Martha (19 page)

 26 

Nathan watched as Martha rolled up her two most recent weavings and bound them with a cord. He was going into Jerusalem and would take them to the rug merchant for her.

He picked up the bundles. “This is fine work. I should be able to sell them at a good price.”

“Beware of Dothan. He is sly and will try to give you next to nothing for them.”

Nathan, no longer the taciturn man he'd been, grinned at her. “He will not best me, for I've traded with him before. You shall get a good price.”

She smiled in spite of herself. “I'm sure I shall, Nathan.”

When he had gone, she looked around the courtyard to see what needed to be done and checked the water in the sheep pen. A strange restlessness seemed to come over her lately. She tried to shake it off but found herself stopping in the middle of a task to look up at the clouds, or listen to a bird sing. Sometimes she would stand at the gate and look out at the sea of golden grain, waiting for the harvest.

Sometimes she imagined Jesus walking down the road to their house, laughing and talking with his disciples. What teaching they had heard. What miracles they had been privileged to observe. When she watched Lazarus working around their home, it was hard to believe he had actually died and been brought back to life.

The people had pinned all their hopes on Jesus, and when he didn't accept the role of their leader against the Romans, the fickle crowd had turned against him. Now the words of Thomas filled her with hope. Life would go on in their small village of Bethany as it had all these years before Jesus came. But she would never be the same. Her life would go on. Sometimes depressing thoughts assailed her, nothing new, nothing to look forward to. Just the endless cycle of woman's work: cooking, washing, baking. There would be no sound of children in their courtyard. Lazarus had more on his mind than marriage and anxiously waited for Tobias to return from Jerusalem. He was poised to flee at any moment, and many kept a lookout in the village to warn him of soldiers or anyone from the Temple approaching the village.

Mary touched her arm. “I'm going to visit with Chloe. Do you mind?”

Martha shook her head. “No, I don't mind. I'm going to cook the barley and lentil dish for tonight. Do we have any mint left?”

“Yes, there is still some growing in the shade in the garden. I'll get some for you.”

Martha put a large pot on the clay stove and began to build up the fire. She poured some olive oil in and cut up an onion, moving it about until it started to brown. She added garlic, barley, and the lentils. Mary returned with the mint just as Martha was adding the lentils. She placed a clay platter over the top of the pot and let the pottage simmer.

When Mary had gone, Martha stood still, seeing her life passing by, always the same. She checked the pot, and after making sure it was simmering slowly, went into the house. Feeling like a foolish child who is getting into something she shouldn't, Martha looked around and then lifted the lid of the small chest in the corner of the house. She lifted the wedding dress a little and reached under it for the small scroll and medallion.

Clutching the medallion to her breast, she once again saw Thaddeus, waiting for her in the olive grove. She felt his strength as she had when she threw herself into his arms after her father died. She unrolled the small scroll and while she couldn't read the words, they were etched forever on her heart. She rolled it back up and placed it in the chest, then sat back on her heels, fingering the medallion. The love of Thaddeus had erased the rejection she'd felt when Phineas turned down her father's proposal. She had been loved, by a good man. Though it was but a memory, it was enough. She heard the gate open and quickly put the medallion back in its place and closed the lid.

She stepped out into the courtyard and greeted her brother. “How did it go today?”

“There is enough work to keep me busy for many weeks. I pray there will not be another earthquake to undo all my efforts.”

He was making a joke, but as they looked at each other, the reality of the cause of the earthquake and the darkness played over in Martha's mind. The promised Messiah had died like a common criminal on a Roman cross. All the miracles he had performed couldn't save him from the angry crowd that had cried out for his blood. Like fickle children they had wanted him to do their bidding, and when he didn't they turned against him, urged on by the Jewish leaders.

Lazarus became thoughtful. “This is a strange day. I felt the need to come home sooner than I planned. I saw Mary coming from the house of Tobias.”

“She went to visit Chloe.”

A soft breeze began to blow in the patio just as Mary entered the courtyard. She had a strange look on her face. “I felt like I needed to come home. Is anything wrong?”

Suddenly a voice came to them, softly, as though brought by the wind. The voice was familiar.

“Thus it is written, and thus it was necessary for the Christ to suffer and to rise from the dead the third day, and that repentance and remission of sins should be preached in his name to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem. And you are witnesses of these things.”

Martha looked about her, but there was no one else in the courtyard except the three of them.

“Did you hear anything, Lazarus?”

“Yes, I heard words, as though Jesus was speaking to me.” He told her what he'd heard.

“Those are the words I heard!” Martha said.

Mary gasped. “I heard them also!”

He shook his head. “What is this strange thing? How can we hear the Lord speaking to us?”

“I would say it was the wind, or my imagination, but we all heard it. What can it mean?”

“I don't know, sister. I don't know.”

She looked toward the Mount of Olives for a long moment, frowning, and then shrugged. She had no answers. They could only hope that Thomas would return from fishing with the other disciples, and bring them more information.

For the next three weeks, Lazarus continued working around the village, but by now his neighbors knew the danger he was in if the Jewish leaders decided to fulfill their threat. Watchers were casually posted as the eyes of the village watched the road to Jerusalem. He no longer went into the city for the Sabbath. He and the sisters quietly kept the Sabbath at home. Lazarus, just as a precaution, kept a traveling sack nearby, ready to slip away into the hills at a moment's notice.

Mary worked quietly, and many times Martha saw her smiling to herself. Perhaps she was thinking about Thomas.

Martha went about her tasks, yet several times had the strangest sensation that the Lord was nearby. It was as if he were looking over her shoulder and approving of what she did. At times it was so real she had turned, expecting to see him standing in their small courtyard. She could picture him sitting with the disciples, telling one of his stories. As she thought of him, a sense of peace washed over her. Maybe that is what he left with them, the remembrance of his presence, the memories of his words . . .

A joyful shout heralded the return of Thomas, and Mary's eyes shown brightly as she opened the gate. It was as if she knew the day of his coming and had been ready and waiting.

Martha and Lazarus rushed to greet him also.

The men embraced. “Thomas, what news have you brought us? Did you go fishing with Peter?”

Thomas grinned at them. “I have news that will seem unbelievable, and indeed, if I had not been there, I would be skeptical myself. The Lord lives.”

Mary gave a glad cry. “I knew it. He has been with me these last days. I've heard his voice.”

Martha glanced at her sister and frowned. “I know he lives in our hearts and memories, Thomas, but . . .”

He turned to her and shook his head. “No, Martha, he lives. He has returned from the dead as he said he would.” Thomas motioned toward a bench. “Sit down and I will tell you what I've seen.”

They sat, and Thomas began his story . . .

“When I returned to the upper room the second time after I left you, the disciples were excited and told me they had seen the Lord in his resurrected body. The doors were shut, locked, and he just appeared before them! Of course I thought they were just trying to impress me and didn't believe a word. I told them that I needed to touch the wounds in his hands and feet and put my hand in the wound in his side to believe.” He flung up a hand. “I cannot believe I was so foolish.” He went on. “Then on the next first day of the week, after I left you, I went to the upper room and I had not been there but a few moments, greeting my brethren, when suddenly, Jesus was in our midst.” Thomas hung his head. “He said, ‘Peace to you,' and he turned to me and said, ‘Reach your finger here, and look at my hands; and reach your hand here, and put it into my side. Do not be unbelieving, but believing.'

“To my everlasting shame, he told me, ‘Thomas, because you have seen me, you have believed. Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.'”

“Praise God,” Lazarus murmured. “Praise be to God.”

“What happened next?” Martha asked breathlessly, soaking in Thomas's words.

Thomas waved a hand. “We went fishing.”

Lazarus frowned. “Fishing? After the Lord appeared to you?”

“Yes, my friend. For he vanished again, and after several hours, Peter announced he was going fishing and we looked around at each other, not knowing what to do, and several of us got up and left with Peter.” Thomas flashed his grin again. “We did well.”

This was something Lazarus could identify with. “How many fish did you catch?”

“We fished all night and in the morning had caught nothing. Then we saw a figure on the beach. He said, ‘Children, have you any food?' and we answered, ‘No.' Then he told us to cast the net on the right side of the boat and we would find some. We did, and suddenly we could hardly draw the net for the abundance of fish. John looked back at the beach and cried out, ‘It is the Lord!'”

Mary looked at Thomas, her face alight with joy. “He appeared to you again.”

“Yes. Peter jumped into the sea and swam to shore and the rest of us rowed the boat, for we could hardly drag the net for all the fish. When we got to the shore, there was a fire of coals and some fish laid on it, and bread.” He turned to Mary. “He actually ate with us.”

Martha was still puzzled. “How could he actually eat? He was dead and then alive, but he actually ate with you?”

“Yes. He was showing us his resurrected body.” Thomas shrugged. “I don't understand it all, but I believe.”

Then, to Martha's surprise and delight, the joy began to rise up in her soul. The Lord was alive again. He had said he would rise again, but she hadn't understood. Now she knew in her heart that the words Thomas spoke to them were true. The Lord was alive. She leaned her head back against the house and let the joy flow through her, cleansing, refreshing joy, washing all the doubts away.

Lazarus turned to a more practical thought. “You said you did well with the large cache of fish . . . ?”