Fishers of Men

by Gerald N. Lund

  Chapter 8

  Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies. The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her. . . . Strength and honour are her clothing; and she shall rejoice in time to come.

  —Proverbs 31:10–11, 25

  I

  1 April, a.d. 30

  For a little village like Beth Neelah, any unusual event—birth, bar mitzvah, betrothal, marriage—was a time for joyous celebration. But in this case, it was the most important event to happen there in a generation. In the first place, the family of David ben Joseph, successful merchant of Capernaum, was known throughout all the Galilee and was highly respected. That alone would have been unusual enough. But within the village itself, the family of Yehuda the Zealot was also greatly esteemed. His family had lived in Beth Neelah for five generations. He was not only a prosperous farmer, but his courageous escape from the Romans as a boy in his teens, and his exploits with the Zealot band of Ha-keedohn since then, made him a local champion. And Shana was no less beloved in the village. With her two brothers gone with the Zealots so often, the villagers had taken her as their own and considered themselves almost as her parents now. And if all of that was not enough, to have the bridegroom be the Javelin himself made the whole thing absolutely perfect. Simeon had made for himself a reputation known throughout all of the province. The villagers, who usually viewed outsiders with some reserve, had fully accepted him as one of their own.

  Little wonder, then, that on this day the village began to overflow with people long before sundown. They came from Nazareth and Sepphoris, Cana and Jotapata, Dabaritta and En Teena. There was also a significant number who had come up from Capernaum to be with the family of David ben Joseph on this day of celebration. They brought food and gifts and their bedrolls, for this celebration would last through the night and well into the next day.

  David ben Joseph brought his entire family, of course, including Ephraim and Rachel and their two children. Phineas, their chief household servant, accompanied them to help in the celebration. They arrived about mid-afternoon, having left Capernaum long before the sun was up. Some of the young boys had been sent out to watch for them, so by the time they reached the village, a crowd was there to greet them. The noise was deafening. Men called out their congratulations to Simeon and to his father. The women and girls launched into a shrill ululating cry of joy, peculiar to that area of the world, that could be heard for at least a mile.

  Immediately, Deborah, Leah, Rachel, and the two children were taken to Yehuda’s house, where Shana was waiting. A neighbor took Esther and little Boaz so that Rachel could be free to help her mother-in-law. There was no sign of Shana, of course. To be seen by Simeon at this point would have been unthinkable. David, Simeon, and Ephraim were met by Yehuda and Daniel and taken to the house of their cousin on the outskirts of the village. He had graciously moved out and given over his house to the bridegroom for the celebration. Young Joseph, because he was only ten and had not yet had his bar mitzvah, could have gone with the women and children, but when told that, he wrinkled his nose and said he would stay with the men, where he belonged. The two groups did not see each other for the rest of the day.

  At sundown the women who were the formally invited guests began arriving at Shana’s house. There Deborah took over the role of Shana’s mother. Shana sat on a stool in the center of the room, smiling and responding graciously when comments were directed to her, but otherwise she remained silent. This was a time for everyone else to speak and for her to listen.

  “How beautiful she is,” one would say. “Oh, yes. Look how dark and lovely are her eyes.” “Her skin is like milk.” “Have you noticed what slender fingers she has?” “Yes, you should see her milk the goats. Her fingers fly so quickly, they are almost a blur.” “And have you seen her dance?” “Ah, yes, she is like a dove’s feather in the evening breeze.” “She is one of the most skilled in pressing out the olive oil.” “She chooses only the finest of leather bottles for the wine.” “Though Yehuda gets the credit,” an older woman said, “it is really Shana who makes the wine that is desired in all of upper Galilee.” “It doesn’t matter at what time Yehuda or Daniel come home, the house is always in perfect order.” That comment was directed at Deborah so she would know what kind of daughter-in-law she was getting. So was the next one: “She is as slender as a reed, but the women in her family have never had any trouble bearing children. There is no need to worry on that account.” At that, Shana blushed furiously.

  As the evening wore on, the wedding dress was finally brought out. Shana was beaming with pride as she unfolded it and laid it across the table. Yehuda had gone down to Capernaum and purchased the material himself. She had worked on it with meticulous and loving care since the betrothal had been arranged. It was a long, one-piece robe of Egyptian linen dyed the color of a summer sky. The sleeves came to the wrist but were open and hung down several inches from her arms. A veil was required in the ceremony, of course, and this one was of the same color but so fine as to be transparent. The headband was of white twisted linen trimmed with silver, and Yehuda had bought a sash to match.

  The women stood around her in a circle with their backs turned while she put the clothing on. When she said she was ready, the room was filled with exclamations of awe and much clapping of hands. The light blue set off Shana’s olive skin, dark eyes, and jet-black hair to perfection. The sash showed the slenderness of her waist. Leah said it all when she gasped, and her hands flew to her mouth. “Oh, Shana!” she exclaimed. “Simeon is going to think he’s seen a vision.”

  For the next while, Shana had to stand in the center of the room, again without speaking, while everyone walked in circles around her and admired both the dress and how it made her look.

  Next came the adornment. The use of cosmetics was an art that only the older women knew and which Shana’s young friends watched with great eagerness so they could learn how it was done. Only the wealthy city-dwellers wore cosmetics regularly. Here in the country, the oils and the powders were kept carefully stored away and brought out on only the most special of occasions. These they were using today would be part of Shana’s dowry, a gift that showed she was prepared to be a wife. The art lay in applying the cosmetics so that they enhanced Shana’s natural loveliness but did not call attention to themselves. While it was being done, she was warned no less than a dozen times that when she slept tonight—if she slept tonight!—she had to lie on her back all night long so she didn’t smear any of it.

  Through it all, the women chatted and visited, laughed, ate sweetmeats, and drank a light wine. Step by step they prepared Shana for what was about to come. From time to time, someone would bring in some flowers, and the women would braid them into Shana’s long dark hair. Gifts were also brought. When the gifts were coins, they were sewn into a cloth headband in such a way that they dangled in front of her forehead, testimony to all that this woman did not come to the marriage without means of her own. This was the beginning of her dowry. Other things—a hand-knit shawl, a set of painted pottery bowls, a blanket, a winter cloak—were set in the corner where Simeon and the men could later admire them.

  Finally, after almost two and a half hours of this womanly activity, the jewelry was brought in. Leah and Rachel, as future sisters-in-law, caused a great stir when they presented Shana with a delicate necklace made of tiny gold links with three brilliant red carnelians that hung at her throat. Then a hush fell over the room. Shana went to a cupboard in the room where she slept and brought back a small wooden box with a brass clasp that held the lid shut. Everyone crowded in as she opened it. Inside were two earrings, simple silver rings with no other adornment, and three matching bracelets. These items were probably not worth more than three or four shekels if sold in the marketplace, but Shana took them out with a look of deep reverence on her face. This jewelry had belonged to Shana’s mother and grandmother. When the Romans had swooped down upon the Galilee, Shana’s mother had wrapped the box in goatskin and bur
ied it in the olive orchard, even as the legionnaires raced through the village looking for her and her husband. Before she had been torn from her children, she had whispered to Yehuda that these were for Shana. Over the years Shana had taken them out and looked at them many times, but she had never worn them, vowing that she would save them for this special day.

  She slipped the bracelets on, two on her left wrist, one on her right. When she went to put on the earrings, however, her fingers were trembling so much that Leah had to step in and help her. When Leah was finished, one by one the women came to Shana, took her in her arms, and held her for a moment. Rachel and Leah were third and second to last in the line. Deborah was last. There were tears in her eyes as well now.

  “Dearest Shana,” she whispered, “I am so happy for you tonight. But no happier than I am for myself and for my son. Welcome to our family.”

  II

  As the sun went down and darkness came on, the scene at the house of Yehuda’s cousin was similar in many ways, and yet significantly different as well. The house was so filled with men that there was not enough room for all to sit down. In addition to his own family members, several of Simeon’s Zealot band were there to congratulate their leader. David and his chief servant, Phineas, brought out Simeon’s clothes, which had been carefully packed for the trip. He quickly donned them, as exclamations of praise rang out all around. His tunic was made of finely woven cotton and was a dark brown. His outer cloak, however, was a bright gold with scarlet and royal blue embroidered patterns on the front of it. His hat was round, made from padded silk with a cloth that fell down the back and covered his neck. The hat was a bright red and also trimmed with gold embroidery. The brightness of the colors were symbolic of the joyousness of this occasion. A pair of knee-high sandals made of a soft and supple leather from Bashan was a gift from his father. Ephraim provided him with a golden brooch that held his cloak together at the throat.

  As was happening with the women, the evening was spent in paying tribute to Simeon and his family. Unlike Shana, however, Simeon was fully expected to participate in the conversation. Simeon’s father shared stories of his childhood. Ephraim recounted how many times he had gotten his “little brother” out of trouble while they were growing up, and won a delighted hoot when he suggested that he was still doing it. Daniel and Yehuda touted Simeon’s courage and leadership, recounting some of their exploits as a Zealot band. To Simeon’s great relief, the two brothers remembered that Simeon’s father was present and kept the stories relatively tame.

  When they finished, Yehuda, more emotional than he had intended to be, raised a goblet of wine and said in a husky voice how proud he was to have Simeon become his brother-in-law. That was the first of many toasts that followed.

  Yehuda, who was serving two roles tonight—as Shana’s “father” and as Simeon’s man of honor—gave the formal tribute to the bridegroom and his family. He had set it to poetry, which, to Simeon’s surprise, was really quite well done. In several places Yehuda’s quick wit and irreverent sense of humor shone through, and the assembly laughed uproariously. Once he had them in a lighter mood, Yehuda began to describe, with great solemnity, some of Simeon’s peculiarities—his grave intensity, his stern impatience with shoddy performance, his habit of rubbing at his scar with the tip of his thumb when he was deep in thought, how his voice broke into raspiness when he was excited and began to shout out commands. It was so perfectly done and with such a complete deadpan that Simeon, holding his sides, finally had to beg him to stop. Finally, as the second watch was drawing to a close and the hour of midnight approached, Simeon’s father stood up. The room quieted quickly. The goblets of wine were set aside, and an air of expectancy filled the room.

  “Simeon ben David?”

  “Yes, Father?”

  “It is time for the erusin. Are you ready?”

  “I am.”

  Simeon stood now as well. Yehuda, as “friend of the bridegroom,” came and stood by his side. Ephraim and young Joseph fell in directly behind them, and the others began forming a double line. David gestured to his son. “Then let us go. The bride and her attendants await us.”

  By the door a long table was filled with small hand lamps. These were small round containers, comfortably held in the palm of the hand. Made of baked clay and pinched on one end to hold a wick made of braided cotton or wool, each was filled with a small amount of olive oil, enough to burn for about an hour. Beside the table in a large stone pot were several torches, smeared with pitch on one end and standing ready. Once everyone was in place, David went to the fireplace, where a small fire had been kept burning all night. He took a long reed from the mantel and lit it. Cupping his hand over the flame as he walked, he moved to the table and one by one lit the lamps. As he did so, Yehuda came over and took a lamp to each person. All got one except for those in the front of the line. When he finished, he took his place again beside Simeon. Through it all, no one spoke. The mood now had become very solemn.

  Once he was sure everyone had a burning lamp, David tossed the reed onto the fire and moved to the large pot. He took one of the torches, lit it from the fireplace as well, and then went quickly to the door. He opened it, touched the mezuzah briefly, then stepped outside so as to keep the torch’s black smoke from blackening the ceiling.

  A cry went up. “Here they come!” “There’s the bridegroom!” “It’s time!”

  A large crowd of both men and women were outside the door, waiting for this very moment. David stepped aside, holding his torch high. The night was black—the moon was not up as yet—and the stars as brilliant as flashes of sunlight off the water. Now the procession inside the house came outside as well, each of those first in the line stopping to touch the doorpost, then grabbing a torch as well. One by one, David lit their torches as they came out, and soon the street was filled with flickering firelight.

  As the rest of the guests came out of the house, the people crowded around. Each person there also carried a tiny clay lamp in his or her hand, though none of them were lit. Now the guests held out their lamps, and fire was passed from lamp to lamp until all were lit. Not waiting for the rest to finish, the first guests started away, moving up the street that led back into the village. Up ahead, doors were opening on every side. People had heard the cries and knew it was time. As David took his place on the other side of Simeon, the procession of light started forward. Now the crowd surged in all around them, the joyful cries were continual, and the women again began the warbling cry of celebration. Up ahead, those who were out in front of the procession held out their lamps for the newcomers, who were appearing on every side. Every individual carried his or her own lamp and thrust it out eagerly. A river of fire appeared to be moving slowly out ahead of the wedding party. At every door the cry was renewed: “Make ready for the bridegroom! The bridegroom cometh!”

  III

  Simeon well knew that in ancient Israel, during the times of Abraham, there were typically three stages in the process of “taking a wife”—the arrangement for the marriage, which was usually done by the two families; the physical transfer of the woman to the home of the bridegroom’s family, especially if they were separated by some distance; and finally, the consummation, or actual cohabitation as husband and wife. Father Abraham sent his most trusted servant to Haran to find a wife for Isaac. After meeting Rebekah at the well and being deeply impressed with her, the servant then went to her family and gave them gifts, which they accepted. This was the erusin, or the formal betrothal. The servant then returned to Canaan and brought Rebekah with him. Rebekah lived with her future mother-in-law in her tent. This was the transfer of her person to her husband’s home. After an appropriate time, she moved into Isaac’s tent, and the marriage was consummated.

  Though they lived some distance apart, there would be no change of dwelling for Shana yet. Things had now changed. As Israel became settled and no longer nomadic, the process of marriage had evolved into two formal acts—the betrothal and the marriage, and on
ly in rare cases did the bride change her home prior to the formal wedding. Once the erusin was performed, a woman became arushah, or “the betrothed one.” It literally connoted that she was “a desired woman.” The couple were then considered to be married, even though the bride would not live with her husband for at least one year. This allowed time for her to prepare herself to be a good wife and to accumulate more dowry and for him to become financially independent and prepare a home. So binding was betrothal that there were only two ways to dissolve it—with a written bill of divorcement, or through the death of one of the two parties.

  Thus, though it would be another year before they became man and wife in the fullest sense, on this night Simeon knew that he was becoming the bridegroom and Shana the bride. And the village of Beth Neelah was in a state of great joy and celebration.

  IV

  As the hours dragged on, the women’s conversation in the home of Yehuda the Zealot began to lag. All of the compliments had been given, all of the praises sung, all of the advice and counsel that Shana needed—and more!—had been doled out. The food and the wine, though in no way taken to excess, were taking their toll. Bodies grew weary, eyelids became heavy. The only sound in the house now was the quiet whispering between Leah and Shana. Shana still sat on her stool in the center of the room, and Leah sat on the floor beside her. All around them, women and girls were leaning against the walls or curled up on rugs on the floor. Most were asleep.