The Lilychild

By Susan Thompson and John Thompson

AD 33 A Jewish rabbi puts his career on the line as he searches for the one who can heal his only child the controversial prophet Jesus!

A 12-year old Susanna rises from the dead and looks directly into the face of Israels promised Messiah.

An uncaring mother, demands that Susanna is to prepare herself for marriage, where we will pick your husband for you. Susannas cry is Doesnt marriage

mean love?

Girlish giggles, religious spies, camel caravans, and a heroic attempt to save a man from crucifixion sums up this story of a father-daughters love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Apr 25, 2011
• ISBN: 9781449713294

Susan Thompson

John and Susan Thompson are ministers who’ve traveled the US, Central and South America, touching lives of children, youth and adults. To “make God’s Word come alive,” is their heart. Their books are intertwined with the real life experiences of family and friends who live all around the world.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

She ran into the house, slamming the door, her dark eyes flashing with anger, the dusty tail of her embroidered cloak flying behind her. Azariah, the chief servant, ran to get the basin of water to wash her feet, but by the time he got to the water jars, she was already in the great room, her sandals leaving a trail of dusty footprints across the marble floor. Looking straight ahead, she stormed up to the loft, where Jairus ben Levi was seated at his desk.

She spoke with a firm voice: Sir, there is absolutely no reason why I should not be allowed to sit in the synagogue school and be taught by the rabbi with the boys! It is disgraceful for a daughter of Abraham to have to hide in the room next door and secretly listen over the walls! Why Sir? Jehovah-God is not prejudiced against females! Why is the rabbi prejudiced? Why are all boys prejudiced? You are not prejudiced against females and you are the Ruler of the Synagogue! Why Father?

Jairus reached out and took his twelve-year-old daughter by her small, soft hands and looked directly into her dark eyes. They were slowly filling to the brim with hot tears, ready to overflow over olive-tan cheeks, already flushed with a rosy tint. The tall girl’s face was a picture of her mother, but she was physically built in the image and likeness of her father.

My precious Susanna, he said, how many times have I told you that we Jewish people are burdened with the tradition of our elders? How many times have I told you that life is not fair to all? How many times have I told you that Jehovah-God is the God over the just and the unjust?

His brow wrinkled as he saw the hurt in the face of his only child, and his eyes began to mist. He towered over his daughter, a large man with a big-boned frame that stood head and shoulders above most of his fellow Jews. Jairus’ heart was as big as he was.

"Father, does Jehovah-God care about tradition? Does He follow the tradition of men? Haven’t you even taught me that the writers of the Talmud have even said: ‘the words of the scribes are all weighty’? Isn’t that what you have taught me Father about tradition?"

Susanna had a cameo face. Its delicate shape accentuated by her long dark-brown hair which was parted in the middle and hung down over her small shoulders to the center of her back. A tall girl for her age, she was just beginning to show the signs of womanhood; her mouth was startlingly full and her lips were deep red, highlighted by her olive-tan complexion. Whenever she was perturbed, her cheeks turned bright crimson, a condition which her father noted at that moment.

Yes, my Lilychild. The name Susanna meant lily, and Lilychild was his name of endearment for his daughter. He always was pleased that she was a brilliant child, except at times like this when she used all her knowledge and cunning so she could get her way with her father.

But we must always respect the tradition of the elders…and your mother, as well!

Father, I’ve overheard you talking with mother several times about man’s traditions, and you called them ‘out of date and foolish.’ My not being able to sit with the boys and be taught by the rabbi is one of those awful traditions! Now, on top of that, mother keeps telling me that I have to spend more time learning to cook and sew and to care for crying, dirty-bottomed babies!

Her father ducked his head in a gesture of accepted defeat on that point. The close father-daughter relationship had taught Susanna how to argue with her father without incurring possible parental rebuke.

Well, you could cut off your hair and wear boy’s clothing. Then I could see about getting you in the school, he chided, but I’d have to look among the orphans for another pretty daughter to marry off to some rich merchant’s son! But I don’t know if our world is ready for something like ‘a boy named Susanna.’

She wrenched her hands from her father’s and dropped them to her side with a slap on her hips, her lower lip protruding. She saw she was getting nowhere with this approach to her father. She cunningly changed her tactics.

Father, that is not funny! But look at it this way…what more could I possibly learn from the rabbi, compared to what you have taught me? she demanded. What could I possibly find of interest that might be written on those juvenile boy’s slates at school after I have listened to the best teacher in the world teach me about the ‘Law, the Prophets, and the Writings?’

Seeing that her father’s expression did not change, she changed her approach again, this time using a pleading tone.

But Father, if all I ever do is learn to cook and sew and take care of squalling babies, that is nothing more than what many servants do. Uncle David and Aunt Susan’s servants do all that for them!

Her father shook his head back and forth. His lips were pursed tightly, holding back his laughter over her arguments. Seeing that she had not received what she felt was her justice, she continued.

But Father, who will help you read when the light gets dim, who will listen to you preach your long, long sermons, who will agree with you when you march up and down in this room as you rail against the oppression of Rome and the compromises of the Pharisees and the Sadducees in Jerusalem?’ Who, father? But perhaps mother is right! Perhaps you have taught me everything there is to learn! Perhaps the daughter of the Ruler of the Synagogue needs to learn the mundane things that servants do.

She caught her breath and continued quickly, Yes, I should patiently wait until you and mother have found me that rich husband from Jerusalem to take me away from this home, so that you and mother may be alone in your golden years. Then before I reach the ripe, old age of twenty, I will have been able to provide you with a house full of smelly, creepy-crawly babies, so that you can brag to all your friends at the city gate about being a grandfather! You won’t have to wait long, you know. I will be sixteen in less than four short years, and then I can get married and start having babies!

Susanna…Lilychild…Susanna! I have taught you too much. You have learned well how to try my patience with your arguments, he said, looking into her fire-filled eyes. If your mother can accuse me of anything, it is the fact that you have become the only girl in Galilee, under thirteen years of age, who thinks and talks like a thirty-year-old because of a doting father who has spent so much time with his only daughter. A day doesn’t go by, it seems, that your mother doesn’t accuse me of robbing you of your childhood.

But mother just doesn’t know, she exclaimed, hurt because her mother wanted her to grow up the same as other young girls her age, and marry someone from one of the wealthy families of Jerusalem. Her mother resented her being her father’s tomboy and did not want her to marry the son of a tradesman or farmer.

Susanna’s voice changed back to the softness of a little girl charming her father.

Oh, but I’ve had such a wonderful childhood with you, Father. Remember how we trapped quails in the Judean hills, and remember how we lunched on the other side of the Sea of Galilee with bread and fish while you told me stories of Father Abraham, Sampson, and our great King David. Remember that time when we tied my hair up, to make me look like a boy, so you could take me inside the Great Temple when we were in Jerusalem? Remember how you taught me to read and write by the time I was five, and not only that Father, you taught me Hebrew and Greek by the time I was eight!

Jairus was not impressed. Susanna, your mother says that you are lacking in female skills. She thinks that you need to know how to weave and bake bread and take care of children; she thinks that it is dangerous to break from the Elder’s Tradition and to teach you some of the things I have taught you. Your mother wants you to be a fit wife for your future husband, and so do I.

Her voice changed from its softness to being pouty. Father, I know that Jehovah-God didn’t make any mistakes when He made me a girl, but I think that all those male Sadducees and male Pharisees and male Scribes and male lawyers and their unfair traditions stink from here to Abraham’s bosom like week-old dead fish!

Frustration filled his being as he held tightly to one of the most precious things in his life…his only child. He knew that the traditions were not fair, and yet as the Ruler of the Synagogue at Capernaum and as a teacher of Jewish law, he had to uphold those age-old traditions.

Susanna, Susanna…you are just as beautiful as your mother was when I married her and you are just as stubborn as your father is now! Like the story of the unjust judge, I should give you justice before you wear me down…but Susanna…no one but Jehovah-God can change the traditions of the elders!

She placed her hands on her hips and tapped her foot on the floor. He could see that her arguments were not over.

She spoke with a gentle, but strong child’s voice: Father, have you not told me that you want me to be a virtuous woman, such as our King Solomon spoke of in his Proverbs? Does it not say that she buys a field and plants a vineyard, makes fine linen, and sells girdles to the merchants? That doesn’t sound to you like some ordinary woman who just cooks and cleans and has babies, does it Father?

A laugh exploded from his face and he gathered her in his arms, picking her up as if she were a fragile treasure. He held her closely and twirled several times with her until both were laughing. He stopped after a moment and looked her in the eye.

No, my Lilychild, it doesn’t. But you remember that Solomon also wrote in that Proverb, that her children and her husband rise up and call her blessed and praise her…which means, Susanna ben Levi, you cannot sit in the same schoolroom with the boys and you must learn to be a wife…if you expect to be a virtuous woman! And that is the end of that discussion, my precious daughter, is that clear?

She hugged her father around the neck even tighter knowing that she had lost a battle, but the war wasn’t yet over and she knew that he was on her side.

He kissed her on the cheek and set her feet on the tiled floor. As she turned to leave, he patted her once on her bottom, which was as close to a spanking as she ever got.

She looked back and spoke the special name of endearment she called her father: Abba-father, I love you! Aunt Tamara, Tanya, James and David are coming over. We’re going down to the beach to look for shells! I wish mother would go…but she never does! Goodbye!

She skipped out of the great room, leaving behind her daddy-father filled to overflowing with love, and a second dusty trail of footprints over the marble floor.

Azariah, who had been standing patiently by the great room door, waited for his master to speak before he said anything.

Azariah, what does a father do when he wants the very best for his child, and just because she was born a female, our traditions make her less of a person?

Azariah was over 78 years old and had worked for Jairus’ father before he came to work for the Ruler of the Synagogue. The old Jewish servant was very wise and Jairus, even as a boy, had often asked him questions that had deep meaning. His answers were always wise and full of integrity.

Master, because I was born as a Samaritan, I have been denied many things in a Jewish culture. Differences are a curse to some, a blessing to others. I know how the Lilychild feels. She is young and waivers between a child and a young woman. She still has the grace of childhood and the faith to believe that tomorrow will be better and that she can have the desires of her heart. But the feelings that flowed from her heart today…these will daily grieve her…unless she has the wisdom to keep them within her dreams. Azariah paused, closed his eyes and the tone of his voice became much stronger as he spoke. Master Jairus, my heart tells me that there are great changes coming. There will soon be a whirlwind around you and your household. It will bring both dark clouds and the joy of a sunrise. You will suffer great loss. You will need to garner all your strength for what you will face. There will be great darkness before your dawn, but your dawn will bring eternal joy!

The room was silent and both men stood looking at one another. Jairus had heard prophetic words from Azariah before, and in every case, they had turned out to be true. He pondered over the words that Azariah had just spoken to him. Was Susanna going to marry sooner than expected, perhaps leaving to live in a foreign land with her husband? Was his wife going to die? After all, she had not been in good health since he had been appointed to the post of Ruler of the Synagogue by the High Priest, Joseph Caiaphas, less than five years ago. Were the Romans going to once again persecute him and others in the priesthood, as had been done in the past? Negative thoughts raced through his head. He was jarred back to reality by Azariah’s voice.

Master, it is almost the ninth hour. You will be needed at the synagogue.

Thank you faithful Azariah. Never mind cleaning the floor. Let Leah do that when she gets back from the market. I don’t wish to wear you out. I need your wisdom!

Azariah bowed slightly, and then left the room. He had long been responsible for the management of the household before the ben Levi family had moved from Jerusalem to Capernaum, but now he was even more so, since Jairus’ wife, Miriam, had confined herself to her bedroom. As usual, she was reclined on a lounge fanning herself and staring out her window in the direction of Jerusalem. Jairus chose not to disturb her and went to his own bedroom.

CHAPTER TWO

Susanna sat on the edge of her mother’s bed as she did each night before going to her own room to go to sleep. Her mother, Miriam, lay with her head slightly raised by two giant embroidered pillows, a position which she was accustomed to maintain most of her waking hours. To Susanna, her mother had long suffered from some unknown ailment; its source was obscure to everyone, especially to a very bright twelve-year-old daughter. Doctors no longer came to the house for consultation, her mother took no medicines or herbs, and there was no apparent cause for her illness except an expressed hopelessness, written all over Miriam’s face.

Ever since the family had left Jerusalem, where Jairus had been an official of the Temple, Miriam seemed to be in a state of depression. She would join her husband and daughter at mealtimes only on rare occasions when there were no guests present. Only a few times did she ever greet the many people who came to their home to discuss the events of the day. Susanna could not understand why her mother was never involved in family events or outings. She did not mix with any of the women who came to the synagogue with their husbands, nor did she read or weave or do anything that most of the Jewish wives customarily did for their families. Even the least serious conversations had to be held in another part of the house, lest they disturb her.

As she sat on the bed looking at her mother, Susanna remembered that it had not always been this way. In her mind she pictured a scene, when she was a little girl of seven and the family was sitting in their plush home in Jerusalem. Azariah had built a roaring fire in the fireplace, as the December air was crisp and cold. As usual, Susanna sat at the feet of her father, who was reading aloud one of his parchments to his family. Her mother was sitting close by, her lap covered by a blanket; her hands busily embroidering one of the many beautiful cloaks that she had made. Susanna was listening to her father, and at the same time she played with Misty, her cat. It was a fleeting, pleasant memory, but it now seemed like such a long time ago.

Remembering events like these things was confusing to Susanna. It seemed that every year her mother gained sufficient strength and recovered long enough to endure the hard, five-day trip to Susanna’s wealthy grandparents in Jerusalem. After a few days there, her mother’s vigor would seem to return; she would converse with old friends, go to the market and even haggle with the merchants over their high prices. Miriam would come to the table and eat her meals with her family, carrying on an animated conversation with her mother and father. At the end of the month, Susanna and her mother would return to Capernaum and around thirty days or so later, her mother would once again be confined to her bedroom, just as Susanna was seeing her now in the late evening light.

Mother, I hope you had a pleasant day.

Miriam looked up at her active twelve-year-old daughter, fanned herself, and placed the back side of her hand across her brow, indicating her extreme discomfort. Her eyes were swollen from her almost constant crying. Her mood was constantly one of depression and suppressed anger.

"Susanna, you know that I really have not had one pleasant day since arriving in this wretched town full of uneducated and uncultured fishermen and fishwives. I am here because I made a wedding covenant with your father: ‘wherever you go, I will go; and wherever you lodge, I will lodge;’ and I have regretted making that covenant ever since he received the orders to come here to officiate at the Capernaum synagogue. I have not regretted marrying your father. He is a fine and just man. He has, however, been overly protective of you. But since you are an only child, that is understandable, I suppose."

Miriam dabbed at some perspiration on her brow and continued speaking to her daughter.

Susanna, your father and I have come to an agreement concerning your coming-of-age to marry, which will not be long, you know. You are twelve, going on thirteen, and you know that it is our tradition that most girls marry when they are at least sixteen or seventeen. You will need to present yourself as a suitable candidate for marriage; one who has something to offer a promising young man. You are expected to cook, to bake, to sew, and to produce children…and you can believe they all want boy children so their son can be the Messiah! Of course, you will be expected to care for your own children. I am afraid you will not be able to count on me to help care for any of your children as I’m not up to it physically and only Jehovah-God knows if I will live long enough to even see your marriage!

Her mother continued fanning herself, and taking a linen handkerchief, she wiped her eyes.

Because your father and I have not come to an agreement as yet, we have not arranged your engagement, which is almost unacceptable. If we lived back in Jerusalem, it would not be so. Since we are here in this awful, forsaken place, and since you are almost thirteen, we feel your engagement should be set within this next spring, probably when we are back home in Jerusalem for the Passover. That means that your father will decide, with my agreement, whom you will marry. You will be asked to give your consent to the choice we make, and knowing how your father pampers you, you will probably be allowed to state your preference for your choice of a husband from those we pick. You will be informed when we have picked the man. As you know the tradition of our people, your husband will be older, perhaps even twice your age. I am appalled at the lack of respect by some families, who give their daughters in marriage to boys who are but a few years older than their daughters! Such things upset me to no end. Susanna, please tell Leah to come. I feel that I must rest for the night. We shall talk more about this later. Good night Susanna.

There was a dead silence in the room as Susanna looked at the prostrate form on the bed. This was the first conversation she had ever had with her mother concerning marriage and to her, it sounded like one of the rabbi’s stone-cold lectures rather than advice from a mother to a daughter. Susanna wanted to fling herself across her mother’s breast, hearing that she might not live but a few years, but she knew that her mother would rebuke her for laying on her in the heat of the early evening. Hugs from her mother had been few and far between over the past five years. Her only solace was in remembering that her father always had a bountiful supply of hugs and love for her.

Goodnight, Mother, I will send Leah up with the lamp and some water.

Her mother did not reply. This conversation was over! Susanna had no input, no chance to ask her mother any questions, or to seek any womanly advice. Her father would have patiently waited until every question that Susanna had was answered, before he would allow her to leave his side. She rose quietly from the bed and left the room without looking back. Her feelings were those of remorse and rejection.

Susanna wiped a tear from each eye with the sleeve of her cloak as she descended the first steps of the staircase. She stopped suddenly on one of the steps and momentarily looked back toward the upper chambers, then turned and walked dejectedly down the remainder of the stairs into the empty great room, tears falling on every step. She turned and looked into the loft her father had built as his study. It too, was empty. Susanna desperately needed someone at this moment in her life, as she