Martha (17 page)

Lazarus went on. “I sought to find out what was happening. We finally found John and learned from him that the Jewish leaders held a trial during the night at the home of Caiaphas. John knew someone in the household there who secretly let him in.”

Lazarus pounded his fist into his palm. “A trial at night is against the very law they pretend to uphold, and in the home of Caiaphas, the high priest? Trials are to be held before the Sanhedrin in the council meeting place.”

“They had already made the decision to find him guilty,” Thomas added. “It was plain.”

Tears ran down Mary's cheeks. “What happened after the trial?”

Lazarus bit his lip, holding back more tears. “They brought him to Pilate. To his credit, Pilate found no fault in him. Pilate wanted to let him go according to his custom to release a prisoner at Passover.”

Martha wiped her own eyes with her mantle. “Pilate did not release him?”

Her brother's face hardened. “The people, no doubt urged on by the Jewish leaders, called for Pilate to release Barabbas . . . and crucify Jesus.”

At the word “crucify,” Mary cried out and began to slide from the bench. Thomas caught her and held her.

“Crucify?” Martha cried. “They crucified the Lord?”

Lazarus nodded. “They led our blessed Lord through the streets like a common criminal, carrying a heavy beam. They wouldn't even let his mother near him. His back was cut to ribbons from those terrible whips the soldiers use. He was bleeding so much I thought he would never even make it to Golgotha. The soldiers had pushed a crown of thorns on his head. Blood was dripping down his face.”

Martha gasped, her heart pounding in her chest. “They did that to Jesus? He was not guilty of a crime.”

“No, sister, he wasn't, but I don't think that mattered to them.”

Thomas spat out the words, “The only compassion those Roman devils showed him was to pull a man out of the crowd to carry the heavy beam for him when he was too weak to carry it anymore.”

Martha swallowed and took a deep breath. “You saw him die?”

Thomas nodded. “We stayed in the shadows and watched until he cried out, and died.”

“What did he say?” Mary held her fist to her mouth, her eyes wide.

Lazarus shook his head and seemed puzzled. “He said, ‘Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.'”

“Then he died?”

“Yes,” said Thomas simply. “About the sixth hour. We were frightened, for the moment he died, the sky swirled with dark clouds and thunder. The earth shook violently and the clouds hid the sun. All those self-righteous fools who called for his death ran for their lives. People were crying out in terror.”

Mary looked up with a start. “We felt the earthquake, just about that hour, didn't we, Martha? Shaul, Helah, and Nathan came to see if we were all right. The darkness stayed for such a long time.”

“It was dark in Jerusalem also. People lit oil lamps and huddled in the streets. They were afraid to go inside the buildings lest there be another earthquake. As soon as the darkness lifted, Thomas and I hurried to Bethany to make sure you were all right.”

Martha waved a hand at the courtyard. “You can look around to see the damage.”

Lazarus noted the cracks in the walls and nodded. Then he turned back to his sisters. “There's more. You will not believe this, but I saw people walking in the city that I know were dead. Many were seen walking into Jerusalem. People were on their knees praying for God's mercy.”

Mary looked from her brother to Thomas. “What does all this mean? What is to happen to us?”

Martha gasped. “People who were dead? Was it the same as it was for you?”

Thomas nodded.

“They just came out of the graves and walked into the city?” She sat down suddenly on a bench, trying to grasp the enormity of what he was telling them. “What is to become of us? What does this all mean?”

Lazarus sank down on the bench next to her and cradled his head in his hands. “I don't know . . . I don't know,” he murmured.

“Where are the rest of the disciples now?”

Thomas shook his head. “I'm not sure. We just scattered.” He thought a moment. “I think they might have gathered in the upper room where we held the Passover meal. It is hidden away in a far part of the city. They might feel safe there.”

Mary looked up, her eyes wide with fear. “But Judas was with you. He knows where the upper room is. Would he betray the rest of you?”

His eyes flashed. “I don't know. If he did, they will all be imprisoned. Let us hope his one act of betrayal was enough for him.”

Martha thought of the sullen young man who had traveled with Jesus and observed the miracles. “How could he do such a thing to the one who had been his friend?”

Thomas let go of Mary's hand and stood. “I should try to find the other disciples. We need to strengthen each other at this time.”

Martha thought of the city, full of Herod's soldiers. “Would it be safe for you to return?”

He nodded. “I'm sure I can slip into the city unnoticed. There are back streets I can use. The Jewish leaders wanted Jesus. I don't think they wish to arrest all the believers. Perhaps they will feel that now he is out of the way, we will all disperse.”

Lazarus put a hand on his shoulder. “Stay with us for the Sabbath prayers, Thomas, it will comfort the women. Early on the Sabbath I will go into the city with you.”

Thomas considered the request. “I'm not sure we should travel into Jerusalem together. The Temple police might be looking for any of the Teacher's followers. Perhaps if I wait until the first day of the week, all might have quieted down.” He looked earnestly into the face of his friend. “I would suggest you let me go alone. I fear you are more in jeopardy than I. I've heard the rumors. The Jewish leaders plot against you also. With Jesus gone, they feel the people will look to you.”

“I wish no rebellion and I don't plan on gathering followers.”

“You know that, but the Jewish leaders don't. You are still a threat to them.”

Martha spoke urgently. “Please, stay here with us until we know more. We are frightened.”

Lazarus stroked his beard thoughtfully and then, looking from Martha's face to Mary's, relented. “Very well, I don't wish to leave you unprotected.”

The Sabbath prayers were spoken as Martha and Mary served the still warm stew and Lazarus said the prayer after their meal. They passed the Sabbath quietly. Reciting the familiar prayers brought a sense of peace to all of them. Since the family had always gone into Jerusalem for the Sabbath, their village being too small for a synagogue, it seemed strange to stay home. More than the fear of not celebrating the Sabbath properly was her fear for Lazarus. What were they to do?

They spent a quiet day, but Martha's heart was filled with anxiety as she watched her brother and his friend conferring quietly in the corner of the courtyard.

When at last they had their final meal of the day, and no Temple police had come, all was quiet. Martha lit the havdalah candle, signifying the end of Sabbath. Then the four looked up into the night sky at the three stars. The night was peaceful. A bird was singing a sweet song in the distance. So much had happened in only two days—it was almost like a bad dream from which they would all awake.

They laid out their pallets again with Lazarus and Thomas on one side of the room and the women on the other. They fell into exhausted sleep, weary in both mind and spirit.

The first day of the week, the women prepared a simple breakfast of bread and fruit. Lazarus prayed earnestly, not only thanking God for their blessings, but for Thomas as he returned to the city.

Mary filled a small traveling bag with food for him to take into Jerusalem—date cakes, two loaves of bread, and some cheese—but he did not leave until midday when the city would be quiet. He told Lazarus he would inquire of trusted believers as to the whereabouts of the other disciples.

Mary, her eyes bright with unshed tears, walked Thomas to the gate.

“Please take care, and don't take any chances. I hope you find the others and that they are safe.”

He looked down at her, his eyes filled with love, and took her hand. “I will return when I can.” He turned to Lazarus.

“If I cannot return right away, I will leave word with Hanniel. Somehow I will get word to you through one of the believers in the city. I don't know what awaits me in Jerusalem.”

With one last sad smile for Mary and a nod to Martha and Lazarus, Thomas turned and, closing the gate behind him, started on the road to Jerusalem.

The small family went about the tasks of the day, but jumped at every sound outside in the street, still expecting the Temple police to burst into their courtyard any moment, seeking Lazarus.

Mary played on her lyre, soothing them all with her music, while Lazarus sat on a bench in the courtyard, staring at the gate. Martha realized he was deep in thought, but she dreaded any decision he was thinking of making. She busied herself sweeping but watched her brother covertly. When Lazarus finally stood up, her heart jumped.

“I have been thinking of Thomas's words and the words of Hanniel. It is not safe for me to stay here, sisters. It will only bring danger to you both. It would be better if I leave for a time.”

Martha dropped her broom. “Leave? Where would you go?”

“Syria, possibly. I'm not sure. Anywhere outside Judea where the Jewish leaders can't get to me.”

Mary put down the lyre and hurried to him. “Oh what are we to do? Can you not wait until Thomas brings word?”

He smiled at her, acknowledging her concern, but lifted his chin with determination. “I will wait three days. If I hear nothing from Thomas, I will assume the worst has happened and that I too must leave Judea.”

Martha's mind whirled. Three days? It was a long time. Anything could happen in three days.

 23 

The first day of the week passed as did the second day. There was no word from Thomas. Tobias offered to go into Jerusalem and see if he could make some discreet inquiries. The family was grateful, knowing he was not someone the Temple police or the Romans were looking for.

Martha busied herself at her loom. Moving the shuttle and concentrating on the red, orange, soft blues, and cream of her yarns. She had watched the sunrise that morning and the vivid colors touched her heart. She pictured weaving the sunrise into the rug she worked on. Yet the intensity with which she worked didn't stop the questions that paraded through her mind.

Mary, preparing their bread for the day, kneaded the dough as though her life depended on it. Though each one found a way to occupy themselves, the time passed slowly. Lazarus took care of the animals, patched the wall in the courtyard, and began repairs to the cracks in their walls. Shaul and other men came to request his help on damage to their homes. To his relief, they treated him as they had before his miracle and it gave him some peace.

As the afternoon shadows lengthened and the air became cooler, Martha got up and went to get their water pot. Perhaps someone had brought news and the village well was the place to get it. She glanced at Mary, who raised her eyebrows in question.

“I'm going for water,” Martha said, stating the obvious.

Mary's face reflected Martha's own anxiety, but she merely nodded and began to shape the dough into loaves.

Martha walked quickly down the road and saw that there were several women in a tight cluster at the well—Lea, Phoebe, and Judith. As she drew near, they made way for her, but Judith touched Martha on the arm, beaming broadly.

“I have just received news. Esther and Micah have another child, a girl this time. They have named her Sarah.”

Martha smiled in return. It was good to hear happy news this day. “I'm glad for you, Judith, and for my friend, Esther. Will they be coming to Bethany any time soon?”

“Perhaps, when the baby is a little older and able to travel, but Simon and I have talked about perhaps journeying to see them in the next few weeks.”

Women loved news of a new baby, and they spoke blessings on Esther and the new little one, exchanging stories of recent births in the village, how long the woman was in labor, and the topics that women who had experienced childbirth shared.

Though that news was good, the mood was somber. As Martha started to lower the water pot with the rope, one of the women stepped forward.

“You have heard the news about the Teacher?”

Martha paused. “Yes, I've heard. Lazarus told me that he is dead.”

Judith shook her head slowly. “What a terrible death for someone who did so much good.”

The women murmured among themselves.

Then Phoebe spoke up. “How will this affect our village? He came here many times. Would the leaders consider us dangerous?” She looked around at the group. “My Eli was there. He saw everything.”

Martha bristled and out loud she said firmly, “Nonsense. Jesus stayed many places. They cannot arrest the whole country.” Yet she felt the grip of fear on her heart. Would there be soldiers in their village? Would they arrest Lazarus? She drew herself up.

“We can only wait to see what happens.” She looked around earnestly at each face. “We must pray for our families and our village at this time. The God Who Sees will keep us in his care.” She spoke more bravely than she felt.

Lea looked at her. “But you had the Teacher in your home. Your brother's miracle is the talk of Jerusalem and our village. Are you not in danger?”

Martha just shook her head and occupied herself with drawing the water. Then she turned to the group. “The Teacher is dead. We had hopes, but there is nothing we can do now.”

Judith's daughter-in-law, Chloe, who had been silent, spoke up. Since she was usually shy, the women all turned suddenly to listen. She looked at the group of women with wide eyes. “I have heard the men talking in the village. They thought Jesus was the Messiah, the one who would save us from the Romans. If he was truly the Messiah, he would have led a revolt against the Romans. He would not have allowed himself to be killed.”

It was an impassioned speech for her, and the women listened with amazement.

Martha realized the girl was echoing her own thoughts and the thoughts of most of the village. She could do nothing for Jesus now except be grateful the rest of her days for his teaching and especially for giving her brother back to them. She could always be thankful for those things the Master did while he was still alive.

The women spoke in hushed tones about the earthquake and friends who had remained in Jerusalem and saw the crucifixion.

A thought came to Martha and she turned to Phoebe.

“Phoebe, what can you tell us of the Master's last moments? You said your husband was there.”

Phoebe stepped forward and lifted her chin, proud that she had important news to share.

“They crucified three that day, the Teacher and also two criminals, one on either side of him. There was only one of his disciples that Eli could see, the one called John. My husband saw him standing below the cross with the Teacher's mother. He said Jesus spoke to them from the cross, and John led the Teacher's mother away. Some of the women who traveled with Jesus and his disciples were at the cross also. That woman they call Mary Magdalene for one.” Phoebe sneered in disdain. “His loyal disciples, with the exception of John, were nowhere around. It certainly didn't take much for them to fall away.”

A retort rose to Martha's lips, but she thought better of it. Instead she gazed steadily at Phoebe. “They are in danger also. Would it not be wiser to remain out of sight instead of being in the open?”

Phoebe shrugged. “Then why was that one disciple there?”

Martha thought a moment. “I believe he is a relative of someone in the Sanhedrin. Perhaps the leaders were willing to overlook his association with Jesus.”

The women nodded to each other. That made sense.

Martha had one last question. “What happened after John took the Teacher's mother away?”

Phoebe thought a moment. “I don't know. When the Teacher died and the earth began to shake, my husband ran with the others. Everyone was afraid. He just wanted to get home to make sure we were all safe.”

Martha thought for a moment, then, “I wonder who took him down. It was the Sabbath. They would not leave him on the cross.”

The women turned to Phoebe, but she shrugged and waved one hand. “How would I know? My Eli had already gone.”

Talk about the death of Jesus cast a pall over the women's conversation. Suddenly they all had important things to do and hurried away to their homes.

Martha walked back home slowly, balancing the water jug on her shoulder. So many questions chased themselves around in her mind.

Who had come to claim the body? What had happened to the disciples? Were they also arrested? Was Lazarus truly in danger? Would he have to run away to save his life? She didn't know a great deal more, but Tobias had gone into Jerusalem. Surely by now he would have returned with news. She quickened her steps.