Fishers of Men

by Gerald N. Lund

  “Oh, yes,” Deborah said. “I had forgotten that.” She was completely baffled. She had met this brother only once, at Aaron’s wedding many years earlier. He was an overseer on one of the big date plantations, as she remembered. Was Aaron offended that they hadn’t visited with him while they were there?

  “His wife’s mother—” He stopped, lifting one hand and passing it over his eyes. He suddenly looked very tired. His beard seemed to droop, and his side curls barely moved.

  Deborah’s face showed concern. “Is there a problem?”

  His hand dropped. In the near darkness, softened only by the waning moon and the faint lamplight, his face was deep in shadow. Deborah couldn’t see his expression, but he seemed almost haunted.

  “What is it, Aaron?” she asked more firmly. “What is the matter?”

  He took a deep breath; then it came out in a long, painful sigh. “Hava’s brother’s mother-in-law is a wonderful woman. Sweet and gentle and kind. She’s lived with her daughter for many years . . .” He blinked, as if still trying to sort something out in his mind. “Ever since she became crippled. It was horribly painful for her and over time left her completely deformed.”

  Deborah’s hand flew to her mouth; behind her, Leah gasped.

  “So you were there?” Aaron exclaimed.

  “Oh, Aaron. We had no idea she was related to you.”

  “Were you there?” he said, almost sharply. “Were you there when Jesus . . .” He couldn’t say it. He just shook his head.

  “Yes, Aaron,” David said quietly. “We were there, only a few feet away. We saw what happened.”

  But again Aaron was far away. “We haven’t been down to see them for a while. We’ve been so busy since coming to Jerusalem. We send them money to help out, of course.”

  The family waited, sensing what was coming.

  “A few weeks ago, we received a letter from Hava’s brother in Jericho. He said something had happened to Grandma Huldah—that’s what we all call her. He said he couldn’t explain it in the letter and urged us to come to Jericho immediately.”

  “And you went?” Deborah asked softly.

  “We just got back two days ago.” His eyes had a haunted look.

  “And Huldah was fine,” Deborah finished for him softly.

  He finally looked at them. “Yes.” It was said with complete awe. “She has no pain. She walks perfectly upright, something that hasn’t happened for nearly twenty years.”

  “You should have been there, Uncle Aaron,” Leah said. “We saw Jesus do it. He held out his hand toward her and said something about loosing her from her infirmity, and then suddenly this look of wonder came into her eyes, and she slowly straightened herself upright.” Tears had come to Leah’s eyes. “It was wonderful, incredible.” She let out a quick breath. “Unbelievable.”

  “That is what she said too,” he whispered.

  “Then rejoice in it, Aaron,” David said, reaching out and gripping his shoulder. “How wonderful that something like that should come into Hava’s family.”

  “But it was the Sabbath!” he cried. His voice was anguished, almost tortured. “Why does he do such things on the Sabbath? He did the same thing in Capernaum when he healed the man with the withered hand.”

  Deborah was incredulous. “What does that matter, Aaron? He healed them! He made them whole! What better work to do on the Sabbath than that?”

  Before Aaron could answer, they heard a piercing blast of trumpets. They whirled around to see. Near the gate between the two courts, the three priests with trumpets had appeared again, the long silver instruments pressed to their lips. Another shrill blast broke out. It was the signal. The ceremony for the lighting of the menorahs was about to begin.

  Aaron looked bewildered for a moment, then fell back a step. “I have to go,” he said.

  “Aaron?” Deborah started to say more, but he spun around and disappeared into the crowd.

  II

  As they marveled at what had just taken place with Aaron, Miriam suddenly let out a cry of joy. “There’s Yehuda!” She raised a hand and began to wave. “And Livia.”

  Turning in the direction she was pointing, they were pleased to see Yehuda, who towered above most of the crowd, coming toward them, Livia in tow. It was a thrill for Miriam to see her friend within the restricted precincts of the temple for the first time. After her marriage to Yehuda, Livia had decided to formally convert to Judaism, seeing no conflict between that and her belief in Jesus. She had completed the process just a few months before.

  The last of the three blasts of the trumpet pierced the air, the sound echoing off the enclosed walls. That told them that in the Court of Israel the priests were assembling, lighting the torches that would be used to ignite the menorahs in the Court of the Women. The noise of the crowd lessened somewhat as the third and final blast of trumpets echoed off the courtyard walls. It would be another two or three minutes before the procession actually appeared.

  The two from Beth Neelah reached the family, and Miriam threw her arms around her longtime friend. “Oh, Livia, it is so good to see you. I have looked for you every day since the wedding but could never find you. Are you all right?”

  “Of course.” Livia turned and hugged Leah and Deborah as Yehuda shook hands with Simeon and David. “I’ve looked for you too,” she said, “but with the crowds, I guess we just missed each other. I’ve been here almost every day. I’ve wished we had set a time and place to meet.”

  The crowd had grown much quieter, their eyes turned toward the gateway. Simeon moved closer to his old friend and companion in battle. “I heard a rumor yesterday.”

  “Oh?”

  “I heard that Jesus Barabbas paid a visit to Beth Neelah.”

  Yehuda frowned darkly. “Your sources of information are still very good.”

  “So it’s true?”

  “Yes, about a month ago.”

  “And?”

  Yehuda looked around. With the throngs, they could too easily be overheard. “Let’s talk about it later.”

  “Well,” Deborah said, turning from Livia to Yehuda, “it is good to see you. We came early this afternoon to get a place. We still have some food and a little wine in the basket there.”

  “We’re fine,” Yehuda said.

  “Speak for yourself,” Livia said. “I’m famished.”

  Yehuda feigned a groan as Deborah laughed and reached for the basket that contained what they had not eaten. “Can you believe this?” he said. “We ate just before we left.”

  “That was two hours ago,” Livia retorted, removing the cloth and taking out a large chunk of cheese. Then she looked at Miriam and blushed.

  Miriam’s hand shot out and grasped Livia’s arm. “You’re not . . . ?”

  The color deepened, and Livia nodded. “I think so.”

  “But—” They had last seen each other just over a week before, and Livia had not even given a hint.

  Livia smiled shyly. “We’re just beginning to suspect.”

  If they hadn’t been where they were, Miriam would have squealed out loud. Instead she threw her arms around Livia. Leah and Deborah moved in for congratulations as well.

  Simeon gave Yehuda a huge smile.

  His friend grinned back. “Yes. We can’t be sure at this point, but it sure looks like we’re going to have a baby,” he whispered. “In the late spring.”

  Then before they could say anything more, the sound of flutes could be heard. The procession of the priests was coming.

  III

  As it turned out, Jesus did not come back for the lighting of the menorahs. At least he didn’t come into the Court of the Women where the lighting actually took place. Nor did they see Miriam’s father again. Or Aaron. The lighting ceremony went off without any further interruptions, and once the blazing lights had thrown much of the city of Jerusalem into near daylight, the crowds left the Court of the Women and went out into the vast expanse of the Court of the Gentiles. David ben Joseph and his family went
out with them.

  After the illumination of the menorahs, worshipers typically stayed on the Temple Mount for a good part of the night. Especially on this, the last night of Sukkot, there was a reluctance to bring things to an end. In a day or two the people would pack up and return to lives that were, for the most part, pretty uneventful. So tonight they lingered on, wandering around the various courts, visiting with friends and family, sometimes praying, often just walking slowly, enjoying the pleasant coolness of the evening. David and Deborah decided they would leave the rest of the night to the young people. They left the Temple Mount through the south gate, heading for the road that led to Bethlehem. Leah, feeling somewhat awkward with the two married couples, went with her parents.

  The four who remained strolled along in a leisurely fashion. Miriam and Livia went out slightly ahead of the men, talking animatedly about how it seemed that Livia would soon be a mother, as well as Simeon and Miriam’s plans for their new home when they returned to Capernaum. Simeon deliberately slowed his step so he could talk to Yehuda without being overheard.

  “Tell me about Samuel,” he said. “I hear he’s leading the band now.”

  Yehuda nodded, somewhat gloomily. “Not only that, but he thinks he’s got to prove himself to them. They attacked a Roman patrol here a few weeks ago.”

  “So it was them,” Simeon said. He had heard of the raid but hoped it wasn’t true. “So, what about Barabbas?”

  “What about him?”

  “He’s a bad one, Yehuda. Samuel’s not linking up with him, is he?”

  “No. That’s what he wanted, of course. When I heard he had come, I talked to Samuel. I told him the same thing you would have told him. Barabbas wants to be king, even if it’s only over a hundred men. If anyone joins his group, it has to be on his terms. And his terms are that he’s the leader, no questions asked.”

  “In some ways he reminds me of Ya’abin. He can be pretty ruthless.”

  “Well,” Yehuda said, “I talked to Samuel. That’s about all I can do. He doesn’t take kindly to my advice now, especially about being a Zealot. We get along fine in every way except that. He still thinks we both betrayed the cause.”

  “That’s no surprise. I wouldn’t—”

  Miriam stopped short, then spun around. “Simeon. That’s your Uncle Aaron.”

  He stepped beside her to see where she was looking. She was right. Angling across their path, perhaps ten or fifteen paces ahead of them, a group of men were hurrying toward Solomon’s Porches on the east side of the Temple Mount. In the brightness shed by the great lamps, Simeon could easily distinguish his uncle, side-curls bobbing in rhythm with those of the other Pharisees as he hurried along, clutching his skirts up a little so they wouldn’t impede his hurried stride. Then Simeon heard Miriam quickly take in her breath. “Look, Simeon. He’s with Azariah.”

  Simeon had already recognized the portly figure of the chief of the Pharisees.

  “Where are they off to in such a hurry?” Yehuda asked with a frown.

  It was not just the Pharisees who were in a hurry. A crowd of people was following close behind, with others joining in even as Simeon and the others watched.

  “Jesus!” Livia said suddenly. “It has to be Jesus!”

  “Come on,” Simeon said, knowing she was right.

  Yehuda grabbed for Livia’s hand as she started forward. “No, Livia. We don’t need to get involved.”

  She turned to him. “Yehuda,” she said evenly, “While we have been here, I have not once asked you to find Jesus. I want to hear him. If you don’t, I understand. Tell me where you will be, and I will meet you later.”

  Miriam looked at her friend with wide eyes. This was the woman who had once been so shy and timid that she didn’t even dare to meet Miriam’s father’s eyes when he looked at her. Then she suppressed a smile. Yehuda looked as if he had sat on a thorn. Not waiting for his response, Livia started forward.

  With an exasperated sigh, Yehuda shook his head and muttered something under his breath, but he fell in behind her. The four of them moved into the surging crowd that was swelling rapidly with every passing moment.

  IV

  The complex that held the temple and the inner courts was raised above the main plaza of the Temple Mount, or Court of the Gentiles, by six or eight feet. Twelve steps made of long slabs of stone led from the main terrace to the temple courts. Of the nine gates that gave entry into the temple courts, the grandest and most elaborate was the Gate Beautiful, which faced the east and served as the temple’s primary entrance. Five massive pillars held a corniced roof that sheltered the gate from the weather. Both pillars and roof had been constructed of gleaming white marble, which contrasted sharply with the golden brown sandstone used in the walls. The gate itself was a wonder to behold. Made of richly ornamented Corinthian brass, the two doors were so massive that it took twenty men to open or close either side.

  It was at the entrance to the Gate Beautiful that Jesus had chosen to stand. It was a good choice. Not only was he elevated above the crowds so he could be clearly heard, but with the gates open, he was bathed in the golden glow of the lamps coming from the Court of the Women.

  As Simeon, Miriam, Yehuda, and Livia reached the edge of the crowd, which already numbered in the hundreds, they stopped. Azariah and his entourage disappeared into the throng, calling out roughly for the people to move aside. In a few moments, Azariah appeared on the steps, moving up three or four of them so he could be seen, but he remained a few steps below the level where Jesus waited. Aaron must have stayed at the base of the stairs, because Simeon could no longer see him. Then Simeon saw Peter and Andrew. They too were on the stairs but also below the Master, flanking him on either side, looking like bodyguards prepared to fend off any possible attack. Simeon looked around anxiously and felt a lurch of concern when he saw rows of spears off to one side, above the heads of the crowd. The temple guards were there, but they were standing back.

  For another full minute, Jesus just stood there, watching the crowd grow quickly, swelling outward in a half circle from where he stood. Azariah was obviously agitated but seemed unwilling to do anything until Jesus took some action. Finally, Jesus raised his hands and the crowd quieted. He dropped his hands again and began to speak.

  “I am the light of the world.” His voice rang out clearly and carried easily to all who were there. “He that follows me shall not walk in darkness but shall have the light of life.”

  The words died out. No one moved. Every eye was on the figure standing there at the gate. It was a dramatic moment. In the glow from the four great menorahs behind him, Jesus was almost in silhouette, backlit by the brilliance coming through the Gate Beautiful.

  Simeon felt Miriam take his hand and turned to looked at her. She was not looking at him, but at Jesus, her face golden in the lamplight. Her eyes also glowed with joy and satisfaction. And then it struck him. Just as Jesus had chosen the moment of the “pouring out” to declare that he was the source of living water, now, illuminated by the brilliant glow of the four great lampstands, he had declared himself to be the ultimate source of light.

  He was about to whisper that insight to Miriam when a movement caught his eye. Azariah had taken two steps upward to stand directly in front of Jesus.

  “You bear record of yourself,” Azariah said in a loud voice, which even at a distance carried an evident sneer. “In the Law, it is written that the testimony of two is required to establish truth. Therefore your record cannot be true.”

  A murmur raced through the crowd. The Pharisees had not come to listen but to challenge. They didn’t dare try to take Jesus—he was far too popular with the people—but they would use the Law to show this upstart preacher to be the imposter he was.

  “Though I bear record of myself,” Jesus answered with perfect equanimity, “yet my record is true, for I know from whence I came and whither I go.” He looked directly at Azariah. “But you cannot tell from whence I come or whither I go, for you judge after
the flesh, but I judge no man.”

  Azariah swelled up angrily, but before he could speak, Jesus went on, speaking now to the people. “And yet if I do judge, my judgment is true, for I am not alone, but I and the Father that sent me.” He turned back to Azariah, whose face was growing darker with every word. “What you say is right. It is written in our law that the testimony of two men establishes truth. But I am not the only one who bears record of me. I am one that bears witness of myself. But the Father that sent me also bears witness of me.”

  A second Pharisee moved up to stand beside Azariah. Miriam said in a low voice. “That is Caleb. He is considered second only to Azariah in the hierarchy.”

  “You say that your father will bear witness of you?” Caleb asked rudely. “Where is your father that we may hear him? I don’t see anyone.”

  Jesus answered in that same unruffled voice. “You neither know me, nor my Father. If you knew me, you would have known my Father also.”

  Azariah threw up his hands in disgust. “What kind of answer is that?” he asked the crowd.

  If he hoped for a supportive reaction, he was disappointed. There was an angry muttering from several in the crowd, and it was clear it was not directed at Jesus. “Leave him alone,” someone shouted. “Let him speak.”

  “Go home, Pharisees,” cried another. “Let us listen to a man of truth.”

  “Send the old brood hen home,” Yehuda growled, referring to the chief Pharisee. He was not necessarily impressed with what Jesus had said, but he had no patience with Azariah’s pompousness.

  Before Simeon could answer, Miriam tugged on his sleeve. He turned back to see that his Uncle Aaron had joined Azariah and Caleb. Simeon groaned inwardly as Aaron moved closer to Jesus. However, he did not appear to be as angry as the other two leaders. “May I ask a question of you?” Aaron said.

  Jesus nodded.

  “Who are you?”

  It was said with such plaintive longing that Simeon was startled. This was not an accusation; it was a question from one who was confused. He remembered the look on Aaron’s face as they had discussed the healing of the old woman.