The camel drivers, their eyes used to the desert glare, saw the old man and his donkey before the village people. The unsteady gait was a giveaway that the old man was weary, his donkey less so. It was younger for sure and well used to this pack-carrying life. Clearly, the old man wasn’t. As the dusty pair ambled into the village, the camel men took it all in, and in their minds wondered who he was and what was underneath the rug draped over the donkey’s pack. Had they formed the opinion that the old man was not your usual traveller, they would have been correct. The curious watchers however, could not begin to know who the old man was, how he had spent his life, and why he was now leading a donkey with a covered pack into the village looking for a place to rest.
To explain the things the curious watchers could not begin to know, we need to start with a young couple, Eli and Hannah, and their new-born son, Levi. Eli was an artisan, making leather pack saddles for donkeys and mules, and a follower of that carpenter from the town where he lived, Nazareth. Hannah was the only child of a Rabbi from a nearby town. She was a follower of Eli, for the things said about the carpenter, from her father and most of the people she had associated with, left her with an unsettled mind on the subject. It appeared to her, that only Eli, in his simple-minded way had the settled peace she yearned for.
The couple were surrounded by people with firm convictions and religious traditions going back to the beginning of time, but not many people with settled minds and evident peace. The tradition that brought the present dilemma into focus was circumcision. For the sole grandfather, the Rabbi, discussion or variation to the process was out of the question. It was, to him, tampering with the inviolable laws of Yahweh, and who knows what would happen to them if they altered anything.
For the child’s father, discussion was crucial if his son was to undergo this ritual. It was not the actual circumcision that he was concerned about, but the idea that the whole ceremony could take place with its formal prayers and blessings without a single reference to the one he worshipped. It was a compromise he was not prepared to make.
In this society, it didn’t matter what the child’s mother thought. But it mattered to Hannah. Intelligent and strong-minded, she was caught in the middle of competing loyalties and a tide of emotions that left her feeling unmoored. And for the little child, while asleep or awake, he was blissfully unaware of any of it.
In the many ceremonies Rabbi Shamuel, the boy’s grandfather, had performed, he had never noticed that the prayer of blessing for the ritual required the permission of the father, an oversight on his part that meant the ‘eighth day’ requirement prescribed in the ancient law came and went. The old Rabbi was distressed. Normally measured and prudent in his renowned careful dealing with disagreements, this issue somehow released passions in the old man that no one had seen before or saw coming now. It wasn’t pretty.
As usual, it is the women who bear the heartache of it all; tending to the needs of children while the men fight. Well, actually, Eli wasn’t fighting, and Hannah wondered if it would have been better if he hadn’t just drawn a line in the sand and walked away. He had made his position clear; that in such an important ritual for his son, there was to be some reference to Yeshua, and found it difficult to see why that could not be done without causing such a fuss.
As a non-practicing Jew, it would be difficult for Eli to understand the importance of the Law. As a Rabbi, the Law was Shamuel’s life, his reason for being; reading the scrolls, talking about them, thinking through the intricacies, and, as in the case of circumcising his grandson, it was the law that determined what was said and done. Adding a reference to that blaspheming carpenter was unthinkable.
As it turned out, it became the Rabbi’s issue to deal with. He was the one making the fuss and a somewhat embarrassing display of his displeasure that his son-in-law would not see reason. So it was the Rabbi that had to make the approach to Eli and get him to agree with the traditions of the fathers and forget the reference to that carpenter that got people excited then disappeared.
Eli was at his workbench when Shamuel came in. It did not start well.
“I have come to talk some sense into you!” the old man said with more emotion than tact.
“That will be welcome father, we all like talking sense” Eli responded.
“We cannot add to, or take away from the things laid down in the Law, you should know that. Certainly not the name of that carpenter who stirred up so much trouble. I can’t see what it is about him that you so admire, I mean he got himself killed for blasphemy. Claiming as he did that he could forgive sins, and that he was divine”, the Rabbi said.
Eli didn’t look up from his work, and although it hurt him to hear Yeshua referred to in that way, he thought before responding. Too long, it seems for the old man continued.
“You see, Eli, there have been numerous prophets that claim to be the sent one, the deliverer, and they all turned out to not be who they said they were”.
“What if the carpenter was who he said he was?” asked Eli.
“That could not be!” shouted Shamuel.
“No, for a Rabbi it could not be!” said Eli. “Especially the way Yeshua spoke against the law becoming traditions of men, and the place of prayer becoming a den of flesh-tearers. He had more regard for what the living oracles actually said than what the scrolls tell us; and more regard for living right than slaughtering animals to make things right”.
Eli continued, “I realise this goes against everything you have ever known. It must sound outrageous, but it is true. It is true even if you don’t believe it. It is true because I spoke with Yeshua after he came back from the tomb and he healed my gammy leg. And I believe it, not because I can walk properly now, but because I can talk with Yahweh myself”.
The old Rabbi was silent. On points of the law, his familiarity with the scrolls made him a formidable opponent, but this was no longer an argument about the law, something had shifted and it unsettled him. Then he knew what had shifted. It was no longer familiar territory for him, it included a realm of thought that meant it was a foreign landscape for him to navigate. And for Shamuel, not being able to argue from his sacred scrolls meant he was lost.
It is very likely that Eli realised this, for something told him to go easy on the old man. Eli left his bench and sat beside Shamuel, and there was a brotherly silence between them, almost as if Eli was praying. He was. Softly at first, but then he got more earnest and animated in his pleas. It took some time for Shamuel to realise that Eli was in fact talking with Yahweh, something he felt rather than arrived at in his mind. Just as well really, for the old man would have dismissed it all as idle words from a young man having never learned. But the Rabbi’s heart was touched, he felt that Yahweh was with them, and it humbled him. He felt more like a child than a Rabbi, and as an equal with Eli, not superior.
He listened as a child would. He realised that his life had been filled with the prayers for each occasion on the calendar, but never a conversation. It was hard for him to take in, but something struck him as profound. Eli was thanking Yeshua for coming among them as the Lamb of Sacrifice, for giving himself as the scapegoat for sin, and establishing access for children to speak with their father. The old Rabbi started to weep. Tears without shame or restraint, as his son-in-law beside him placed an arm on his shoulder and continued to pray softly.
Then Eli spoke again. “You will have read lots of times that Yahweh promised to forgive iniquity and not remember the unfaithfulness and make a new covenant with us. Well, that is because Yeshua became the final sacrifice, and the prophecy can now be fulfilled – the one where the law will be written in our hearts and no one will need to teach anyone. All because we are able to know Yahweh individually, just as a child knows their father. A simple law that we can’t argue with: Love God and love others. A law that comes from knowing God which is better than knowing a law, or hundreds of them. That’s why I insist that Yeshua’s name be included in the ceremony for my son”.
Then with the timing of womanly perfection, Hannah appeared. Very likely she had witnessed the whole event, another characteristic of wise women who despite whatever limitations placed on them, find a way of their own to not be left wondering.
“Time for home Father” Hannah said, “You carry Levi and I will come with you”. Levi was fascinated with his grandfather’s teary face, something he had never seen. Shamuel knew it, but felt no shame or embarrassment as he held the child firmly to his chest, his beard almost covering the child’s head. Hannah clutched his elbow as they walked home.
“Are you a believer in Yeshua also Hannah?”
“Not altogether Father” she replied. “Not enough to explain what I believe about him. All I can say is that I have discarded everything I used to believe, and feel I am slowly building a new framework on things I can be sure about”.
“And what have you discarded Hannah?“
“Nearly everything Father. You see everything I believed was what I had heard you say, it was like ideas took up residence in my head without my letting them in – in a sense I inherited them from you. Ideas like who Yahweh is, and the way everything revolves around the law”.
Hannah continued, “When I first met Eli, I felt I knew so much more than he did. But when I got to know him better, I became fascinated at how grounded and informed he was in all the things that matter most for life and living. He doesn’t read scrolls, but he watches people. He makes all these connections between what people do and what happens around them. It is almost as though ideas, words, and talk carry little weight with him, but how people act and feel about others does”.
“And what are the things you are sure about Hannah?”
“Only this Father. If Eli is an authentic working model of what the carpenter taught people, and if Eli’s relationship with Yahweh is because he took this teaching to heart, then Yeshua is the sent one. He made things right and brought the Realm of Heaven to everyone. People like Eli have changed their mind and assented to the reign of the new king; a spiritual one not a political one”.
The old Rabbi wept again, his tears running down and making his beard quite wet. Hannah embraced him, and helped him inside his house. Levi slept through it all, even when his grandfather lifted his eyes heavenward, and uttered, “Blessed are You, O Lord Our God, Ruler of the universe, who has sanctified us with …” and instead of ‘your commandments’ and in a voice from his heart, continued: “… your son Yeshua”, and for the first time in his long life of worship and devotion added, “Thank you father”.
The former Rabbi spoke similarly at his grandson’s circumcision ceremony. I say ‘former’ because he said more than that. Enough to have his title publicly removed and his congregation warned against having any contact with him. Although the charge was ‘degrading the words of the sages’, nobody could imagine a sage saying anything like what Shamuel was supposed to have degraded: “This child, while asleep in my arms, and while his mother talked with me, gave me a vision of being held in the arms of unconditional love, and after a life spent reading, praying, and worshipping, I saw Yahweh for the first time. As my father”. This was toward the end of the ceremony, and the child, after some disquiet earlier on, once again, slept through it all.
After brushing down his donkey and ensuring it was fed and watered, Shamuel made his way to the space allotted for his rest. He would have gone to sleep right away but for the questions from his fellow travellers. Ordinary questions, not at all intrusive, but it was clear the old man could not let them go unanswered.
One camel driver was the spokesman for the rest. “We haven’t seen you on the road before, nor have we seen travellers pray like that. And the pack load of hides has got us puzzled”.
“I used to be a Rabbi, but have moved into a tiny shed at my daughter’s house. My son-in-law works with leather and has a tannery. I have contacts in the city and know a place where I can get hides”. All true, but what he didn’t include in his answer was the city was Jerusalem; the ‘place’ was the temple; and his ‘contacts’ were Rabbis he had known all his life who didn’t care what he said at his grandson’s circumcision.
“I bet you wish you were still in the synagogue with prayer shawls and candles than out on the road with us and the camels”.
“Believe me when I say this”, with all the gravitas of an elderly Rabbi, “There is no place I would rather be nor people I would rather rest with than here with you fellows. I upset religious people for speaking like that, but I am free to speak truth now, like the fact that Yahweh is closer to us here with camels and donkeys than the rulers in the synagogue with all their status and butchery”.
The men did not respond straight away. They weren’t used to talk like that, and needed time to take it in. Time enough for the weary former Rabbi to fall asleep. Just like his beloved grandson who, apart from the unkindest cut, slept peacefully through most things. Quite unaware of ideas, words, and talk, but fully aware of being surrounded and held by those who loved him unconditionally. Neither was the child aware that he had preached a message without speaking, and allowed the notion of love to so influence the life of an old man that he slept like a baby.
