The Spirit War - Part 2: Learning and Loving

L&L - Chapter 1

AD 17

Shores of Lake Galilee, outside Capernaum

Daniel Zebedee entered the barracks-like room where his sons and nephews snored loudly. The solidly built fisherman, in his late thirties but with the skin of one ten years older from constant exposure to sun and wind, placed his hands on his hips and shook his head. Once again, too much wine and gaming on the Sabbath had all the boys oversleeping on the first day of the week. A fine religious tradition - idleness carried over to the next day! A widower who had to take care of his crippled brother’s sons as well as his own, Daniel had his hands full with a band of rowdy boys. Some were well beyond marrying age but, discouragingly, seemed in no hurry to assume the discipline and responsibility.

Daniel approached the largest of the sleeping figures. At the age of twenty, his nephew Simon was the eldest, and a natural leader: half a head taller than the others, with massive shoulders and arms, and an intimidating square jaw with a full, black beard. Simon’s open, honest face featured bright brown eyes over a nose that had been pounded into a broad, hawkish beak in fights. Already known as the Big Fisherman, Simon was as patient in his craft as he was impulsive in his personal life. He loved being out on the lake, staying as long as needed for a good catch. His heavy-handed humor kept the rest of the boys towing the line, and had made them the best crew in Capernaum. But once back on land, playing games and carousing, Simon’s appetites matched his size, and he always had to win. To Daniel, his eldest nephew’s dominating personality had much more positive than negative to it. He loved Simon for the sense of family he brought to the other four boys. They had no mother to turn their house into a real home, but their elder brother was the next best thing. Local toughs – and gangs – had long ago learned that picking on a Zebedee would bring swift and painful retribution.

Daniel bent over Simon and shook him awake. The Big Fisherman’s eyes opened, then focused. He quickly sat up.

Damn it, Uncle. An hour of daylight lost. Sorry about this.

The big youth rolled out of bed more slowly than usual, and was a little wobbly on his feet when he stood up. He walked hesitantly to the corner of the room, where he poured cold water from the big jar into the wash basin. Simon plunged his cupped hands in and washed his face vigorously, quickly shaking off the effects of too much wine and an evening extended well past midnight. He pulled off his nightshirt and wrapped a loinclot around his middle, over which he pulled short-cut pants. Still bare-chested, Simon slipped sandals onto his feet and went to wake the young man sleeping on the bed next to his. His deep, resonant voice filled the entire room as he shook the sleeping form awake.

Come on, Andrew. It’s late, but it’s the start of the week. If we hurry, maybe we can still beat the others out onto the lake.

Andrew, Simon’s younger brother, was a shrewdly quiet young man of eighteen. He had learned to keep his mouth shut, watch what was happening, and use subtle humor to get along with his older brother. Though shorter than Simon, Andrew shared his brother’s solid build, black hair and lively brown eyes. He woke quickly, untroubled by the effects of the previous night because he had drunk much less.

Meanwhile, Daniel went to his own boys, who followed their cousins closely in age. James opened his eyes, sat up, and waited for half a minute before placing his feet on the floor, yawning, and slowly starting to dress. At eighteen, just a few months younger than Andrew, James had inherited his mother’s slim build and blondish hair. Somewhat introverted, James preferred craft to fishing. He was the group’s boat carpenter, and took care of supplies and net repair.

Seventeen-year-old John was awake before Daniel had reached his bedside. Like his father, he had light brown eyes, thick brown hair and a straight, aristocratic nose. John threw out his legs, twisted on the bed and smiled at his father as he sprang easily to his feet. With almost no taste for wine, John, the intellectual of the family, was instantly awake. He alone of all the boys had taken scripture classes seriously, and had begged his father to invest in two years of education in Jerusalem so that he could learn to read and write. Daniel was pleased with the results of that small sacrifice. John had also learned numbers, and was the family’s first line of defense against the publicans trying to take their livelihood through taxes. Daniel slapped his middle son gently on the shoulder.

John, remember you must come with me into town today, so there’s no hurry for you to be out into the boats.

Daniel turned to wake the last of his sons, but the Big Fisherman was there ahead of him. At fifteen, Esau was the baby of the group. Immature as well as young, he was in the middle of a growth spurt, gangly and awkward, and at a typically adolescent low point in self-confidence. The tallest except for Simon, with dirty blonde hair, blue eyes and fine features, Esau looked likely to eventually become the most handsome of the boys, once his overstretched body settled down. He had apparently experienced his first bout of drinking the night before, and didn’t look well at all. Esau was in awe of Simon, and followed him everywhere. Daniel much appreciated the way the Big Fisherman welcomed his shy young cousin’s constant company and did his best to build him up, both as a fisherman and as a man. But too much drinking was a lesson the boy could do without. Daniel made a mental note to bring the matter up with his eldest nephew.

Breakfast consisted of strips of smoked fish and pears from the market, eaten either standing up or sitting around a rough rectangular table on a roofed terrace overlooking the Sea of Galilee. Daniel approached Simon to coordinate the day’s activity.

Good weather today. Since James finished the third boat last week, it’s time to take on hired hands again.

The young man frowned.

I guess you’re right, Uncle, but what a pain. Let’s hope we do better than the usual bunch of whiners.

The Big Fisherman looked beyond the fifty meters that separated the low-slung house from the lake, to a small wooden dock, at the end of which stood a tall, mast-like lookout platform. Three fishing boats were tethered to the dock and bobbed gently on the water, their masts down. Daniel could understand his nephew’s desire to get out on the water. The morning was gorgeous: the air crystal clear with protective high cloud cover, and gentle swells out on the lake. There were no other sails out yet. The Zebedees had gotten away with over-sleeping.

Daniel issued instructions to his nephew.

The nets and tackle are all laid out. I cheated on the Sabbath yesterday afternoon, while you were out carousing. Today is a big day, Simon. I’ve got the money for the last payment on the new boat. I’ll need John with me to attend to that. You and the rest of the boys should be able to launch immediately. Take the two old boats. I’ll go to the market and see if there’s any likely looking crew for hire, then I’ll try to catch up with you. If I’ve found anyone, we can share the hired hands among us.

Simon grinned.

I have a feeling the fish are going to be a long way out today, so you can have the hired hands all to yourself.

Daniel grinned back.

If I get stuck with all three for the whole day, you can bet it will be your turn tomorrow, Simon. But I won’t. I’ll find you, and then you’ll have someone new to educate.

Andrew snickered.

Education is a pretty fine word for Simon’s lessons, Uncle. Maybe you should hold on to the new recruits out of mercy.

The Big Fisherman swung a playful backhanded palm at his brother, who ducked, laughed, and ran out to the boats. Simon turned to Daniel.

Do you think I’m too hard, Uncle? I don’t ask anything of hired hands above what we do ourselves. We always catch the most and make the most. That should matter to men needing money.

Nephew, there aren’t a lot of hands who know fishing that haven’t moved on to their own boats, or to easier bosses. Only the inexperienced go to the market to hire themselves out, so a lot of them just aren’t cut out for this. I’ll get the best I can. Try to give them a chance to work out.

I’ll do my best with whatever you bring, Uncle. How soon will you leave?

I’ll have to tidy up your father first, Simon. He drank more than usual last night, so I probably won’t catch up with you until midday.

Simon’s expression grew pained. It was hard watching his father’s fondness for drink become his only consolation for his condition. What had been a pattern of weekend binge drinking was now becoming near-perpetual drunkenness.

Daniel slapped Simon hard on the shoulder to snap him out of his funk.

He’ll be all right, Nephew. Head out quickly now, before our competition. I’ll see you on the lake.

The Big Fisherman turned and followed his brother and cousins toward the dock. Daniel went back to the room he shared with his brother John, where he threw open the window boards, flooding the small room with light. John didn’t stir, so Daniel approached his loudly snoring brother. John Zebedee looked much older than his forty years. The longish, frizzy hair with the bald spot in the middle was salt and pepper, although his bushy eyebrows were still almost completely black. John’s complexion was deeply tanned and even more leathery than Daniel’s. The smell of urine told Daniel that John had once again been too drunk to use the piss basin by his bed. Well, there was nothing for it but to make a start. Daniel shook his brother awake and sat him upright. John covered his face to shield his eyes from the flood of light and groaned. Daniel took the long crutch that was leaning against the wall and placed it in John’s right hand, while he squatted and draped his brother’s left arm around his own shoulders. As he planted his legs and began to straighten up, Daniel spoke to John.

Come on, Brother. Get the crutch under you. Let’s go down to the lake and clean you up.

John wedged the crutch under his right armpit, and as his younger brother levered him upright, he grabbed hold of a solid peg, fixed to the wall for just that purpose, with his left hand. Daniel released the now-standing John and, without a word, stooped to pick up his damp mattress. He carried it outside, poured soapy water on it to dilute the urine, and left it wet side up in clean sand, waiting for the sun to break through and do its work. Daniel returned to where John was waiting and stood next to John’s left side, placing his right arm around his brother’s back. John released his grip on the wall peg and draped his left arm around Daniel’s shoulders. The brothers began their daily trip to the lake, using Daniel’s body and the crutch to support John’s solid torso and shoulders, while his legs dragged uselessly beneath him. They eventually reached the water’s edge, continuing their lopsided walk without a pause, almost as if expecting the lake to part for them.

The first touch of the cool water on John’s limp legs seemed to revive him. The lake – grandiosely called the Sea of Galilee – was a jewel of blue water surrounded by beautiful green rolling hills that were still sparsely populated. The lake was big enough for waves to form, and deep enough to remain immaculately clean. Best of all, it teemed with fish, including many varieties too big to be native, having been seeded by human transfer from the Great Sea to the west. The Zebedee’s house, boats and small dock were fairly isolated, with similar set-ups for other fishing families about a kilometer to either side.

The waves were gentle this morning, and the brothers made their way easily to chest deep water, where John peeled himself from Daniel’s shoulder and happily allowed himself to sink into the cool, clear liquid. The cobwebs in his head cleared instantly. John’s strong arms brought him to the surface again for a deep breath, and he began to remove his nightshirt, intermittently sinking and then rising again for another breath. Once the nightshirt was off, John’s hands worked quickly, washing his body. He had once been a powerful swimmer, and had no fear of water. This morning dip, in which the buoyancy of the lake relieved him of the curse of his useless legs, was always the highlight of his day. John surfaced again and looked out over the lake, where he could see the sails of the two fishing boats tacking out in a zigzag pattern. He floated on the small waves, letting them carry him towards the shore as he trod water. Soon John was sitting naked in swirling surf that boiled over his limp legs, his gray eyes gazing out at the receding sails. His smile from the pleasure of his morning refreshment left him, and he became wistful. Daniel, already dressed, appeared at his side. There was longing in John’s voice.

Lord, what I wouldn’t give to be out there with them.

Aye, brother. Maybe one day we’ll find a way.

John darkened.

Daniel, you know I won’t have you and the boys wasting fishing time pleasure-boating me. I fell off that lookout mast because I was drunk, so I have no right to anybody’s sympathy. Even so, I’ve asked the Lord to let me walk again, but so far it hasn’t happened. Maybe He is charging me for my sins. Fair enough, but Lord or not, I’ll either go out on the lake able bodied, or not at all.

Daniel resisted an impulse to shake his head at his brother’s stubbornness, and changed the subject to the day’s business.

"John, I’m going into Capernaum to make the final payment on the loan for the new boat. I’ll take young John with me to make sure the writing for canceling the note is done properly. Now we can afford some new hands. I should go quickly, or there won’t be anyone decent left to hire. There’s water, dried fish and fruit on the eating table, and lots of nets to repair on the work table.

John looked up at his younger brother.

Good. I need to keep occupied. Help me up now. You have to get to town fast.

L&L - Chapter 2

Nazareth

On the first day of the New Year, Miriam rose early to prepare to serve the hungry brood that would soon be sitting around the breakfast table. Though her hair, now almost completely white, betrayed her age, the satisfaction of spending more years than she had ever expected in the company of her son, daughter-in-law and grandchildren kept her eyes bright and her carriage erect. The hard times, of an abusive husband followed by a long separation from her son, were now only a dim memory. The wrinkles beginning to line Miriam’s face came from laughter, and from long afternoon walks in the sunshine.

The grandmother washed her face and hands in the ceramic basin in the corner of her room. Her washbowl was set in a well-carved chest made from imported rosewood, and topped off with the finest polished tiles. The chest had been built by Joseph, and the design carved by James, who was rapidly emerging as the artisan in the family.

In small-town Nazareth, Joseph the Builder had become Joseph the Carpenter. The going had been slow at first. Her son had been good-humored about his limited woodworking skills, and grateful that jobs he wasn’t satisfied with were accepted by customers. But soon, as with everything that Joseph did, he got house and barn carpentry down to a fine art, and her son now had a thriving little business.

Refreshed, Miriam went past Joseph and Mary’s room and saw that the door was open, her son having gone down to the children’s floor. Miriam paused at the main bedroom door, and gazed in on her sleeping daughter-in-law. The dark gold of her hair was now streaked with strands of gray, but otherwise Mary had changed very little from the beautiful young girl whom Joseph had married seventeen years earlier. Seven pregnancies, all with successful deliveries, had not left a mark on her still youthful figure.

Mary had been brave about the death four years earlier of her fragile mother, from a fall that broke her hip. Though Anne had been in great pain almost to the end, on the last day she was granted relief, and slipped peacefully away.

Her mother’s death had prompted a change in Mary, who became increasingly reserved as the years passed. The magnetic spontaneity that had drawn people of all ages, and children in particular, like bees to honey, diminished. Miriam was sure it was the scripture study. She wondered if the gift of that library had truly been a blessing, or whether it was something they would all have been better off without. Miriam chided herself immediately. She knew it all revolved around Jesus. That strange miracle of his conception had to have been for some special purpose. It was so easy to forget, because Jesus, and all their lives, seemed so normal. But there was one thing that was not normal. Miriam shook her head sadly as she watched Mary, sound asleep. Another late night of scripture study, on New Years Eve yet. It was becoming an obsession.

The tall, distinguished matron descended the half-flight of stairs to the kitchen and living room, and quickly closed all the delicate wooden shutters that had been built into the window frames, to hinge in combination so they could be adjusted to admit just the desired amount of light. Right now, Miriam wanted all the light that could be had, so once the shutters were closed, she threw the frames wide open to reveal the rolling green, tree-studded hills of Galilee.

The house faced south, and had been built with views in mind. Joseph had bought the property cheaply, a couple of hectares, half of it flat and half a steeply sloping rock incline. All in town thought that the steep half made the property a poor prospect for agriculture or construction, but Joseph proceeded to find water and dig a good well, and then to build his carpenter’s shop. For the family home, he thought up a three-level terraced design. The sloping half was hard to dig, and required stone cutting in parts, but provided an excellent dry foundation.

The three levels allowed a comfortable family distribution. The children’s rooms, together with a large playroom and entrance hall, were on the first floor, with a roofed terrace in front that could be integrated by opening wall panels. There were also maids’ quarters off to the side. This area was set on the bottom of the slope where it was relatively flat, and had been easily expandable as more children came along. The children’s rooms were at the back of the first level, on either side of a wide staircase that led to the living room and kitchen on the second level. This large area had its rear wall set against the slope, ventilation windows on either side, and large viewing windows looking out over the roof of the children’s rooms. Joseph and Mary’s large bedroom, together with a small nursery room, were on the third level, above the living room. The stairs were at a comfortable angle, and the terraced offset of each floor back into the slope of the hill allowed each level to be just half to three quarters of a normal room height above the one below, instead of a full story. The library was hidden cave-like in the rocky hillside behind the master bedroom, with skylights providing illumination during the day, and ventilation shafts to keep the air dry for the leather-bound treasures. There were two entrances, one from the hallway and the other directly from Joseph and Mary’s room. Both doors were hung on concealed hinges, disguised on the outside to look like ordinary wooden wall panels when closed. The library was a family secret, to avoid drawing attention in rural, agricultural Nazareth.

The wood shop was built on the large flat area at the bottom of the property. Joseph had also built a separate cottage for Miriam and Anne at the bottom of the block of land, which they had shared until Anne’s death. With that sad passing, Joseph and Mary had insisted that Miriam move in to the nursery room next to them on the top floor of the main house. This had become Miriam’s room, at least until another child arrived. But after five babies in six years since moving to Nazareth, the pregnancies had stopped, and baby Anne was now six years old. It seemed that Mary’s childbearing years were behind her.

The morning light slanted in from the east as Miriam readied the fruits and wheat cakes that Mary had prepared the night before. The servants were off for the New Year, so the cooking would fall on Miriam and Mary. The wood stove was still hot, so Miriam placed the big skillet with raised edges on it to heat up, and began to prepare a special New Year treat – an entire basket of eggs to be cooked with onions and sweet peppers from Mary’s vegetable garden. As Miriam began chopping the vegetables, she could hear Joseph, Jesus and James rousing the sleepyheads in the children’s bedroom below, and the squeals of delight from the little ones as they were presented with New Years toys she, Mary, and the older brothers had made.

Jesus was seventeen now, a handsome boy with the lively intelligence of both his parents. His growth seemed to have leveled off - a little shorter than his father but, like his mother, seeming taller because of his erect posture. In many ways he was the image of Joseph: solidly muscled, slim-hipped and broad-shouldered, with big, powerful hands. The only differences were wavy brown hair instead of Joseph’s curly black locks, and his mother’s longish, straight nose instead of his father’s Semitic hook. Jesus’s brown eyes, high cheekbones and finely chiseled jaw were perfect replicas of Joseph’s face. Remembering her first grandson’s special conception, Miriam reflected on the Lord’s rewards for those who served Him. Joseph’s accepting the pregnant Mary had been the best decision of his life, because of the gift that Mary herself had proved to be. But the Lord hadn’t stopped there. Jesus looked as much like Joseph as any natural son.

Her eldest grandchild, Miriam had to admit, really was her favorite, though she did her best not to let it show. Jesus was the ideal blend of her son and daughter-in-law. The spark and joy in life that seemed to be dimming in Mary was in full bloom in her son. Though shy in large groups, Jesus had a way with people, either individually, or in small, informal settings. He was equally comfortable with and interested in old and young, rich and poor, educated and simple, male and female. Like his father, Joseph’s eldest son was especially at home with working folk, and most of his friends were shepherds or farmers. Jesus loved the outdoors and animals, and frequently enlisted for long sheep herding trips in the hills, camping out for a week or two at a time.

In the Nazareth synagogue, around which religious and social life revolved, the combination of Joseph’s prosperity and Jesus’s popularity had, of late, generated predictable results: several families with marriageable daughters made frequent, compromising invitations involving Jesus. Miriam was grateful that the Helis had almost no blood relatives in Nazareth, which reduced matchmaking pressures on her grandchildren. For now, the young man was so natural and at ease with everyone with whom he dealt, that hidden agendas had no chance. Jesus simply ended up being a friend to all. It was clear that he had no romantic interests, and marriage was far from his mind.

At fourteen, Mary’s second son James was somewhat gangly, with her crystal blue eyes and his father’s black, curly hair. His nose was breaking out into his father’s Semitic hook, which diminished his childhood prettiness but laid a foundation for mature handsomeness. James had already learned to do one thing very well. He was a fine ornate carpenter, with a flair for design and an ability to gauge three-dimensional proportions well beyond his tender years. He worked at his craft feverishly, to the point of having almost no social life and becoming shy and introverted.

Jesus was a good carpenter, not fine skilled like James, but solid for practical construction and implements. He was particularly drawn to bulls and oxen, and made a specialty of carving yokes for them based on careful measurements of each animal. This required getting close to them, but Jesus had a knack for befriending even the fiercest bulls, showing no fear of the giant beasts. His yokes fitted each animal perfectly, and the oxen and bulls could pull much heavier loads and plow for much longer periods. The trips to measure the beasts provided Jesus with opportunities to get to know families all over Galilee, and to learn much about agriculture.

With Jesus making the contacts, Joseph’s carpenter shop was rapidly becoming a popular meeting place for local farmers. Attracted by the yokes at first, they soon gravitated to Joseph, with his easy hospitality and practical business knowledge. Not needing money advances and having ability with numbers allowed Joseph to take on jobs for land-rich but cash-poor farmers, scheduling his carpentry work and subsequent payments according to the cycles of their crops. Recently, Joseph had hit upon a plan based on these new business relationships. He was building a small barn for storage that would allow payment in kind by farmers and owners of livestock.

A stampede of little feet climbing stairs told Miriam that the usual breakfast wave of small humanity was about to break upon her. She poured the diced vegetables and some olive oil into the hot skillet, and began breaking the eggs into a bowl. The children surged into the family room, and Jesus and James arranged them around the table. Little Joseph, the first of the Nazareth batch, was eleven, followed by ten-year-old Elizabeth, eight-year-old Judas, seven-year-old Simon,¹ and six-year-old little Anne. The children each had a carved animal or a doll, and were busy making animal noises for the wooden beasts or baby noises for the dolls. Jesus and James grinned and bore the din as they fetched the silverware and set the table.

The father of the happy, noisy brood entered the kitchen to give his mother a New Year kiss and hug. Miriam accepted his kiss but then shooed him off as she poured the eggs into the skillet.

Happy new year my Son, but I’m a little busy right now. Why don’t you go get Mary?

Joseph, now forty-six years old, with his salt and pepper hair cropped close and clean-shaven, smiled and gave Miriam a mock salute. Yes, Mother dear, he said as he headed up the stairs.

Five minutes later, Mary descended with Joseph, having hastily washed her face and tied her long hair into a ponytail. Oh, Miriam. I’m sorry I left you with all the work.

No trouble at all, Mary. Here, take the fruit plate. Joseph, you help with the wheat cakes and spreads. I’ve got the eggs.

The three adults emerged from the kitchen and carried the food to the table and the seven youths and children. They paused to admire the scenery through the windows, and were struck by the domestic beauty of the scene before them, bathed in the clear morning light. Mary looked at Joseph and Miriam and smiled, her thirty-five-year-old face as beautiful as ever.

Husband, Grandmother, can all this really have come from us?

The Lord has blessed us, said Miriam.

Let’s eat, said Joseph.

The three adults placed the plates and bowls on the table and then sat, positioning themselves so that adults or youths alternated with the younger children. All clasped hands while Joseph gave thanks to the Lord, and then breakfast began.

When the meal was finished, Jesus and James collected the dirty dishes, goblets and silverware and carried them to the kitchen for stacking. They returned to remove the heavily-splattered tablecloth, and rejoined the family at the cleared, polished table. Joseph spoke.

It’s the first day of the New Year. In keeping with our family tradition, I’d like to go over the main plans and events for the coming year.

Oh, Abba, piped up little Anne who, like James, had the curly black hair of her father and the blue eyes of her mother. I want to play with little Deborah. She clutched the doll she had been given and, turning to Mary, adopted an exaggerated pleading expression that was comical to watch. Please, Mommy, can’t I go? Mary smiled at her youngest, and looked at Joseph, who adopted a mock expression of concern, and leaned towards the little girl.

Anne, I thought that this meeting was important, but if you think your duties as a mother to Deborah are more important, then you can go.

Anne’s wide blue eyes narrowed as she screwed up her face. She looked around at her brothers and sisters.

Deborah needs breast feeding, Abba. I have to go.

Little Anne jumped off her stool and, cradling the doll in her arms, bounded down the stairs to the play area. The adults and youths laughed as they watched her leave, and then Simon and Judas piped up, chorusing together I want to go too, Abba.

Very well. I don’t believe in a captive audience, said Joseph, still laughing at Anne’s departure.

The boys jumped down from their stools and, holding their carved animals, disappeared down the stairs making horse and bull noises.

With the departure of the three small fry, only eleven-year-old Joseph and ten-year-old Elizabeth remained at the table with Joseph, Mary, Miriam, Jesus and James. Little Joseph’s face looked most like his father’s, but he was small and wiry. Elizabeth was a miniature Mary, blue-eyed and with blonde hair several shades lighter than her mother’s darkening tresses.

Joseph spoke again.

First, on matters of the Lord and our faith, I think this is the year when we should finally travel to Jerusalem for a Passover.

The youths and children around the table became attentive. Jesus spoke.

Finally, Father? Why have we never gone before? Some families go every year.

Joseph paused, searching for the words he wanted.

When we go there, Jesus, I think you’ll understand that Jerusalem is…in some ways not a very good place. And the Temple and sacrifices...well, you’ll see.

Father, I do still remember that…incident from so long ago.

James perked up when he saw the exchange of looks between his father and Jesus. The eldest son continued.

But that’s all in the past. The Temple is supposed to be one of the wonders of the world, and all I’ve ever seen of it was its golden roof, eleven years ago, from a great distance. And as for Passover, I know that slaughtering lambs isn’t pretty, but it is the greatest feast of our people.

I hope you’ll come away with that impression, Jesus. Now, as to who goes… Joseph looked at the little ones, whose eyes riveted on him in expectation.

Joseph, Elizabeth, do you want to go?

Both nodded their heads emphatically.

Joseph turned to his mother.

Grandma, I don’t think the little ones should go. Can you stay here and take care of them?

Joseph and Elizabeth groaned loudly.

I will be glad to, my Son. But I really think Joseph and Elizabeth should go. If they’re serious enough to be at this table, they deserve it.

Joseph looked at Mary.

Do you think these two are up to it, my love?

The Temple rules don’t allow young children into the Hall of Sacrifices, so they’re barred from the things I don’t think they should see. If they accept that, then I don’t see any reason why they can’t come.

Mary turned to little Joseph and Elizabeth.

Do you want to come, but without participating in the sacrifices?

Both heads bobbed up and down again.

Then it’s decided, said Joseph. Jesus, James, Joseph and Elizabeth will go to Passover in Jerusalem with Mother and me, while Grandma stays here with Simon, Judas and Anne.

Little Joseph and Elizabeth looked at each other, and then whooped and jumped up and down in their seats. Jesus and James reached across the table and grasped their hands in congratulation.

Joseph then proceeded to the next point.

Now, on the matter of scripture study, how have we done this past year, Mother?

Jesus has done well, said Mary, but I’m afraid James hasn’t shown much interest.

The beautiful blue eyes focused on her second son.

What is it, James?

The black-haired boy blushed and looked down at the table.

Oh, Mother. I know it’s our heritage, but….the synagogue. Rabbi Zerubabel is so…..dull...and all stupid rules. How can we take seriously rules that say we can ride a donkey on the Sabbath, but can’t carry a switch to drive him because it would be lifting a burden? I need to practice carving, Sabbath or not. I can’t believe it’s wrong.

Mary thought for a while, and then spoke.

James, dear, it’s really a shame you never knew your grandfather. He was a great rabbi. He knew the most important thing was what was in a man’s heart, and not the rules. I’m not worried about your heart at all. Of course it’s not wrong for you to practice carving on the Sabbath. Rabbi Zerubabel is… old and set in his ways, and not a very smart rabbi. He doesn’t realize that any work done for the Lord is good, and he doesn’t know what it is to have a talent and a passion like you have for carving. It is every man’s duty to develop the talents the Lord gives him, and you should not feel guilty for doing that. We must show respect for Rabbi Zerubabel’s position, but sometimes we have to separate the position from the man. James, dear, you go ahead and carve all you want, any day you want to, but don’t let an old rabbi’s foolishness about rules drive you away from the scriptures. They are the Lord’s word to us. They contain the key to our future, as well as our heritage.

James brightened, a heavy burden lifted from him. Thank you, Mother. I promise I’ll do better at scriptures.

1 Mark 6:3

L&L - Chapter 3

Shores of Lake Galilee

The Big Fisherman was first out to the boats as usual, and busied himself arranging tackle while his father enjoyed his morning swim in the gentle surf. The eldest son of John reflected on the good luck they had had with the hired hands. Two weeks ago Uncle Daniel had found three likely looking young men and hired them all on the spot. Because of the isolation of the Zebedee house and dock, and the importance of an early start every morning, the new hires had been put up in the main sleeping quarters. This had caused a little confusion, as their names were Reuben, Simon and John.

Nineteen-year-old Reuben, very fair-skinned and a little fat, with curly brown hair and a gap-toothed grin, was a city boy out for adventure, and had had a terrible time with his hands and skin. Oars and fishing lines and nets had blistered his palms raw by the second day, and after two weeks he was still more red than brown from the sun. But the water had helped speed the healing, and the boy was prepared to take orders and apply himself. Though Reuben was still a marginal prospect, Daniel and the boys had decided they could carry him for a while to see if he improved, because the other two hires were so good.

Simon, twenty years old, was a farmer. Short and wiry, and much stronger than he looked, he was the quintessential Semite. He seemed as much Arab as Jew, with dark skin, black eyes under bushy eyebrows, and a large, hooked nose. He had been seasick for the first week, but had gotten over it and shown himself to be both smart and tireless in the second week. Simon came from a large family that had too many hands for their small amount of land. He was trying fishing because it was steady, year-round work. Since he shared his name with Simon Zebedee, he had become Little Simon, and the Big Fisherman now had a variation on his nickname, Big Simon.

Seventeen-year-old John was the other new hire. His physical appearance was unique: a rust-colored, freckled complexion, a wild lion’s mane of red hair, and deep blue eyes. Red John was his nickname, and now John Zebedee became Old John, and Daniel’s son became