He stopped. Simeon and Miriam didn’t speak, just watched Peter’s face twist with shame.
“Jesus turned on me,” the apostle went on, speaking slowly and with pain. “His eyes were blazing. ‘Get thee behind me, Satan,’ he said.”
Miriam’s head came up in astonishment. “He called you Satan?”
“He did, and in the same tone I used just now. ‘Thou art an offense unto me,’ he went on. ‘You savor the things of man more than you do the things of God.’”
He looked at them directly. “You can imagine how that hit me. It was so unexpected, so utterly shocking, that I fell back a step. His eyes never left me. They bored into me like twin lances of fire. It is a rebuke I shall never forget.”
He stopped, and they all fell silent. Peter stared into the fire, the memory still searing his consciousness.
“But why?” Simeon finally asked. “Why would that make him angry? You were just trying to protect him.”
“I’m not completely sure. We haven’t spoken of it again.” He looked at Simeon. “Remember the day when Jesus sent me to catch the fish with the tribute money in its mouth?”
“Of course. I’ll never forget that day.”
“If you’ll remember, he gently rebuked me then too. I had taken it upon myself to speak for the Master, to tell him what he had to do.” He gave an exclamation of disbelief. “Me! A common fisherman, telling the Son of God how to solve a problem! The audacity of that even now takes my breath away.”
He slowly shook his head. “On this day, I did it again. He was telling us what had to happen, what God’s will for him was, and I tried to tell him that it could not be.”
His hands came together and began to twist. “I was speaking out of love, but I was not speaking God’s will. I was speaking Satan’s, for it is Satan who tries to stop him from working his Father’s will. I hope never to do that again.”
Again there was silence as they considered what they had just heard. Finally, Miriam spoke. “So you think he will be killed?” The horror of it strained her voice even to say it.
“I don’t know. I just know that we will trust him to do what is right. And we have already decided, the twelve of us. We are never going to leave his side. If there is any way to protect him, then we shall do it.”
“I shall do the same,” Simeon said.
“I know,” Peter answered forlornly, “but will it make any difference?”
III
North of Jericho 13–16 September, a.d. 32
As the caravan traveled southward from the Sea of Galilee, they moved down the valley of the Jordan, passing by and through various cities, towns, and villages. At the Yarmuk River ford, a few miles south of the Sea of Galilee, they crossed to the east side of the Jordan and traveled in the province of Perea for a time. But when they reached the Jabbock River, where Jacob had wrestled with an angel some two millennia before and had his name changed to Israel, they crossed back again to the west side of the Jordan.
From both sides of the river, people poured out in great multitudes to see and hear the Master. This slowed their progress considerably, and as Rosh Hashanah approached, they were still several days’ travel from Jerusalem.
No one minded. This was exactly what they expected. Every day became a feast of its own. Jesus would stop and teach the people the doctrines of the kingdom. Then, invariably, someone would bring a child who was sick, or an aged and infirm father or mother. Soon there would be a line, and those traveling with Jesus had the opportunity to witness for themselves, time after time, again and again and again, the incredible power and majesty of the Son of God. Philoteria, Gadara, Jabneel, Ramoth, Jabesh-gilead, Tabbath, Coreae—villages that Simeon had never even heard of emptied as word spread of the approach of the man from Nazareth.
One unforeseen blessing for the company was that they were showered with every evidence of welcome and hospitality. Almost every night, the mats spread on the ground were filled with the richness of the fall harvest. Every night Jesus was invited to have supper at the home of this person or that, and he often ended up at more than one place for the evening.
As they approached Jericho, the largest and most important city in the Jordan Valley, it was the day before the Sabbath. They camped a short distance north of the city while it was still early in the afternoon, and parents bustled around preparing both their children and their meals for the day of rest. The plan was to welcome Shabbat quietly and without fanfare. But two hours before the sun went down, a delegation from the city came out to the camp. They found Jesus and graciously invited him to bring some of his group into the city to observe the Sabbath at the synagogue there. He immediately accepted. About half the group decided to stay in camp and watch over their goods. The rest set out barely fifteen minutes later.
IV
Jericho
Jericho was a prosperous city. Not only did it sit astride one of the primary trade routes connecting two major north-south highways, but it also had three very profitable sources of income. All around the city were the famous date plantations once owned by Herod the Great. This crop was so lucrative that Herod and Queen Cleopatra of Egypt had almost gone to war over the vast groves of date palms.
Then there were the balsam orchards. Lying just a few miles north of the Dead Sea, Jericho’s climate was hot and dry, even in the winter months, and the land along the Jordan was fertile. It provided the perfect environment for growing the tree, whose sap was tapped and dried. Like incense, balsam sap was highly valued for use in perfumes and other costly cosmetics. Balsam sold for twice the amount one could obtain for an equal weight of silver.
The third source of income, and an equally profitable trade item, was salt. Just south of the city lay the saltiest body of water known to man. The shores were white, and when the water was channeled into shallow ponds it would evaporate and leave thick layers of brilliant white crystals. Salt was the universal currency in the Roman Empire. In addition to its value in flavoring food, it had preservative powers. Meat, dried and salted, would last for months. Fish packed in barrels of salt water were shipped all over the world.
So valuable was this commodity that Roman soldiers were often paid with bags of salt, which they could then use for themselves or trade with as much ease as if they had been paid in gold coins. From that practice came the word “salary,” from the Latin salerium, or “salt money.”
With such profitable commerce, it was not surprising that the synagogue at Jericho was a large one. Simeon supposed that Jericho had more than one synagogue—probably several, given the size of the city. But he guessed that people from the other synagogues had heard of Jesus’ coming, for as large as this building and its courts were, by the time they arrived every space was already filled with people. But the benches inside had been kept empty, and the Galileans quickly filled the large room.
Though special deference was shown to Jesus—he was placed beside the ruler of the synagogue on the chief bench, or front row, on the male side of the room—the celebration was carried out with no special mention or specific attention paid to him. It proved to be the standard Sabbath evening service, giving the travelers a pleasant opportunity to rest and reflect.
But when the meeting was over and the people were exiting the building, all of that changed.
The family of David ben Joseph came together in the courtyard in front of the synagogue. The women’s side of the synagogue was closest to the door, and so Livia, Miriam, Deborah, Leah, Rachel, and Lilly exited first and moved to one side to wait for the men. In a moment, Simeon, his father, Joseph, and Ezra appeared. Ephraim had stayed back in camp with several others to watch the children and guard the camp.
As they rejoined the women, Simeon turned to watch Peter, Andrew, and the other apostles come out into the evening air. Moments later Jesus came through the door. He was flanked on both sides by the ruler of the synagogue and several of the leading Pharisees. Simeon watched with some curiosity. Normally Pharisees meant conflict. They were constan
tly challenging and testing Jesus, but thus far this interchange had remained amiable. The ruler of the synagogue seemed a little haughty and somewhat condescending to Jesus, but most of the group seemed genuinely pleased to have such a famous guest. Simeon guessed that there would be an invitation for the Master and a few of his closest associates to spend the evening with some of these men.
Then Simeon felt a hand on his arm. He turned to look at Miriam, who had come up beside him. “Look,” she said softly.
He turned to follow her gaze and saw the crowd moving back to make way for someone just coming into the courtyard area. In addition to the faint moonlight, there were several small lamps hanging from hooks on the outer walls of the synagogue, so the light was good enough for Simeon to see immediately what had drawn Miriam’s reaction. A stooped figure half hobbled, half shuffled through the gateway from the street. For a moment, Simeon couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman. Others had also seen the figure too and were watching as well. Quickly the courtyard quieted.
“Poor thing,” Miriam murmured. Everyone was stepping back, making a path.
The “poor thing” turned out to be a woman. For a moment, Simeon thought she was a hunchback. It looked as though through some terrible accident of birth, she had been cursed with a deformed spine. But as she drew closer, he could see it was worse than that. The pitiful creature was bent over to the point where her upper torso was nearly parallel to the ground. She had to lift her head at a twisted angle to see directly in front of her. And through the fabric of her thin summer robe, Simeon saw that the spine was not only bent, but twisted horribly as well. Every movement was tortured, labored, requiring a supreme effort on her part.
The assembled people were completely still. Eyes flicked from the woman to Jesus. This was the man who, it was said, could heal the sick and the infirm. But this . . . could it be possible?
“Her name is Huldah,” someone behind Deborah whispered.
Every eye followed the painful, labored movement of this pitiful creature. She was not headed directly toward Jesus but angling toward a side door, as if she sought to go into the synagogue now that everyone else had come out.
“Woman!” The voice of Jesus was commanding but filled with compassion. The term he used was one of deep respect and honor. Startled, those in the courtyard turned to look at their famous visitor.
The shuffling movement slowed, and the head lifted, turning to search for the source of the voice. Now Simeon could see her face. It was wrinkled and gnarled, like the bark of the olive tree. It was a face that had known much suffering. There was sudden fear in the wrinkled eyes. Her head dropped again, and she kept moving, perhaps thinking that the call had been for someone else.
Jesus moved in her direction, leaving the others to stare after him. His steps intersected her path. “Woman,” he said again, more softly. “I would speak with thee.”
Again the head twisted and looked up at him. It was not possible for her to straighten enough to look Jesus directly in the face.
Jesus went down into a crouch so he could look her in the eye. “How long have you been stricken with this infirmity?” he asked.
“Eighteen years, my Lord.”
“That is long enough. Woman, thou art loosed from thine infirmity.” As people all around gasped and gaped, Jesus reached out his hands and laid them upon her shoulder. For a moment, all seemed frozen in time. Then he stepped back.
Miriam’s fingers dug into Simeon’s arm, but he was barely aware of it. Slowly, the woman’s head came up again—only now it was not just turned to one side. She looked straight ahead, and as if pulled by that motion, her back slowly straightened. Up she came, her body lifting, the spine lifting, straightening, flexing all in one smooth, fluid movement.
“Praise be to God!” Simeon heard someone whisper in awe.
The face of the woman was something that Simeon would not forget for the rest of his mortal life. As quickly as the shifting flames of a fire, her bewilderment turned to astonishment, astonishment turned to wonder, and wonder gave way to joy. Her hands shot up and covered her mouth as her eyes widened. Suddenly tears were streaming down her cheeks. She gave a gasp of such amazement and joy as Simeon had never before heard.
Jesus watched all of this with a gentle smile. Suddenly the woman was overcome with the realization of who Jesus was. With a strangled sob, she dropped to her knees, throwing her arms around the legs of the Master, pressing her face against his robes. “Thank you, Lord,” she cried. “Thank you for your mercy.”
Miriam was sobbing, her face in her hands as she stared at the woman at Jesus’ feet. Deborah and Leah were clinging to each other. Livia stood transfixed, her eyes burning and her lip trembling.
“Hosanna!” someone shouted. “Blessed be the name of Jesus!”
Yes! Simeon felt like leaping to the top of the wall. Where was the shofar that would sound for Rosh Hashanah in only a week? Someone needed to let forth a blast on the trumpet that would tell the entire world what had just happened.
He turned and took Miriam in his arms, feeling his own eyes blurring.
“Master!” The voice was sharp and hard, filled with indignation.
Simeon turned to see the ruler of the synagogue rushing forward. The man’s face was twisted with shock and horror. Jesus turned slowly to face him. “Yes?”
“Master, have you forgotten yourself? It is the Sabbath day. What have you done?”
“He has loosed a poor soul from her infirmity,” a woman answered. “Huldah is freed.”
“Leave him alone,” someone near the back shouted. “It is a miracle!”
The ruler rose to his full height, only the more inflamed by the shouts. His eyes were blazing. “Are there not six days in the week in which men ought to work?” He swung on Huldah, whose head was fully erect now. She looked at him as if he were mad.
He was nearly so. Several of the other Pharisees were also muttering angrily, though some stood gaping, shocked into silence. But the ruler of the synagogue was fast approaching apoplexy. He was stammering as he shook his fist at her. “You should have come here on one of the other six days of the week if you wanted to be healed. Not on a Sabbath day!”
With lowering brows, Jesus faced the man. His mouth had drawn into a tight line. “You hypocrite!” he said. “Does not the Law of Moses say that we can loose an ox or an ass from the stall on the Sabbath day in order to take them to water? Should not this woman, who is a daughter of Abraham, who has been bound, lo, these eighteen years, likewise be loosed?”
An angry cry went up from the crowd, but it was not directed at Jesus. They were shouting at the Pharisee, who was trembling with outrage. “You would condemn such an act?” one of the onlookers cried in utter disbelief.
“Leave her alone!” a woman shouted.
“It is a miracle!”
“God be praised!”
For a moment, the ruler stood there, looking as if he might launch himself at either Jesus or the woman. But there was still enough rationality in the midst of the rage that he understood that any further action on his part would trigger the wrath of the crowd around him. With a harrumph of utter disgust, he pulled his robes around him and stalked away. Several of the Pharisees fell into step behind him. There were jeers and catcalls as they disappeared through the gate, their minds as twisted and deformed as the woman’s back had been just minutes before.
Jesus watched them go, then turned to face the woman who, still on her knees, wept quietly before him. Smiling softly, he reached down and touched her shoulder. She looked up, her cheeks wet, her eyes swollen. His smile deepened as he looked into her eyes. Then, without a word, he motioned to Peter and the others and started for the gate.
V
Jerusalem 21–23 September, a.d. 32
The month of Tishri, the seventh month in the sacred Jewish calendar, actually had three festivals or holy days within it: the Feast of Trumpets, the Day of Atonement, and the Feast of Tabernacles.
The Feas
t of Trumpets was also called the Day of Blowing. It occurred on the first day of the month, which corresponded to the Roman mid-September. This celebration was held in compliance with the commandment found in the book of Leviticus: “In the seventh month, in the first day of the month, shall ye have a sabbath, a memorial of blowing of trumpets, an holy convocation.” Since the first of Tishri was considered the beginning of the civil year, this festival also came to be known as Rosh Hashanah, or “the beginning of the year.” In a word, it was the Jewish New Year.
Ten days later came the Day of Atonement, or Yom Kippur. This was the most solemn and sacred of all the high holy days. On this day, the high priest underwent an elaborate purification ritual to prepare himself to enter the holy of holies in the temple—the only time all year when anyone was allowed into that inner sanctuary. There he made atonement for the sins of all Israel. It was a time of mourning for the sins and imperfections of all Israel.
Five days following Yom Kippur came the beginning of Sukkot, or the Feast of Tabernacles. This was the harvest holiday and lasted a full week. It was one of the required pilgrimage festivals, meaning that all adult males among the Jews who were able were expected to go to Jerusalem to celebrate the feast. Passover and Pentecost were the other two pilgrimage festivals.
At Sukkot, the mourning for sin during Yom Kippur turned into the joy of thanksgiving. Fasting gave way to feasting. Sackcloth and ashes were laid aside and replaced with colorful robes and brilliant headdresses. Israel’s sins were atoned for and forgiven; the harvest was in. It was time for merriment and rejoicing.
By the time of Rosh Hashanah, the caravan of disciples making its way southward from the Galilee had arrived in Jerusalem, just in time to observe the holiday. It was commanded to be “an holy convocation,” and so no servile work could be performed on this day, which included travel. They were grateful to be able to conclude their journey, even though it had been more leisurely than taxing. And, with the rest of their people, they prepared themselves to greet the new year.
Fishers of Men Page 132
