Daughter of Jerusalem (24 page)

Fulvius immediately informed the rabbi of John’s arrest, knowing it would be of great interest to the town. Sharing of information wasn’t
common among Roman commanders, but in the short time Fulvius had been in Capernaum, he had reached out to the Jewish leaders, even donating money to the synagogue. If a Roman could ever be said to be popular in a Jewish community, Fulvius was popular in Capernaum.

He came in person to tell me about John. I took him to sit in my garden, which sloped down almost to the lakeshore. It was a sunny day, and Jeremiah brought us wine and a plate of olives.

Fulvius waited until we had been served before he told me about the arrest. “It all dates back to Antipas’ seduction of his brother Philip’s wife, Herodias,” he said as he rolled an olive in his fingers before popping it into his mouth.

Everyone in Galilee knew about that scandal. Philip was the Tetrarch of the region north of Galilee, and he and Antipas were both sons of Herod the Great. Even worse than the seduction of a brother’s wife was the fact that Antipas had proceeded to marry her while his brother was still living.

This action went directly against Jewish law, and Antipas had been denounced by virtually every Jew in Galilee. The situation—the seduction of a married woman and the subsequent marriage—hit too close to my own life for me to be comfortable discussing it, and I avoided it whenever possible.

Fulvius continued, “John made the mistake of publicly accusing Antipas of committing incest by marrying his brother’s wife.”

I said, “I don’t imagine Antipas cared to be reprimanded by a prophet everyone was listening to,”

“Not at all. John was safe enough while he remained in Judea, which is under Roman rule, but once he crossed into Galilee, he came
under the jurisdiction of Antipas, who had him arrested and thrown into the fortress of Machaerus.”

I felt a rush of pity as I thought of that wild figure standing in the river. How terrible it would be for such a man to live without fresh air and light.

Soon after the news of John’s imprisonment, rumors came to Capernaum about his chosen successor. Instead of baptizing, he was preaching in all the towns around the lake.

Again, Fulvius Petrus was the one who brought me the information. I knew the local Pharisees were outraged that I should entertain a man who wasn’t a member of my family—and a Roman!—but I ignored them. I enjoyed Fulvius’ visits too much to put a halt to them, and my friends, and the families to whom I had loaned money, all stood behind me.

I was still officially an anonymous donor, but the recipients had figured out where the money was coming from. We kept up the pretense of anonymity to save face, and the rabbi continued to be the official dispenser of funds.

The pleasure I took in Fulvius’ visits made me feel slightly guilty. Like Julia, he was a connection to a life I had renounced, but it was enjoyable to talk to a well-read person about poetry and philosophy. I had bought quite a number of books for my new library, and I still ordered books from Julia’s bookseller in Rome. I had tried to get a Greek translation of the Hebrew Scriptures, but the bookseller had informed me it was impossible. There was no such translation. To read Jewish scripture you had to know Hebrew, and the only people trained to read Hebrew were the Jewish hierarchy.

This disturbed me. I had wanted very much to read the Word of the Lord for myself.

On one pleasant afternoon Fulvius and I were sitting in my garden, looking out at the lake with all the fishing boats bobbing on its rippling surface.

Fulvius took a sip of wine and said, “The new teacher’s name is Jesus of Nazareth. He’s creating a frenzy all along the lake because he is supposedly working miracles.”

Miracles
, I thought. Miracles always made me skeptical. “What kind of miracles?”

“He is said to have cured many sick people.”

I shrugged. “Sometimes sick people get well on their own, especially when they believe they’ll get well. I’ve seen it happen more than once.”

“True, but I must confess I’m curious to see him. He’s working his way around the lake, so he’s sure to come to Capernaum soon. Then we can judge for ourselves.”

I smiled, but I didn’t share Fulvius’ curiosity. Nothing any prophet could say or do would bring back what I most longed for—my baby.

A week later Jesus of Nazareth came to Capernaum. He preached at synagogue on the Sabbath, but I wasn’t there to hear him because I was menstruating. Rebecca wasn’t able to go either, as her mother, who lived with them, was very ill. Simon Peter came home sparking with excitement about the new teacher, and Rebecca stopped by to tell me about it after their Sabbath meal.

She brought along her two youngest daughters, Leah and Deborah, because she knew I loved the little girls. I gave them the dolls I kept for them, and Rebecca and I settled at the table in the courtyard where we could keep an eye on the children as they played.

“I needed a rest,” Rebecca confessed, as she sipped fresh pomegranate juice. “Andrew’s wife volunteered to sit with my mother for a bit, and I wanted to tell you what Peter said about the wonders of this new teacher.”

“What is so wonderful about him?”

“Quite a lot, according to my husband. He started off as usual, reading a passage from scripture, and then he spoke to the congregation about what it meant.”

I nodded. This was indeed the synagogue procedure. The rabbi
could ask anyone to read the scripture and give the address. Often it was a scribe or a Pharisee, but the rabbi could call upon any Jewish man who had a message. Our rabbi had called upon this new teacher.

Rebecca continued, “Peter said that what made Jesus’ talk so different was that he never once called upon the rabbinical rules to back up his teaching. You know how it is when the scribes preach. They say something, and then they tell you about all the scripture and rabbinical references that support their comment. Jesus spoke as if he were the authority, as if he needed no one else to testify to the truth of what he preached. Peter said he was exhilarating.”

I knew what it was like to endure lengthy lists of citations, and I could understand why everyone found this refreshing. But was that enough to have created such enthusiasm in Peter? True, he was an emotional man, but—

“Mama!” Leah called.

We looked at the girls. Deborah had both the dolls. Rebecca said, “Deborah, give your sister’s doll back to her, and play nicely.”

After Deborah had restored the doll to Leah, Rebecca turned to me. I said, “It must have made a nice change, to have someone speak out directly, but is that all?”

“No,” Rebecca said. “Listen to this. There was a man in the synagogue possessed by an evil spirit. When he heard the words of Jesus, his demon cried out, ‘What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? I know who you are, you are the Holy One of God.’”

My eyes widened. “What happened after that?”

“Jesus said to the demon, ‘Be silent and come out of him.’” She paused.

“Rebecca! Don’t tease. What happened next?”

“The man threw himself to the floor and rolled around. The
demon howled and then—it came out! The man was himself again, and the demon was gone.”

I was silent. This was truly an amazing story. Jews believed there were many demons in the world, malignant beings that hated God and took possession of people’s bodies to do their evil work. There were special people who had the power to lure the demons out with charms, rituals, and incantations. Sometimes this ceremony worked; often it did not.

However, for a demon to be vanquished by one simple command was certainly extraordinary enough to make people take notice.

I was still unclean the following day, but the day after that I was able to go to the marketplace. The name of Jesus was on everyone’s lips. I hadn’t heard such passionate interest in a single topic since the Baptizer’s arrest.

It was a hot day, and when I got home I asked Jeremiah to bring some water to the garden. I wanted to sit by the lake, where there was always a breeze. I pulled off my veil and pushed up the long sleeves of my tunic, wistfully remembering the light silk sleeveless Roman clothes I used to wear. When I heard Jeremiah’s steps I turned to ask him something and saw that Rebecca was following him.

She looked furious.

“What is it?” I asked as she came up beside me.

“You won’t believe what has happened!” Her cheeks were red, and she was out of breath.

I pointed to the bench beside me. “Sit, before you collapse in this heat. Jeremiah, put the water on the table, and bring another cup, please.”

“Yes, my lady.”

I filled the single cup and passed it to Rebecca. “Drink this.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to drink your water.”

“Jeremiah is bringing another cup. Drink this, and then you can tell me what has upset you.”

She accepted the cup and drained it. As she put it down on the small table in front of us, I said, “Now, what is it?”

The words exploded out of her. “That man, that Jesus of Nazareth, has k-kidnapped my h-husband!”

She was so furious that she stuttered as she spoke.

“What are you talking about?”

“Simon and Andrew were fishing from the shore this morning, and this teacher, or whatever he calls himself, came walking down the beach. And he took them! Just like that. He took them!”

She wasn’t making sense. “How did he take them, Rebecca? He didn’t drag the both of them away by himself.”

“Don’t be funny,” she snapped.

“I’m not trying to be funny. I’m trying to understand what happened.”

Her face went from furious to frightened. I reached over and put my hand over hers, as they lay clenched in her lap. “Tell me.”

She nodded and shut her eyes for a moment. Then she opened them and looked at me. “This is what I heard from old Isaac. You know how he’s always hanging around the lake?”

I nodded.

“He saw it happen. He said Peter and Andrew had cast their nets into the water and were slowly dragging them back to the shore, when this man, this Jesus of Nazareth, went up to them and told them to follow him, that he would make them fishers of men.”

“Fishers of men?” I repeated.

“Yes. And they went, Mary! They dropped their nets on the shore, with whatever fish they had caught still in them, and wandered off after this man as if he were King David.”

Her anger had burned itself out, and now her lips began to tremble.

“When did this happen?” I asked.

“Yesterday.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “I haven’t seen Peter since. He asked old Isaac to tell me he wouldn’t be home for supper, and he hasn’t come back yet.” She sniffed.

I was having a hard time believing this story. What could the man have meant,
fishers of men
?

I had another thought, which I didn’t share with Rebecca. Why would a learned man, who could read scripture and preach in the synagogue, want Simon Peter as a follower? It’s not that Peter wasn’t a good man. He was a very good man. But he was a man who thought with his heart, not his head. He was a simple fisherman, not a scholar.

“And you don’t know where he is?” I asked.

“No. I have five children and a sick mother at home, and he’s off following some golden-tongued stranger.” She stood up. “Well, if Peter thinks I’m going to sit at home with his supper, waiting for him to decide when he’s ready to join us, he’s mistaken. I’m going down to the shorefront now to see if I can find him. I was hoping you would come with me.”

Simon Peter would be furious if his wife showed up to drag him back home as if he was a runaway child.

“Do you think that’s wise? Perhaps it would be best to wait. He’ll come home eventually, Rebecca. You know he will.”

“I don’t care if it’s wise. I’m going. If you don’t want to come with me, I’ll go alone.”

I stood up. “Of course I’ll come with you.”

For the first time that day I saw her smile. “I knew you would,” she said.

I sighed, rolled down my sleeves, put on my veil, and led the way down to the shore.