersby on the road in front of him, their words blending together into a constant hum. Suddenly, two voices stood out. Simon could hear them clearly, right in front of him, as if they were actually speaking to him.

  “Where?” one voice questioned.

  “The plaza. Alexander said he would be teaching there this afternoon,” the other replied.

  Simon immediately opened his eyes to identify the speakers. He saw two men walking away, still talking, and recognized one of the voices as the first he’d just heard. He hurried behind them, keeping close, so as to not lose sight of them.

  They led him past three walkways and then out to a junction of alleyways that formed a large, open courtyard. Simon looked around to see buildings and merchants lining the perimeter on all sides of the open space. There were many spice tables here, and he might have done well, but stopping to sell his goods did not even occur to him.

  He was too busy searching, hoping he might find Alexander here. It was then he heard a familiar voice. After another moment of searching, he located it. There was Alexander! His son! Sitting on a wall near the well at the center of the crowd. Simon stepped into the shadows where he could hear but would be hidden from Alexander’s direct line of sight.

  The first questions from the crowd were challenging, even somewhat antagonistic, Simon thought. But Alexander seemed to remain perfectly calm.

  “But it is the Sabbath!” someone shouted out. “Regardless of what you say, we have been commanded to keep the Sabbath holy.”

  “You are correct,” Alexander said. “And you—and all of us!—are blessed when we keep this commandment. But the Master asks us to remember that God made the Sabbath, and he made it for us. He has taught, ‘Man was not created for the Sabbath.’

  “I listened recently as Jesus asked this: ‘Who among you if you have a sheep, and it falls into a pit on the Sabbath would not lift it out?’

  “If you are sick, and the Master can bless and heal you on the Sabbath, are you not better than a sheep?”

  Someone called out, “I am!”

  Alexander laughed. “You are, my friend! And you all are!” He looked out, waving his hand across the crowd and making eye contact with as many as he could. In doing so, he found his father’s face among the many others watching him.

  “Come hear him tomorrow,” Alexander challenged the crowd. His words came out just a little more quickly than before. “Listen to what he says and see if it does not prick your heart.”

  Alexander stood up before any in the crowd could further question him and made his way to Simon.

  “Father!” he exclaimed, his arms wrapping Simon in a warm embrace. “I didn’t expect you here. This is a great surprise.”

  “You know . . . business.” Simon smiled. “How is your family?”

  Alexander beckoned his father to walk with him. “We are all well. All well. They will be excited to see you.”

  “How are you getting along? Surely they are not paying you to teach?”

  “Oh no,” Alexander said, still smiling. “Of course not. I do this out of love. That is my pay. But because of all the good things you taught me, I am able to bargain well with the traveling merchants, and I sell in the markets. Sometimes fruits and vegetables, sometimes spices.”

  Alexander’s eyes sparkled as he continued. “It almost feels like I am deceiving them now that I am on the other side of the table and know all their tricks and techniques. I am making enough, and it is easy for the family to pack up and move when Jesus moves. We have been down to Jerusalem and back since we got here—” He paused.

  “Father, how did you know to look for us here? Just two weeks ago we were in the Holy City.”

  “I just felt I would find you here,” Simon said, realizing immediately that he had used that word again. He saw Alexander break into a knowing smile.

  “You felt it?” Alexander asked, his eyebrows raised.

  “I’m still your father. You need to show respect,” Simon said with a wink.

  “Come,” Alexander said, “let me take you to our home.”

  They walked through the crowded streets, talking about whatever came to mind—the city, the changing times in Israel and Judah, the Romans.

  When they came to Alexander’s home, Simon saw that it was nothing more than a room in someone else’s house. It was adequate, true; there was a place to cook, room to sleep, and it was clean and safe. But . . .

  His thoughts were interrupted by Devorah and his grandchildren, who exploded with excitement when he came in. The little ones crawled all over him. He couldn’t get enough of it, and he laughed heartily.

  “How long will you be here?” Devorah asked.

  “Oh, just a day or so. I have gifts for you from Mara and the children.” He took off his hip bag and passed them out.

  That evening, Devorah made a meal out of what seemed to be nothing. Simon thought of offering to buy some food for them, but they made no complaint, or any excuse, and he did not want to offend them. After the meal, the children wandered out to play, and Alexander, Devorah, and Simon sat and enjoyed the peace of the evening. They asked about each family member one by one, with Simon telling them everything he could. They were particularly interested in what Rufus was doing and wanted to hear details of what he was teaching and how he answered difficult questions.

  “So,” Simon asked. “How goes your work here?”

  “You mean as a merchant?”

  “No, you told me about that. I mean your . . . other work. The work that brought you here.”

  Alexander looked surprised. “Father, you’re interested?”

  “I am. You’re my son, and this matters to you, so it matters to me.”

  “Well,” Alexander replied, obviously pleased. “You ask on a special day.”

  “A holiday of some sort?”

  Alexander became very serious. “Father, of all the times I have listened, learned, and studied thus far, today was the most powerful. Everything I believe, we believe, everything we have done, made sense today.”

  “Made sense?” Simon asked. “I thought it already made sense. Isn’t that why you came?”

  Alexander shook his head. “Of course, you are right, it has made sense. But today it made more sense. That’s how this has gone. You hear a truth and it leaves you speechless. You feel it may be the most important thing you have eve
r learned. Then you learn another, and you realize the first idea was merely a foundation upon which the next should be placed. And so it goes.”

  “So what happened today?”

  “This morning, Jesus was preparing to teach by the sea, but the crowds were incredible. People seemed to come from everywhere. There were rich and poor, old and young, and people from countries unfamiliar to me. He realized there was no way to address them all, and he led us along the road to a low mountain near here. He sat on a rock, and the people sat all over the mountainside to listen. And then he began to teach.”

  Alexander had to take a deep breath.

  “There is so much I don’t even know where to begin. I cannot even remember it all. Let me begin with this: he said that the meek will be blessed and inherit the earth.”

  Simon looked confused. “The meek? Why would they inherit the earth?”

  Alexander answered. “I believe he means the humble. That their humility will be rewarded in time, sometime.”

  “That is hard to understand,” Simon replied.

  “I know. But let me share several parts of it. If you hear it all together, it might help.”

  Alexander closed his eyes to try to say it slowly and perfectly. “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled. Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God. Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake. Rejoice, and be exceeding glad, for great is your reward in heaven, for so persecuted they the prophets which were before.”