A.D. 30(105)

The fisherman stared after the other boats. A new breeze swept away the sea of fog and carried us away from each other. Above us the sky was blue once again. Elias was silent, for he could not make sense of what he had seen. Who could?

“Now you must see,” Stephen said. “Take us to the shore near Bethsaida.”


BETHSAIDA WAS east of Capernaum, a short walk inland from the sea, and after we came ashore Stephen took us there right away, before the sun set.

When we arrived, Stephen took us to a home at the edge of the village. It was occupied by an old man named Simon whose wife had recently died. Sarah and I were permitted to sleep in a room off the courtyard, but Simon was a religious man and would not allow us to eat with the men.

It didn’t matter. We were both silent and withdrawn, each to our own thoughts. Even Stephen was silent. I could not help but think that we were waiting for yet another storm to fall upon us.

Was not Yeshua himself a storm? A storm of new understanding. A storm that would upend all that was known of the world.

We waited in Simon’s home on the edge of Bethsaida for three days before Saba reminded me that nearly half of our allotted time had passed. We must make our return to Petra within a week, for it would take at least seven days to make the journey, more if we carried gold.

But the notion of securing Herod’s agreement seemed impossible to me.

I did not venture into the town but kept to myself, near Sarah and Saba. I did not inquire of Stephen nor ask for more than what I was offered in way of water and bread, for Simon was poor.

In a fog I pondered my life, seeing the world as dimly with my eyes as with my heart.

Far away, Judah suffered in the torturous grasp of the Thamud. The thought made me ill.

Even now my powerful father wasted away without his tongue. Even now Aretas and Shaquilath protected their kingdom without care whether I lived or died. Even now Herod ate his grapes and drank his wine with a new queen who had stolen his mind.

But even as I considered these things, the voice of the one who commanded the sea called to me in the same words he’d spoken to his disciples.

Why are you so afraid, Maviah?

I am afraid because I cannot see. I am afraid because I am a woman and alone. I am afraid because all who have loved me are dead. I am afraid because I am surely not who I must be.

Do you still have no faith?

But you see, there was my truest conflict. What was faith? And if Yeshua’s own disciples had no faith, having been with him for so long already, how could I possess it?

So on the fourth day, I approached Stephen.

“May I speak with you, Stephen?”

He looked about, and I knew that he was concerned with custom, for I was a foreign woman and he a Jew.

“With Sarah, naturally,” I said.

“Yes! Yes, of course. We will sit there in the shade of the tree, yes?”

So I fetched Sarah, who agreed to sit with us.

“You will see, Maviah,” he said, seating himself. “And you, Sarah. You too will have eyes to see.”

“My vision is ruined.”

“Vision? It is said in our scriptures, ‘Without vision, my people perish.’ This vision is to see the world as it truly is. He will give you new vision to see the world in a new way. The true world vision.”

Always the same with Stephen. He would wait in Bethsaida for many days just to see with this vision. And wouldn’t I? Yet I didn’t have many days.

“Now,” he said, “tell me what concerns you.”

“Yeshua speaks of faith… what does it mean to you?”

He went still, as if I had knocked on a door that contained his greatest secrets. “Faith?”

“For the Jew, what does it mean to believe?”

“It is to trust. Not only to believe, for surely even the devil believes the truth and trembles. But to trust… that is everything!” He spoke urgently but in a soft voice, with a finger raised. “You are very wise, Maviah! This is what few understand. And you, Sarah; you must have faith. You too must believe.”

“Do the disciples of Yeshua have so little faith, then?” I said.

He hesitated. “You speak of the storm.”

“Yes.”

He thought for a moment, then answered with care. “I was raised by my uncle in Judea for many years—”

“Nicodemus.”

“Yes. He has always been one to think beyond the normal way of speaking. This is why he became a Pharisee, to find the truest way to God. To follow the last letter of the Law so as to find favor with God. I did not choose his path, but he taught me to think in new ways. Also, I studied with the Greeks and have traveled far. So…” He seemed reluctant to speak outright. “So perhaps I see things with a different eye.”