Martha Page 4

  She moved to the small alcove off the courtyard that served as a storage room for food and cooking pots. Her father had built a covered walkway from the house to the alcove to allow access to the storage room in inclement weather. Martha lifted the leather curtain aside and entered. She put the extra garlic in a small basket, then took a wooden bowl off the shelf for the lentil stew. Her father and Lazarus would be coming back from Jerusalem soon and would want their dinner. She hoped they had been successful in selling her last two weavings. Working the loom was her solace and she loved to mix the rich colors and patterns. When she was old enough to move the shuttle back and forth, her mother had taught her how to weave and showed her the different dyes that could be made from plants and roots. Together they carefully colored the wool yarn Martha had spun. Even at the age of five, she could twirl the spindle expertly, pulling the soft wool into thread.

  Now her woven cloth and rugs helped with their income. Brick work had been slow and the crops had not been as bountiful this year.

  Emerging from the storage room, she looked around in exasperation. Where was Mary now? At fifteen, Mary was a woman, gentle-natured to be sure, but certainly not very practical, to Martha’s way of thinking. Mischief seemed to follow her around, just as it did for Lazarus. Martha sighed with annoyance and shook her head.

  Whenever there was work to be done, Mary was often sitting somewhere playing the lyre Lazarus had made for her years before. While Martha blustered at her at times, the music was soothing. Martha had promised her mother to care for her sister, to watch over her and teach her the things of the household. Yet Mary was a tenderhearted dreamer and often left her tasks to care for an injured bird or animal. Martha would choke back her stern words and busy herself in her work.

  She heard the sound of the gate and turned to greet her father and Lazarus. They were smiling broadly.

  “Ah, daughter, you are truly gifted. We sold both rugs in the marketplace and they were glad to have them and will sell any more we bring them. May the God Who Sees reward you for your fine work.”

  Martha blushed briefly at the praise, then eyed her brother. “Lazarus, the animals need to be fed, and watch the donkey, you know how he kicks.”

  Lazarus gave her an impish grin. “You do not want to know the news from the city?”

  She put her hands on her hips in mock sternness. “There is something that I should know about?”

  Ephraim sighed. “As a matter of fact, many things are happening in Jerusalem. The talk is about a man people believe to be a prophet. They call him John the Baptist. He is baptizing people in the Jordan River, admonishing them to repent of their sins and crying that the kingdom of heaven is at hand.”

  Lazarus broke in. “People say he wears a garment of camel’s hair and eats locusts and wild honey.”

  “Locusts and wild honey? Now who can survive on that?”

  Ephraim smiled at her and then looked out toward the fields, his face almost wistful. “He says he is preparing the way for someone, someone who is coming soon.”

  Lazarus grabbed a handful of dates from the bowl on the table, avoiding Martha’s reproving glance. “The whole city is saying that perhaps it is the Messiah.”

  Martha gasped. “The Messiah? He is telling them to prepare the way for the Messiah?”

  Lazarus nodded his head. “From the talk in the marketplace, people have been coming to him by the hundreds to be baptized and repent of their sins.”

  “Where is he now?”

  Ephraim waved a hand. “He moves from place to place. Harim says the last he heard, the Baptist was in Aenon, near Salim.”

  Martha considered that a moment, then lowering her voice, asked, “And what do the leaders and priests say of him?”

  Ephraim shook his head. “That is the amazing thing. It is whispered that the prophet goes up and down the Jordan, and the elders at first only stood and listened, even when he called them a ‘brood of vipers.’”

  Martha looked from her father to her brother. “I’m surprised the leaders have not arrested him, calling them names like that.”

  “That is a dangerous thing, sister, but what will get him killed is denouncing Herod for marrying Herodias, his brother’s wife.” He shook his head. The adulterous relationship was common knowledge throughout Palestine, but one didn’t speak of it openly. Herod’s spies were everywhere.

  Martha put her hand to her mouth. “He dares to say that openly?”

  “The talk in Jerusalem is that Herod is afraid of him. The people follow this prophet and he doesn’t want to create problems in his district.” Ephraim frowned. “Herod is a great sinner, but he will not repent and be baptized by the likes of this John the Baptist.”

  Lazarus broke in. “Harim said the priests and Levites were sent by the Elders to ask if he was the Christ, or That Prophet, or Elijah, and he said no. When they pressed him to tell them who he was so they could give an answer to those who had sent them, he would only say, ‘I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness; make straight the way of the Lord.’”

  Martha shook her head in amazement. “Those are strange words, Abba, and these are strange times. Have there not been many over the years who have claimed to be the Messiah? They gathered followers like this man, but soon they seemed to disappear and that was the end of them.”

  “True, daughter, but this fellow does not claim to be the Christ. If he is just demented, he will soon lose the interest of the people and they will desert him.”

  Then a thought occurred to her. “Did you go to be baptized?”

  Lazarus grinned at her. “We didn’t have time for such things. We had merchandise to sell and a long walk home.”

  Relieved, Martha returned to her preparations for the evening meal and laid cushions down around the low wooden table.

  Lazarus, almost seventeen, had grown into his long arms and legs. He was a handsome young man. The young girls of the village eyed him shyly behind their shawls. He was not yet interested in marriage, and Martha was glad her father was not in any hurry to add to their household.

  The gate opened again and Mary stepped into the courtyard.

  “Where have you been? Supper is almost ready and you have been no help.” The words were out before Martha thought.

  Mary hung her head. “Do not be angry with me, sister. Phoebe’s goat had triplets. I wanted to see them.”

  Martha gave an exasperated sigh. Staying angry with her gentle sister was a futile effort. “Come, let us eat.”

  As they dipped the still warm bread into the lentil stew, Ephraim turned to Martha. “In all this talk about this John the Baptist, I almost forgot. I have heard news of Esther’s father, Simon.”

  She gasped. “Oh Abba, I thought by now he would have died.”

  “He lives still, the leprosy grows slowly.”

  “His family will be glad to get any word of him, Abba.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you are right. It seems a merchant passed him on the road and had pity when Simon called out to him. The merchant was on his way to Jerusalem and would leave a message for his family with Jacob the tanner, to tell them he was still alive.”

  Martha thought of her friend Esther and her eyes filled with tears. “Does his family know now?”

  Ephraim sighed. “Yes. By now they do. For whatever comfort it may bring them.”

  6

  Martha moved her shuttle along the warping stick on the loom and then pushed down to tighten the fabric. Her latest project, another shawl, was nearly finished. This was a plain head shawl to replace the one Mary had torn on a thornbush. She had left the yarn in its natural state, but couldn’t resist a contrasting occasional thread of deep green, knowing it was Mary’s favorite color.

  She listened to her sister play her lyre and found the music soothing. She had not learned an instrument herself. There was no time over the years with the household to see to.

  Word came to the village that the Baptist was still baptizing after almost a year and no soldiers had
come to arrest him. His words ran through her mind many times over the months: “Prepare ye the way of the Lord.” The Lord was coming? The Messiah? She shrugged to herself. The Messiah had been foretold for hundreds of years, since Father Abraham. His people had cried out for him for a long time, but he hadn’t come. Would now be any different? Would he suddenly appear and deliver them from their Roman oppressors?

  She sniffed. Who was this strange man in the desert? Had God truly sent him? She was only a woman, but through her father she knew of the whispered discussions among the men of her village. They were expectant, hoping against hope that the Messiah would come in their lifetime.

  She looked over at Lazarus as he fed the animals. To the amazement of her family, he had asked his father to arrange a betrothal to Shua, the daughter of the village potter. Esther’s brother, Tobias, had married the year before. He and his young wife, Chloe, seemed to be very happy together. Perhaps it had influenced Lazarus.

  Martha stood to stretch her back. Shua was the only survivor of four children her mother had borne, and her parents doted on her. She was pretty, but a flighty young woman, and Martha had misgivings about her household abilities.

  During this year of betrothal, Lazarus had helped his father add another room to their home for his bride. That morning, Martha listened wistfully to her brother singing happily as he worked. She was glad for him, but the thought that marriage might never be her lot brought sadness and a small twinge of jealousy. With effort, she had willed the negative thoughts away and turned her attention to shaping the dough into loaves for the oven.

  As she listened to Mary’s song, she wondered when Mary would be a bride. Men gazed at her slender figure and her lovely face with interest, but her father insisted she was too young for marriage as yet. Martha shook her head. Mary was almost fifteen, more than eligible for marriage.

  Martha eyed her weaving, deciding what colors to add, but her mind returned to Shua. She would have to be trained when she came to their home as a new bride. Martha paused, reflecting. What would it be like having someone else in their household? In some homes in their village, Martha knew there were difficulties. She must do her best to make Shua feel comfortable here, at least for Lazarus’s sake.

  “Mary, would you bring me some garlic from the garden? Pick some of the young fava beans also.”

  Mary smiled and rose from her bench. Laying the lyre down, she walked quickly to the gate.

  A few minutes later, Martha looked up as Mary came back carrying the garlic and fava beans in a small basket on her arm. Martha’s thoughts went back to the day she herself brought leeks and garlic to her mother, the day before Mary was born. Time seemed to be rushing past with the speed of a hawk diving for its prey.

  Heavy coughing in the house interrupted her thoughts. At midmorning, Lazarus had helped his father to his pallet, for Ephraim almost fainted while they were weaving the branches over the new room. Her father’s health had seemed to improve for a few years, but now it grew worse. He had little energy and sometimes great pain in his side. Passover neared and both Martha and Lazarus worried he would not be able to make even the short journey to Jerusalem. They had a new donkey, purchased with the money Martha had gotten from the last batch of rugs sold in the marketplace. The donkey they’d had for years had gotten too cranky and began to nip, so they sold him. Her father would have a strong, young animal to ride on, for he was in no condition to walk this year.

  Pouring some broth into a cup, she hurried into the house and knelt down by her father’s pallet. “Take some nourishment, Abba, it will make you feel better.” She put an arm behind his shoulders and lifted him up slightly, putting the cup to his lips. He struggled to drink what he could, and finally she eased him down again.

  “Thank you, daughter, I’m sure I can rest now.”

  He closed his eyes, and for a brief moment a bolt of fear went through her as she remembered her mother’s death. Then she watched for his chest to move in rhythm with his breath. She put a fist to her mouth to stifle a sob and rose quickly to leave the room. She needed her father’s strength. He must get well. She squared her shoulders. Tomorrow she would go to see Anna. With all her herbs and potions, surely there was something she could do for her father.

  The barley harvest drew to an end and the village prepared for Passover. With Ephraim so weak, Martha asked Lazarus to inspect their three lambs for blemishes and choose the best lamb for the sacrifice in the Temple. Simon’s family, now with Tobias’s young wife, Chloe, could not afford a lamb, and Martha’s family would share the sacrifice as it was allowed in the law of Moses. Along with the lamb, Lazarus and the other families of Bethany took the half-shekel they had carefully saved and placed it in girdles for the Temple treasury.

  The sense of joy and excitement increased among the people as strangers began to pass through Bethany on their way to Jerusalem. Martha drew water from the village well and watched as people streamed toward the Holy City from all over Israel to obey the commandment of the Lord. She also watched the groups of travelers in hopes of seeing her friend Esther and her husband coming with his family, but so far there had been no sign of them.

  Martha prepared food to be packed on their donkey behind her father and carried to Jerusalem. She was grateful that Hanniel, an elderly cousin on her mother’s side, lived in the city and opened his home to the family for lodging during Passover. There they would all partake of the sacrificial lamb after it had been roasted. Not a home, an inn, or a courtyard went unfilled as the pilgrims flooded the city to capacity.

  At last the time came to leave for Jerusalem. Lazarus, who was stronger than his sisters, helped their father walk through the courtyard. Mary untied the lamb from the gate of the pen and led it toward the gate. She would also help carry date cakes, flour, and other ingredients for the Passover meal Martha had put together. Mary had carefully put her share of the load into the cloth bag Martha had made to go over her shoulder.

  Lazarus helped their father up on their donkey and, at Ephraim’s sharp intake of breath, glanced anxiously at Martha. Ephraim was obviously in pain, but resisted their pleas to remain at home. They had no choice but to continue to Jerusalem.

  When they were ready to leave, Nathan quietly joined the group. He walked stoically near the donkey and kept a firm eye on Ephraim. Somehow his strong presence made Martha feel less burdened for her father. As they set out, neighbors and friends joined them and the atmosphere of joy was contagious.

  She’d been awed as a child by the crowds and the ceremonies of Passover—so much needed to be done by their leaders beforehand. The priests and Levites prepared months ahead. She remembered all that their father had carefully shared with them when they were small. On the first day of Adar, which was a full six weeks before Passover, special envoys of the rabbinical court checked over all of the roads, marking gravesites so no one would inadvertently step on one and thus be ritually impure. After the rains of Tebet, some roads needed repair. The city squares and public areas would be cleared so way stations could be set up for pilgrims to spend the night and gather fresh supplies as they journeyed toward the city. Wells, called mikvaot, would be prepared along the way where pilgrims would immerse themselves and be purified for the Temple. Ephraim pointed out the special ovens they would see in Jerusalem that were set up all over the city for roasting the lambs.

  How gently he led us and explained things to us, Martha mused. She thought of all her father’s teaching over the years. How strong he had seemed to her, and now as she watched him, hunched over the donkey, she realized once again how old he had gotten, and how frail.

  The group walked steadily, other travelers joining them until a throng flowed toward the Holy City. Martha glanced back at Judith, Tobias, and Chloe. Would their cousin Hanniel object to Simon’s family coming into his courtyard to share the roasted lamb? They did not have the disease that tore Simon from them, yet they were his family. She began to pray silently as she walked, for her father, for Simon’s family, and
for Simon. At this joyous time of the year, she wondered where he was. He had loved Passover and now was forever excluded from the Holy City.

  Their neighbor Shaul and his family walked behind Nathan, who came alone due to his wife’s illness. As they approached the city, the great crowd of pilgrims swelled in numbers, and Martha glanced back to see Mary’s face alight with wonder. Her sister was easily distracted, and could possibly lag behind among the travelers. With a sigh, Martha touched Mary’s shoulder and gave her a significant look.

  The donkey plodded along and Ephraim was bent over, dozing from time to time. With Nathan on one side of the donkey and Lazarus on the other, they would make sure he didn’t fall off. As they approached the city itself, the family stopped at a mikvaot for water purification before entering the city. Lazarus and Tobias immersed themselves as the representatives of their family to attend to the sacrifice in the Temple. The others would remain at the home of Hanniel. When each of the families traveling with them were ready, they began the ascent into Jerusalem.

  As the huge crowds and the bleating animals entered the city, it seemed to throb with life and energy. Like a mother bird gathering her fledglings under her wings, so Jerusalem gathered her people for the holiest of days.

  7

  “Mother, Martha!”

  Martha turned quickly to see Esther and her husband, Micah, stepping out of the large throng and moving toward them. Esther embraced her mother and then Martha, and everyone began to talk at once. Martha looked at Esther’s rounded stomach and smiled broadly. Esther was obviously with child.

  Judith beamed at her daughter. “I shall be a grandmother at last. May God be praised.” She studied her daughter’s face. “You are well? There are no problems?”