Fishers of Men

by Gerald N. Lund

  Simeon wished fervently he could climb inside Yehuda’s mind at that moment and see what was happening. Neither his expression nor his eyes gave any indication.

  Suddenly, Peter spoke up. “Lord, do you speak this parable unto us, or even to all?”

  “Who is that faithful and wise steward whom his lord shall make ruler over his household? Blessed is the servant whom his lord, when he comes, shall find so doing. Of a truth I say unto you that he will make him ruler over all that he has.”

  Peter and some of the other apostles exchanged looks. Jesus once again had not answered the question directly.

  “But if that servant says in his heart, ‘My lord delays his coming,’ and begins to beat the menservants and maidens, or to eat and drink and be drunken, then the lord of that servant will come in a day when the servant looks not for him, and at an hour when he is not aware. And that servant, which knew his lord’s will but prepared not himself, neither did according to his lord’s will, shall be beaten with many stripes.”

  There was another pause. “For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required: and to whom men have committed much, of him they will ask the more.”

  Simeon started. He had been thinking strictly in terms of how Yehuda was taking all of this. Now the words pressed into his own mind. He and his family had been given much. They had not only been richly blessed with the temporal things of life—a successful merchant business, good health, a loving family—but they had been among the first to hear and accept Jesus. What was expected of them? He stopped. No, not expected. Required!

  “Uh, I’d probably better go see if Shana’s here.”

  Simeon gave his friend a hard look. “You said it would be closer to midday. That’s another hour yet.” But he knew there was no sense protesting. He could see it in Yehuda’s eyes. He was bored. Now that the confrontation with the Pharisees was over, what Jesus was saying wasn’t making any kind of impression on Yehuda.

  “Just a little longer. Then—”

  Jesus was continuing, and his words drew both of their heads around. “I am come to send fire on the earth; and how I wish that it were already kindled.”

  Yehuda leaned forward slightly, his eyes intent on Jesus now.

  “Do you suppose that I am come to give peace on earth? I tell you, Nay. Rather I am come to bring division, for henceforth there shall be five in one house, and they shall be divided, three against two, and two against three. The father shall be divided against the son, and the son against the father; the mother against the daughter, and the daughter against the mother.”

  “Is he saying what I think he’s saying?” Yehuda said, interest finally showing in his face.

  Simeon shook his head sadly. “No, Yehuda. He is not.”

  “But he said—”

  He took his arm and moved away as Jesus continued. Once they were to one side, Simeon went on. “I know what it sounds like, but he’s not calling for war.”

  “Oh, really? ‘I come to send fire on the earth?’ That doesn’t sound like peace to me.”

  “I want you to think about something, Yehuda, then you’ll understand what Jesus is saying. Up until a few months ago, you and I were one—in heart, in mind, in purpose, in action. Would you say that’s true?”

  “Yes.”

  “And now?”

  Suddenly Yehuda saw it. His mouth pulled down. “Where there was once unity, now there is division. Where there was singleness of purpose, now we are of two minds.”

  “And the cause of that division?”

  Yehuda turned his head and stared at Jesus, saying nothing. He didn’t have to.

  “That’s right,” Simeon said despondently. “That’s the fire he came to kindle, Yehuda, a fire in men’s hearts. Can’t you see it? Can’t you feel it?”

  His jaw set. “Shana might come early. I’d better go.”

  He pulled free of Simeon’s grip and walked away without looking back.

  As Simeon watched him until he was out from beneath the portico and into the sunlight again, he shook his head. “‘I am come to bring division,’” he murmured, “‘and henceforth, shall brother be divided against brother.’”

  II

  The top of the Mount of Olives

  As they reached the top of the Mount of Olives, they stopped to rest for a few moments, winded from the long climb. They automatically turned to look across the Kidron Valley to the city of Jerusalem. The crest of the Mount of Olives was about three hundred feet higher than the top of Mount Moriah, where the Temple Mount sat, so they looked down upon the whole complex.

  No one spoke. It was just four of them now—Simeon and Leah and their parents. Ephraim and Rachel had returned with their children to Bethlehem, accompanied by David’s cousin and his wife. It had been a long and exciting day for young Esther and Boaz, and they needed their sleep. Even Joseph, though he was eleven now, was ready to go home and declined the invitation to attend the supper in Bethany.

  The sun was low in the west and shining directly into their eyes. The buildings on the Temple Mount, including the temple itself, were in silhouette, but the sun painted the rest of the city in a shimmering, amber glow.

  “Jerusalem the golden,” Deborah murmured, thoroughly enchanted.

  “It’s beautiful,” Leah whispered.

  “This would be a fantastic view in the morning,” Simeon said thoughtfully. “The sun would be at our backs and light up the whole city. Then you could see everything.”

  Leah slugged him playfully. “Can’t you just enjoy what is? Do you always have to be looking for a better alternative?”

  Surprised, he rubbed at his arm. “It is beautiful,” he agreed, “but I was just—”

  She laughed merrily, cutting him off. “No buts, Simeon. Just say, ‘It is beautiful.’”

  “I just did.”

  “Come,” Deborah said. “We told Martha we would be there by sundown. We’d better keep moving.”

  As they started off, moving eastward up and over the crest of the hill, Leah slipped her arm through Simeon’s and leaned her head against his shoulder. “It is so good to have you with us again, Simeon. I’ve missed you.”

  He put an arm around her and pulled her in tightly against him. “As have I,” he said. “In fact, it’s getting so that home sounds better to me all the time.”

  III

  On the road to Bethany

  Bethany was a small village on the back side, or the eastern slope, of the Mount of Olives, about three-quarters of an hour’s walk from Jerusalem. The whole area was given to orchards of fig and olive trees and grapes. Stone walls ran everywhere, defining the various plots of ground. From this close to the top of the Mount of Olives, no trees blocked their view, and they could see a vast stretch of the wilderness of Judea, mostly brown with just a brush of green from the spring rains. But from here to the Dead Sea some fifteen miles away, the picture was of utter desolation. The sight of it sobered Simeon. In a few days, he and Yehuda would be returning to the desert to once again start the hunt for Moshe Ya’abin. The thought left him a little depressed.

  Deborah spoke, bringing his thoughts back. “Martha says that her house is right on this road, near the eastern edge of the village.”

  Peter and Anna had told David and Deborah about the family in Bethany and explained that they would be staying there with Jesus during Passover, but Deborah and David had not met Martha until that afternoon. At midday, as Jesus took a break from teaching, Anna and Peter brought Martha, and her sister and brother, Mary and Lazarus, over and introduced them to David’s family. They had spent the rest of the day together, following Jesus as he moved among the people.

  Martha’s invitation to dinner had come as a pleasant surprise. Jesus would be there, and that meant an opportunity to be with him without the huge throngs pressing in on him at every moment. They had immediately accepted. Hungry to spend as much time as possible with Jesus before returning to the wilderness of Judea, Simeon had been greatly pleased when Mar
tha made it clear that the invitation included him and Leah as well.

  They crested the hill and started down again, the road bending back and forth to soften the incline. “Look,” Leah said, as they came around one of those bends.

  Up ahead a crowd of about two dozen people filled the middle of the road. They were moving slowly down the hill. As they drew closer, it was not surprising to see Jesus was in the middle of the group. The people were gathered in around him, for he was speaking even as they walked.

  “They must have been delayed on the Temple Mount,” Deborah said. “Peter and Anna and Andrew are there too.”

  Simeon was pleased when he caught a glimpse of Jesus’ mother, walking alongside of him. “Look,” he said to Deborah, “Mary is with Jesus. Wonderful. I would like to speak with her again.”

  As they approached the slow moving group, Luke the Physician turned and saw them coming. He immediately moved back and greeted them warmly. “Shalom, shalom,” he said with a broad smile. “Anna told me you were coming tonight.”

  “Shalom, Luke,” Deborah said, taking his hand. “This is a surprise. Do you know the family of Martha as well?”

  “I do. I was here with Jesus at the Feast of Dedication last winter and got to meet them. Did you know them before?”

  “No,” Deborah said, “just today.”

  “Well, Martha’s probably wondering where everyone is. We left the temple more than an hour ago, but you know how it is. Jesus can barely go anywhere because of the people.” He chuckled. “In fact, I think we still have several with us who were not invited to supper.”

  Luke looked at Simeon. “Shalom, my friend. How are things going out in the wilderness?”

  The question didn’t catch him off guard. The facts of what he was doing were well known to the tight circle of disciples in Capernaum. “Very well, thank you. I’m hoping we can bring it to a close in the next few months.”

  “That is good. Well, know that we are all praying for you.”

  “Thank you. We can use every prayer in our behalf.”

  The crowd slowed and then stopped. Jesus was talking with a young man, perhaps a little older than Simeon, who was wearing a richly cut outer robe and an embroidered turban on his head. He was talking earnestly. Jesus was listening, nodding from time to time.

  Just then David gave a soft exclamation. An older man with white hair had stepped out of the crowd and was coming towards them, smiling broadly.

  “Joseph?” David exclaimed.

  “David! What a pleasant surprise.” They clasped hands, holding them tightly for a moment.

  The older man turned to Deborah and took both of her hands. “Deborah, you grow more lovely every time I see you. Being a grandmother must agree with you.”

  “It does,” she laughed. “How good to see you again, Joseph.”

  Simeon watched curiously. Here was a man of obvious wealth. He was portly, but his robe was so cleverly tailored that it softened the effect of his weight. His outer robe was of a light, silky fabric and trimmed generously with gold braid. His inner tunic was of a deep blue, a fabric that Simeon knew came from Egypt and was very costly. A gold chain served as a sash around his waist. His sandals were encrusted with silver buckles.

  David motioned for Simeon and Leah to come closer. “Joseph, let me introduce you to two of my children. “This is Leah, our youngest daughter. She is sixteen now. Leah, this is an old friend and associate, Joseph of Arimathea.”

  “I’m very pleased to meet you,” Leah said, inclining her head respectfully.

  The older man looked at her closely, then at Deborah. “You would have a hard time denying this one belongs to you, Deborah. She is as lovely as you are.”

  “Thank you,” Leah said, coloring at the compliment.

  “And this is my second son, Simeon,” David said with evident pride. “Simeon, this is a friend from many years back.”

  Simeon shook his hand, immediately liking the firmness of the grip even though the hand itself was fleshy and soft. This was obviously a man who did not have to earn his living by the sweat of his brow. But he liked his eyes—generous, friendly, and intelligent. “It is a pleasure to meet you,” Simeon said.

  “Oh, we’ve met before,” Joseph said.

  “We have?”

  There was a deep chuckle. “Yes, but you were only about this high.” He marked a spot on his leg just above the knee. “As I remember, you were wrestling with your older brother at the time.”

  “That had to have been Simeon,” Deborah said, laughing.

  David stepped back a step, sizing up his old friend. “I must admit this is a great surprise, Joseph. Are you a follower of Jesus?”

  When he nodded, Simeon registered even greater surprise. The older man saw it and smiled. “Yes. Believe it or not there are a few of us on the Council who feel something other than hostility for Jesus. We haven’t made that fact known very widely yet, for there is great opposition among our brethren, but Nicodemus and I—” He turned to David. “You remember Nicodemus?”

  “I do.”

  “He and I are both impressed with what Jesus is and what he does. But I doubt Nicodemus will come. He tried to convince me that it was a mistake for me to come, but it is not a public gathering. Martha was kind enough to extend an invitation, and so here I am. Actually, I brought a young acquaintance of mine with me. He is one of the scribes and wanted a chance to ask some questions of Jesus.”

  He pointed. “That’s him with Jesus now. His name is Reuben ben Eleazar, of Jerusalem.”

  They turned to look. Jesus had come to a complete stop now, and the rest of the people had gathered in around him and the young man.

  “Perhaps I had better go over and make sure he doesn’t offend anyone. He is a good young man, but filled with the enthusiasm and self-confidence of youth.”

  That was fine with Simeon. Judging from the earnestness of the conversation, Simeon wanted to hear what Jesus was saying. The scribes were the experts in the Mosaic Law and closely allied with the Pharisees and the lawyers, the very ones who had confronted Jesus earlier in the day. It would be interesting to hear what questions he was asking. Simeon and Leah fell in behind their parents as they followed Joseph back over to where he had been before.

  As they moved in close enough to hear, the young man was asking a question. “Master,” he said. Simeon was pleased to hear that his voice was respectful. “You often speak of eternal life. That means a great deal to me. My question for you is, what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

  Jesus nodded. “What is written in the law? How do you read it?”

  There was a satisfied look, almost a smugness as the man pulled his shoulders back. “‘Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind.’”

  Simeon found himself nodding. The passage he was quoting was perhaps the most famous passage in all of the Torah. It came from the book of Deuteronomy and formed part of the Sh’ma, the most sacred of all prayers to a Jew.

  “And also,” the man said, pleased to see his answer had won him a nod from Jesus, “‘Love thy neighbor as thyself.’”

  “You have answered right. This do and you shall live.”

  The man was suddenly flustered. He obviously had expected more than that. Jesus waited, watching him steadily.

  “So,” Reuben said, groping a little, “so who is my neighbor?”

  Jesus was thoughtful for a moment. The crowd was watching the exchange with interest, so when Jesus began to speak, it was no longer just to the scribe in front of him. “A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho and fell among thieves, who stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed, leaving him half-dead.”

  There were nods all around at that. The road from Jerusalem to Jericho was notorious for its violence. Dropping some four thousand feet in just fifteen miles, from the highlands of Jerusalem to the shores of the Dead Sea, it was steep, narrow, and passed through many pla
ces that provided excellent opportunities for ambush. Moshe Ya’abin was one of those who made his living preying on people along the Jericho Road.

  “And by chance,” Jesus continued, “there came down a certain priest that way. And when he saw him, he passed by on the other side.” He stopped to let that sink in.

  “Perhaps he thought he was dead,” Joseph murmured in David’s ear.

  For a moment, Simeon wasn’t sure why he had made that comment, then suddenly realized exactly what he was suggesting. If it was a dead body, contact would bring automatic uncleanness, especially for a priest, who would be under special obligation to avoid such spiritual contamination. On the other hand, if the man wasn’t dead, there was no problem. By crossing the road, there was no way he could ascertain if the man was really dead or not.

  Then another thought struck him. The man had been ambushed by thieves. Anyone who stopped also put himself at risk.

  “And likewise a Levite,” Jesus went on, “when he was at the place, came and looked on him, and passed by on the other side.” Again Jesus paused to let the people consider the circumstance.

  It was essentially the same thing. The Levites were an order of the priesthood as well and would be under the same obligations to avoid contamination as the priests. Then a second thought struck Simeon. The priesthood was given of God to serve others, to perform religious rites and ceremonies so others could be blessed. Of all Israel, shouldn’t a priest be most inclined to care about another human being?

  The people around Jesus were totally rapt as they waited. This was a compelling story he was giving them. “But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was.”

  It was as though the whole group suddenly drew in a breath. A Samaritan? The priest and Levite were the revered among society. A Samaritan was one of the detested ones, an unclean and hated enemy. Even walking on the soil of Samaria could contaminate one spiritually, according to the Pharisees.

  Jesus seemed to sense their reaction and went on, speaking more slowly. “And when the Samaritan saw the man, he had compassion on him, and went to him.”