A.D. 33 (13 page)

WORD THAT Yeshua was coming to Bethany had filtered through the village—the air was filled with great expectancy. But nowhere more so than in Martha's house, where Mary and I joined her in preparing food, while Saba spoke in quiet tones with Stephen, Lazarus, Simon, and Arim.

They spoke of the kingdom; they spoke of the wonders of Yeshua. Of the time he'd healed a deeply fractured man with many demons, who went by the name Legion. Yeshua had cast these demons into a herd of swine, and the man immediately found a sane mind.

I listened, and my mind was on Yeshua. If he could save such a broken mind, Yeshua could surely protect Talya.

They spoke of death and of resurrection. Lazarus declared that Saba, who had no religion, could accept the mysteries more easily than those steeped in religious tradition. What he'd experienced while being dead and then coming back to life defied all common reason. In this, he knew what Yeshua meant by his repeated use of children as an example for all who want to enter his kingdom.

“He speaks of being born yet again,” Lazarus said in a gentle voice. “Of the Father revealing himself to infants and hiding himself from minds of reason. ‘The kingdom of God belongs to such as these,' he says of the babes when they are brought to him.” He glanced at me, a mother. “And ‘anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.'”

“You experienced this rebirth, upon waking?” Saba asked. “As an infant?”

“I can only say that nothing looks the same to me now,” Lazarus said. “There are no words for it. All that I saw before has grown strangely dim.” His eyes twinkled. “I feel as though I am just now alive. As though reborn into the light.”

“You see, Saba?” Stephen said, smiling. “Reborn, like infants. Are you then an infant?”

Saba only stared. He knew of this teaching but was now knowing it again with Stephen and Lazarus. My tower was indeed like a small child among them, I thought. And I loved him for it.

They spoke of many other wonders and healings and casting out of devils. There was surely no end to the power Yeshua had shown all through the villages and towns.

But his teachings had become too hard for many to follow, and so many had abandoned him. “They wanted to see the wonders, but they could not follow this narrow way, which defies all common sense,” Stephen said.

The old man Simon lifted his finger to make a rare point. “But this too has changed. Hearing of Lazarus, many are returning. All of Bethany saw him dead and buried. All knew that he was in the tomb for four days. And now all see him alive.” He chuckled, baring what few teeth he still had. “Word has spread like a fire through the field. Every street in Jerusalem whispers of this news.”

After the sun set, under Martha's continuous direction, we took baskets filled with warm loaves of flatbread along with dates and honey and wine to Simon's home. Two other women arrived with portions of a small lamb they'd slaughtered, and together we laid out a humble feast.

“Put the fruit back on the small table,” Martha said to Mary. “This table is too cluttered.” To me: “Maviah, dear, did you sweep the floor?” I had done so twice. She even lorded over the men so familiar to her. “Must you leave your cloak on the chair, Lazarus? You would make this house a barn?”

None of us minded. This was her way of honoring Yeshua.

Simon's house was larger than he could have possibly purchased or inherited. It had been offered to him by a wealthy man in Jerusalem named Zacharias, whose sister had been healed of leprosy a year earlier.

The dinner was to be a small gathering in Yeshua's honor. The lamps were lit; the long table set just so, fit for a humble king; ten of us were gathered. There was room only for ten around the table, and these seats were reserved for Yeshua and the disciples who had traveled. The rest of us would recline on couches set along the walls.

All was prepared.

The time grew late, but still they had not come.

“Are you certain he said tonight, Simon?” Martha asked.

“Tonight,” the old man said, grinning. “You will see.”

“Not tomorrow but tonight—you are sure this is what Bartholomew said?”

“I am old, but not deaf. Tonight.”

“You are absolutely positive, Simon?” Stephen said, standing in the corner.

“They will be here!” Simon croaked. “Do you think my mind is gone?”

Arim was at the window, peering out. “Perhaps he has fallen into the hands of the enemy.” He turned back. “I would help Stephen search the path for him.”

“Don't say such things,” Mary said, hurrying toward the door. “You must not even think—”

A knock on the door stopped her. She gasped. And with that gasp we all went perfectly still.

“He's here!” Martha whispered. Then she was moving, rearranging food that was already perfectly set, smoothing her dress.

I was standing beside a bench in one corner as Simon hurried to the door, pulled it open, and stepped back.

The first in was Peter, whom I recognized immediately, though he'd lost some weight. Then Levi, at whose home I had first met Yeshua. Then John and James and one named Judas—all whom I'd seen in Bethsaida. Did they remember me?

They poured in, seven of them, the famed disciples chosen by Yeshua to be his inner circle. These remained with him night and day. Only five were not present.

But Yeshua did not enter. He was not among them. My palms were clammy and my heart raced.

Grinning wide, Simon stepped outside. I heard words too soft to be understood. The door remained empty, and beyond it only darkness.

But then that darkness was gone, replaced by the frame of a cloaked man who wore a mantle over his head. He took two steps into the house and stopped.

Yeshua.

Only my knowledge of him made his entrance so grand. To those who didn't know him, his arrival might have been nothing more than the arrival of a shepherd after a long day in the fields. But I did know him. And I could not move.

I could hardly breathe.

I did not see his eyes at first, because the blue-and-white mantle hid all but his gentle, bearded smile from my vantage. His cloak was dusty and his sandals worn thin. In his right hand, a walking staff.

He scanned the room slowly, taking in each face as Simon pushed the door closed behind him. When his light-brown eyes met mine, they lingered for just a moment.

But that moment felt like an eternity to me. He was seeing into me. Through me. Holding me in a gaze of deep understanding. For two years I had served him in ways that only Saba and I could know, and yet he seemed to know every breath I'd taken in that desert already.

Eyes still on my own, he dipped his head ever so slightly. A simple acknowledgment by any standard. Yet in my mind, he might as well have washed my feet—this was the power of acceptance and honor that extended from him. I wanted to weep with gratitude.

Yeshua reached up and pulled his mantle from his hair. The old man Simon stood behind him, beaming with pride. Lazarus stepped forward and clasped his arms.

“You came.”

“Have I not always come to you, my brother?”

“Always,” Lazarus said.

“I see that Martha has been busy.” Yeshua stepped past Lazarus and warmly greeted both Martha and Mary, exchanging soft words I could not make out. Besides his disciples and his own mother, these were Yeshua's closest family.

“Saba…” Yeshua clasped his arms and looked into his eyes. “I see that you have been learning.”

He knew? Saba was caught without words.

“You do so well, my friend. So very well.” His eyes shifted to Arim. “And who is your Bedouin friend?”

“Arim,” the boy replied. With that Arim fell to his knees and gripped Yeshua's hand, head bowed. “I am Maviah's humble protector, who worships her prophet and protects him also from any who would raise the sword. My life is now yours, mighty sheikh.”

Yeshua's brow arched. “Then serve me by serving those who show you the Way,” he said gently.

Arim rose and stepped back, then bowed again. “With the very last drop of my blood.”

Yeshua turned and approached me.

“Maviah…The daughter from the desert comes with a heavy heart.”

My fingers where trembling. It was all he said. And if he had said more, I might not have heard it, so overcome was I.

He went on to greet the others, but my mind was already ruined. I could not understand the waves of emotion washing through me. I had been deeply affected by his presence the first time we had met, two years earlier, but not so overwhelmed as now.

Perhaps because he would save Talya.

They were moving about the room—taking their places at the table, gathering up food, washing their hands in a basin as was customary—but I lingered there in the corner, lost and found at once, wondering when I should tell him about Talya.

I took some bread and settled next to Mary on a couch, but I had no appetite.

His disciples filled me with awe. I wondered what it was like to be the right arm of such a powerful master, to see all they had seen. And yet they were quiet in his company, yielding to his authority.

The last time I'd seen Peter, he seemed far more uncertain than he now appeared. It struck me that after so much time at Yeshua's feet, Peter must now be like a god among men.

Levi too seemed to carry an air of authority about him. As did the others—James and John and Philip. They were comfortable near their master. And yet perhaps they, like Mary, sensed the danger that followed him.

Judas, whom I'd only seen from a distance before, made the case plain in a hushed tone.

“We should not have been traveling so late this close to Jerusalem,” he said to Peter under his breath. “There are too many threats now.”

“We travel when he says we travel, Judas. Do you doubt after so long?”

“Of course not. But it is our place to attend to these matters. Support is coming our way, finally. All the more reason to be careful until we win many more.”

He was a Zealot, I thought. Like Judah.

“You worry too much, Judas,” Peter said. “He will show his power when he's ready, not at our beckoning.”

Judas turned away, clearly unconvinced.

But none of this seemed to concern Yeshua, who was eating and listening to Lazarus's soft voice in his ear. I watched as he tore pieces of bread from a loaf, dipped them in honey, and carefully placed them in his mouth. Then he took a sip of wine from his stone cup.

I watched his strong, gentle hands. They had healed so many with a touch and yet appeared worn and callused, like those of any who lived off the land.

I watched his mouth, from which came words of such power and authority, and yet it was only lips and tongue and teeth, like any human mouth.

I watched his brown eyes, windows into another world full of mystery and love and unfathomable peace. With a single glance, he could surely halt any army. Yet they were just eyes, like any other human's.

There was nothing in his appearance alone that moved me.

It was his presence.

Twice he caught me staring and I felt compelled to glance away, though I saw only acceptance and honor in his gaze.

Like the last time I'd eaten with Yeshua, the conversation was muted, perhaps in respect, perhaps only waiting for Yeshua himself to direct what might be said. This was the way a court might gather around a king of highest honor, though Yeshua's power came from neither wealth nor armies.

Here sat as a humble master in a humble home. One who healed the heart and raised the dead. Aretas of Petra would surely tremble at Yeshua's feet.

Slowly, even the hushed conversation fell off, leaving the room to the sounds of eating and drinking. Even Lazarus fell silent. Yeshua's eyes were now cast down, gazing at his cup of wine, which he slowly turned with his fingers.

I should speak now, I thought. I had lost my sight, and my son was held in chains. I had to save myself to save Talya.

But I couldn't speak. It would be irreverent. I would be speaking out of turn. And yet I must.

“Master…”

His eyes lifted to me, inviting.

“My son, Talya. The Thamud have taken him. I…” Tears blurred my vision. “I'm powerless to save him. I don't know what to do.”

A gentle smile. Then words, like a healing balm.

“Maviah…What a precious daughter you are.”

He held my eyes for a moment, then looked at the others.

“Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Does he not leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home. Then he calls his neighbors and friends together…” His eyes shifted to me. “He calls them together and says, ‘Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.'”

Talya. Meaning little lamb. He was speaking of my son…

With a sob, Mary suddenly rushed forward and fell on her knees before him, weeping, hands wrapped around the pint of nard I had given her.

“Master, I am that lost sheep!” she cried. “I give you my life…all that I am and all that I have. I, the lowest sinner, was made whole by you.”

She opened the bottle of precious perfume and I knew that she meant to anoint him with some of it. But she didn't.

She anointed him with all of it.

Weeping, she poured some on her hand and anointed his head, then poured the rest over his dusty feet and let the bottle fall to the ground.

She began to wipe the nard from his feet using only her hair. “Forgive me…Forgive me…”

Emotion welled in Yeshua's eyes as he watched her.

In that moment, I became Mary. She, the woman who had been crushed by unforgivable shame in the life she'd left behind; I, the slave who had been thrown away by my father, the powerful sheikh.

And Yeshua, our savior from all of the shame this life might heap upon us.