The fisherman shook his head slowly. “No, David. It was wine.”
“But—” He just stared at him. “You don’t mean—”
“Yes,” Andrew said with half a smile, “that is exactly what we mean. Jesus didn’t do anything except to tell the servants to fill the pots. But what went in as water came out as wine.”
Reeling, David started to say something, then didn’t know what it would be. He reached out and fingered the net, his thoughts tumbling. Simon Peter and Andrew looked at each other but said nothing. Andrew went back to working on the net.
Almost five minutes went by. They finished that tear and moved down to the next, a much smaller one. Finally David spoke. “If people had too much to drink, perhaps—”
Peter looked up. “No one was drunk, David. It was not that kind of a wedding.”
David nodded. He wanted to think that Simon Peter was just not being realistic, but these men were not ones to shade the truth. Another two or three minutes went by before David had another thought. “Were the pots used for wine before that night?”
Andrew laughed softly, seeing where David was going with this. “They were water pots.”
“Are you sure? Did anyone look inside? Perhaps there was some wine in them before. Stone will hold a residue from the wine.”
Peter stopped and laid a hand on David’s shoulder. “There was somewhere between twelve and eighteen firkens of water drawn and poured into those stone containers, David. That’s enough to water a caravan of camels. Even if those pots had been half full of wine—which they were not—do you think the host of the feast would have declared it to be the finest wine we had drunk so far?”
There was an enigmatic smile. “I told you, David. We were not drunk that night.”
“Then how do you explain it?” David cried.
The two looked at each other for several seconds; then Peter answered for the both of them. “We don’t. That’s why we call him Master.”
II
Once the net was mended, Peter decided that they couldn’t simply quit with such a meager catch, so he and Andrew retrieved their hand net from the hold of the boat. Here David was of no help to them. The hand net or “cast net” was made of a fine mesh and was circular, about ten feet in diameter. The edge was lined with lead sinkers, and a line was attached to the center of the net. Holding the line with the left hand, Peter arranged the net in neat folds over his shoulder. Therein lay the skill. An experienced fisherman, and Andrew and Simon Peter were that if nothing else, could send the net sailing outward until its full width almost floated over the water. Then it would settle gracefully and sink to the bottom.
Working about twenty-five paces apart, the two brothers waded out to their waists, then stood motionless. Peter had the net poised and ready. For several long minutes no one moved. All three of them watched the water intently. Suddenly, off to Peter’s right, the surface of the water rippled softly.
“Over there!” David cried, pointing.
Peter had already seen it. Moving very slowly, he turned his body until he faced the spot. Even as they watched, the ripples moved southward along the line of the shore. With one smooth sweep of his arm, the net went sailing outward, extending to its full circle. The fish saw the movement and wheeled away, but it was too late. The net dropped, the sinkers plopping softly, and the fish were encircled. Now, moving swiftly, Peter drew on the cord. This pulled the weighted perimeter of the net in tighter, trapping the catch. Andrew moved in quickly to make sure the bottom of the net held their catch as the fish began to thrash wildly. In a moment it was clear that the day would not be a total waste.
III
About half an hour later, as they finished cleaning and putting the catch into buckets of lake water, Andrew stopped and turned. A commotion down the beach had caught his attention. David and Peter turned to look as well. Near the far end of this stretch of fisherman’s beach a path left the shore, cutting through the trees to the main road that led to Capernaum. It was there that a small crowd of men, women, and children had appeared, moving toward them.
“Trouble?” David asked, squinting in the sunlight, unable to tell what it was.
Andrew shook his head but didn’t speak. He was peering carefully at the crowd. Even as they watched, the group kept moving toward them. Now they could see that the crowd was gathered around one figure who was leading them. They could hear the murmur of many voices and the sounds of people calling out to one another.
Andrew stood, leaning forward slightly. His body was rigid, his eyes fixed on the man who led them. Then he jerked around. “It’s him, Peter.”
Peter was nodding. “Yes, I thought it was.”
“Who?” David asked.
“Jesus.”
That brought David to his feet as well. He peered at the group that was moving slowly toward them. All along the beach, people were being drawn to join the crowd.
“Yes.” Andrew was transfixed.
They stood there without speaking further. Slowly the swelling crowd came toward them. It was like a magnet being pulled through a pile of metal shavings. As Jesus approached, people stood and went swiftly to join him. Nets were left stretched out on the sand, the sorting and cleaning of fish forgotten for a moment.
Finally they were close enough that David could see the man around whom everyone swirled. He was dressed in a simple robe or tunic of homespun material, the dress common to peasants and craftsmen all over the country. He was taller than David had expected, and had broad shoulders. He moved slowly, holding the hand of a young girl, answering questions, smiling pleasantly in greeting as additional people joined him.
Now it was David who was transfixed. He couldn’t take his eyes off him. This was the man who had so occupied his thoughts for the past weeks, and now here he was before him. Suddenly he had a thought. “Do you know how old he is?” he asked Andrew.
The fisherman turned, giving David a strange look. “How old?”
“Yes,” David said, eager now. “How old is he?”
“What difference does—”
But before Andrew could finish his question, Peter cut in. “He’s thirty years of age. I heard John ask Jesus’ mother that same question at the wedding.”
“Ah.” It came out as a soft sound of wonder from David’s throat.
“Why?” Peter asked, staring at him as strangely, as Andrew was.
David didn’t hear them. Jesus was now no more than twenty-five or thirty paces away, and David was watching his every move. Three young boys ran alongside, calling something up to Jesus. He nodded and spoke, and the one boy hooted in triumph. Jesus laughed at the spontaneous enthusiasm. For a moment it was as though the four of them were completely alone, sharing a pleasant moment together.
Then he was to them. Jesus stopped a few feet away, and the people around him stopped as well. A hush quickly fell over the group, for it was obvious he was going to speak. But for a moment he did not. His eyes seemed to take in everything—the net with its newly mended spots, the buckets of fish, the fact that Peter and Andrew were wet to their waist.
Finally his eyes stopped on Peter. A smile of infinite softness played around the corners of Jesus’ mouth. For a moment David thought he might say something about their catch, but when he spoke, he called them by name.
“Simon Peter? Andrew?”
Both men straightened, their eyes fixed on him.
“Follow me.” The smile broadened, and David could see the pleasure in the eyes of Jesus. “Follow me,” he said again, “and I will make you fishers of men.”
David was astonished. That was hardly what he had expected. He turned, wanting to see the reaction to such a strange comment. To his utter amazement, Andrew dropped the knife he had been using to clean the fish, turned to a bucket of water, and washed his hands quickly. Wiping them on his tunic, he came over to stand beside Jesus. Simon Peter had not budged as yet. He was looking straight at Jesus, his eyes wide and questioning. Then without a word, he turned and w
alked to where his outer tunic lay beside the net. He put it on quickly, girding the sash around his waist, then walked over to stand beside Andrew.
There was a slight nod from Jesus, as though he had expected nothing less than this astonishing response; then he started forward again. As he reached David, he slowed his step, submitting to David’s unabashed scrutiny with calmness. His eyes penetrated David, as if he was looking deep inside him and quietly asking, “Is there anything you would ask of me?” When David’s eyes finally fell away, he smiled and moved on.
Drawn as if beyond his will, David fell in with the crowd as they continued on. But at the very next boat, they stopped again. Zebedee and his two sons were all on board their vessel now, mending the large net. Or rather, they had been mending it. At the approach of the crowd, they stopped working as well and were watching intently. Once again the man from Nazareth stopped. Once again there was a hush as the crowd quieted to hear what he said. And once again came those simple words as he looked at the two sons of Zebedee. “Come, follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.”
These two brothers were as different as pomegranates and onions. James was the older of the two, being about Peter’s age. He was of a more sober mien, thoughtful, reflective, deliberate. John was not yet twenty and looked younger than that. His nature was more open, warm, and friendly to all. Yet in spite of their differences, they were both energetic and strong willed. Now they both turned to their father. But Zebedee was staring at Jesus and didn’t see them. As with David, once again the young teacher from Nazareth submitted to the searching scrutiny with calm serenity. Finally Zebedee turned to his sons and nodded. James set the net aside, walked to the bow of the boat and jumped lightly down onto the beach. John followed him without hesitation. As they reached Jesus, he reached out and took James’ hand, holding it firmly for a moment. Then he put an arm around John’s shoulder, and together they moved off.
David ben Joseph, merchant of Capernaum, watched them until they were a full stone’s throw away. Then he turned to his old friend. Zebedee was older than David by almost ten years and had turned the fishing business mostly over to his two sons—the two sons who had just walked away from it without hesitation.
“What will you do?” David asked Zebedee. He wasn’t thinking about what this would do to his own trade in the fish business. He was wondering how Zebedee would make out.
After a moment Zebedee shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
IV
“They’re going to give up fishing?” Deborah had stopped her sewing and was staring at David in astonishment.
“Not completely.”
“To follow after this man? And what is Anna supposed to do? How will she care for her family if Simon is off chasing butterflies?”
His head came up sharply. “You have never met Jesus, Deborah,” he said softly. “If you had, you wouldn’t say that.”
“What?” she cried. “What is it about this man that is so compelling that grown men leave their occupations, leave their families without means of support?”
“I can’t explain it. There is something in his eyes. Something in the way he speaks. He’s like no one I’ve ever known before.”
She leaned forward, her sewing forgotten. “What are you saying, David?”
He took a deep breath. “I’m not sure. But I am determined to learn more of him.”
She shook that off. That was not what she had meant. “What if he had asked you to follow him?” she queried. “What then?”
He was silent for a long time.
“You wouldn’t, David! Just up and leave everything?”
“I want you to hear him, Deborah. See him.” Then he remembered and became suddenly eager. “Simon Peter says he is thirty years old now.”
“That’s another thing,” she retorted. “Simon is changing his name?”
David remembered how Peter had responded to that. “No, he’s just adding to it.” Then he said it again. “He’s thirty, Deborah. It was thirty years ago this spring when I was in Bethlehem.”
Her face softened. “David,” she said, her eyes filled with love, “there are many people who are thirty years old now. Do you know what the chances are that it is this particular person?”
“Small,” he came right back. “But at least it fits. If he were twenty or forty, then I would know he couldn’t be the Messiah.” He stood and went over to her, kneeling in front of her. “Will you at least come with me and hear him?”
She sighed, wishing she had not responded as she had the previous night. “I told you I would.”
“Good.” He returned to his seat. His eyes were wide and filled with longing. “I love being a merchant, Deborah.”
That surprised her. “I know you do. So do your sons.” There was a soft laugh. “At least Ephraim does.”
“It has given me great satisfaction,” he went on, ignoring that last comment.
“Yes, I know it has.”
“But—” He stopped and shook his head.
Surprised, Deborah peered at him. “But what, David?”
“To be a fisher of men?” His shoulders lifted and fell. “Imagine, helping people come to God, helping them find meaning and joy in their lives.”
Deborah’s eyes were fixed on him in complete amazement.
He finally met her gaze. “That would make being a merchant seem insignificant indeed.”
Chapter Notes
Obviously the four Gospels do not contain any physical descriptions of either Jesus or his disciples, nor do they give any ages for anyone except Jesus, who was thirty when he began his ministry (see Luke 3:23). Therefore, all such descriptions are the creation of the author. Care has been taken, however, to keep the characters of real people consistent with what is known about them from the scriptural record.
The story of the changing of the water to wine at Cana is found in John 2.
The fact that Mary felt some obligation to solve the problem when the wine ran out suggests that this was likely the wedding of a relative (see Clarke, 3:526–27; Talmage, p. 144). Farrar proposes it could have been the marriage of one of the immediate family (p. 142). We are told that Jesus had four brothers and a plurality of “sisters” (Mark 6:3), so there were at least six other children. All of these, of course, would have been younger than Jesus. If it were an immediate family member getting married in Cana, it would better explain Mary’s sense of obligation when the wine ran out.
Though Mary, the mother of Jesus, is mentioned throughout the Gospels, the last mention of her husband, Joseph, is when Jesus was twelve (Luke 2:42–43). Since it would seem odd to mention his mother at the wedding but not his father if Joseph was still living, most scholars suppose that Joseph had died by this time. Many artists depict him as much older than Mary because of that, but there is no basis in fact for that supposition.
The account of the calling of the fishermen comes from Matthew 4, Mark 1, and Luke 5.
Chapter 14
And he came to Nazareth, where he had been brought up: and, as his custom was, he went into the synagogue on the sabbath day, and stood up for to read.
—Luke 4:16
I
25 April, a.d. 30
The village of Nazareth sat in a narrow depression in the southern hill country of Galilee. Running for about ten miles from west to east, the Nazareth Ridge rose sharply from the flat richness of the Plains of Jezreel and finally died out in the highlands overlooking the Sea of Kinnereth. Here was pure Galilee—steep hillsides covered with forests of oak, pine, carob, and other trees, spectacular vistas of the valleys to the south, and frequent breezes that kept it significantly cooler than the lowlands around the lake.
After being gone for two weeks to Judea for Passover, Ephraim and Rachel decided that they could not make another extended trip with the children so soon. On hearing that, Leah, who had never enjoyed extended traveling, volunteered to stay and help Ephraim catch up on things. The barley harvest was in full cycle now, and in a week or two the whea
t harvest—their busiest time—would also begin. It said much for the urgency David was feeling that he would leave his affairs at this time of the year and go off into the mountains to hear a new teacher. Deborah went also, though somewhat reluctantly. Simeon agreed to accompany them for three reasons: He was somewhat curious about Jesus; he had Zealot business he needed to discuss with Yehuda and David; and, most important, it would give him time to see Shana again, the first opportunity he had had since the betrothal. Deborah was glad for his presence. She hoped that having two united voices might be enough to persuade her husband that Jesus of Nazareth was not the man for whom he had been waiting and watching for thirty years.
Nazareth was not quite twenty-five Roman miles from Capernaum, so David and his family left shortly after sunup on Friday, coming only as far as Beth Neelah, arriving about half an hour before sundown and the beginning of Shabbat. Though he was surprised to see them, Yehuda was delighted and welcomed them into his home. Shana, of course, was very pleased.
Once the Sabbath meal was over, the two families, now legally joined in the bonds of marriage, spent a pleasant evening together. Though it was still almost a full year away, there were many plans to be made for the wedding. It also provided an appropriate opportunity for Shana and Simeon to begin to interact together in their new roles as betrothed husband and wife. To Deborah’s relief, other than David explaining to Yehuda’s family why they had come up from Capernaum, there was no further talk that night of Jesus of Nazareth.
II
26 April, a.d. 30
In the morning they ate a leisurely Sabbath breakfast—cold, of course, because no fires were kindled on Shabbat—then started out for Nazareth about the third hour of the day. It was no more than a couple of hours’ walk, and this gave them plenty of time to reach the village before services began. To Simeon’s surprise, Yehuda decided to come with them. The hill country was buzzing with rumors about this new preacher from Nazareth, and Yehuda said he had been thinking of going to their neighboring village to see for himself. Daniel declined the invitation to join them, but an ecstatic Shana, who had slept little the previous night, also came along. Deborah teased her somewhat about whether her interest lay in Jesus of Nazareth or Simeon of Capernaum.