Simeon smiled to himself as he thought about the night before. He and Shana had not been left alone—that would not be appropriate until the actual wedding—but they had been able to spend several hours together with the rest of the family. Simeon had watched her closely throughout the evening, seeing her through new eyes now. Though he still found the whole idea of marriage a little strange—for him at least—it was confirmed again to him that he had made a wise choice. She was as lovely as a meadow of wildflowers, and the joy he saw in her eyes made her all the more so. She was intelligent, quick of wit, a hard worker in the orchards and vineyards, and anxious to prepare herself to be his wife and mother to their children.
Suddenly he felt a tug on his arm. He looked around to see Shana beside him. She laughed up at him. “You look so sober, Simeon. Are you contemplating a funeral or marriage?”
He grinned at her, marveling at the sweetness of her face. There was nothing here to be sober about, he thought. “No,” he responded. “Actually I was thinking about what you are getting in all of this. That is sobering.”
She moved back over to walk beside his mother. “I shall try to adjust to the idea.”
“I wouldn’t be too quick to put away his concerns,” Deborah said. “You haven’t seen Simeon first thing in the morning. He is like a bad-tempered lion waking up from a nap. It is best to give him a wide berth for an hour or two.”
“Mother!” Simeon said as Shana hooted in delight.
“It’s all right,” Shana said to Deborah. “Leah has already warned me about this. Only she said it was more like dealing with a porcupine just coming out of its burrow in the morning.”
David and Yehuda roared at Simeon’s wounded look. “So this is what the women in my family talk about when I am not around,” he said, clearly miffed.
Yehuda looked at Simeon’s father as if Simeon were not anywhere around. “I have seen this for myself,” he said, “and it is truly fearsome. I did not dare tell Shana any of this until after the betrothal was complete for fear that she would change her mind.”
Shana decided to take pity on him. “I am not troubled by any of these reports,” she said sweetly, “for after living with Yehuda for all these years, I would find even an irritable lion a welcome improvement.”
Yehuda yelped and took a swipe at her. “Well spoken!” Simeon called as she darted away to escape Yehuda. Deborah slipped an arm through Simeon’s. “You have made a wise choice, Son,” she whispered, watching as Shana easily stayed clear of her brother’s grasp.
“I know, Mother. I am very pleased.”
They walked on, enjoying the light mood and the beautiful morning together. Then, after a time, David said, “I suppose Aaron arrived at Nazareth last night all right.”
“Oh, yes,” Deborah said. “I’m sure of that. And long before sundown. You know Aaron. He wouldn’t risk violating the Sabbath even by a minute.”
Simeon smiled at the gentle barb. His uncle had left Capernaum when it was barely light, a full hour and a half before the rest of them were ready. Deborah had invited him to accompany them and stay at Yehuda’s home, but he reminded her with a touch of reproof that while Beth Neelah and Nazareth were not that far apart, it was still more than a Sabbath day’s journey, and therefore he had to get to Nazareth before the Sabbath began.
Keeping the Sabbath day holy was viewed by their people as one of the most important of all the commandments. The fourth of the Ten Commandments was very clear about this. “Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. On the seventh day thou shalt not do any work.”
The problem in the mind of the scribes and Pharisees was how to define work. They had devised a complex set of rules defining what did and did not constitute “labor” on Shabbat. With their usual obsession with leaving no aspect of the Law undefined, they had even gone to such lengths as to warn a tailor against sticking his needle in the lapel of his tunic, lest he forget it and be found carrying his “tools” on the Sabbath day. When they wrestled with the question of whether or not a person could carry any olive oil on the Sabbath, in case it was needed for anointing, they finally determined that it was acceptable to carry enough oil to anoint “the smallest member,” which was defined as the little toe of a baby one day old. They had even defined with some specificity what could and what could not be rescued from one’s house if it caught on fire on the Sabbath.
One of the more thorny issues the rabbis had wrestled with was how far a person could legitimately walk on the Sabbath day without it constituting work. If you said no walking was allowed, that would eliminate any visit to the temple or synagogue, an equally important commandment. Citing passages from the Torah which stated that the distance from one part of the camp of Israel to the Tabernacle of Moses was two thousand cubits, the great legal thinkers worked it out from there. A cubit was the distance from the elbow to the tip of the index finger. That was roughly the equivalent of one step or pace for a person. Walking a distance of two thousand paces and back was obviously acceptable to the Lord. This came to be known as a “Sabbath day’s journey.”
Beth Neelah and Nazareth were about four miles apart, much more than what was allowed on Shabbat, and so Aaron and his fellow Pharisees, including Amram, leader of the Capernaum congregation of Pharisees, left early enough to go all the way to Nazareth before the sun went down and Sabbath began. Aaron made no secret of the fact that he viewed David’s and Deborah’s casual approach to the whole matter with great disapproval.
Simeon blew out his breath softly. This was what was so maddening about his uncle and his associates. He had no quarrel with the basic principle. The Lord had made it clear that the Sabbath was to be a day of rest and worship and not a time to undertake normal travel. And Simeon completely agreed that God expected them to cease their labors. But this taking of the Law and examining it until you had every possibility covered, every trivial aspect defined, every infinitesimal exception protected irritated him to the point of exasperation.
What galled him the most was that even the Pharisees found their own prohibitions too restrictive, so they developed “exceptions” to allow them greater freedom. Simeon compared these to the “loophole” windows found on a fortress. Narrow vertical slits were made in the walls, with a slightly wider aperture at the bottom to allow an archer a field of fire at the enemy below while he himself remained in hiding. But Simeon knew from his own experience that an expert marksman from outside could find one of those loopholes with his shafts and do considerable damage. Thus it was with the scribes. They built this great wall of protection around the Law, but then left loopholes for themselves so they could get around those restrictions that inconvenienced them too much.
The one that paricularly irked him had to do with this Sabbath day’s journey. For a person living in a small village like Beth Neelah, or even in a larger town like Capernaum, staying within the limited distance while you moved about town was fairly simple. But in a large city like Jerusalem, this was more of a problem. How had the scribes dealt with this limitation? Well, one of the rules stated that if a person deposited some food in a jar or a bag in a certain place before the Sabbath, that act extended the person’s place of “residence” to wherever the food was located. So some of the scribes and Pharisees would have their servants place containers of food in various places around the city the day before the Sabbath. Then the following day they could go anywhere they pleased, as long as they were sure to return to one of the “places of residence” before they went the full two thousand paces.
“You’re frowning again.”
He turned in surprise to see his mother and Shana watching him with faint smiles.
“You are starting to worry Shana, Son,” his mother teased. “Is the thought of being her husband so disturbing?”
He laughed now. “Actually, Mother, I was thinking about Uncle Aaron.”
“Oh.” Now she frowned. “I don’t want you saying anything to him today, Simeon. No arguments.”
He held up his hand
s. “I couldn’t think of a better way to improve my day.”
III
The synagogue at Nazareth was not much to speak of, though it was larger than Simeon had expected for the village. It was built of stone and designed properly, but it had little adornment. It certainly was not designed for the large crowd that was waiting for the doors to open that Sabbath morning. Evidently, whoever had told Aaron and his associates that Jesus would be here had sent word to others as well. There were three of the leading Pharisees from Sepphoris; two from Jotapata, which was even farther to the north; and several from other villages around. Two men, richly clad in robes that were far more expensive than anything the rest of the people wore, looked to be Sadducees. That really surprised Simeon. He didn’t recognize them as being from Capernaum, and he could hardly imagine that they had come up from Jerusalem. Yet out in the small villages, especially in the Galilee, you didn’t find many Sadducees. But there these two were, largely ignoring the common people around them and deliberately steering clear of the Pharisees.
Deborah and Shana separated from the men with a nod as they entered the door—no touching between man and woman was allowed in the synagogue—and moved over to the women’s section. In all synagogues, seating for men and women was separated by a wooden partition, usually of lattice work. The benches for the women were mostly taken, but it was the men’s section that was quickly filling to overflowing. Fifteen minutes before the service began, the synagogue was packed. When the benches filled, people lined the walls two and three deep. All of the shutters had been thrown open, and through the windows Simeon could see even more people crowding around, hoping to hear whatever was going on inside. For a small village, this must have been a shock to the ruler of the synagogue.
Fortunately, David and his family arrived in plenty of time to get seats before they were all filled. Not the front ones, of course. Those were reserved for the most illustrious of the visitors, who were invited to sit beside the ruler of the synagogue and the other officers. Once Simeon was seated, it took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. It startled him a little to see that his uncle was seated on the first row, placed between Amram of Capernaum and Hezekiah, leader of the Pharisees in Sepphoris. That said as much as anything about how rapidly Aaron was rising in the ranks of the Pharisaical party. His devotion—or fanaticism, as Simeon thought of it—was paying off.
Simeon felt a nudge against his arm. He turned. His father was looking partly over his shoulder. “There he is,” he whispered.
Yehuda leaned forward. “Which?”
“On the fourth row, fifth from the end.”
“That’s Jesus?” Simeon asked in a low voice.
He didn’t really have to ask. Every eye in the synagogue was fixed on the man. Some were even rude enough to point him out to others, whispering loudly. As his father nodded, Simeon studied the man. He couldn’t see his face clearly. His head was turned as he conversed quietly with the men on his right. It was clear there was an easy familiarity among the five of them that took the end of that bench, and Simeon wondered if these might be brothers or other family members. The other four men all looked younger than Jesus. Then Jesus turned slightly so that Simeon could see more of his face. He smiled then, not at Simeon, but toward the women’s section. Simeon’s eyes followed, and through the partition he saw an older woman smiling back. Beside her sat two younger women, obviously her daughters.
Until he had smiled, Jesus had not appeared out of the ordinary to Simeon. His features were pleasant enough but not particularly striking—though his eyes did have an arresting quality about them. His hair was long, down to his shoulders, and his beard full, with just a touch of red in the light from the windows. But when he smiled something remarkable had happened. It was like a lamp had been kindled behind his eyes and illuminated his whole face.
His father had talked about how he had been almost mesmerized when Jesus had called Peter and Andrew to follow him. Now Simeon understood what he meant. He couldn’t take his eyes away from him. Jesus’ lips moved as he mouthed something to his mother. Then he laughed softly to himself, and Simeon wished he had seen what Jesus’ mother had done to elicit that.
A hush suddenly fell over the room, and Simeon’s attention was drawn to the front again. The ruler of the synagogue had given the sign that the services were to commence. In addition to the benches that filled the room, there were two primary pieces of furniture in the synagogue—the lectern, or podium, where people stood when they spoke to the congregation, and the “ark,” which stood a few feet in front of the lectern and which was a carefully crafted cabinet where the Torah scrolls and other sacred writings were kept.
David leaned over. “Perhaps Jesus or his father helped make the ark here,” he said.
Simeon nodded. He had forgotten for the moment that Jesus was a carpenter and that his father had been a carpenter as well. In a village the size of Nazareth, there wouldn’t be more than one or two carpenters, so it was very possible this was their work. He nodded again. It was fine workmanship, something appropriate for a house of worship.
The hush became total silence as the legate of the synagogue stepped to the lectern. While the ruler oversaw all aspects of the worship services, it was the legate who always led out. He lifted his arms and began to recite in a deep and most solemn voice the first benediction that preceded the saying of the Sh’ma.
“Blessed be Thou, O Lord, King of the world, who formest the light and createst the darkness; who makest peace and createst everything; who, in mercy, givest light to the earth and to those who dwell upon it; and in Thy goodness day by day and every day renewest the works of creation. Blessed be the Lord our God for the glory of his handiwork and for the light-giving lights which he has made for his praise. Blessed be the Lord our God, who hath formed the lights. Amen!”
“Amen!” every voice in the synagogue said in perfect unison.
Without pause he began the second benediction. “With great love hath thou loved us, O Lord our God, and with much overflowing pity hast thou pitied us, our Father and our King.”
Simeon closed his eyes as he listened to the words that he had heard more times than he could count. He loved these benedictions that opened the services. Their solemn cadence provided the perfect transition from the outside world to the inner sanctuary of worship.
“Enlighten our eyes in thy law; cause our hearts to cleave to thy commandments.”
Suddenly Simeon remembered what his uncle had said a few nights before. “Prayer is for us more than for God.” Yes! He understood that. That’s why Aaron’s words had surprised him so. He hadn’t consciously thought about it before, but he understood it.
“Blessed be the Lord, who in love chose his people Israel. Amen!”
“Amen!” Simeon said, opening his eyes again.
Next came the Sh’ma, that most fundamental and sacred of all Jewish prayers and benedictions. It was the first sentence an infant learned and, if at all possible, the last words on a person’s lips prior to death. Sh’ma, Yisrael, Yehovah eloihaynu Yehovah ehad. “Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God is one Lord.” The Sh’ma took its name from its first word, the Hebrew imperative form of “to hear.” Made up of three additional passages from the Torah, this prayer, which took no more than a few seconds to recite, embodied the whole of the Jewish faith. It was prayer, creed, affirmation, and testimony all wrapped together in one brief but powerful statement. Every faithful Jewish male spoke it at least twice each day, once in the morning and again in the evening. Women and children believed it and often recited it, but they were not under the same obligation as the adult male.
To hear more than a hundred voices recite it together in perfect unison sent a little thrill up Simeon’s spine. This was something that the Romans could never understand, a simple collection of sentences that defined an entire people.
Two more benedictions followed the Sh’ma, and then the legate looked around the crowded room. It was time for the aliyah, the “g
oing up.” He stepped to the ark and opened it. Moving with meticulous care, he unveiled the great scroll that rested within the cabinet.
The temple was first and foremost a place of worship, but the synagogue was first and foremost a place of learning. After the initial prayers came the reading of the scriptures, followed by a sermon or exposition on the scriptures. To be “called up” to read from the sacred writ was one of the most solemn moments of the synagogue service. Any male who had successfully completed his bar-mitzvah and become a Son of the Covenant was eligible to read.
As the legate looked around the room, every eye followed his. Who would be asked to read on this day?
“We shall read from the book of Isaiah,” the legate said.
And then there was an audible stir. Behind where David and Simeon and Yehuda sat, Jesus had risen to his feet. If the legate was surprised by this, he gave no sign. He picked up the long pointer made of ivory, which was a surprising luxury for a small synagogue such as this, and held it out. As Jesus came forward, Simeon had to smile. The front two rows of worshipers, the Pharisees and scribes who had come for this very reason, were muttering in low voices to one another. As Jesus reached the ark, the legate handed him the pointer, then went to his seat. All sound stopped.
For a moment Jesus studied the writings before him; then to everyone’s surprise, he did not begin where the legate had opened the scroll. He turned the spindle on the scroll, his eyes scanning quickly. After a moment he nodded, and the turning stopped. Bending over slightly, he scanned more closely. Then with the pointer touching the parchment, he began to read. His voice was deep, and he articulated each word slowly and distinctly.
“‘The Spirit of the Lord is upon me; because he hath anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor.’”
David looked at Simeon in surprise. Simeon raised an eyebrow in question. It was from Isaiah all right, near the end of the book.