A.D. 30 Read online

  “And yet you live in Tiberias, built on the graves,” Judah said.

  “Would you have me starve?”

  Phasa listened impassively.

  “And what do the teachers of the Law say of this?” Judah asked.

  Elias tugged at the rope to tighten the sail. “The Sanhedrin say only what fills the temple coffers and protects their villas. They are all the same, save the Pharisees. The Pharisees speak of a resurrection from the dead and give alms to the poor, which, as you know, makes them friend to all who suffer under Rome, and all who hope for a better life when this miserable one ends.”

  “And you?”

  “Me? What do I know? But in this life, I want to throw out the oppressors and catch fish.”

  “No religious leaders support you in this?”

  Elias shifted his eyes and stared at the steep, jagged shore to the east. “The Baptizer in Judea. And the rabbi who follows in his way and speaks of a new kingdom.” He turned to Judah, suddenly calm. “You go to see him?”

  “Who?”

  “The one who works wonders. The rabbi Yeshua.” Elias searched Judah’s eyes. “They say he heals the sick. That he can make wine from water. Then I wonder why he cannot make coin from dust and save all of Israel. We have too many drunkards already.”

  “He is in Capernaum?”

  “You go to see him then?”

  We had agreed that we would not speak of our purpose, but I saw that Judah was at an impasse. If he lied, he would need another sound reason for our visit.

  “Yes,” Phasa said.

  Elias regarded her suspiciously, for she had spoken boldly though covered from head to foot save her eyes.

  “You are unclean?” he asked her.

  “She has no illness,” Judah said. “It is a private matter, not a religious one.”

  Elias accepted the explanation with a simple nod. “Then you are in good fortune. I have heard he is in Capernaum.”

  “Where in Capernaum?”

  “Does it matter? It is only a fishing village—a few hundred. They come from all of Galilee to see him, any might know where he sleeps. But you must be careful. It is said that he eats with the tax collector there, a scoundrel called Levi. It escapes me why a Zealot would befriend any tax collector unless his intentions were to conspire with the Romans. So you see, even through this rabbi, we Jews are betrayed.”

  Judah only nodded, but I saw the fascination deep in his eyes.

  The sun was already sinking low in the west when we approached the village of Capernaum, nestled on the northern shore where several dozen small boats rocked gently. They would soon go out for fish, Elias said. He could join them once he put us to shore and perhaps sell the fish—not to worry, he would have his boat clean for our return. But he must join them for he was sure to bring in the largest catch.

  Judah stood with one hand on the mast, gazing at the sunbaked mud homes that shared courtyards, as was common in the countryside. These groupings were scattered along the rising shoreline and clustered between olive groves. I could see only a few people on the streets between houses. Yet Capernaum was twice as populous as Nazareth, and spread out. Two hundred dwellings, perhaps.

  The wind lifted Judah’s hair and his eyes remained fixed ahead. Here then he might see the end of his long journey, one that had begun thirty years earlier when his elders discovered the child who would be king.

  If there was a king in Capernaum, this humble village by the sea appeared unaware of it. I could not help but wonder if Judah’s search might bring him to great disappointment.

  Then again, if there was a rebellion gathering in Palestine, would it not stew underground, hidden from prying eyes? Had not Dumah been asleep when the Thamud storm arrived on a thousand camels?

  Judah, my courageous lion, was surely thinking of what could not be seen with the eyes alone, and I too wondered what mystery and power hid behind the mud walls of this sleeping enclave.

  AND YET no wonder greeted us when we finally set to shore and stepped out of the boat onto a dock in need of repair. Instead a fisherman who, upon learning from the boisterous Elias that his passengers had come from Tiberias to see the rabbi Yeshua, inquired about his cousin who lived there. Elias knew of the man and an immediate friendship was thus consummated. The fisherman quickly directed us to the house of Levi ben Alphaeus, who was also known as Matthew. Also, he told us, Levi was a tax collector and as such should not be trusted, although many said he had become more friendly of late.

  No wonder greeted us as we followed Judah to the tax collector’s house on the outskirts of that quaint village. Only the lingering scent of dead fish.

  None as we waited on the street for Judah, who entered the house. Only a donkey and several children, but these were shooed away by women who recognized us as foreigners and stayed clear. The sun sank and the cold set in.

  And when Judah did emerge, though his eyes were full of anticipation, he offered us little encouragement.

  “They say he’s gone to the hills,” he said.

  “To the hills?” Phasa demanded.

  “To rest and pray. Don’t you see? He’s here!”

  “He rests in the hills?” Phasa said. “It’s far too dark for us to go to the hills!”

  “He will return.” Judah’s excitement refreshed me. “Come, I have persuaded them to allow you to wait in the courtyard.” He motioned us toward the gate that led to the homes’ common area. “Come. Come.”

  “Wait how long?” Phasa asked. “Did we travel so far to wait in a courtyard?”

  Judah turned back and spoke sternly. “You must be patient, Phasa! We are not in the palace. If you announce yourself as Phasaelis, wife of Herod, I am sure they will give you immediate entrance.”

  “Never,” Saba said.

  “No,” Judah said, having made his point. “So, then, today you are only a common woman and a foreigner. They now entertain a Pharisee from Judea who would surely object to your presence in the room. But they assure me the wait will not be long.” He headed through the gate.

  “And you?” I asked, following quickly.

  “I must speak to them, you understand.” His mind was already back in the house.

  “How many?” Saba asked.

  “There is Peter and his brother, Andrew. They share news with a Pharisee who has come from Judea in secret. Something is in the wind, I tell you. I must return. Wait here. You will be comfortable. Saba will see to you. Watch over them, Saba.”

  And then he was gone, leaving us in a cold courtyard without a fire. I had expected signs of women and children, for Levi was a tax collector and children were a sign of wealth among the Jews, Phasa had told me. They might have been tucked away in one of the other houses.

  “This isn’t what I expected,” Phasa said, crossing to a dead fire pit on the far side. “Not in the least.”

  I tried to reassure her. “As Judah said, we aren’t in Sepphoris. But we are with Saba—no harm will come to us.”

  “I don’t fear harm. I only resent being left out in the cold while these men plan my downfall.” She was referring to the Zealots who plotted the demise of all things Roman, which included Herod and, by extension, her. No one would recognize her, covered as she was, but I too would have felt the rejection. Still, the choice to come had been hers. “I can scarce keep my head atop my shoulders, and Judah leaves us without so much as a bed? It is not what I expected.”

  “He’s taken with this sage,” Saba said. “You must be patient. In agreeing to come, we agreed to this.”

  Phasa looked at him, then settled. “Then be a good slave and keep me warm.”

  Saba hesitated. “We are in a Jew’s home. I cannot be seen like this.”

  She sighed. “So now you too are a Jew.”

  “If I must be. To keep you safe.”

  We waited for a long while, until I too felt growing frustration. Judah seemed to have forgotten us entirely. The absurdity of our situation became more plain as the darkness deepened. I ha
d left Dumah on matters of life and death for my people, and yet here I stood in a tiny fishing village, risking that very mission for the sake of a man who seemed to have forgotten that I existed. The reasoning I’d harnessed to visit Capernaum for Judah’s sake vacated my mind, and my irritation strengthened.

  “I will check,” I finally said. “Saba, stay with Phasa.”

  “Maviah, this is not wise.”

  I ignored Saba’s objection, walked to the door, and eased it open. Firelight from a room beyond a short hall flickered on the walls. Soft voices reached me. I slipped in and carefully approached.

  There in the shadows I stopped, wondering if I’d been seen. But none of the five men reclining at the table seemed to notice, so I withdrew far enough to guarantee my concealment.

  Firelight lit a vessel and chalk cups used for wine on the wooden table, which, unlike Herod’s table fashioned in the Roman style, was surrounded by simple wooden stools and a stone block along one side. Food also waited, covered by cloth. The men were too engrossed in their talk to pay food or drink any attention.

  “But by saying kingdom, he can only mean Israel,” Judah said in a low, urgent voice. “As you say, Andrew, the Baptizer also spoke of the kingdom’s restoration. It is this the prophets foretold, is it not? And it was of this the elders from my tribe surely spoke.”

  “So it seems.” Andrew sat across from Judah—a thin laborer or fisherman who looked to eat too few of the fish he caught.

  At the far end of the table, a heavily bearded man with gray hair wore a clean robe and a blue mantle over his shoulders, and I took him to be the guest Pharisee. Which would make the man next to Andrew his brother, Peter. Also a fisherman, I guessed. And across from them was a well-dressed man I thought must be Levi, for the trimmed beard on his chin.

  They did not appear to be the kind of men a great leader would gather for any reason, much less for an uprising.

  Miriam had spoken about her son as a teacher, not a warrior, but I felt as though I was witness to the heart of a conspiracy.

  Andrew continued: “But the master’s speaking of this kingdom is different from the Baptizer’s.”

  “Different?” Judah said. “What can you mean? A kingdom is a kingdom.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “The kingdom of God is Israel. And his rightful seat is in the temple.”

  “Yes. Yes… but no…”

  Judah spread his hands. “How can this be yes and no? It is either yes or no.”

  “And yet with Yeshua it can be both. It depends on—”

  “What my brother means,” the one I assumed to be Peter interrupted, “is that we don’t know. Yeshua says the kingdom is at hand.”

  “Of course. Meaning upon us.”

  “Meaning it is now at hand. And among us, he says. Among us already. This is what he says everywhere he goes.”

  “But of course! We are the very seeds of that kingdom! This kingdom will come from among the true sons of Israel. And it will come now!”

  “And within,” Peter added. “He says the kingdom of heaven is not here nor there, but within.”

  “Within?” Judah asked. A moment of silence passed. “Within what?”

  “Within the heart.”

  “Inside a man?” Clearly this was a new concept to them, as it was to me. “But of course this must be merely symbolic,” Judah said. “It’s the spirit of Israel rising up to take her rightful place in the Holy Land.”

  “Yeshua says the kingdom is not of flesh and blood but of spirit,” Andrew said, taking up from his brother. “And is now among us.”

  Judah stood and paced to his left. He spoke as much with his hands as his voice. “And yet he heals flesh and blood. He says he has not come to bring peace, but a sword to divide even a man from his father. Is this not what you have said?”

  “Yes… but no. He carries no sword and speaks only of peace.”

  “You just said he speaks also of the sword! Which is it?” Judah weighed his hands, one and then the other. “Yes or no, this way or that way, blood or no blood? You’ve been with him for many months, how can you not know these things?”

  “Please,” Levi said. “Speak with grace in my home.”

  Judah placed a hand on the table and leaned forward. “I have come to you with news from my elders that surely confirms what you have wondered. Yeshua is to be king. The way must now be made plain.”

  Andrew looked at the Pharisee, who watched without comment. “You must understand, Judah, in Yeshua’s way, nothing is plain. What he speaks makes little sense to the common man.”

  “Are you a common man? Surely his way must be plain. Why would you follow him otherwise?”

  Peter abruptly stood and addressed Judah in no uncertain terms. “Yes! We are common, and still, he chooses us. We only say as much as we do because of who you are. Do not judge too quickly. When you see him you will know why we follow him. Then you will also know that what he says is not easily grasped. Everywhere we go he speaks riddles that leave the mind amazed, yet with little understanding. Many times he says one thing and then immediately seems to offer its contradiction.”

  I was certain by now that I did not belong in the house, but I was fixed. I couldn’t see Judah’s eyes, but I feared for his heart. What if his king was only a madman?

  “What kind of riddles?” Judah asked.

  Levi spoke in an even, calculating tone.

  “He says that he did not come to abolish the Law, but to fulfill it. That until heaven and earth themselves pass away, not one jot nor tittle shall pass from the Law. Any who annuls one of the least of the laws given by Moses shall be called the least in the kingdom of heaven.”

  Levi picked up a cup and absently turned it in his hand.

  “And yet he himself commands all who hear him to break these laws. It is dangerous talk. The Sanhedrin won’t stand for it.”

  “Impossible,” Judah said. “You are hearing it wrong. What law does he command you to break?”

  “Sit!” Levi looked between Judah and Peter, who both took their seats.

  “Thank you. Now…” Levi nodded at the Pharisee. “Ask one who is friend and knows the Law well.”

  I could only assume that they had not used the Pharisee’s name because he wished to be unknown. A friend to Yeshua might cause problems among his peers in Jerusalem.

  “You are a teacher of the Law,” Judah said. “Does Yeshua command his followers to break the Law?”

  The Pharisee hesitated, then spoke in a smooth, calming voice.

  “So it appears. Some laws are only interpretations of the Law, but many are directly from the scriptures, as given to Moses word for word from God.”

  “Then tell me just one Yeshua breaks. I would know.”

  “From Exodus, anyone who strikes a man so that he dies shall be put to death. He who strikes his mother or father shall be put to death. He who kidnaps a man shall be put to death. He who curses his mother or father shall be put to death. As it is written, you shall appoint as penalty life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, wound for wound, bruise for bruise. This I quote.”

  An eye for an eye was the code of all people in the desert, but putting a child to death for a curse struck me as cruel beyond measure. Surely Judah would never adhere to these particular laws of his religion.

  “This is the Law given by God to Moses,” the Pharisee continued. “And yet Yeshua, who in one sitting insists every law be followed, countermands his own teaching when he says in that same sitting: ‘You have heard that it was said, “Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.” But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also.’ ”

  Judah had no reply. The contradiction was apparent even to me.

  “So you see,” Andrew said, “his words are not easily understood.”

  “Surely he does not mean this of Rome,” Judah said. “He is misunderstood. And concerning his talk o
f the kingdom, he surely means the restoration of the kingdom of Israel here on earth, not merely in spirit or after death.”

  To this no one responded.

  “Why does he not simply state his purpose? When you ask him, what does he say?”

  “That we will not understand yet,” Andrew replied.

  “He is a teacher of the moshel, using teachings of wisdom in the tradition of the Merkabah,” the Pharisee offered. “You know of the Merkabah?”

  “The desert is full of the whispers of sages. I have heard.”

  “Mystics,” Andrew said.

  “And what is a mystic, as you understand?” Judah asked the Pharisee.

  “One who directly experiences the world of spirit beyond common reason. One who engages through experience that which is mystery.”

  “And this is Yeshua? He comes from the Merkabah?”

  “No, no. I only say that he speaks in the manner in which they speak. They are masters of wisdom who challenge all with teachings meant to confound the mind, so as to offer a path for the heart to know God beyond the mind. These mystics see with the eyes of the spirit and speak in parables and riddles meant to infuriate a man’s thoughts. They say one is not meant to know the full meaning of their teaching before the mind is unmade and made again.”

  “And yet he is surely more than a mystic,” Judah said.

  The Pharisee swept away any concern with his hand. “This is only a word. There are those among the Greek who speak in the gnostic way. They say that salvation comes through secret knowledge and that the flesh is evil. They too are mystics, but Yeshua defies their teachings.”

  “The gnostic way?” Judah said. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  “I only say this because you ask what a mystic is,” the Pharisee said. “The gnostic way is also mystic, and yet Yeshua seems to say that man will find salvation through faith, not through knowledge. And he makes no attempt to shun the flesh, but rather eats with prostitutes and sinners. He loves what is human.”

  “And yet you call him a mystic.”

  “A new kind, then. His authority cannot be denied. He speaks Gevurah—from the mouth of Spirit. All the teachers of the Law in Jerusalem recognize it, but they say it must come from Beelzebul, not God, for it defies the Law given by Moses.”