Chapter
Seven
THE friendship between Martha and Andrew began when they were much younger.
How strange the pathways of God, Martha thought as she remembered how her family traveled from Bethany to the distant seaport of Capernaum and had unexpectedly become acquainted with Andrew and Simon.
Even stranger was her meeting up with Andrew after several years of silence, for they seemed to pick up the friendship exactly where they had left it.
When she was just a little girl, Martha recalled, the trip to Capernaum was an exciting, adventuresome one, at least to her thinking. From Bethany they traveled by vast camel caravan northward, the way of the mountain, through the despised country of Samaria, and finally to Capernaum, which was located on the northern edge of the Sea of Galilee.
It was a place of breathtaking beauty. Martha never stopped marveling at the glittering sea shaped like a harp. The lake itself looked like some of the rare jewelry pieces from her father's shop — a bright opal surrounded by precious green emeralds. Everything at the sea of Galilee overflowed with a flood of sunshine. The natural perfume of the balmy air and the turtledoves of the surrounding hills and valleys breathed together in an exquisite tribute to Jehovah's creativity.
Once, when Mary was taking in all the beauty, she said, "Mother must have been exactly like this place — serene, yet alive and beautiful!" Martha savored the observation each time they visited the enchanting sea.
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The noisy seaport of Capernaum was one of the largest towns that circled the lake.
It bustled in a maze of activity, not only because of its large fishing colony, but also because it was a frontier town for the great crossroads from Egypt to Damascus and from Acre to the Far East.
Merchants, including Martha's father, came from distant cities to avail themselves of the rich supply of goods. They filled Capernaum with their clamorous bargaining. Their presence made it an important commercial town, just as hundreds of fishermen made it a flourishing fishing port.
Over the years, many lovely cashmeres, silks, and tapestries had been purchased here by Josiah, and his shop in Jerusalem had earned its reputation for exquisite and unique merchandise because of his buying trips to Capernaum.
However, it was not for commercial reasons that Martha, Mary, and Lazarus made the long, arduous journey.
Josiah had loved Rachel so much, he decided soon after her death that the best way to keep her memory alive was to take Martha, Mary, and even ailing Lazarus to the place of their mother's birth. So they made the pilgrimage to Capernaum once a year or as often a Josiah could arrange the time away from his shop.
Martha and Mary always stood the rather exhausting trip better than their brother. However, once they got to their destination, viewed the shimmering blue Sea of Galilee, and were joyously received by their kinsfolk, everyone forgot the difficult trip. Even Lazarus's color returned to his cheeks, and if he tired or felt ill, it was of little consequence. Nothing, it seemed, spoiled their joy.
The children especially loved their mother's exuberant sister, Miriam. Her quick laugh, together with her dark, dancing eyes, made her a delight to be around, and she lovingly fed the hungering needs of Martha and Mary with her warm, woman-to-woman talks. Privately, Josiah encouraged Miriam to spend as much time with them as she could. He never told her how his own heart fluttered and beat erratically each time he saw so much of Rachel's reflection in her.
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Twice Miriam had miscarried, but instead of becoming hardened and embittered about her barrenness, she opened her heart to everyone else's children. It was natural then that her love for Rachel's three could not be contained; so it spilled out of her as a many splendored waterfall. It was also no wonder that they loved her in return.
Miriam's fisherman husband, their Uncle Judah, was cut from a different cloth, but once the children discovered the warm, giving heart he concealed by a stern countenance and a deep voice, they fell to loving him as well.
While Mary was busily learning some new embroidery stitch from Aunt Miriam and Lazarus was over at the synagogue listening to Capernaum's rabbi, Martha was usually down on the beach busily being Judah's shadow. Doggedly she followed him, helped with the nets occasionally, and once or twice actually sailed with him.
During one visit, when Martha had been about twelve years of age, she begged, pleaded, and cajoled her uncle to take her with him in his large fishing boat. Finally he gave in.
"Enough of this pleading, child! I do have a small bit of business with Jonas who fishes out of Bethsaida. So, instead of walking over there, we will go by boat. Will that suffice you?" He playfully tapped the top of her head.
Even though Martha knew the trip would be very short, since Bethsaida was the neighboring town just east of Capernaum, she fairly shouted, "Oh, yes, Uncle Judah, that would be very good!" Then in case he changed his mind about sailing with a girl, she gathered up her skirt and waded out into the water toward the boat as fast as she could go.
There were large colonies of fishermen all along the edge of the great sea, and on that particular sunny, cloudless day as they sailed to Bethsaida, Martha breathed in the fresh, damp sea air, let the sun wash her face with warmth, and listened attentively to all the calling and friendly greetings shouted back and forth between Judah and the men in the passing boats.
It was also on that day, after they arrived at Bethsaida, that Martha first saw and met Jonas and his two young sons.
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It was not that she would have missed them — what with her uncle pointing them out as he admonished, "Mark my words, Martha child, those sons of Jonas will be the best fishermen in all of this great sea one day. They, like their father, are shrewd about the fickle ways of the water, and they have a God-given natural talent for knowing where the fish spend their mornings."
Judah threw a rope to one of the boys, and the young man deftly caught it, pulled it in, and beached the boat on the hard, white sand.
Clearly, when her uncle was with his fishing friends, he was transformed from the quiet, almost grave man she knew to an outspoken man in familiar territory. Martha watched him in amazement.
Between gaily shouted greetings and humorous remarks with other fishermen, Judah said to Jonas and his sons, "This is one of Miriam's kinsfolk from the south, and her name is Martha."
Noting that she was a girl, the taller of the two sons teased, "Does she sail well, Judah?"
"Well, considering it took us many long days on this voyage, yes, I'd say she sails surprisingly well," he winked at the boys as he exaggerated their trip.
Then to Martha he said good-naturedly, "This is Simon, the oldest. Do not mind his flapping mouth. Simon is like this sea," Judah said pointing toward the rippling water, "with a capricious temperament all his own."
She was clutching up her skirts when Simon rather awkwardly helped her from the boat. More accurately, he jerked her out, but Martha was impressed by his strength. He was very tall, rawboned, and trim. He was bare from the waist up, and she could see the muscles under the skin of his wet arms and shoulders rippling in the glistening sunlight.
She understood her uncle's admiration for the boys, because even though she was just meeting them, she could clearly see Simon's physical strength, and she liked the way he took charge of things.
"... and this is Simon's brother, Andrew," Judah was saying.
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Martha turned and looked up directly into the second boy's brown eyes. He smiled, and so did she, but neither of them said anything.
Martha liked him better than his brother, though she could not tell why.
Andrew was not quite as tall as Simon but built as slim and with the same powerful chest and arms. Both boys had a head of hair a few shades darker red than Mary's, and while neither of them could be considered handsome, Martha had to admit they were striking and bore watching.
Toward the end of their visits to Capernaum, before their father's death, Martha, Mary and Lazarus all enjoyed and deepened their friendship with Andrew and Simon. Martha never warmed completely to Simon's teasing and "flapping mouth," and during the first summer she grew to know him, she learned to move out of his way quickly when things went wrong. His temper was instantaneous and the heated oaths he bellowed were known to scorch people's ears. "Simon's voice can be ear rending!" Martha had warned Mary.
But his dedication to fishing was obvious, and because of his skill, he drew the admiration of the other fishermen. Simon, she agreed with her Uncle Judah, was a young man to reckon with, even if he was not to her liking.
With Andrew it was a different story. At first he said almost nothing directly to Martha, but later they slipped into a quiet, casual relationship, for they found they could be friends with just a few words spoken between them. It was Andrew who recognized Martha's skilled and agile fingers one day as he watched her at Miriam's weaving loom. So, without much talk between them, he set about to teach her the fisherman's ancient art of mending torn nets. She proved an apt pupil and became almost as fast as he was. Their unique friendship solidified near the nets and the barrels of salted fish on the warm, sunny edge of the sea.
The family stopped going to Capernaum after the deaths of their father and Martha's husband, Benjamin, and except for news passed from one caravan to another, Martha lost track of Jonas's sons of Bethsaida.
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She was stunned one day to learn from a trader that Andrew, from all reports, had left Bethsaida and had gone off to follow the strange, new prophet named John. For no particular reason, she wondered if Andrew had married and then answered her own question by remembering he was a good Jew, even devout, and so naturally he would have taken a wife by now.
But Andrew was so good at fishing and preserving the fish with salt that Martha could not imagine him away from his boats, nets, and his beloved sea. Yet, apparently the wild man from the desert had been most impressive.
Then three winters ago, while she was sitting at her loom weaving some flax into linen cloth, Mary had burst in the room saying, "Come look who is at our front gate, Martha. You'll not believe it!" and without saying anything else Mary turned and flew out the doorway like a darting sparrow.
Martha got up quickly and almost knocked over her loom. Running closely after Mary, both women reached the gate and heard the man quietly ask, "May I come in, old friends?"
"Andrew! Is it really you?" Martha asked, shading her eyes from the sunlight and searching his face intently.
"Yes, Martha, it is I. Now, may I come in?"
"Oh, forgive me," Martha cried, and hurriedly she and Mary pulled open the gate. They went inside amid the confusion of them asking questions of him.
"Wait!" shouted Martha, holding her hand up to get their attention. "Let's get down here, and after we have eaten something and you have caught your breath, then we can all calmly ask questions, and you can answer."
She looked up at Andrew, and then stepped over closer to him for a better look.
"You must be weary, and you've probably not eaten today." He nodded, and they knew what she had said was true.
However, barely after they started to eat dinner, they could hold their questions no longer; so Lazarus began. He asked of Andrew's father, Jonas.
"He is dead," Andrew answered simply.
"So is ours," echoed back Lazarus. The room grew momentarily hushed.
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"What of Simon?" asked Mary, hoping the conversation would lighten.
"Ah, that is why I've come. I want to tell you about Simon." He hesitated ever so slightly, and Mary looked intently across the table to read his face better.
"Well, what I want to know," interrupted Martha as she rushed in with a forgotten tray of dried figs, "is not about Simon. I want to know about the rumor we heard of your running off with a prophet! Surely this is not true!"
"Dear outspoken Martha," said Andrew, chuckling softly. "I am not with John now," he said.
"Ah," said Martha knowingly. "When I heard you had gone with him, I knew it would not be for long. You are too good a fisherman to leave your work." Rushing on, she confidently continued. "Then, too, the sons of Jonas have built quite a name for themselves in the fishing colony up there, and I just knew you couldn't leave it forever," she finished, proud of her accuracy.
"That's just it, though. It's what I want to tell you all. I have left my fishing; so has Simon. We do not fish for fish anymore...." He stopped talking to let the words sink in.
Then he continued. "My leaving the fishing nets is only one of a great many changes I have experienced recently." His voice grew husky, and for a moment he cleared his throat noisily.
"Even the man I followed is gone. John the Baptist was arrested by Herod Antipas, imprisoned in the underground vaults, and ...." Andrew bowed his head until he was able to go on. "He died a hideous death, one I cannot yet speak of...."
Down went his head, so they would not view the depths of his anguish.
They sat stiff and silent around the table until Mary roused herself and, leaning over, touched Andrew's arm, saying, "Tell us then, Andrew, from the beginning, so we may understand."
"I would like to very much." Andrew's voice softened and filled with a comfortable love. "But I am not sure you will understand. Some of this I do not understand myself, but the old bonds of friendship run deep between us, so I know at least you will listen. I pray you will see what I'm doing is what I must."
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"Proceed, please," Martha urged.
"I hesitate to begin it, because when I left Bethsaida to follow John, it seemed such an accidental thing. Yet what it led to was not a chance happening or a whim of fate.
"Everyone in Bethsaida and Capernaum talked about the teachings and prophesying of this man called John. When I found he was preaching down by the city of Magdala, I thought I'd go and see the man for myself.
"So another fisherman, John, the son of Zebedee, and I went to see this man they called John the Baptist."
"We have heard of him, too," put in Mary, "and he sounded so strange... living in the desert....
"Eating locusts and wild honey. Is that true, Andrew?" Martha, always concerned with what to serve for dinner, needed to know.
"Yes, it is true. But when I saw him for myself, I cannot tell you how deeply he stirred my soul."
"Was he not wild then?" Martha asked, but Lazarus's glance silenced her.
Andrew continued. "He was like no man we have ever seen — bursting with rugged health, strong, and intense of vision. He was impetuous and full of fire. I thought of him as a young Elijah, ready to penetrate the people's hearts and minds with his incredible message. Why he was put to death and by what evil intentions burns in my soul even now."
Martha marveled at Andrew's way with words. Whatever this prophet John had done, at least he had loosened Andrew's tongue, and his words streamed eloquently on. She listened intently now.
"The prophet had a special kind of grace about him. You could see it in his humility and his holylike courage. His self-denial and abstinence were so great, many people thought him possessed and said, 'He had a devil in him.' But my friend John and I wanted to know him better."
"You did not think him, at least, strange?" questioned Lazarus gently.
"At first we did, but then we listened to his words. I confess, when he prophesied about the man who was to come, we believed him.
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It did not matter that John looked strange or lived in a way different from mine. We both felt the man spoke the truth and spoke it as no other man ever had."
Eventually the lamps were lit, and they eagerly lingered around the table listening to Andrew as he told of how John and he had left their fishing to go off with John the Baptist to be his followers.
"I intended to return to fishing after a few weeks or months of serving with the prophet, but somehow, as the work grew, I continued on."
"We, in Bethany, heard that this John the Baptist predicted the Messiah's return. Is this what you believe?" Martha asked, her mind spinning with thoughts, trying to recall her religious classes with Lazarus and the rabbi.
"Yes, and I especially believed the prophet one day in the other village of Bethany, you know, the one across the Jordan River?" They nodded their heads in accord.
"Well," Andrew leaned forward as he spoke, "I believed it because as John was baptizing some people in the river, he suddenly stopped and pointed to a man who was walking down the hill through the trees toward the riverbank.
"John seemed to be transfixed in the water. Then, as he pointed to the man, he cried out, 'Behold the Lamb of God!' He proceeded to tell everyone this man would take away the sins of the world. His voice was blazing with the fire of knowledge and authority.
"I was standing close to the water's edge when the man waded into the water right in front of me. For a moment he looked at me, and I stood face to face with the man they call Jesus the Nazarene.
"Then John baptized him."
"Did you speak to this Jesus?" Mary asked intently.
"No, not then, for my courage failed me. But the next day while my friend John, Zebedee's son, and I were talking with John the Baptist, Jesus walked through the small group of people gathered to hear the prophet, and the same thing happened.
"John turned and again, in a loud voice, declared, 'There is
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the Lamb of God' as he pointed to Jesus.
"I cannot explain it," continued Andrew, shaking his head, as if to clear it, "but at that moment both John and I knew we would leave John the Baptist and become Jesus' followers instead.
"We watched Jesus walk away after John had pointed him out again, and while we did not know where he was going, we pursued him anyway.
"Jesus must have known we were behind him, because presently he turned and asked quietly but directly what we wanted.
"Neither of us knew precisely, and we were both timid in his awesome presence. But we wanted to be with him; so we asked where he was staying. He bid us come, and we went with him. For several hours we just sat listening."
"Whose house was he staying in?" Martha questioned.
"No one's," he answered. "It was just a temporary booth, like the common people put up, with sides made of woven green branches of terebinth and palm and the top covered with a striped cloth. But to us, because he was there, it seemed the perfect place to be.
"I tell you," here Andrew leaned toward them, his eyes blazing with a fiery dedication, "before John and I closed our eyes that night, we felt in our innermost hearts, because of what we had heard that afternoon, that the Kingdom of Heaven had come. We felt we had been in the presence of him who was a priest greater than Aaron, a prophet greater than Moses, and a king greater than David!"
"Andrew," Martha's voice exclaimed, "from our childhood I remember you as reticent to utter three words together at one time; yet here you are speaking to us as we have rarely heard anyone speak. You are so changed!" Martha's words summed up Lazarus's and Mary's thoughts completely.
"I am unaware of my speech changes, Martha," Andrew said as he smiled broadly. "But you are right about my changing. I am changed, and it all happened once I'd seen the Nazarene.
"In fact, John and I were both so changed by Jesus that the very next day, at John the Baptist's urging, we decided to leave
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the Baptist and learn everything we could from Jesus.
"We left the Jordan River and returned to Bethsaida to tell Simon and our kinsfolk of our decisions. I was bursting to tell Simon that we had found the promised Messiah!"
"Then, you believe this Jesus might indeed be the long-awaited King?" Lazarus asked, his voice cracking with astonishment.
"No, not might be — is the King!" Andrew thundered.
Martha spoke. "Ah, I would imagine, knowing Simon, that he would have none of your story."
That's exactly right, Martha. There I was, full of the enthusiasm of a zealot since I had just been face to face with the true, living Messiah, and Simon, who had been into the wine-skins a little too much, just yelled, 'Get into the boat. We've got a lot of fishing to make up because of your religious wandering.' "
"With Simon's tongue, I'm sure he said a lot more than that," muttered Martha, just under her breath.
"Andrew, please continue," Mary said, dismissing Martha's quip.
"Well, there was nothing I could do but go with my brother Simon to the boats. He is persuasive, that one. All the time we sat in the boat mending the nets, I told him about the prophet John, the baptizing at the Jordan, and my time with Jesus, but Simon just worked fast and furiously on the nets. He called me a madman, among other things.
"Then, while we were still mending the nets, arguing and shouting at one another, someone called out to us. We both looked up, and to my surprise I recognized Jesus. He cupped his hand to his mouth and called out, 'Come along with me, and I will show you how to fish for the souls of men!" Simon stared at Jesus and his great mouth dropped open and stayed that way.
"Jesus' voice was sure and strong. It had an almost musical quality to it, but clearly it was a commanding clarion call. Yet it was warm with joy. Even now shivers run down my back with just the remembering!
"What struck me the most about Jesus' voice was the certain sound of hope. Oh, how good it rang in my ears and in the depths
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of my soul. It was a sound I've longed to hear all my life. Think of it — hope in these ugly times."
Andrew grew distant for a moment, and with the memory his face softened in the lamplight.
Then he picked up his story, "All the fishermen in the boats that day and the children playing on the shore heard the call of Jesus. Yet, it was almost funny, for it was my brother Simon, who, without my identifying Jesus, dropped his nets as if they were a handful of poisonous snakes and immediately leaped over the boat's edge. He landed in the water, waded to shore, and ran over to Jesus without a question.
"I had to run to catch up with him. I could see Jesus laughing and shaking his head at Simon's impetuousness. But when we finally stood before him, Jesus' eyes and face sobered, and he looked deep into our souls with his royal gaze. I felt he read, intuitively, our innermost thoughts. Then he looked intently at Simon. It was as if, in just a glance, he could see the man before him as a fisherman, good at his trade but with certain flaws and weaknesses; yet he seemed to see something in Simon we had never seen. Jesus and Simon stared at each other, their eyes locked together in an intense soul-searching confrontation. When he finally spoke, Jesus said with great authority, 'You are Simon, Jonas's son, but from now on you shall be called Peter, the rock.' Simon, though he was a head taller than Jesus, seemed to shrink in size under Jesus' quiet pronouncement.
"We left our boats, our nets, our families, and our livelihood. We cut them out as quickly as if we were cleaning a fish with a sharp knife.
"I had never done anything so extraordinary or so decisive before. For some time after, I found it hard to draw my breath, and my heart pounded within me at what we had done!"
Then Lazarus asked, "You have left a wife and perhaps sons and daughters?" No one noticed that Martha's shoulders straightened or that she ever so slightly leaned forward.
"No, I have not married." Martha's mouth relaxed, and a tiny smile appeared.
"Peter is married, and our leaving created quite a furor. He said he would be back, but Anna, his wife, and Sarah, his
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mother-in-law, wagered that he'd never return. There was bad blood between them, and I left Capernaum relieved that I had not yet found a helpmate."
"Still, you picked up and left everything?" asked Lazarus.
"Yes, my friend, because then, as now, I believed John the Baptist's testimony and his prophetic words, and I believe Jesus, the man, himself. I could do nothing but give myself to him.
"What else happened the day you left your nets?" Mary was eager to hear all.
Andrew turned to her. "Let's see," he said, rubbing his eyes. "We walked up the beach a little farther, and though the shores were crowded with men, children, boats, and fishing tools, Jesus went directly to the boats of Zebedee. The old man oversees all the exporting of salt-packed fish, and he and his sons are very wealthy because of their trade skills. Zebedee's two sons were repairing some wooden kegs when Jesus came toward them and greeted John whom he had met when we were with John the Baptist. Then he looked at the other son, James, and said quite simply, 'James and John, follow me.'
"I thought old Zebedee's eyes would burst and fall out of his head, because both his sons turned from Jesus and, facing their father, thanked him courteously for their home and their loving memories. Then they embraced him warmly and said their farewells, leaving Zebedee wild-eyed and ranting with angry questions about who would run their exporting business."
"Zebedee is the most successful fisherman in all Galilee, and his success is due in part to his skilled sons. You mean they climbed out of the boat, just like that?" Martha was incredulous; her face a mask of questioning frowns.
"Yes, just like the rest of us," Andrew answered.
"How many more are there of 'you'?" Lazarus wanted to know.
"Besides Peter and myself, there're Zebedee's sons, James and John; another fisherman, Philip; and his friend, Nathanael. But not all have left their nets. One was a tax collector, another was a revolutionary, and there are several more."
"Andrew!" Martha's astounded shout split the air. "You
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mean you are with a group of men, disciples if you please, and one of them is a tax collector?"
Andrew cleared his throat. "I said he was a tax collector. His name is now Matthew, but you may remember him as Levi."
"Not Levi, the tax collector from Capernaum?"
"Yes, the same," Andrew answered matter-of-factly.
"But," now Martha was sputtering, "but he is the worst tax scoundrel anywhere. You know he worked hand in glove with the Romans. I remember my father's hatred for him, and he spoke of Levi as a traitor!" Rushing on, she continued, "Then there's the tax collectors' greedy practice of squeezing out a profit for themselves over and above what the Romans demand. Levi, more than all his evil henchmen, sucked the blood of decent hardworking people. Moreover," and now her words were scalding, but her voice was low and filled with contemptuous scorn, "he collects taxes from prostitutes, and I'm sure he and other collectors take their money out in trade.
"They are not decent men but unclean and to be with one, much less Levi or Matthew or whatever he is called now, renders you unclean!"
"Martha," Andrew said wearily, "I told you he was a tax collector. He is not one now. Matthew has left his collection boxes, his hoard of silver shekels and even his two slaves who protected him. He is a disciple of Jesus now, as I am. He has put his old life behind him."
"Like you left fishing?" Mary understood.
"Yes. Like I left fishing," he nodded.
Then, as if Martha should know the rest as well, he said to her, "There's more. We even ate in Levi's house. Jesus, Peter, James, John, and I. Present also were men of dubious, possibly criminal, professions, and women of obvious ill repute."
Martha gasped and then glared at him. Mary sat in total silence, not daring to believe what she heard.
Finally Martha collected herself to ask, "Whose idea was it ... to eat with him?"
"Jesus'." Andrew got up from the couch and table and slowly paced the room. "You see, Jesus has come to redeem us, to gather his chosen people."
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Martha could sense his desperate sincerity; so she made a willful effort to understand.
Andrew continued, "I know it is hard to grasp, but Jesus has come for sinners, obnoxious publicans, Samaritans, and possibly even the Romans."
The two sisters pulled back in genuine horror; so he said, "It's true. Once Jesus said, 'If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.' He did not say only 'devout, pious Jews' but clearly told us any person could follow him.
"Martha," and now Andrew sat down across the table from her, "Jesus has even taught us that the saying 'Love your friends and hate your enemies' is wrong. He told us to love our enemies and to do good to anyone who hates us."
"Even tax men and Romans?" queried Lazarus.
"Yes, we are to pray for those who despitefully use us and especially those who persecute us."
"It is a hard lesson to learn, and most of us will be unteachable." Martha spoke harshly.
"I agree, my friend," Andrew said patting Martha's arm in a tender gesture, "but even so, I believe Jesus of Nazareth, the carpenter's son, is the one foretold by past and present prophets to be our Deliverer.
"I admit he and his teachings puzzle me, but over and over again my heart confirms deep inside of me that he is who he says he is."
Andrew's voice grew tight with excitement as he talked on. "I tell you, this Jesus, this humble man, is the true Messiah, the Saviour of the world. I am not merely a follower, but a student — no, a disciple — and I am to be part of his kingdom."
"His kingdom?" they chorused together.
"He is setting up his kingdom?" Mary asked.
"If he is setting up a kingdom in Jerusalem, or any place in all of Judea, he will need several legions of armed men to overthrow the Romans!" said Martha, her mind functioning in its usual, practical manner.
"How many disciples like you are there in all, Andrew?" Martha pressed.
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He answered quietly. "Only twelve, but while I know it does not sound like much, I know we will add to our numbers soon. Why, even now, there are growing numbers of believers, and each day the Master's miracles and fame increase."
"But to set up a kingdom...," Martha's voice trailed off. Then she said matter-of-factly, "From what you told us, Andrew, about this Jesus, if he truly is the awaited Messiah, he will have to do a very thorough job of organizing his plans and recruiting men for his kingdom and cause, or the Romans will crush him and put an end to him before he even gets started. In fact, if he keeps doing things, like eating with men and women of unsavory reputations, he will get into all kinds of trouble. He sounds to me like a man who continually does things he's not supposed to do and says things he's not supposed to say."
All but Andrew nodded their heads in agreement.
From twilight to darkest night and on into the early hours of the dawn, they carried their strange conversation, but for Josiah Ben Jochanan's son and two daughters, the stories of Jesus were to forever alter their lives.
Only a few days later Andrew appeared at their gate again, and Martha, ever hospitable, bid him to come inside.
"No, my dear Martha, not right now, for I must hurry back to the others, but I want you to meet Jesus for yourself.
"He is teaching in the temple. Could I impose on you for the evening meal and tonight's lodging?" Andrew asked. Martha, afraid of offending Andrew, had hesitated only momentarily before answering yes.
The request was only for one evening's meal and one night's lodging, but in the years that followed, the one meal stretched into many, and the one night's lodging became an accepted routine procedure.
Up until the time she met Jesus, she had never quite known what to do with her magnificent house on the hill, but at their first meeting she not only abandoned her preconceived notions about him but caught an extraordinary vision of what her home could do for him.
From the first moment she saw Jesus standing at her front gate with Andrew and the others, she secretly dedicated her house as
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a place for teaching, resting, and certainly providing food and refreshment for him. It was exactly as Simon had simply climbed out of the boat, leaving his former life behind to follow Jesus. Her decision was impulsive, made without too much thought, but something greater than herself impelled her, and she knew she would make her house — his house.
Martha scrutinized Jesus with a careful eye and marveled as she came towards him that he was dressed in the common, ordinary way of men.
To protect himself from the searing heat of the sun, he wore the simple white kaffiyeh covering his hair. It was fastened in the usual way by an agal around the top of his head.
She warmed to Jesus' humility when she saw he did not wear the white ephod of the Levite or the rich sweeping robes of the scribes, but the long simple blue tallith. It covered his entire person and showed only occasional glimpses of the coarse woolen tunic of striped design and waist girdle underneath.
Nor did he wear on his arm and forehead the tefillin which the Pharisees made so broad. In fact, even the blue ribbon and fringe at the hem of his tallith, which the law required, was not wide or paraded about to show prideful religious obedience. It simply ran the hem of his garment like the fine, discreet line of understated royalty.
Even his leather sandals are like everyone's else's, Martha thought, as Jesus came through the entrance gates.
It flashed though her mind that his simple garments did not disguise him. Definitely, Jesus was a king.
As if to confirm her feelings, she watched him and realized Jesus' walk verified his majesty, for he moved, not with a self-appointed haughtiness, but with a natural nobleness and with a distinct touch of grace.
Over the seasons and the years, Martha had tried to describe his facial features, but each attempt ended futilely. No one, it seemed, could draw the same picture. He was to everyone, a different countenance.
It was finally John who gave the most accurate portrait of his face when he said, years later, "... the Word became man and lived for a time among us, and we viewed His glory."
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The night of the dinner party when she had shouted Mary's name, heard Jesus' puzzling comments, and spilled barley soup all over Andrew, Martha had been more tired that she admitted,
As she rushed ahead of Andrew to fetch a clean tunic, she muttered to herself about her habit of overworking herself beyond her limits. It does so impair my judgment, she scolded herself.
Andrew's long-legged strides kept up with her hurried trot, but when they reached the cooking area, he grabbed her arm and said, "In the name of hospitality and my good health, wait, Martha, wait!"
"Oh, Andrew, I try so hard, and yet I seem to have no wisdom at all. At least I do not seem to understand the Master sometimes. He speaks in riddles and stories always." She rummaged through a large cupboard for a clean tunic.
"I'm sorry I blurted out Mary's name and asked Jesus to tell her to help me, but it does no good at all if I ask her."
She found the right robe and handed it to Andrew. He caught her hand with the robe, held it steady, and said, "I know, Martha, and I do understand."
She quieted under his gaze and softly, as she looked up at Andrew, she questioned, "Is he displeased with me for doing the thing I do best — serving? It is the only thing I can give to him. Is it wrong to serve, or to need help and seek Mary to share the work load? Oh, I wish I knew."
"Dear Martha, Jesus was not reproving you. At least, if it were a reproof, it was the gentlest, most tender one I've ever heard. No, nor was he scolding you. I feel his words did not demean the work you undertook in his behalf; only he wanted you to put down your anxious spirit of fretting and fussing."
"But, Andrew, we cannot all take our leave of work. Who would feed all those men out there? And how could we all sit in composure at his feet like Mary?"
"Martha, when have you ever sat at his feet?"
Andrew's words stunned her mind as if she had just stepped into the cold, icy stream of water in the creek bed in the uplands.
"I, I have never taken the time. There always seems to be so much to do," she stammered.
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She was rubbing her eyes when she heard, "That is the essence of what I meant, Martha." She whirled around to look directly into the face of Jesus.
His physical presence in the cooking area astounded her. She stared at him as he continued.
He was smiling and seemed completely at ease among the trays of food, baskets, and cooking ware. When Jesus spoke, Martha was captured by the soothing, gracious warmth of his words. "Martha, you have always served me and many others with an eager openheartedness. Never have you failed anyone in doing things, but you have lost your fine sense of priorities. You've become overtired, fretful; so much so that serving and doing have consumed you and taken their toll of you."
He took her chin in his hands, and the small gentle act bid Martha's tears to fill her eyes.
"Martha, Martha," he said as Andrew stood watching, "I want to see a balance between doing and being in your life. You need to learn when it is time to stop your industrious serving and quiet yourself for listening and storing food for your soul. Did you know that the soul must be fed its supper too?"
As he stood before her, Martha's mind was filled with the portion of a psalm she learned so long ago. The words splashed across her soul like the first refreshing rain of spring:
Be still, and know that I am God.
I am exalted among the nations,
I am exalted in the earth!
Ah, Martha said to herself, being still is what Mary chose. The "being" is the better part of "doing." How could I have been so caught up in the serving — the doing? she puzzled.
"Master," she said, "I shall not forget this moment."
"Nor I," he said simply.
Then after he had looked at her for a moment more, he took one finger and carefully wiped away the streams of tears on her cheeks.
There and then, amid the earthy smells of leeks, garlic, and crusty roasted lamb, both Martha and Andrew felt the holy
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majesty of his presence as it slowly filled the room with its fragrance of unlimited love and awesome beauty. They grew silent with the wonder of it all. They were so overcome with his splendor that they were never able to speak of the moment thereafter. online books christian books
