The Apocryphal Of Lazarus

By Pablo Zaragoza

Lazarus, risen from the dead, faces the dilemma of finding purpose in life until Christ returns. In his quest for peace and solace from the loss of loved ones along the way, he finds little satisfaction in shipbuilding, vineyards, and other enterprises in Cyprus, France, Spain, the New World, New Orleans, Boston, and England.

 

Over his long life, Lazarus marries, has children, watches them grow to adulthood and give him his first grandchildren. They age and die, leaving Lazarus alone, traveling and plying his trades, until he marries again and the story repeats—children, grandchildren, and the deaths of more loved ones.

 

He travels with Cortez, fights in the conquest of the Aztecs, and struggles to protect native peoples against the Spaniards in California and New Mexico. He journeys east to New Orleans where he works to establish the first healthcare system. In the midst of the Battle of New Orleans, he tends to the wounded. He moves to New England and participates in building the hospital system in Boston.

 

Compounded with personal tragedies, Lazarus faces another dilemma because he does not age. He is forced to devise disguises to protect his ageless state or leave and start life anew where no one knows him.

 

Between the lines, Lazarus never loses his true mission, spreading the good word about Jesus and His life as Lazarus knew him in childhood.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pablo Zaragoza
• Release date: Sep 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201778033

Book preview

THE APOCRYPHAL OF LAZARUS

Pablo Zaragoza

To my family—my children, father, mother, brother, uncles, and

cousins—whose stories inspire me to write.

Special thanks to Susan Giffin, for her excellent first-line editing of all my books.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

Chapter Forty-Seven

Chapter Forty-Eight

Chapter Forty-Nine

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty-One

Chapter Fifty-Two

Chapter Fifty-Three

Chapter Fifty-Four

Chapter Fifty-Five

Chapter Fifty-Six

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Chapter Sixty

Chapter Sixty-One

Chapter Sixty-Two

Chapter Sixty-Three

Chapter Sixty-Four

Chapter Sixty-Five

Chapter Sixty-Six

Chapter Sixty-Seven

Chapter Sixty-Eight

Chapter Sixty-Nine

Chapter Seventy

Chapter Seventy-One

Chapter Seventy-Two

Chapter Seventy-Three

Chapter Seventy-Four

Chapter Seventy-Five

Chapter Seventy-Six

Chapter Seventy-Seven

Chapter Seventy-Eight

Chapter Seventy-Nine

Chapter Eighty

Chapter Eighty-One

Chapter Eighty-Two

Chapter Eighty-Three

Chapter Eighty-Four

Chapter Eighty-Five

Chapter Eighty-Six

Chapter Eighty-Seven

Chapter Eighty-Eight

Chapter Eighty-Nine

Chapter Ninety

Chapter Ninety-One

Chapter Ninety-Two

Chapter Ninety-Three

Chapter Ninety-Four

Chapter Ninety-Five

Chapter Ninety-Six

Chapter Ninety-Seven

Epilogue

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

ALSO BY PABLO ZARAGOZA

COPYRIGHT

Prologue

Matthew 16:27-28

"For the Son of Adam is going to come in the esteem of

His Father with His messengers,

and then He shall reward each according to his works.

Truly, I say to you, there are some standing here who shall not

taste death at all until they see the Son of Adam coming in His reign."

I, El’azar, known first by my Hebrew name and later as Lazarus, write these lines to attest that Jesus lived among us and performed the miracles described and many more that have been forgotten. My sisters and I knew him as a boy who played in the streets of Bethany. We were of more refined stock. We would watch the children play games from the castle windows at Magdalo.

My father and mother, Cyrus and Eucharis, would not permit us to mix with these children, and so we lived a sheltered life. We had tutors, expensive clothes, and the finest of foods, but they kept us indoors.

Once when father had gone away on business to the kingdom of Cyprus, I slipped out of the castle. That is when I first met Jesus. He did not treat me differently from His other friends but said, Fear not the world, for you have a friend in me.

This was something I had not considered. I thought, ‘What could this slender boy ever do for me?’

He was dusty from playing in the streets, and he wore ordinary clothes. Never judge anyone by their clothes, their jewels, their well-manicured nails, and the scent they wear but by their heart and the good they do to others, He said.

These were more the words of a sage, a rabbi, but not a child. At the age of ten, I paid little attention to their meaning. I just wanted to run and play with the boys. So we spent the summer escaping the confines of the castle and enjoying the olive groves, walking the grassy hills where sheep grazed, and swimming in the streams.

My sisters Miryam, Martha, and Mary would sneak out with me and play. I saw Mary look at Jesus with the longing of a woman, but she was only a girl, at least in my eyes. I was afraid that Mary, who was now twelve, might do something foolish and run away with Jesus.

I confronted Him, Leave my sister alone. I see how she looks at you with those big brown eyes. She’s a child. I spoke angrily at Him.

I am not here to follow the urges of the flesh. My purpose is higher than that. Your sister will soon reach the age of consent, but she will be plagued by the urges of the flesh, urges she will not be able to control. Only through faith will she be able to fight them.

At the time, I thought this kid was not normal. Perhaps He really wanted Mary, but He said this to divert my attention from His desire for her.

The other children who played with us talked about strange things that Jesus had done. They told a story about seeing Him teach the elders at the temple in Jerusalem. He was a boy of only eight or nine at the time. As the story went, He had wandered off from His parents who later found Him in the temple, teaching the rabbis about the Torah. They asked the parents to leave the boy with them, but they refused. It was said that an angel had visited the parents and told them where to find Him and to take Him home.

There was another story about Jesus’s fashioning clay birds by the river. He blew on them, and they came alive and took flight. Another story related the visit of a great rabbinical teacher to Mary and Joseph. He wanted to teach Jesus whom the temple elders regarded so highly. The man was not as brilliant as he thought he was; he was there only to aggrandize himself. Jesus raised His hand, and the man became dumb and never spoke again. I thought that these stories were just the embellishments of ignorant, foolish children who hated this child.

As Jesus grew up, He became athletic in build although still slim, handsome but not so much. My sisters enjoyed looking at Him, but He did nothing to encourage them. He wasn’t particularly ingratiating. He didn’t pick flowers for them or pay much attention to them at all.

He did like to talk a great deal, but more than just idle chatter, He taught. The others envied His facility with words. He effortlessly wove parables and tales into moments of learning. Twelve or more children would gather around Him at noon. Someone would bring a loaf of bread. I usually had cheese in my bag, and He would bless it all. We would eat our fill, and there would be more left over than I had brought from Magdala Castle.

When the summer ended, my father returned from Cyprus, and we resumed our dull life at home, hoping he would leave and we could resume playing with Jesus and the others.

I spent my time reading about great men of valor, like David, Solomon, great warriors, soldier-knights, and the seven Maccabees. I read about the Jewish war of independence against the Seleucids Dynasty and how the Jewish priest, Mathathias, the Hasmonean from Modein, had led a Jewish army against our foes and sparked revolution by saying he would not worship false Greek gods.

I relished the stories of Judas Maccabee. The struggle for our freedom never ends, and the blood of so many souls have fertilized these hills and valleys.

Chapter One

Mark 16:15

"And He said to them, ‘Go into the world and

proclaim the gospel to the whole of creation’."

Now that I have seen so much death and known the pain of it, I ask for forgiveness for being so vain and foolish as a young man. In the blindness of youth, stories of glory captivated the mind: battles being fought and victors parading their spoils in the streets of the cities. However, no one looked at the battlefield, at the mangled, torn bodies of those who had lain down their lives. They did it not for glory, not for some noble cause but for the few pennies they received as payment for services rendered or the booty they had collected when they sacked a city. I have walked among those whose bellies had been opened by the sword and have seen dogs feasting on their remains.

How foolish my misspent youth seems to me now. I learned the sword, the horse, and the bow and arrow. I spent my nights listening to the boasting of drunks who had been mercenaries in the service of Roma. When had we become a client kingdom of Roma and when had Idumean Herod the Great been made king by the decree of the Roman Senate? ‘How humiliating,’ I thought, ‘for a foreign power to be given your kingdom, your soil, your people; they didn’t know Judea from Gaul.’ Yet I lived in a country that Rome had not allowed to exist.

The children of my youth no longer played in the fields. They were practicing the trades of their fathers: rug weaving, tent making, fishing, and carpentry. I often wondered what Jesus was making in his father’s shop, what the life of a carpenter’s apprentice would be.

My father had decided that I should become like him, a man who traded commodities between Judea and Cyprus. At the age of nineteen, I set out with him and my uncle Abram to trade olive oil, silk, and spices for precious stones and gold.

We traveled with sixty jars of olive oil and more than one hundred bolts of wool. The silk we had on board was from a place far beyond Persia called India. We set sail from Joppa which was close to Nazareth where Jesus was born.

Father made me count the number of jars and bolts of wool and silk. I showed him my ledger that corresponded to Uncle Abram’s tally.

In a week’s time, we arrived in the harbor of Larnaca, Cyprus. Ships from all over the world anchored at the port; Greek and Roman vessels loaded and unloaded goods. The smell of the ocean and the squawking of seagulls as they dove for fish in the sea filled my senses. I thought that Jerusalem was exciting, but Larnaca had people in the streets, talking in many languages I could not understand.

We walked the cobblestone streets. Carts filled with wine and olive oil stopped at different places along the main boulevard. I thought, ‘If this is only a small Roman city, what would Rome itself be like?’

We reached our lodging, a two-story house that had been converted to accommodate wayfarers like us. It had a deep brown wooden door at the front. The owner greeted my father as an old friend and showed us to our rooms. They were not ornate but ample, with a small desk and a candle, so my father could note in his ledger what had transpired during the day.

At this time, Cypriot olive oil was highly valued by many Romans, but our Judean oil was also well regarded. The bolts of cloth were also in demand, especially by Romans who now had to live in Gaul and Brittany.

I learned the art of trading for a good price; my father was a master at it. For long hours, my father and my uncle would haggle over prices and the type of payment they wanted. It took almost a month in Larnaca to get things straightened out and our business concluded.

I spent my nights in the taverns of the city, hearing the soldiers talk about their campaigns and adventures. They talked of fierce battles with the Germanias and the Gallians, how these huge men with long braided beards would rush at them with clubs and axes. These warriors had no compunction in losing their lives as long as they took Romans with them. Because these tribes had no government like Rome, they would die for their chieftain before dishonoring them. They would raise their mugs of Egyptian beer or Cypriot wine and toast the fallen.

In these taverns were all manner of women who would sleep with any man for a coin. My first was a brown-skinned woman with long black hair who smelled of roses. She took my hand and led me to a small room with a cot and a candle. She slipped out of her dress, and I saw her nakedness. She looked at me and said one word, Jew. Yes, I had been circumcised and therefore branded as had many men of my tribe. I released myself in her and left the money on the table by the flickering candle.

I knew the sin of fornication. I enjoyed having her between my legs, and so I returned the following night, but she wasn’t there. A light-skinned woman with large breasts sat on my lap and touched my member, and again, I found myself lost in a woman’s arms. This one, unlike the other, screamed in ecstasy as I plunged my member into her. In the end, I rolled over and left her a coin. The room was similar to the other dark room with a single candle lighting the room.

The unlit hallway led to these rooms in the back of tavern and reeked of wine and excrement. My father didn’t approve, and when I returned that night, he slapped my face and told me that I had become a degenerate, a Roman.

What’s wrong with being a Roman? We are nothing. We have no country. We are but a province of the empire.

We are the chosen people of God, and we must keep the temple of the body pure and without sin.

God? What has God done for our people but place us in bondage over and over again? First, with the Egyptians, then the Babylonians, and now the Romans. If He is our God, then why does He punish us so?

He tore his cloak, yelling, Blasphemer! I have lost my son.

I told him that I didn’t mean to speak irreverently, that I would atone for my sin in the temple in Jerusalem. This calmed him, but in my heart, I lusted for women and wanted more.

We left Larnaca before the end of the summer and made it to Joppa. I remember Father and Uncle Abram asking me to stay by the boat and not stray. Since I was in hot water with my father, I dutifully stayed by the boat.

By nightfall, neither one had returned. I wondered where they were. They said that they were going to find a caravan home, but why would it take so long? They were experienced in these things. Convinced that everything was all right, I curled up on the wooden deck of the ship. The captain had let me stay there until my father returned.

The next morning, they still had not returned. The captain and a few of the crew helped me look for them because by midday, we had seen no sign of them.

There, on a back street of Joppa, I found their bodies; their throats had been cut, their purses taken, and their bodies stripped. I was left alone with little money and a long distance to walk to get home.

The captain of our ship took the bodies and informed the Roman authorities who showed no interest in finding the criminals who had committed these murders. The town was bustling, and the people were busy making money, oblivious to my pain.

We received certificates to bury them. I found a rabbi who would perform the ceremony and take care of my father and uncle’s remains.

What will you do once the funeral had been conducted? the captain asked.

I have to go home and tell my mother and sisters. After that, I don’t know. I just don’t know.

The captain gave me a large bota bag filled with water, a loaf of bread, and some hard cheese. He told me how sorry he was, that my father was a good man, and he would certainly rise at the end of days.

He will rot in the ground until his bones become dust, I said. My father believed, and see what has happened to him? Murdered for a few pieces of gold and jewels. Is that all a man is worth?

Son, the ways of God are not our ways, and why this happened, we can’t begin to understand. His purpose is known to Him and only Him.

He shook my hand, and I walked toward home. The sun was blazing. Men on horseback and camels walked by me and gave me no thought. The sweat poured from my brow, and at noon, I tried to find shade but saw none. I cursed God under my breath. ‘Why was he punishing me? Why me? Was my sin the cause of the death of my father and uncle? Had they atoned for my sins by losing their lives?’ Those thoughts ran through me as I ate a little and drank the last of my water.

I walked when the sun went down and reached the town of Nazareth. I collapsed at the city gates, and there, waiting for me, as if He had known I was coming, was Jesus.

Well, you look like you need a friend, El’azar, Whom God Helped. He extended his hand and helped me up off the dusty ground.

Jesus, how did you know I needed a friend? I asked.

I’ve always known that.

He took me to the home of his parents, Joseph and Mary. The town was quiet as the sun was setting. The mud homes of the poor had no doors, just a wool cloth to keep the dust out.

His mother Mary was preparing the evening meal. She wore a simple blue-gray dress with a scarf that covered her head. She was baking flat bread and tending to a pot of lamb and vegetables with wild onions, garlic, and herbs, as it bubbled over an open fire. It smelled like heaven.

Joseph was in the corner of the dimly lit house, fixing a chair for a neighbor. Mary finished preparing the food and placed bowls and platters on the table. Joseph, who had asked the young men to wash before the meal, said the blessing. I kept silent.

When it was over, Jesus said, "I know your pain. There is more pain to come, but in the end, you will have a great blessing bestowed on you. This blessing will make you sad because of what you’ll see, but you will be a witness to the power of the Almighty, my Father."

How can I praise a god who should have taken me and not my father? I asked with some bitterness in my voice.

It wasn’t part of His plan for your father to stay here, but it is that you go on.

I found little comfort in His words. I was too tired to argue with Him.

Mary gave me a mat to sleep on, and I did. I had tortured dreams of maggots eating the flesh of my father and uncle. They still lived but were in the ground. They cried out for help, but as I tried to dig them out, they fell deeper and deeper into the ground. I cried out to them, but they couldn’t hear me. I saw God laughing at me in my struggle to reach them, but no matter how I pleaded, He would not help.

I awoke in a cold sweat with Jesus standing next to me. Your sleep seemed to trouble you, El’azar. The evil one wants to turn you from God because he knows how important you are to His plan.

The sun was rising, and again, I didn’t feel like arguing with my friend who had saved me from death. I was certain that if He hadn’t found me, I would be another corpse on its way to feed the maggots. He offered me breakfast that his mother had set out. I had eaten no greater breakfast in all my life. Not even the sumptuous meals I had had in Magdalo Castle could compare to this simple homemade bread and honey. Jesus had blessed the bread before we ate, and Mary poured hot herb tea for us.

Jesus picked up His bag and walked out the door with me. I’ll go with you to Magdalo, and maybe this time you’ll let me enter.

We spent a full day, walking over the rolling hills and among fruit orchards. We reminisced about the time when we were children and the fun we had had around Magdalo.

Chapter Two

John 11:25-26

"Jesus said to her, ‘I am the resurrection and the life.

The one who believes in me will live,

even though they die; and whoever lives

by believing in me will never die.

Do you believe this?’"

We reached Magdalo, the stone and mortar of my house with its surrounding date trees, flowers of yellow, orange, and blue adorning the façade, all the things that made this home. Servants greeted us at the door. I told them that my friend was coming in with me. They looked with disdain at my long-haired friend, who looked like other young boys His age, sometimes a little unkempt.

As we entered the hall, my mother and sisters rushed up to me. The white marble felt cool when I took off my sandals. They stroked my hair, kissed my cheeks, and then asked the painful question, Where are Father and Uncle?

I related the story of how I had found them in the alley with their throats cut, flies covering their faces, and bellies swollen. My mother fainted, and my sisters fell to the floor, crying and beating their chests in anguish. I had no more tears.

Jesus went to my mother’s side and placed her head on His lap. He stroked her auburn hair and whispered in her ear, He was a God-fearing man, and I will find him and release him from his chains at the appointed time.

I thought, ‘What nonsense is he talking about? Release him from what chains?’ I would find out in time.

She opened her eyes and saw Him. Blessed child, who are you?

A friend, my lady, simply a friend.

She gazed at Him in bewilderment. He was dusty from the trip, and His hands showed signs of minor cuts and bruises. His tunic was frayed, and yet He called Himself my friend. His words had soothed my mother who was still a young woman, although silver streaks had begun to appear in her hair.

She began to stand with His help. I wondered why He was doing this, why He was being so kind to a woman who would have beat Him, spat on Him, thought nothing of Him except that He was an urchin, a commoner. Now, in His arms as He helped her, she saw something else, something beyond the physical person.

I asked the servants to bring us food and drink. My sisters took Mother, still crying, to her room. We could hear her as we sat down at the table. He blessed the food before He ate. I just ate. My father had been the one to provide, not some invisible, uncaring being.

He looked at me and said, Don’t close yourself off to Him.

Him who?

God, the creator of all things.

You are my friend, but I don’t believe anymore in a god that can cause so much pain and suffering. To watch children die for lack of food and allow those who steal and murder grow fat. Seeing his prideful priest take from the people so that they can live like kings who care nothing for their people but their own pleasure and wealth. What kind of God is that?

"Were you not one of the privileged? Did you not read the Torah and recite its verses yet didn’t take them into your heart?

‘Whoever is kind to the poor lends to the LORD, and he will reward them for what they have done and when did you ever give water to him who was thirsty. You and your sisters would go under a tree and eat while the children you played with were hungry.’" Proverbs 19:17

I never knew that you hungered.

No, because we were a diversion, playthings and not people, and yet when I found you, I took you home and fed you. You needed rest, and I offered it to you. You needed a companion on the road, and I walked with you.

I looked inside myself and saw how shallow I truly was. I valued the companionship of soldiers and books of glorious deeds but not the sacrifices they had entailed. I had taken for granted those around me, believing that they went home to a good meal, wine to drink, and fine clothes to wear. I could not imagine that people suffered in the world more than I.

My manservant asked if we required anything more. I looked at him, a thin man with dark olive skin and asked, Jerome, do you have children?

Yes, my lord.

Do they eat every night to their fill?

With some hesitation, he said, No, sir. Most nights, they do, but since the master’s been gone, we haven’t been paid and, well, bread is expensive.

Jerome, we have plenty here. You should have taken some for your children.

That’s against the laws of Moses, sir. Thou shalt not steal.

I looked at this pious man who would rather starve than break the laws of our fathers, and yet here I sat, whining like a child about my loss.

Jerome, until I know how we stand, tell all the servants that they can take from the stores whatever they need to feed themselves and their families.

Jesus looked at me with a smile. His face had the stubble of a beard, and His eyes were a soft brown. He would be considered a handsome man if He were well groomed. But His features were not what attracted people to Him but what He said that endeared or enraged them.

He said to me, Open your heart to possibilities. Open your heart to loving all of God’s creatures. Bless Him with each breath that you take, and your faith will overcome the world’s problems and its adversities.

Faith in something I cannot touch, I can’t see or smell. ... And as I started to say the next word, He took my hand, and I saw something greater than the young man who sat next to me. I fell to my knees, for I had touched God. My Lord and my God.

I am only His. You have had a glimpse of Him. Believe there will be another who will need proof before he believes, but that is in a time and place different from here.

You are the Messiah. We must proclaim this throughout the land and make you king.

It is not my time, and it is not my mission to conqueror a people and drive them out but to spread the good news that salvation for all is at hand.

Martha came down the stairs. He whispered to me, Say nothing of what you have seen, for my time is not at hand, and the Father wishes it to remain a secret.

I understand.

I had not noticed her before. She was a pale almost white woman with dark black hair. She had grown out as a woman with ample breasts, but she was awkward in the way she moved. She came to the table and tried to move, attractively plucking a grape from the bowl, which Jerome had set out, and eating it.

She placed her hand on Jesus’s shoulder. Mary and I have decided that it would be wise for all of us if you bathed and had your hair attended to and your nails clipped. I’m sure there are some clothes that we could let you have.

It is very kind of you to be concerned about my personal hygiene.

It has nothing to do with kindness but with the fact that you are dusty from your long walk. Mary and I want to see the child that we knew looking His best for the young women of Nazareth or Bethany or Magdalo.

Martha took Jesus by the hand and led Him to be bathed. A few minutes later, she returned. She was the more business minded of the three of us. She had looked over Father’s shoulder when he worked on his ledgers, and she toiled in the fields with him for the harvest of olives and dates.

El’azar, the household falls on your shoulders now, and I must tell that you it doesn’t look good. Father borrowed on the house and the surrounding land to finance his venture to Cyprus and left nothing in reserve. We are destitute except for a few bars of gold that I secured before he left. We own nothing. By tomorrow, the moneylenders will be at our door, and we will be on the street.

I have some money that I will hand over to you; I would just foolishly spend it on food, drink, and women. You are skilled in managing a household. Mother has never been useful in those things, relying on you to run the house.

We have to pay back wages to the servants. The question is how? Martha asked.

We should sell our fineries, all of them: rings, bracelets, clothes, any and everything we have to pay the servants and have enough to finance our next steps.

She smiled at me, Where is my brother the romantic, the reader of soldiers, knights, and feats of valor stories? Instead, there is a man of conscience, a man willing to sacrifice for the greater good. Tell me, where is he?

I have a friend who taught me that I’m blessed, favored by God, even in the face of adversity. Am I better than Job?

‘And the Lord said to Satan, Have you considered my servant Job, that there is none like him on the earth, a blameless and upright man, who fears God and turns away from evil?’ Yet God allowed Satan to take all from him. He also said: With God are wisdom and might; He has counsel and understanding.’ Job 1:8

How has my brother become such a wise man?

My friend taught me.

Jesus?

He is my good and only friend. He will see that no harm ever comes upon us. Adversity is the way of the world. It grows like weeds, and we must separate it from us. We do this by placing ourselves in His hands, in the hands of God.

My sister wept as she heard me. I had never been eloquent in speech, nor profound in my words. It was as if His life had entered into me, His words had become my words, and I saw all through His eyes.

He came back into the dining room, washed and freshly clothed and his hair perfumed. He walked toward us, I thank you for taking care of me.

I only ordered the servants to take care of you.

Ah, but without that order, nothing would have been done.

Martha and I took him to see mother. Mary was still with her, and she looked up and saw Jesus, I never knew you to be so handsome.

The outward is nothing compared to the beauty of the soul.

My God, a carpenter philosopher. How funny, she giggled. Mother, who was lying on her bed, put her hand on Mary’s mouth.

Child, wisdom comes from many places if only one has the mind to listen.

That was the wisest thing Mother had ever said. She had always been the one fussing over flower arrangements, picking out clothes that matched, and making polite conversion but nothing profound. She was a woman who knew her place in the world of men: to be beautiful and pleasant but not intelligent, not engaging, just taking care of household things. She had a helper with Martha. She depended on her. She herself had only to be beautiful.

Jesus kissed her on the forehead. Sleep, dear lady. Many things have to be done before tomorrow, and your children must arrange them. Mother lay back on her pillow, and we all left the room.

We sat together as a family while Jesus stood in front of the table and spoke, Friends, you have much to discuss, and I have a long road ahead.

Will you go to Nazareth?

No, my work takes me elsewhere.

I didn’t know that carpenters made house calls, Mary said impertinently.

I repair other things besides chairs and tables, Mary, but I shall see you all soon.

He left. We didn’t know His destination, but I knew He had not abandoned us. We sat around the table, and Martha told us the state we were in since Father’s demise.

With the money and fineries we have, we could pay off those that would take away the orchard and olive grove, but we would have to tend them ourselves, she explained. The house is gone. We can no longer sustain it, the servants, and the horses, and the stables. Besides, Father had offered them all as collateral for his loan. There is a small house in Bethany which he used for conducting business in the region, and it will have to serve as our home.

Mary was furious. I will not live like a beggar with my hand outstretched to receive crumbs off the table.

Sister, we would not be beggars but honest working people, Martha said.

There was a jug of wine on the table from when Jesus had sat with me to eat. Mary filled a mug with red wine. I don’t care. I do not care. She drank her mug of wine and filled it again. I’ve lived cloistered here long enough. I want to live. I’ll call myself Mary Magdalene and live. Instead of rotting in the fields, slaving away, I will live.

Sister, it is your grief that is talking. Go and rest. Tomorrow we will talk some more.

I’m done talking. I want to live! She rushed upstairs, packed a bag, and left.

We had lost everything, but I placed my trust in Him and knew all things would be fine.

Chapter Three

Proverbs 3:5

"Trust in the LORD with all your heart and

lean not on your own understanding."

At dawn, we packed everything we could take. Martha paid the servants and thanked them. Jerome walked next to the cart.

I cannot pay you the wages I once did, Jerome, I said.

Then you will pay me what you can. I will not desert you in your time of need.

Then be our partner, live with us, let your family be one with us, Martha urged.

Mother sat on top of the cart, oblivious to what was happening. She was talking to herself as though she was at a party. Oh, governor, how nice to see you again. How is your wife? Oh, no, I’m sorry to hear that, but please enjoy yourself. Prefect, is that you? How long has it been? Your trip to Rome? How wonderful.

She talked this way all the way to Bethany, and once there, she continued in our small garden behind the house. She chatted to her imaginary guests until sunset when Martha took her in for the night.

We saved the olive grove and the dates, but I knew nothing about the care, maintenance, and farming of these trees. Martha was the one who made sure we wouldn’t lose them, I despaired from my lack of knowledge. I had squandered my youth reading silly books and not learning. I knew nothing about growing or harvesting olives and even less about pressing them for oil. But, like many things in life, one can learn. Jerome suggested that I visit Ephraim who might be of help.

Ephraim owned the land adjacent to my father’s, and he had been cultivating olives all of his life. Jerome and I walked to the grove in the early morning as a cool breeze came in from the sea. We approached his grove. I could smell the manure and see several men fertilizing the plants.

In the center of the field was a tent. Underneath, at a table, a muscular brown man sat, looking at a clay tablet and drawing on it. His long black hair had tufts of gray as if lightning bolts were shooting out of his head.

As we approached, Ephraim looked up, El’azar, come to sell your grove to me?

No, sir. I’ve come for you to teach me how to manage it.

Why should I do that? You never showed any interest in your fields before. I’ll give you a fair price, and you can continue drinking and spending time with Romans and thieves in taverns and bordellos.

I no longer think that way. I want to honor my father by learning the ways of the fields. Please show me.

Then you will have to apprentice yourself for five years to me. I will work you hard, but, in the end, you will know the way of treating these trees to yield fruit. He took my hand and shook it, Come, El’azar. There is much to do today.

He showed us how to fetch the spring water from the well at the edge of his field, haul it to the center, fill the clay cistern, and water the plants. I would fill the bucket and use a ladle to pour water around the mature plants. We wanted to drench them every day, but he told us that that would drown the plants. It was better to spread out the times we watered to produce healthy plants.

When the seasons changed in the valley and the days became shorter, we picked the fruit from the trees. I would climb them, and, with bucket in hand, pluck each one. These olives were used for eating, not for oil. To gather olives for oil, we laid a tarp underneath the tree; then two or three men would shake the tree. The olives fell like rain. We would gather them up and place them in burlap bags to take to the press. We didn’t do this right away. We had to let the fruit reach its full size and become green so the oil would be rich and mellow.

At night, I applied what I had learned to my own fields. Jerome would help me, and by the time I got home, I was exhausted. Martha would have made soup and bread. Mama would talk to her dinner guests. Members of the Sanhedrin and the Roman governor of Judea visited us occasionally, but she never recognized her children. It was as if madness had fogged her eyes, and we no longer existed.

After my first summer and fall with the olives, it was time to deal with dates. Dates come from a different plant altogether in their care and nurturing. During the first days of winter, Ephraim took me to his date trees. They had thorns as long as knives, and he told me to cut off the thorns to facilitate working the tree. He explained that there were both male and female trees, but only females produced fruits.

I carefully cut the thorns off each tree. He showed me the male sheaths, and as they were beginning to split open, we would tie them up with string and seal them. We did this because neither bee nor bird would pollinate the female flowers. If pollination did not take place, there would be no fruit.

We would take them to a closed tent and hang them upside down. Then we would collect the yellow pollen on a white tarp. After letting it dry, we filled clay jars and sealed them with waxed paper. The female trees had similar sheaths, but these contained flowers. Ephraim showed me how to remove the pollen delicately and sprinkle it on the female flowers.

In the second year of my apprenticeship, my trees were mature enough to begin working. I cut their thorns, collected their pollen, and, by candlelight, I pollinated the flowers. As spring approached, my trees had hundreds of dates, but they had to be trimmed and their centers removed to obtain the maximum size by the outer rim of fruit.

At the end of spring, I harvested all of my fruit and set them to dry. Martha went to market with olives, olive oil, and dates. I began to see the fruits of my labor.

Jesus would visit and talk to us about His travels. He had been living with a cult known as the Essenes. He explained to us that they lived a simple life in which money was not needed because everything was shared in common. They had taught Him the teachings of Melchizedek. Once every two thousand years, an energy, a light, comes into the world. This light opens the mind, expands the consciousness, and allows the Messiah to come forth into the world. Somehow, His time with these men had expanded His mind.

One morning early, Jesus rose from the bed we had prepared for Him, took His walking stick, and was almost out the door when I caught him. Friend, where are you going? You have not had your breakfast yet.

My Father asked me to travel beyond Judea to the East and see other people before coming back here.

At least let me give you food to fill your bag, some bread and cheese, and water.

He came back in, and Martha made breakfast of flat bread with honey, eggs, and fruit. I filled his bag with bread and cheese, but He was eager to leave.

Jesus looked at Martha and said, Your sister is suffering from drink and abuse. She married a man who sells her body to others. She is ashamed to come to you.

Martha, with tears in her eyes, asked, Where is she? I will welcome her and give her what we have.

To forgive is the greatest gift you can give another. It washes away sin and makes you and the sinner great in the eyes of the Father. Go to the well in the center of Bethany, and you will find her washing her hair.

Before leaving us, Jesus blessed the home that we lived in by taking water and raising His eyes toward heaven. He sprinkled it in every corner of the house. Mother came out of her room, and He sprinkled the water on her. The fog that had been in her eyes and the ravings about imaginary people washed away, and she saw us for the first time since father had died.

She walked calmly to Jesus, embraced Him, and kissed him on the neck. My Lord, you have pulled me out of the darkness, and I see the world and my children clearly.

She then came to us and said, You have taken care of me in my madness, and I have been so selfish. Forgive me.

Martha and I took her in our arms and told her there was nothing to forgive. Jesus left us as we embraced our mother, for He didn’t want to intrude in our moment of reunion. She was back with us after having been lost for two years.

While I was in the date grove, brushing the flowers of the female trees with pollen, Mother and Martha went to the well at the center of town. There, washing her hair, was Mary.

She saw them and tried to run because she was ashamed of what she had become. Her hair was lathered in soap as she tried to escape the center of the town. She tripped on one of the cobblestones and fell to the ground. When she tried to get up, Martha gripped her shoulders and helped her stand up.

Mother took her hand and walked with her back to the well. Sister, why did you run from us?

I am ashamed. I’ve become a prostitute. My man has put me in the street to live off my sex. He beats me at night when I come home. I wish him dead but he doesn’t die. I have shamed my family. I am not worthy of pity. She bent over and picked up a stone and placed it in Mother’s hand. Stone me, Mother, because I wish to die.

Mother looked at the stone and looked at her, How can I stone flesh of my flesh and blood of my blood? We have all sinned in one way or another, but Jesus teaches forgiveness."

Martha asked, How do you know this, Mother?

I don’t know. I just know He does.

They washed Mary’s hair and brought her home. When I got there after my day’s labor, I rushed to her and hugged her neck. She wept and told me what had happened to her. She took my hands, Brother, your hands feel like leather with thick callouses.

That’s what happens when you work the fields, Sister.

Jerome came in behind me, Believe it, my lady. He tends the olive groves and date trees of your father. As a result, there is an increase in their yield and number.

Such a prosperous man must have himself a wife?

No, Sister, I have enough to take care of …

We heard a growl at the door and a thunderous beating. I stood with my staff in hand.

Mary took me by the arm, shaking, with tears in her eyes, That is my husband wanting me out in the street.

No. I stepped outside.

He was a brute of a man with long unkept hair and a beard as black as coal; small pieces of meat were stuck in his beard. He yelled, Who the hell is you?

I’m Mary’s brother, and you will turn around and leave her be.

The hell I will! That’s my woman, and she hasn’t made me any money today.

He stepped toward me, and I raised my staff, Leave this house and her alone!

A bright light shone through me. I heard the voice of Jesus speaking through me, and a light blasted out of me and dazzled the man. His arms became twisted, and he could not speak. He fell to the floor and began to wither away. He twisted and turned on himself, his flesh falling away until only dust was in front of my house. The wind soon blew the brute away. I shook the dust off my sandals and stepped back into the house.

Chapter Four

Ecclesiastes 3:1-4

"For everything there is a season, and a

time for every matter under heaven:

a time to be born, and a time to die;

a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;

a time to kill, and a time to heal;

a time to break down, and a time to build up;

a time to weep, and a time to laugh;

a time to mourn, and a time to dance…"

I saw the women crying, thinking that the brute had killed me and that he was coming to harm them. When they saw me, they were speechless. In fact, I walked to the table, and for a long time, I could not find words to explain what had happened.

Martha put her hand on my shoulder. What happened, Brother? Martha was not beautiful but plain. Her honesty and love for her family and those around her made her special. That concern transformed her and made her look angelic.

I don’t know. I asked for the Lord to help, and I heard Jesus’ voice. Then a light from heaven came to and through me. That light struck the man in the chest. He withered away into dust, and the wind blew him away.

You said you heard the voice of Jesus? Martha asked.

As clear as if He were here in the room with us now, but He isn’t. How could all of this be possible? I said.

Mother lifted her head and looked straight at me. He has been touched by God. When He cured me from my sickness, I felt His voice inside my head. His voice was like honey. It soothed the pain I had felt over the loss of your father, and He lent me His hand. I walked out of that cobweb of lies, that fog that had engulfed me, and came back to you.

How is it that He can do these things, heal the sick and vanquish enemies without being here? I asked.

I knew the answer, but I could not tell them, because I swore I would not tell. He had said His time had not yet come.

I went to sleep, as the woman talked about what had happened. I could hear them as I lay in my bed, going over the events and recalling how Mary’s husband had been wiped off the face of the earth. I heard them explain that a bolt of lightning had struck the man, but there was no storm last night, and they had heard no thunder. Finally, unable to unravel the mystery, they went to sleep.

I just lay there in my bed, and in silence I said, ‘Thank you, my God and Jesus. I thank you, my friend.’ I heard a whisper, a voice as though far away saying, ‘You are welcome.’

The following morning, no one remembered what had happened; in fact, no one even remembered the man. No one missed him. It was as if he had never existed. I asked Mary about last night, and she had no memory of it or how she had come to this house. Mother and Martha asked how I had slept. They had no memory of anything. They believed that Mary had always been with us. The man had been wiped from the minds of everyone in Bethany. I was the only one that remembered what had happened.

That day, I went to the fields to work. It was very hot, and at the noon hour, I lay underneath a tree. Mary brought me water and food.

She sat with me. El’azar, thank you for all you do for us. I feel useless without purpose. I want to help.

Sister, be at peace. You need not thank me, but thank God.

"I thank you