The Big Fisherman (41 page)

'No, he was not in hiding,' replied the old man frostily. 'He was shamelessly eating his supper in the home of Simon the son of Jonas.'

Jairus grinned and the Rabbi scowled at his amusement.

'You don't mean to say, sir, that he was visiting the Big Fisherman! I thought this Carpenter was some sort of a religious teacher. Apparently he isn't very particular about the company he keeps. The Big Fisherman hasn't any more religion than our dog!'

'That is one of the things we will discuss with him,' said the Rabbi. 'He makes pretence of being a holy man; talks to the multitude about holy things; and then associates himself with all manner of profane and uncouth people. Some of our men saw him, a few days ago, sitting in the Revenue Office chatting with Levi—that abominable Collector of Roman tribute!'

'Maybe he was trying to talk Levi into a reduction of his taxes,' chuckled Jairus. 'I must ask him how he got on with it.'

'It is not a jesting matter, my son,' said the Rabbi sternly.

'Sorry,' mumbled Jairus. After a moment of constrained silence, he asked, 'Did your young men have any trouble getting the Carpenter's consent to come here today? Of course they couldn't command him to come.'

'They did command him,' declared Ben-Sholem. 'By the authority of the Synagogue!'

'Then he needn't come unless he wants to,' said Jairus brusquely. 'He probably knows—as well as you do, sir—that the Synagogue has no power to arrest him—or subpoena him.'

'Be that as it may,' said Ben-Sholem testily, 'he is coming. He had the effrontery to say that he would be free to come because it was going to be too stormy this afternoon for the people to turn out.'

Jairus' jaw sagged a little and his brows contracted.

'You say he made that forecast yesterday—when there wasn't a cloud in the sky? He must be a weather prophet.'

'Not a very good one,' remarked the Rabbi, with a brief smile. 'It will be fair this afternoon.'

'Apparently,' agreed Jairus. 'By the way—did your bright young men invite the Carpenter to come early enough to have dinner with us?'

'Certainly not!' snorted Ben-Sholem. 'He is not coming here as a guest! I must say, Jairus,' the old man continued hotly, 'I am surprised at your attitude toward this matter. Here you are, a Regent of the Synagogue, the most influential man in this region, supposed to set a good example—but not caring what manner of doctrine is taught to the people. You even talk of having this blasphemer in your home as a guest, when it is clear that the fellow consorts with the ungodly, dines with Simon the brawler who openly reviles the Synagogue and hasn't attended its services for years!' The Rabbi's voice was trembling as he finished his impassioned speech, and Jairus reproached himself for permitting the unhappy episode to develop. Perhaps good old Ben-Sholem had some grounds for his indignation. As a Regent of the Synagogue, Jairus was expected to take more than a casual interest in the community's religious beliefs. To atone for his intimations of indifference, he made a long face and showed concern for the reclamation of Simon's wayward soul.

'Rabbi, did you ever speak to the Big Fisherman about his infidelity?' he inquired solemnly.

'It wouldn't have done any good,' muttered Ben-Sholem. 'I have known the headstrong fellow from his youth. There is no doubt but his apostasy hastened the death of his godly father. . . . Once, a few years ago, two of our young men of the Synagogue asked him respectfully why he did not pay his tithe, and he sneered at them. At that, they chided him—as indeed they should have done—and he grabbed them by the hair and whacked their heads together. Then, realizing the gravity of his offence, he added insult to injury by presenting them with a basket of perch!'

Jairus frowned heavily at this outrage and seemed about to denounce such inexcusable conduct when, to the Rabbi's pained surprise, he broke forth with a loud cackle of involuntary laughter.

'I am amazed, Jairus!' murmured the old man.

'So am I, sir,' confessed the culprit, suddenly sobering. 'But I couldn't have helped that—if I had been on my death-bed. Please forgive me!'

'I sincerely hope, Jairus,' entreated Ben-Sholem, 'that you will regard this unfortunate affair of the Carpenter with the gravity it deserves. When he appears in your house today you must give him to understand that he is coming at the behest of the Synagogue!'

'Then you had better take him to the Synagogue!' retorted Jairus. 'I do not like the part you are asking me to play. If I am to be this young man's host, there will be no rudeness, certainly not by me! I had surmised that you were inviting him here for a conference; now it appears that he is summoned for a condemnation. I shall not be a party to such procedure! Indeed, if he comes here friendless and alone, you may expect me to be on his side! Do you mean to say that all the Rabbis in the neighbourhood are congregating here to judge the man without giving him the advantage of any defence? Are you all solidly against him?'

'The man must be silenced, Jairus!' declared Ben-Sholem firmly. 'We are all agreed on that, except . . .' He hesitated for a moment, and went on reluctantly. 'I cannot understand the attitude of Rabbi Elimelech of Bethsaida. He came to see me yesterday, to tell me not to expect him here today.'

'Did he give his reasons?' inquired Jairus, with interest.

'Elimelech is getting old,' explained the elderly Ben-Sholem. 'He is in his second childhood. Indeed, it is said that he spends most of his time telling stories to the children. The substantial people of his congregation hardly know what to make of him.'

'And he refuses to join you in rebuking the Carpenter?'

'Elimelech was imprudent enough to go out into the country himself—to hear this Jesus. His people do not approve of that: he admitted as much. He even took more than a score of their children with him. Elimelech needs to be careful or he will be retired.'

'I must have a talk with the good old man,' remarked Jairus. 'It might be worth knowing what he really does think of this Nazarene. What did he say to you—about him?'

'He said the man might be the Messiah, for all we knew! We can't have that kind of talk, you know!'

'Of course not,' mumbled Jairus absently.

* * * * * *

The dinner was a dull and difficult affair. Valiantly but vainly did Jairus endeavour to dispel the constraint of his taciturn guests. At first he had breezily introduced conversational topics which, he thought, might induce them to show some interest for sheer courtesy's sake, but they gave him no aid. They ate in silence.

Turning to Nathan, the High Priest's representative, Jairus inquired how Pilate was getting on these days with the Sanhedrin. After a lengthy interval, Nathan had stiffly replied, with his eyes on his plate, 'As usual.' It was implicit in Nathan's icy rejoinder that whatever might be the present relation of the Roman Procurator and the Jewish Court it was certainly none of Jairus' business. The forthright rebuff nettled him, but he kept his temper.

Addressing Obadiah, the eldest of the scribes, at his left, Jairus asked whether the improvements to the Galilean Embassy had been completed. The old man shook his head. After a pause he elaborated on his response by mumbling that he did not know. He did not bother to add that he didn't care, but it was plain enough that Jairus was talking too much. He felt lonely and out of place. Perhaps he had been impudent in seating himself with these distinguished men. He had done better, he felt, to have donned an apron and helped serve the table. A few times he lifted his eyes hopefully in the direction of Rabbi Ben-Sholem, but the old man moodily munched his mutton without glancing up.

Now it occurred to Jairus that Ben-Sholem, who had had time for a private word with the Jerusalem party before dinner, might have whispered that their host was not sympathetic with the inquisition to be held in his home. That was it! They were deliberately snubbing him! After that, Jairus—in the role of a mere innkeeper—saw to it that their plates and cups were replenished, addressing himself only to the serving-maids. . . . Another helping of chicken, Rachael, he murmured behind his hand, for his Grace the High Priest's Emissary. . . . And bring more wine. . . . And open the windows. It is close in here. . . . And light the lamps.

Perhaps that was part of the trouble. The air had become oppressive and the room was growing dark. Jairus turned about toward the windows and faced a blackened sky. There was going to be a severe storm. Presently the very house shook under a crash of thunder. Vivid tongues of flame stabbed at the close horizon. Detached gusts of wind flung their weight at the awnings and thrust their shoulders against the straining doors.

Spurts of rain splashed noisily on the tessellated pavement of the loggia, as if pitched from enormous buckets.

Jairus rose hastily and made for the high-domed atrium, now enveloped in gloom. That precariously supported ceiling had always worried him on stormy days, despite the architect's assurance that it was strong. He entered the huge room and looked up anxiously into the dome as another blast of thunder roared overhead.

Calmly seated, quite within the range of a catastrophe, were four men. Apparently Joseph, the butler, having admitted them, had been too busy fastening doors and windows to announce their presence. They rose. A gigantic, bearded man, whom Jairus instantly recognized as the Big Fisherman, stepped forward, bowed, and deferentially tipped his head toward the evident leader of their party.

'Sir,' said Simon, in a deep voice, 'this is Jesus—of Nazareth.'

On any other occasion, Jairus would have had at least a nod and a smile for the man who had so graciously introduced his friend, but there was something about the Nazarene that demanded his full attention. So—this was the Carpenter! Well, it was easy to see why the people were following him about. He was not an ordinary man. Jairus advanced toward him—and bowed respectfully.

'You and your friends are welcome to my house, sir,' he said.

There was another crash of thunder and Jairus glanced up apprehensively.

'May I suggest, sir,' he urged, 'that you step back from underneath this dome? We are not safe here!'

'You need have no fear, Jairus,' said Jesus quietly.

'But that roof is dangerous!' insisted Jairus.

'Perhaps,' said Jesus; 'but not for me, nor for you while you are beside me. My time has not yet come.'

Jairus, rarely at a loss for an appropriate word, couldn't think of a suitable thing to say. He found himself held by the Carpenter's reassuring eyes: strange, searching eyes they were, that asked, without impudence, what manner of man you were, as if they had a right to know. There was another savage blast of thunder, but this time Jairus did not look up. Apparently divining his host's relief, Jesus smiled, glanced aloft, and nodded his head. And Jairus smiled too, but shook his head a little, as if to say that something was going on here that he couldn't understand.

Now the face of the Carpenter sobered. He turned about and walked slowly toward the tall windows facing the highway, the others following him. Simon indicated his two young friends, who had not been presented. 'James and John, sir,' he said. 'Brothers. Fishermen.' Jairus nodded to them absently. He was thinking of the men from Jerusalem who were waiting, probably with some impatience, to interrogate this mysterious Nazarene. Perhaps they were sitting with their heads together, organizing pedantic queries that no untutored carpenter could be expected to understand; hopeful of showing the fellow up as an ignoramus. . . . Well—he might surprise them!

Jairus joined the men at the window. Out along the roadside a great crowd stood huddled and hunched under the cypress and olive trees in the drenching rain. Simon, towering beside Jesus, turned to Jairus and murmured apologetically, 'He entreated them not to follow him here, sir.'

'Are these people friends of yours?' asked Jairus, moving to Jesus' side.

Jesus nodded his head and continued to gaze compassionately at the multitude. Then, as if talking to himself, he said, 'They are sheep—without a shepherd.'

'Well,' said Jairus, 'we can't have them out there in this storm!' He turned to the Big Fisherman. 'Bid them come in!'

Striding quickly to the great doors opening upon the terrace, Simon waved a beckoning arm. The rain-soaked throng could not believe, at first, that they had been invited into the palatial home of Jairus. Simon continued to beckon to them. They raised a grateful shout and broke into a run across the terraced lawn. Jesus watched them coming, for a moment; then turned to give his host a comradely smile.

'You are bringing a blessing upon your house, Jairus,' he said softly.

Gratified, but somewhat embarrassed by this tribute, Jairus replied that he hoped his wife would think so, a sally that briefly broadened Jesus' smile.

The crowd was literally pouring into the atrium now, wet to the skin. Simon, beside the open doors, was admonishing the people, in a strangely compulsive, resonant voice, to be orderly, not to push, and not to sit down anywhere in their soaked garments. Jairus thought it high time to conduct his strange guest away from this swarming pack. He touched Jesus' arm and signed for him to follow. They moved toward the corridor. As they came to the open door of the breakfast-room, Jairus observed that the party from Jerusalem had assembled there and were standing silently at the windows, apparently watching the advancing crowd. He signed to Jesus to enter the room and invited him to sit down. The storm was abating. The rain still poured, but the thunder had subsided to mutterings in the mountains.

Approaching the preoccupied group at the windows, Jairus spoke to Rabbi Ben-Sholem.

'Your Carpenter is here,' he said

They all turned about and stared.

'I have the pleasure to present Jesus, whom you have asked to meet,' said Jairus.

Jesus rose and bowed respectfully. Jerusalem was glum. They all sat down. The crowd had got out of hand, apparently, the foremost inching along the broad corridor to the doorway of the room where the conference sat.

Ben-Sholem, flushed with annoyance, rose to say sternly, 'Jairus, the public has not been invited to this meeting! I insist that the house be cleared of these people!'