“You know I do. You know we all do.”
Aaron nodded, his voice calm now. “And tell me about God, Simeon. Do you believe he is all powerful?”
“Yes.”
“That he is all wise and all knowing?”
“You know we do.”
“Then why do you pray?”
“I beg your pardon.”
“Why do you pray? If God is all wise and all knowing, doesn’t he already know what our needs are before we even ask? I mean, do you picture yourself looking up at God and saying, ‘I have a problem, Lord,’ and having him say, ‘Oh, I didn’t know that.’”
Simeon was silent for a moment before he shook his head slowly. “No, I believe God knows all things.”
“Including the thoughts of your heart?”
Simeon sensed that he was being led into a snare now, but he had no choice but to answer. There was only one answer. “Yes, including the thoughts and feelings of my heart.”
“Then why not just sit back and wait for God to give us what he already knows we need? Why do we have to ask?” He turned to the others. “Deborah? David? These questions are for you as well.”
“Well, I—” Deborah started. She stopped, trying to collect her thoughts. “For one thing, I want to express my gratitude to God for the goodness of life. It’s not just that I want to ask him for things.”
“Good, good. But if he knows that in your heart you are grateful, why do you have to say it?”
“Because of what it does for us,” David finally said. “It is good for me to give thanks aloud, to tell God how thankful we are for life and for all he does for us.”
“Yes, that is part of it, isn’t it?” Aaron said thoughtfully.
Simeon’s mind was racing. This was an interesting question he had not thought about before.
“But let’s focus on the asking part of prayer,” Aaron went on. “Why can’t we just say, ‘Lord, you know my needs. The sooner you can meet them, the better.’”
“Because God is not just there to meet our every whim,” Simeon said, knowing he was now doing what he had accused Aaron of doing a few minutes before. He was skirting the real question.
Aaron wouldn’t let him get away with it. “Now who is not answering, Simeon?” He turned to Deborah. “You see, Sister, it is not logical. It doesn’t fit our notion of common sense. But because it is hard to explain doesn’t mean that it is wrong.”
Simeon’s father was very thoughtful now. “I’ve thought about this a lot, especially in the last few weeks. It seems to me that God asks us to pray because of what it does for us more than what it does for him.”
Aaron whirled, clearly triumphant. “Yes, go on. Tell me why you say that, David.”
“For example, when Deborah came close to death bringing young Joseph into the world, I pleaded with the Lord to spare them both. It wasn’t that I doubted for one minute that he had the power to do so.”
“Yes, yes,” Aaron prodded. “Keep going.”
David began to nod slowly. “It was because I wasn’t sure I was worthy to ask such a thing of him. And so I tried to humble myself. I asked myself what things I might be doing that were displeasing to him, that might prevent me from having sufficient faith to call down his power in our behalf. I promised with all the fervency of my heart that I would try to be better, to do better, so that he would bless me.”
“Exactly,” Aaron exclaimed. “And that softening of your heart, that mental inventory and recommitment of the heart, that is why God asks that we pray to him. He doesn’t need our prayers. We need our prayers. It is what it does to us and for us.”
He turned to Simeon. “Wearing the peyot doesn’t make sense to some people. It is not logical. It seems strange and peculiar. To be honest, I am not absolutely positive that it is something that he wants of me.” He drew in a breath. “But it is what wearing the side curls does for me that counts, Simeon. It is my way of saying, ‘I will do whatever God asks. I will not eat certain things. I will wear certain articles of clothing. I will worship him in specified ways. I will let my hair grow long.’ Why? Because he wants me to be different from the world, even if the world laughs and ridicules me for doing so. This is how I show my love and gratitude for him.”
He sat back, a little surprised at his own passion.
Simeon was strangely moved. All that he had ever seen of his uncle was the outward rigidity, the arrogance, the superiority. He had just caught a glimpse into his heart, and it was a view that totally surprised him. Simeon turned and saw that his mother’s eyes were shining as she looked at her brother. Obviously she saw something there as well, perhaps part of the young boy she had once known.
Finally Aaron turned back to his nephew. “Are there any other questions, Simeon?”
Simeon shook his head. “No. You have answered well, Uncle Aaron, and given me much to think about. Thank you.”
Chapter Notes
There are literally hundreds of what are termed “Messianic” passages in the Old Testament. The dualistic picture of the Messiah depicted here is found in those passages, some of which are paraphrased here. With the conquest of Jerusalem by the Romans and their subjection of the people, the idea of the Messiah as a great King and powerful Deliverer rose in popularity during the last century before Christ’s ministry (see Mathews, pp. 3–32).
The passages referred to by Aaron include Isaiah 9:6; Numbers 24:17; Psalms 45:6; and 110:1–7. Those referred to by David include Zechariah 9:9, and various verses from Isaiah 53. There are numerous other passages that could be used to support both viewpoints.
The passage that is cited for the practice of wearing the side curls, or the peyot, a practice still followed by some of the stricter sects of Judaism today, is Leviticus 19:27.
Chapter 13
And he saith unto them, Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.
—Matthew 4:19
I
23 April, a.d. 30
“Ho, Simon!” David waved as he shouted, shading his eyes against the blinding glare coming off the water. The sun had just cleared the heights of Gadara on the east of the Sea of Kinnereth, and the two fishing boats were coming straight down the glimmering path it blazed on the still water.
Backlighted by the glare, a figure on the closest boat straightened and turned. Then it too waved, “Shalom, shalom. Good morning, David. Come to see how much money you are going to lose today?”
David laughed. “I can see that your boats ride like a feather in the water. That is not a good sign.”
Another silhouette joined the first, and Andrew’s voice came clearly to him as though he were only a few feet away. “It has been a long and fruitless night, David. You won’t be needing any laborers today. There will be barely enough to feed our families.”
From the second boat another man waved. “Barely enough to feed one child.” It was the voice of James, son of Zebedee, who with his brother John was also in partnership with David.
David bobbed his head, disappointed but not surprised. That was exactly why he or one of his sons usually came down to the shore so early each morning. On some nights of fishing you could put your nets out and hit a school so large that it nearly swamped the boat. The next night in the same place you could troll back and forth all night and come up with nothing. When they were successful, it took four or five men to clean and salt the fish, so David would go to the main square in Capernaum and hire whatever day laborers he needed to help with the catch. But there would be no men hired today. At least not by him. David shrugged philosophically. That was part of life as a merchant.
David turned and looked up and down the shore of the lake. In the early-morning hours there was always plenty of activity along the seashore. The boats usually started returning home about sunup. Their families or associates would be waiting, and each boat became a center of action. The fish had to be sorted and then cleaned. Nets had to be spread out to dry so they didn’t get moldy. Sails and nets and rigging had to be kept in const
ant repair. Occasionally the boats themselves had to be caulked or repaired so they didn’t leak.
A loud splash brought David around again. Impatient with their slow progress, Simon had removed his outer robe and jumped into the water. Up to his chest, he took the rope Andrew tossed to him and began pulling it toward shore. A moment later there was another splash, and James had done the same for their boat, though he angled to David’s left, where Zebedee was on shore already mending the extra net.
Kicking off his sandals and hiking up his robe, then securing it with his sash, David waded out and grabbed the rope as well. Together, he and Simon pulled the boat up and onto the graveled shore. Andrew stowed the oar and jumped off to join them.
If one knew that Simon and Andrew were brothers, one could see the resemblance between the two of them, but it wasn’t that striking. Andrew was the older of the two, approaching his twenty-sixth birthday in a couple of months. Simon was three years his junior. Both had blue eyes with flecks of green and wore their hair to their shoulders and their beards thick and bushy. Simon’s was a lighter color, a soft brown that showed highlights of red in the sunlight. Both brothers were powerfully built—an inheritance from their father and from years of fishing—but Andrew was not as broad through the shoulders and was slimmer through the hips. His hands were more delicate, with long nimble fingers that could stitch a sail or mend a net with surprising dexterity. Simon’s hands looked like two wooden mallets when they were closed. What they lacked in dexterity, they made up for in power.
David found all four of his partners pleasant to work with and filled with integrity. They were men of the sea, speaking only when they had something to say and then usually with straightforward honesty. In terms of their dependability, there was no shadow of compromise. That was one of the reasons David had sought them out in the first place. That had been seven years ago now. They had worked out the terms of their agreement verbally and had shaken hands. Nothing more had ever been required.
Once they got the boat well onto the beach, the two fishermen climbed back aboard and lifted the heavy net, still dripping wet, and tossed it over the side. All along the beach, frameworks of sticks were fixed to serve as racks for drying nets. Since there was no catch to clean this morning, David knew that Simon and Andrew would use the time to mend their net. Though he had more than enough to do back at home, he decided he would stay for awhile and help. When they went home to sleep, he would then go to his place of work.
With the net hung out to dry, Andrew turned to David. “You went up to Jerusalem for Passover?” It wasn’t really a question. The annual pilgrimage was expected of everyone unless there were pressing reasons why they couldn’t.
“Yes. Actually we got back a few days ago, but Deborah’s brother came to stay with us.”
“So did you get to hear Jesus? He taught several days in the temple.”
David shook his head in deep disappointment. “I heard that later. I wish I had known. You knew that I went up to Nazareth a couple of days after you told me you thought he was there. But by then he had gone back to Jerusalem for Passover. It seems like wherever he is, I am not; and where I am, he is not.”
“Well, now he’s come back to the Galilee,” Andrew reported. “You should be able to hear him now.”
“Back in Nazareth?”
“No, actually he is here in Capernaum. Peter saw him yesterday. Then he plans to return to Nazareth for Shabbat.”
“Yes, that’s what Aaron said. Deborah and I plan to go up to see if we can hear him.”
“Good.”
Then something Andrew said struck David. “Peter?” He turned to Simon. “Oh, yes. That was what Jesus called you, wasn’t it?”
Simon had stopped at a place in the net where there was a tear the length of his arm. “Yes.” He held up the net and shook it at Andrew. “No wonder we didn’t catch anything,” he muttered. “A boat could slip through that hole.”
Andrew nodded and went to the boat, returning in a moment with a coil of the thin hemp rope they used to mend the netting.
“So you’re changing your name?” David asked Simon. That really surprised him. Simon was of a strong will, and it took a lot to make him change his mind about anything.
“Not changing it,” he said, not looking up. “Just adding to it.”
“We like it,” Andrew said, completely serious. “Simon Peter. Simon the Rock.”
“This Jesus must have had a real impact on you,” David said after a moment, watching Simon closely.
Andrew answered for the both of them. “More than you know, David. We are most anxious for you to meet him.”
“As am I.”
Simon was holding the net tight as Andrew worked on mending the hole. He looked now at David. “As a boy I can remember times when my father would teach me how to do things—how to cast the net, or how to pull in a full load of fish without breaking my back, or how to read the winds and spot a school of fish beneath the surface.” His eyes had a far-off look in them. “I can remember marveling as he talked, wondering how he had ever gotten to be so wise.”
“Yes.” David had known Peter’s father well. He was a man of simple means but greatly respected in Bethsaida.
“Well, that’s how I feel whenever I hear Jesus speak,” Simon went on. “It’s like he opens my eyes to see things I’ve never seen before. I come away marveling, filled with wonder. So if he wants to call me Peter, then Peter I shall be.”
Andrew stopped for a moment, looking at his younger brother. Then, very quietly, he said, “Tell David about Cana, Peter.”
Simon Peter seemed startled by that and gave his brother a sharp look. Andrew only nodded. David waited, not sure why Simon seemed so hesitant.
Finally Simon Peter nodded. “This happened a couple of weeks ago,” he said as Andrew went back to work again, “before Passover.” His eyes narrowed slightly as he thought back. “Andrew and I and James and John and Philip were invited by Jesus to attend a wedding of one of his relatives who lives in Cana. During the wedding feast, the host ran out of wine.”
“Really?” That would be suprisingly poor planning. Part of a host’s duty was to anticipate the needs of his wedding guests.
Peter was frowning. “It was partly our fault. Here we were, five additional men that the host had not expected. Jesus didn’t know we were coming until that day, so there was no way to warn the host. But anyway, while we were eating, Mary—that’s the name of the mother of Jesus—leaned over and whispered to Jesus that they were out of wine.”
“She expected him to go find some?” David said. That seemed a little strange. It was the host that was responsible for seeing that all went well at a wedding feast, especially if he had not planned sufficiently. But then, he thought, if this was a relative, perhaps Mary was helping put on the feast.
Simon Peter was deep in thought now. “I’m not sure what she expected. She just said it very quietly.”
“And what did Jesus say to that?”
“He was very gentle,” Andrew answered. “He said, ‘Woman, what have I to do with thee? My hour is not yet come.’”
David waited for a moment, hoping for more. When it didn’t come, he spoke again. “His hour was not yet come? Was it too late to purchase more wine?”
Simon Peter chuckled. “We wondered the same thing. As I have thought about it since, I think Mary was asking for his help, and he gently reminded her that the time for showing forth his power was not here yet.”
“Showing forth his power? What do you mean by that?”
Peter ignored the question. “His mother didn’t seem bothered at all by his answer. It wasn’t like Jesus had refused. It was more of a reminder. She motioned to some of the servants and told them to do whatever Jesus said.”
“Go on.” David sensed there was much more to this story than just a shortage of wine.
The fisherman’s face became a study in concentration. “There were six stone water pots in the next room. These were large, containi
ng two or three firkins apiece.”
David nodded. Three firkins of liquid would pretty well load down a donkey. A jar that held three firkins would come to a man’s waist.
“Yes. Well, Jesus told the servants to fill them with water.”
“All of them?” David blurted. If there were six, that would take several trips to the cistern, even with multiple servants.
“Yes, all of them. We waited while the servants drew enough water to fill them to the brim.”
“And then what happened?”
Simon Peter shook his head slowly. “When they were full, Jesus just said, ‘Draw out now from the pots and take to the host of the feast.’”
David was incredulous. “He told them to serve water instead of wine?” Under the strict laws of hospitality and the customs of wedding etiquette, to serve water because the wine had run out would be a terrible humiliation.
Andrew leaned forward eagerly. “That’s just it, David. Can you imagine? Serving water instead of wine at a wedding feast? We were all shocked when he said it. The servants hesitated, but then they did as he said. They drew a pitcher and went into the host and filled his cup.”
The two brothers were looking at each other, as if they were still having a hard time with what they were telling David. David couldn’t bear it. “What?” he demanded. “What happened?”
Peter went on quietly. “Remember, the host didn’t know any of what had happened. He assumed they had just gotten some more wine from somewhere.”
“But we knew what it was,” Andrew came in. “And the servants knew.”
“And?”
Peter continued. “The host took one sip, then motioned to the bridegroom. The room fell quiet, for they thought he was going to give a speech.” Simon Peter stopped, looked at Andrew once, who nodded his encouragement, then went on. “‘Friend,’ the host said to the bridegroom, ‘it is customary at such a feast to set forth your best wine at the first, and then when everyone has well drunk and no longer can discern clearly, the poorer wine is brought forth. But we commend you, for you have kept the finest wine until now.’”
The Kingdom and the Crown Page 28
