Leah broke in, looking at her mother. “Do you need me? I’d love to see Shana again.”
“Go,” her mother said. “And invite her to take the midday meal with us. Yehuda is going to eat with us, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question.
He shook his head. “Is it any wonder that your brother is the way he is?” he said to Leah. “He gets his determination from his mother.” Then he inclined his head to Deborah. “It would be an honor, as always.”
Leah hurried away. “I’ll see you at home then,” she called over her shoulder.
“I asked Ephraim how Simeon did it,” Yehuda said, speaking to Miriam and Livia again, pulling at his thick, dark beard as he spoke. “How he got you two out of Rome. But he told me I needed to hear the whole story from you two.”
Deborah laid a hand on Miriam’s shoulder. “You and Livia take Yehuda home where you can talk. I’ll finish our purchases and also stop at the butcher and get some meat.”
II
Yehuda pushed back and patted his stomach. “Wonderful, as always, Deborah. Thank you. I feel as though I have added the weight of a talent around my waist since entering through your door.”
They laughed at that. There were just the four of them—Deborah, Livia, Miriam, and Yehuda. Leah had sent word that Shana was busy with wedding preparations and had invited Leah to eat with her family rather than taking time to go to Deborah’s house.
Livia watched Yehuda with veiled interest. He was a big man, much taller than she was, and there was no softness in that body. His life as a vineyard keeper, coupled with his forays throughout the Galilee with his band of Zealots, kept him in fine physical shape. On the journey from Rome, Simeon had spoken more than once of his good friend and comrade. He described him as both fearless and fearsome—and yet surprisingly gentle by nature. Livia and Miriam had seen the fearless side of him two years earlier, in the highlands of Samaria. Miriam’s father had been leading a delegation from the Sanhedrin to the Galilee to meet with Zealot leaders. One morning their camp had been attacked by Moshe Ya’abin. Suddenly two men had stridden into camp, outnumbered roughly ten to one, and convinced Ya’abin that they had an army hidden on the hillside. In actuality, it turned out that there had been only five of them. The bluff had worked though, and Ya’abin had surrendered.
That night she had seen the other side of Yehuda. The two Zealots took the delegation to the village of Beth Neelah in the hills around Nazareth. There Yehuda had shown himself to be a giant but tender-hearted bear, roaring with delight as the villagers welcomed him home, rumbling with pleasure as he greeted his sister, Shana, dancing like a sprite to the lilting sounds of a flute. Livia colored slightly as she remembered how he had come to her that night and persuaded her to dance with him. It had been a moment of great pleasure as they became as one, feet and hands moving in perfect time to the music.
“Come,” Deborah said, interrupting Livia’s thoughts. “It will turn cool once the sun goes down, but it is pleasant in the courtyard for now. We can talk out there.”
Yehuda got to his feet. “I can’t stay long. I told Zipporah to do what is necessary to have a proper wedding for Shana. Now I am not so sure that was wise. I’d better go see what they are up to.” He shook his head. “And we have to leave in the morning again.”
“So soon?” Deborah exclaimed.
“There is much to do back home,” he said, pulling a face. “I only came down because Shana was getting worried about not having everything ready.” He grinned at Livia and Miriam. “For some reason, she thinks I’m not sensitive to these things.”
“Will you come back for supper?” Deborah said, clearly disappointed. “And Shana too. And if you need a place to stay while you’re here, Simeon’s room is open. And Shana can sleep with Leah.”
He hesitated. “Well, Zipporah invited us to stay there, but her house is small. Let me speak with her and Shana. Thank you for the invitation.”
“We’ll come with you,” Miriam said, getting to her feet as well. She said it brightly, though she really wasn’t looking forward to meeting Shana again. Simeon’s betrothal to Yehuda’s sister was in the past now, but it would still be a little awkward. But Miriam had seen in Livia’s eyes the disappointment that Yehuda was leaving.
“Simeon will be sorry that he missed you,” Deborah said, her disappointment showing too. “They just left three days ago, so we don’t expect them back for a few more days.”
“Well, you tell that little fox that he owes me a visit and an apology. I have a score to settle with him. And not just that he didn’t come and tell me he was back.”
“Oh?” Deborah and Miriam both said it together.
He looked directly at Livia as he spoke. “If I had known he was going to Rome to get the two of you, I would have gone with him. He needs a cuff across the back of the head for thinking he can run off and do something like that without me.”
“You would have come?” Livia asked in soft surprise.
“Of course. I owe as much to you and Miriam as Simeon does. The ravens would have picked my bones clean long ago if you two hadn’t come to Caesarea and devised that plan for getting us out of prison.”
Now it was Deborah who felt like Simeon needed defending. “Simeon felt bad that he had already taken you away for almost a year to hunt Ya’abin. He didn’t feel like he should ask you to leave again.”
“Well, he was wrong, and a few knocks on the head are in order.”
“I’ll tell him that,” Deborah chuckled. “Once he gets home again, I’ll tell him he has to get up there and take his punishment.”
Yehuda screwed his face into such a look of little boy anticipation that the women burst out laughing.
Suddenly Yehuda reared back. “Hey! Here’s a thought. Miriam, why don’t you and Livia and Leah come to Beth Neelah with Shana and me today? You, too, Deborah, if you can get free. And young Joseph, of course. Stay for a week or so; then Simeon and David can come up and bring you all home again.”
That took them all by surprise. Miriam considered the idea for a moment, but then shook her head. “I would love to see Beth Neelah again, but I am to be betrothed in just about three weeks. There is much to do in that time to get ready.”
“Perhaps after the betrothal,” Deborah said, agreeing with Miriam’s practical response.
His face fell. “What about Leah? It would do Shana so much good to have her spend a few days with us. There just aren’t any other young women of her age in the village.”
Deborah nodded almost immediately. “She is a big help to us, but it would be good for both of them. I think we could get by—as long as she is back in time for the betrothal.”
Miriam’s eyes turned to Livia, and she thought of one night on their journey from Rome. Simeon had begun talking about Yehuda. Curious, Livia had plied him with numerous questions. Miriam had even teased her about it later, delighted when Livia blushed to the roots of her hair. Of course, Miriam thought. “What about you, Livia?” Miriam finally said. “Why don’t you go?”
She almost jumped in surprise. “Me?”
“Yes.”
“But you said there is so much to do.” Livia said it hesitantly, almost reluctantly. Behind Livia’s words, Miriam thought she could hear the unspoken message, “Persuade me that it is all right if I accept.”
“In addition to Deborah and me,” Miriam rushed on, “we have Lilly and Rachel to help. We’ll be fine.”
“But—”
“A splendid idea,” Yehuda boomed. “Splendid. Then Simeon will have to come up to see us.” He looked at Miriam. “And you come with him.”
“Of course. Simeon needs to see his Uncle Aaron, and Sepphoris is not that far from Beth Neelah.” She turned to Livia. “What do you say?”
There was no question but what Livia was torn, but finally she shook her head. “I don’t feel good about leaving all of you at such a busy time.”
Yehuda immediately backed off, hiding his disappointment. “I understand.”
III
“Look,” Miriam exclaimed, pointing up ahead to a large crowd by the side of the road. “I wonder if Jesus is teaching.”
“Oh,” Livia said, “I’m sure he is. We know he’s still here in Capernaum.”
Yehuda slowed his step. “We can go another way.”
Livia turned. “Let’s stop for a moment and hear him.”
The big man was instantly shaking his head. “Not for me, thank you.”
“Come on, Yehuda,” Miriam teased. “He’s not going to baptize you.”
“I really need to see if Shana needs help.”
“Shana will do just fine with Leah and Zipporah,” Miriam retorted. “Please. You have to remember that Livia and I have been away for over a year. We haven’t had a chance to hear him much.”
“That’s fine,” Yehuda said. “You go and hear him. I’ll go find Shana.” Then, suddenly, his eyes narrowed and a shrewd look came into them. “Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll come and listen to Jesus if Livia will come to Beth Neelah with me and Leah and Shana.”
It was hard to tell who was more shocked by that offer, Livia or Miriam or Deborah. The other two women turned to stare at Livia. Her cheeks colored deeply. “I—”
Miriam laughed aloud. “Livia, think about it. This may be our only chance to save this lost and wandering soul.”
“But I—” She stopped again. There was no mistaking the look on her face. Though caught completely by surprise, she obviously wanted to accept the offer.
Deborah urged her as well. “It’s your duty,” she said solemnly, “no matter what the cost. There’s no other way to bring the light of the gospel to this hardened and impenitent heart.”
Yehuda grinned broadly. “There you go,” he said. “What an opportunity.”
Livia finally lowered her head, smiling shyly. “All right.”
He sighed wearily. “What a man won’t do to get a woman to change her mind. All right. Let’s go.”
As they started forward, Livia shot Miriam a questioning look. Had she done the right thing? Livia was a little surprised by her own boldness to say yes.
Miriam made sure Yehuda wasn’t watching, then mouthed the words, “Yes! Good for you!”
IV
On the shores of the Sea of Galilee, near Capernaum
Jesus, as was often his custom, had chosen a place on a low hillside. That put him slightly higher than his listeners, which allowed his voice to carry to them better. The storms that had swept over the Galilee the last two days were gone. A few scattered clouds remained, like ships drifting lazily across a perfectly blue sea, but the sun was warm and the air crystal clear after the rains.
Deborah stopped to talk to someone, while Miriam, Livia, and Yehuda found a place where they had a clear sight of Jesus and sat down. Jesus had seen them approaching and smiled briefly at them as they got settled.
Yehuda looked around. “It looks like everyone in Capernaum is here,” he whispered.
“More than that,” Miriam said. “If people know he’s going to be teaching, they come from surrounding villages as well. Bethsaida, Magdala, Chorazin.”
More people were hurrying to find a place, and Jesus waited until everyone was settled. Finally the people quieted, and he stepped forward and began. “I would speak a parable unto my disciples,” Jesus began without preamble. “There was a certain rich man, which had a steward. And the same was accused unto him that he had wasted his goods.”
Livia found herself nodding. Sometimes Jesus used concepts or words with which she wasn’t familiar, Aramaic not being her native language, but this was clear to her. A steward was a person who had responsibility for something but was not the owner; he was one the master would trust to run his affairs, like a chief servant. He often even controlled much of his master’s finances.
“And he called the steward unto him,” Jesus went on, “and said unto him, ‘How is it that I hear this report of you? Give me an account of your stewardship, for you may no longer be my steward.’ Then the steward said within himself, ‘What shall I do? for my lord will take away from me the stewardship. I cannot dig. To beg I am ashamed.’”
“The man is obviously guilty as charged,” Yehuda growled, surprised at the twist the story had just taken.
“And,” Jesus went on, “then the steward said, ‘I am resolved what to do so that, when I am put out of the stewardship, the people I have served may receive me into their houses.’ So he called his lord’s debtors unto him, and said unto the first, ‘How much do you owe unto my lord?’ And the man said, ‘An hundred measures of oil.’ And the steward said unto him, ‘Take your bill. Sit down quickly and write fifty and I will endorse it.’
“Then the steward said to another man,” Jesus continued, “‘And how much do you owe?’ And the man said, ‘An hundred measures of wheat.’ And the steward said unto him, ‘Take thy bill and write fourscore, and I shall validate it.’”
“The man is an outright thief,” Yehuda rumbled. Around them other people were shaking their heads. This was a strange story to come from the Master’s lips.
Jesus waited for a moment to let what he had said sink in. Then he calmly went on. “And the lord commended the unjust steward because he had done wisely.”
Miriam rocked back a little. What was that?
Yehuda was staring at Jesus in equal disbelief.
Jesus went on, raising his voice to be heard over the murmuring. “The children of this world are in their generation wiser than the children of light. And so I say unto you, make to yourselves friends of the mammon of unrighteousness that, when you fail, they may receive you into everlasting habitations. If therefore you have not been faithful in the handling of unrighteous mammon, who will commit to your trust the true riches?”
Jesus stopped, partly because the buzz of sound was swelling quickly.
“Did you hear what I just heard?” Yehuda asked the two women. “Jesus is praising this thief?”
Miriam didn’t know what to say. It certainly sounded like that to her, and yet surely the Master was not commending dishonesty. To her great relief, a movement caught her eye, and she turned to see Deborah coming to join them.
“Did you hear that?” Miriam asked, as Deborah sat down beside them.
She nodded, unperturbed. “I did.”
“Well?” Yehuda demanded. “Is this what your Jesus teaches?”
Deborah looked to where Jesus was standing. He was simply waiting, comfortable with giving the people time to talk about what he had just said. “David and I heard him give this parable to a small group once before,” she said. “He didn’t commend the steward’s dishonesty, Yehuda. He commended his shrewdness. And remember, it wasn’t Jesus who praised the man, it was the master in the story, the same who had been cheated.”
“What is the difference?” Yehuda demanded.
Before Deborah could answer, a man stood up near the front of the group. His long, ornate robes instantly marked him as a Pharisee. He was waving a hand, trying to get Jesus’ attention. “Let’s talk after,” Deborah said, and they turned to watch.
When the Pharisee spoke, his voice was sharp and challenging. “Master, you speak folly. You speak as though accumulating any worldly goods is evil. A man has to seek the things of the world at least to some degree or he cannot care for his family. He cannot purchase a home or food and clothes.”
“As if that matters to you,” Deborah murmured.
“Who is that?” Miriam asked, surprised by her future mother-in-law’s cold reaction.
“His name is Amram,” Deborah said, speaking low. “He is a wealthy Pharisee who has been a vocal critic of Jesus. David says if ever there was a covetous man, a man who loves riches, it’s Amram. And knowing how rare it is for your father to speak negatively of anyone, that says quite a bit.”
Jesus was looking at Amram, and he wasn’t smiling. “
You and others of the Pharisees may try to justify yourselves before men, but God knows your hearts. That which is highly esteemed among men is an abomination in the sight of God.”
“Abomination! How dare you?” Amram shouted. “You cannot know what is in our hearts.”
Jesus seemed completely unperturbed by the outburst. He turned away from Amram to address the crowd again. “There was a certain rich man, which was clothed in purple and fine linen and fared sumptuously every day.”
Another parable, Livia thought. This wasn’t making it any easier for Yehuda.
“And there was a certain beggar named Lazarus, which was laid at his gate. He was full of sores and longed to be fed, even if it were only the crumbs which fell from the rich man’s table. Moreover, the dogs would come and lick his sores.”
Livia pulled a face. What a grim picture! She stole a look at Yehuda and was pleased to see that he was listening carefully.
“And it came to pass that the beggar died and was carried by the angels into Abraham’s bosom.”
Livia shot Miriam a look. Abraham’s bosom? What an odd expression.
“I’ll explain in a minute,” Miriam whispered.
“And the rich man also died,” Jesus continued, “and in hell he lifted up his eyes, being tormented. And he saw Abraham afar off, and Lazarus was in his bosom. And the rich man cried, ‘Father Abraham, have mercy on me. Send Lazarus that he may dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, for I am tormented in this flame.’
“But Abraham said, ‘Son, remember that in your lifetime you received the good things of life, but Lazarus received evil things. But now, he is comforted and you are tormented.’”
There was not a sound. The simple tale had been drawn. In just a few words a dramatic image had been evoked, and every person could clearly visualize what Jesus was saying.
“‘And besides that,’ Abraham continued, ‘there is a great gulf fixed between us, so that they which would pass from here to where you are, cannot. Neither can they who are with you pass to us.’
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