A.D. 30(66)

“Who?”

“The one who works wonders. The rabbi Yeshua.” Elias searched Judah’s eyes. “They say he heals the sick. That he can make wine from water. Then I wonder why he cannot make coin from dust and save all of Israel. We have too many drunkards already.”

“He is in Capernaum?”

“You go to see him then?”

We had agreed that we would not speak of our purpose, but I saw that Judah was at an impasse. If he lied, he would need another sound reason for our visit.

“Yes,” Phasa said.

Elias regarded her suspiciously, for she had spoken boldly though covered from head to foot save her eyes.

“You are unclean?” he asked her.

“She has no illness,” Judah said. “It is a private matter, not a religious one.”

Elias accepted the explanation with a simple nod. “Then you are in good fortune. I have heard he is in Capernaum.”

“Where in Capernaum?”

“Does it matter? It is only a fishing village—a few hundred. They come from all of Galilee to see him, any might know where he sleeps. But you must be careful. It is said that he eats with the tax collector there, a scoundrel called Levi. It escapes me why a Zealot would befriend any tax collector unless his intentions were to conspire with the Romans. So you see, even through this rabbi, we Jews are betrayed.”

Judah only nodded, but I saw the fascination deep in his eyes.

The sun was already sinking low in the west when we approached the village of Capernaum, nestled on the northern shore where several dozen small boats rocked gently. They would soon go out for fish, Elias said. He could join them once he put us to shore and perhaps sell the fish—not to worry, he would have his boat clean for our return. But he must join them for he was sure to bring in the largest catch.

Judah stood with one hand on the mast, gazing at the sunbaked mud homes that shared courtyards, as was common in the countryside. These groupings were scattered along the rising shoreline and clustered between olive groves. I could see only a few people on the streets between houses. Yet Capernaum was twice as populous as Nazareth, and spread out. Two hundred dwellings, perhaps.

The wind lifted Judah’s hair and his eyes remained fixed ahead. Here then he might see the end of his long journey, one that had begun thirty years earlier when his elders discovered the child who would be king.

If there was a king in Capernaum, this humble village by the sea appeared unaware of it. I could not help but wonder if Judah’s search might bring him to great disappointment.

Then again, if there was a rebellion gathering in Palestine, would it not stew underground, hidden from prying eyes? Had not Dumah been asleep when the Thamud storm arrived on a thousand camels?

Judah, my courageous lion, was surely thinking of what could not be seen with the eyes alone, and I too wondered what mystery and power hid behind the mud walls of this sleeping enclave.


AND YET no wonder greeted us when we finally set to shore and stepped out of the boat onto a dock in need of repair. Instead a fisherman who, upon learning from the boisterous Elias that his passengers had come from Tiberias to see the rabbi Yeshua, inquired about his cousin who lived there. Elias knew of the man and an immediate friendship was thus consummated. The fisherman quickly directed us to the house of Levi ben Alphaeus, who was also known as Matthew. Also, he told us, Levi was a tax collector and as such should not be trusted, although many said he had become more friendly of late.

No wonder greeted us as we followed Judah to the tax collector’s house on the outskirts of that quaint village. Only the lingering scent of dead fish.

None as we waited on the street for Judah, who entered the house. Only a donkey and several children, but these were shooed away by women who recognized us as foreigners and stayed clear. The sun sank and the cold set in.

And when Judah did emerge, though his eyes were full of anticipation, he offered us little encouragement.

“They say he’s gone to the hills,” he said.

“To the hills?” Phasa demanded.

“To rest and pray. Don’t you see? He’s here!”

“He rests in the hills?” Phasa said. “It’s far too dark for us to go to the hills!”

“He will return.” Judah’s excitement refreshed me. “Come, I have persuaded them to allow you to wait in the courtyard.” He motioned us toward the gate that led to the homes’ common area. “Come. Come.”

“Wait how long?” Phasa asked. “Did we travel so far to wait in a courtyard?”

Judah turned back and spoke sternly. “You must be patient, Phasa! We are not in the palace. If you announce yourself as Phasaelis, wife of Herod, I am sure they will give you immediate entrance.”