The Kingdom and the Crown

by Gerald N. Lund

  About half an hour later, they were interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on the gate to the courtyard below them. Surprised, Simeon stood up and moved to the low wall at the edge of the roof. He looked down to see four hooded figures standing in the street below. “Yes?” he called.

  They stepped back, looking up. “Simeon?” The one closest to the gate threw back his hood. “Simeon, it’s me. Ezra the Sandalmaker.”

  There was no moon and it was too dark to make out specific features, but Simeon instantly recognized the voice. “Ezra?” He was astounded. “What are you doing here?”

  His parents and Leah had come over beside him.

  Below them, the figure standing beside Ezra reached up with both hands. As the hood fell away, Simeon could make out the shape of long, dark hair. “Shalom, Deborah,” a woman’s voice called out. “Shalom, David ben Joseph.” There was a moment’s pause. “Shalom, Simeon.”

  Simeon couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Miriam?”

  There was a soft laugh. “We thought we might surprise you.”

  Chapter Notes

  It is difficult to calculate with exactness the worth of a talent in modern financial terms. Like most money of that time, a talent originally signified a measure of weight. Also there were talents of gold, of silver, and of brass, which obviously varied greatly in their worth. By the time of Jesus, a talent had probably become a fixed sum of money. However, various scholars cannot agree on exactly how much a talent in the time of Jesus weighed or what it was worth. Generally, a talent seems to have been around forty to fifty pounds (see Fallows, 2:1176; Hastings, 630; Alexander, 108.) Some put it as high as eighty pounds.

  If we calculate the current value of gold at four hundred U.S. dollars per ounce, then a pound of gold would be worth $6,400. If we use fifty pounds as a rough benchmark for a talent, then a single talent would be worth $320,000.

  What really matters in determining the value of money, however, is equivalent earning or purchasing power. As was indicated in this chapter, a day laborer in New Testament times earned a half-shekel per day. A talent consisted of about 3,000 shekels, so a talent could buy 6,000 days of work (or about nineteen years of work, at six days a week). If we assume a minimum wage of about $6 per hour for unskilled workers today, a “day laborer” would earn about $50 per day. Six thousand days of labor at that price would be worth $300,000. Thus, a talent of gold in today’s market would have about the same purchasing power as did a talent back then.

  The references Simeon uses about Abraham and Moses are found in Genesis 14:5–14 and Deuteronomy 20:10–13.

  Chapter 8

  Why speakest thou unto them in parables?

  —Matthew 13:10

  I

  Capernaum 30 June, a.d. 30

  Though they had talked late into the night, the entire household was up early the next morning. Their four visitors—Ezra, Lilly, Miriam, and Livia—had come to the Galilee to hear Jesus, and they were too excited to spend the time in bed. Deborah sent early for her household servants and had breakfast ready within an hour of sunrise. David reluctantly excused himself. There was much to do at work, and they had already closed their warehouses several times this month in order to hear Jesus. Knowing that he would soon be leaving for several days, Simeon decided that he had better help his father. They breakfasted on their own and were gone by the time the others came down.

  They ate quickly, then stopped by Rachel’s house. Ephraim volunteered to take Esther and Boaz to the warehouse—much to the children’s joy and Rachel’s relief. In the end, Ezra turned out to be the only man in the group that morning. He walked in the company of six women—Deborah, Leah, and Rachel, and the three he had brought with him from Joppa, Miriam, Livia, and his wife, Lilly.

  Deborah led them to the house of Peter and Anna. It was the quickest way to find out where Jesus would be. To their surprise, Peter’s wife was just coming out of the house with two other women. Deborah hailed her, glad they hadn’t been a few minutes later and missed her. “Anna! Good morning.”

  “Oh, Deborah. Boker tov. Good morning.”

  Anna, a woman who was not much older than Miriam and Livia, motioned her two companions forward. “I have guests I would like you to meet.” She turned to the older of the two, reaching out to take her hand. “It is my great pleasure to introduce you to Mary, widow of the carpenter, Joseph of Nazareth.”

  Deborah was reaching out to take her hand as well, but stopped in amazement. She should have noticed the resemblance. “You’re Jesus’ mother?”

  Mary smiled warmly. “Yes.”

  Anna went on. “Mary, this is Deborah, wife of David ben Joseph, Peter’s partner in the fishing business. This is her daughter, Leah, and her daughter-in-law, Rachel.”

  “And these are some friends who have just come to visit from Judea.” Deborah quickly introduced Ezra, Lilly, Livia, and Miriam.

  As Deborah finished, Anna turned back to Mary. “Simeon, who came to Nazareth to see you, is Deborah’s son.”

  “Oh, yes,” Mary said with genuine pleasure. She was about Deborah’s age, in her middle to late forties. Her dark hair showed the first signs of gray, and a few wrinkles had started around the corners of her eyes, but she was still a woman of gentle loveliness. And her eyes. Deborah could hardly look away. They were so serene, so warm and attentive.

  “I spent a wonderful afternoon with your son,” Mary said.

  Sudden joy welled up in Deborah’s heart. “I know. Thank you. It was after that visit that he decided to become a disciple of your son.”

  Mary seemed genuinely surprised. “Really?”

  “Yes, he will be so pleased to know that you are here.”

  Miriam stepped forward beside the two older women. “Simeon told us all about what you said to him, about when Jesus was born. Thank you.”

  Again the smile that seemed to spring from somewhere deep within lit Mary’s face. “Even after thirty years with him, it’s all still so—” She groped for the right word. “So incredible to me. As you know, the people in our little village of Nazareth have largely rejected him. That’s why I wanted to come down and see all this for myself. Anna tells me the people come from everywhere to hear him.”

  “They do,” Leah said, also coming forward to take her hands. “He touches all of us.”

  Anna turned to the second woman, who stood slightly behind her, smiling and waiting patiently while they talked. “And this is another Mary.” She motioned her forward. “This is Mary of Magdala.” Anna laughed lightly. “With two Marys in the house now, we call her Mary Magdalene.”

  Deborah had already noticed that this woman was much more finely dressed than Jesus’ mother. Yet her robes were not lavish, but were tasteful and well-tailored. Her hair was deep brown, with a touch of auburn in the morning sunlight. It had a soft wave to it and was carefully brushed and tied back with an embroidered cloth of brilliant blue. Her eyes were a deep green, set off by high cheekbones and a delicate nose. Though younger than Deborah, probably near thirty, she, like Deborah and Miriam, was obviously a woman of some means. This was a little surprising to Deborah because Magdala was a small village. It was not a place where one would expect to find many of such comfortable circumstances.

  “Where is Magdala?” Ezra asked. “Is it far?”

  Mary Magdalene turned to him. “No, it is just a few miles down the western shore of the lake, about halfway between here and Tiberias.”

  Livia spoke up for the first time. “In Greek, magdalanay means a ‘plaiter of hair.’”

  Mary Magdalene nodded. “Yes, I know. I am sometimes asked if that is my profession, but I must confess it is not.” Then she looked at Livia more closely. “You are Greek, yes?”

  Livia blushed a little. “Yes. I am originally from Macedonia.” Then seeing the surprise not only in her eyes, but in Anna and the mother of Jesus too, she went on. “I was brought to Judea to be a servant to Miriam in her household.”

  “But now,” Miriam br
oke in swiftly, “she is no longer my servant, but my dearest friend, and soon to be my sister.”

  Deborah and Leah were not surprised at that. The previous night Miriam had told them all about going to Rome and the bargain she had made with her father.

  Peter’s wife, Anna, spoke again. “Mary Magdalene has come to hear Jesus. We were just leaving to find him.”

  Miriam leaned forward eagerly. “That is why we have come as well. We arrived just last night. We—Livia and I—saw him twice in Jerusalem. Once when he cleansed the temple at Passover. But we—”

  Anna was amazed. “You saw that? We heard all about it. Peter and Andrew were there, but not close by at the moment it happened. But you were actually there?”

  “Yes,” Miriam answered, “no more than ten paces from where he overturned the tables.” She looked at Jesus’ mother. “He was magnificent. I’ve never seen anything like it. It was at that moment that Livia and I decided we had to learn who he was.”

  “He told me what he had done,” she said quietly. “He was still burning with indignation that night when he came back to the house where we were staying.”

  Miriam turned to her cousin. “Lilly and Ezra have never met Jesus, but they believe everything they’ve heard about him and are eager to meet him.”

  “Most eager,” Lilly said.

  “Well,” Anna said, “you are just in time. Peter said they would be down by the seashore. Come, we’ll all go together.”

  As they started away, the group walked slowly, staying in a tight group so they could all converse freely.

  “Are you a follower of Jesus,” Deborah asked Mary Magdalene, “or will this be the first time you will hear him?”

  “Oh, no. I too am a disciple.”

  Anna, hearing that, turned her head. “Mary, tell them how you first came to know Jesus.” She glanced at the others. “This is a wonderful story.”

  Mary seemed a little embarrassed, but nodded and, after a moment, began. “For a long time, I was afflicted with a terrible malady. It was partly physical. I would often be so weak and so tired that I could barely move about. But it was partly spiritual too. Sometimes I felt like my heart was coming apart at the seams. Some days I would be fine and feel quite happy, then suddenly I would plunge into the darkest of moods, going for days in the deepest depression. I would burst into tears when someone even said hello to me.”

  Miriam was staring. Here was a beautiful, educated, and intelligent woman. It was hard to picture her in such a state.

  “The doctors could not determine what was wrong. They attributed it to an evil influence of one kind or another. I spent a great deal of money on every possible treatment, but nothing seemed to make any difference.”

  She looked from face to face, her expression quite solemn now. “One of my friends was also going through a difficult time.” She spoke to Deborah. “In fact, you may know of her. She is the wife of Chuza, chief steward in the palace of Herod in Tiberias. Her name is Joanna.”

  “Oh, yes,” Deborah answered. “I know Joanna. I had heard that she was sick and that the Lord laid his hands on her and she was immediately healed.”

  “She was. Joanna is some years older than I am and had so much pain in her joints that she could barely care for her family. She had heard about Jesus, but the stories seemed unbelievable, too wonderful to be true.”

  “So what happened?” Miriam asked, marvelling that she was speaking to a person who had actually been healed by Jesus.

  The deep green eyes were filled with emotion. “One day, word came that Jesus was in Magdala. They said he was healing those who came to him. I had given up hope by then, but Joanna hired a carriage and came up from Tiberias. She came and convinced me to go with her to see him. We found him in the village square. I hung back, but Joanna was determined to see him.”

  Her voice grew very soft. Their pace had slowed as they listened intently.

  “In one instant, Joanna was freed from the pain. She came running back to me. I was astonished at seeing her move about so freely. I was still afraid—afraid that I would impose, afraid that Jesus might think it was all a silly woman’s nonsense. But Joanna wouldn’t let me stay back.” Her eyes were suddenly glistening. “Then Jesus turned around and saw me.”

  She looked directly at the other Mary now. “I shall never forget the look in his eyes. He has your eyes. Wonderful eyes.” Then she continued, speaking again to all of them. “He came over to me. He didn’t speak at first, just searched my face for what seemed like a very long time. Then he lifted one hand, pointed it at me, and commanded the evil that was in me to come out.”

  Livia was wide-eyed. “And?” she pressed.

  “The only way I can describe it is that it’s like when you enter a room that has been closed for a long time. Everything is musty and dark and oppressive. Then you pull back the curtains and light floods in. You throw open the windows and a fresh breeze sweeps everything away. In one instant everything within me was all light and freshness and—and joy!”

  Miriam, realizing that her own eyes were burning, looked at Lilly. She was not surprised to see she too was near tears. So was Livia.

  Now Anna spoke. “Peter was there that day. He told me that the Lord later told the apostles that he had cast out seven evil spirits from Mary.”

  “Seven?” Livia exclaimed.

  Mary Magdalene’s smile was tranquil. “Yes, that is what he said. No wonder I was so down, so depressed.”

  “But seven?”

  Miriam turned to Livia. “In Hebrew, sheva, or seven, is a specific number, but it comes from a root which means ‘whole,’ ‘complete,’ or ‘perfect.’ We use it as a superlative as well as an actual number. For example, to say that we do something for seven hours every day means that we spend our whole lives in that activity.”

  “So . . . ?” Livia was obviously puzzled by what Miriam was implying. Even after living with Miriam for five years, she was still learning the richness of the imagery and metaphorical language of the Jews.

  Mary Magdalene turned to her. “What Miriam is saying is that Jesus may not have meant there were literally seven spirits in me, but rather that I was completely cleansed, completely freed from the evil that was in me.” Her eyes were still glistening, and her face was radiant. “He cast it all away. It was gone and I have been without the slightest trouble since.”

  Anna came in again. “Mary and Joanna and other women he healed that day have not only become followers of Jesus, but they are using their means to help support him and the Twelve in the work.”

  “It is not much,” Mary Magdalene said quickly.

  “It is much,” Anna corrected her. “Peter has told me how it frees them and Jesus to do the work. It is of greatest importance.”

  Embarrassed by the glowing praise, Mary Magdalene looked at Deborah. “Anna tells me that your husband also gives freely to help the Master.”

  Deborah inclined her head slightly. She understood Mary’s embarrassment and yet her joy at having an opportunity to serve Jesus. “It is the least we can do to help,” she said.

  “Exactly,” Mary Magdalene said softly. “That is exactly how it is.”

  II

  On the shores of the Sea of Galilee, near Capernaum

  To Miriam’s surprise, when they made their way through the throngs and finally saw Jesus, he was not standing on the seashore as she had expected. He was seated on a fishing boat, a few paces offshore. Miriam recognized him immediately and felt a thrill of satisfaction shoot through her. At last!

  She turned to Lilly and Ezra. “That’s him,” she said. “On the boat. That’s Jesus.”

  “Wonderful,” Lilly exclaimed, peering at the solitary figure before them.

  At the moment, Jesus was not speaking. He seemed to be waiting for the crowds to find their places.

  Miriam turned at a touch from Deborah. “See those men at the water’s edge? Those are the Twelve Apostles. The one holding the anchor rope is Peter, Anna’s husband. He’s the
chief apostle.”

  Miriam and her group nodded. Anna had left them and was taking Jesus’ mother and Mary Magdalene down to join Peter and the others. Peter smiled at his wife and slipped an arm around her waist, then greeted the two Marys. From the boat, Jesus gave his mother an affectionate smile.

  “The one next to Peter is Andrew, his brother,” Deborah went on. “Just behind them are James and John, who are partners in the fishing business with Peter and Andrew. The rest there with them are apostles too—Judas Iscariot, Bartholomew, Nathanael.”

  Leah stepped up beside her mother. “See the one in the blue robe? That’s Matthew Levi. His call to be an apostle was a great surprise to us. He was one of the publicans here in town.”

  Ezra looked around quickly. “A publican?”

  “Yes.” Leah went on. “Father and I were there the day Jesus called Matthew. There was a lot of shock and some genuine outrage. Imagine! A publican, the vilest of sinners in the eyes of the Pharisees. And Jesus chooses him to be one of his leaders.”

  “Our own Uncle Aaron was one of those who was highly offended when that happened,” Rachel added.

  That caught Miriam by surprise. “You have an uncle who is a Pharisee?”

  “He is my younger brother,” Deborah answered.

  “What does he think of you being a follower of Jesus?” Ezra asked.

  A momentary look of pain passed across her face. “It would be fair to say that the day I was baptized considerable strain was introduced into the family.”

  “The Pharisees in Jerusalem are very disturbed by his teachings,” Miriam said. “Deborah, you will remember Azariah, who was with us that day Simeon and Yehuda rescued us from Ya’abin and brought us to Beth Neelah.”

  “I remember him well,” came the reply.

  “He was especially upset by Jesus.” She told them quickly about the woman taken in adultery and how Jesus had turned the tables on her accusers. Ezra and Deborah had already heard this story, but the others had not. Miriam’s face clouded. “It was the very next day that my father told me I could never mention the name of Jesus again.”