Category: Eli’s Story

In an act of brotherly consideration, Eli told the others in the fellowship that the discussion would be held at Rueben’s home. His reasoning was that, seeing much of the discussion involved Rueben, he has the option of ordering everyone out of his house if things came to that. Part of Eli’s reasoning was not disclosed. It was one of those deeply-held views that was not up for scrutiny or challenge. It was the idea that difficult and contentious conversations can contaminate sacred settings, and Eli didn’t want their worship place spoiled by argument.

The worship place was his boy-hood home, and his elderly mother, Naomi, lived there alone until recently. Eli and Hannah had finally prevailed in her allowing someone to live with her and attend to those tasks almost beyond frail hands and unsteady feet. From several young people considered, Naomi chose an orphan from the village. A girl in her late teens who had lived in many homes, and although not a slave, thought of as such. Without a parent or relative to care for them, orphans tended to become village property, and it was to end this state of affairs that Naomi chose her.

That her name was Ruth was not lost on this pious Jewish community. With an uncertain lineage in a community that placed great value on such things, she was as a foreigner to them. They were also eager to see if she was going to become a Yeshua follower as Naomi was. One villager, whose tongue moved a little too freely, said to her companions “If they take her, they will take anyone”. Had Naomi heard it, she would have made it clear that they would take anyone, for always seeing the best and wanting the best in everyone was a central tenet of the followers of that strange carpenter from Nazareth.

Ruth did not become a follower straight away. For several weeks the closest she came was listening to the worship talk and singing from behind a curtain. She found it confusing, and had no desire to become part of it. Put off, no doubt, because the people of the many homes she had lived in were devout Jews and much of her mistreatment was due to her unfamiliarity with the strict dietary habits and the many laws she broke with a reckless unconcern. And without repentance, for her conviction that laws do not good people make, gave her little desire to conform or obey. Hence the short-lived stays.

Naomi’s place was different. There were no laws. Yet curiously, Ruth found herself conforming and obeying without effort. For whatever it was that Naomi believed, she was her own woman, secure in her identity and authentic. Ruth had never known such a grounded, loving person. And after a while Ruth came to see that her fondness for Naomi was due to being seen as a person not property; a young woman flourishing, not just surviving under the trials of ownership. Being treated with love was something she had never known.

Eli and Hannah treated Ruth the same way, and she concluded that whatever was taking place on the other side of the curtain was a uniting force, and one that enabled people to live good lives and care for others. Even orphans. Hannah took a special interest in Ruth, often leaving her child, Levi, with her while she attended to other things. It was after one worship session that Hannah moved the curtain aside to ask Ruth if she would like to meet the people, or, as she put it ‘put faces to the voices’.

Ruth agreed, but soon wished she hadn’t. The first person she saw startled her. She closed the heavy curtain and retreated out the door visibly shaken. Hannah was surprised, and quickly followed. When she caught up with her, Ruth was distraught. “That man raped me years ago”she said, tears of rage from reddened eyes. Hannah felt her outrage as well as her own sense of shock and disbelief. That this poor girl had been raped, and that one she had come to respect was the rapist, was something she didn’t want to hear.

Hannah acted quickly, settling Ruth in her own home on the couch with a blanket. Hannah returned to the others just in time to hear Rueben explaining himself, or attempting to.

“I thought she would be trouble as soon as I knew she was living with Naomi”

“Wait … you thought she would be trouble; meaning if she told the truth about you raping her?” said Hannah with a vehemence few had seen.

Rueben knew right away he had said the wrong thing; it was both revealing and offensive. It revealed his view of women in general, and it offended all who heard him. Eli took charge.

“We need to talk this through, but only after we each have had time to think of a way that Ruth can feel heard and her pain eased. And Rueben, your every thought and move from here needs to be with Ruth in mind, not about yourself. She has been violated and hurt by you, and your attitude from here on is crucial if you want to remain in fellowship with us”.

Rueben was indignant. “Who made you a judge over me? And besides, it is allowable under the law. I can show you the verses”.

“I don’t need that law or verses to tell me rape is wrong, and I don’t have to be a judge to say what I said. Let’s all meet at your house tomorrow evening to settle this” said Eli, and although he didn’t say anything else, it was clear to each one there that the discussion was finished.

That  is until they met at Rueben’s house. Hannah and Naomi had spent a lot of time talking with Ruth, and although she initially refused to be part of a meeting in Rueben’s home, she was persuaded to do so. Similarly, Samuel and Sophia along with Samuel’s mother, Sarah, thought it didn’t involve them, but they too decided to attend. Sophia, in a gesture that impressed Ruth, sat alongside her, their hands entwined, saying “I don’t understand the language very well, but I can support you in this way”.

Without closing his eyes or bowing his head, Eli prayed:

“Father, nothing is hid from your keen eyes, and no happening, good or bad, escapes your notice. Thank you for the awareness of your presence, and for the assurance that you wish the best for each of us. Your wish is in tune with ours for the acknowledgement and righting of wrong, in the guilty for the sake of the innocent, so that harmony might prevail among us. This we ask in Yeshua’s name”.  

Ruth had never heard someone pray like that. It gave her the impression Eli actually knew who he was talking to. It was more conversation than prepared speech. It impressed her deeply, and in a way that made her feel safe.

It is hard to know what impression it made on Rueben, perhaps none at all. He seemed agitated and defensive, and in a mixture of bombast and impatience, he started his defence. Or what he would think of as one, missing the fact that it floated friendless in the room.

“If I am going to be put on trial over what happened years ago, it should be in front of the judges, and according to the law” he said somewhat defiantly.

Hannah, the memory of her Rabbi-father dealing with things like this fresh in her mind, countered Rueben’s defiance with straightforward firmness.

“You already know what the judges would say because the law was written by men like them to suit men like you. And besides, the process makes winners and losers, and Ruth would suffer at the hands of heartless men all over again. We are looking for you to be held accountable and take responsibility for what you did”.

Rueben, long a beneficiary of a patriarchal society, took offence, not at what Hannah had said, but at the fact that a woman was saying it. The offence slowed his response, long enough for Eli to speak.

“Let’s keep the focus on what you did to Ruth. Do you recognise the harm you have caused, and are you prepared to make things right with her?”

Hannah added “We know that men have their way with vulnerable women, especially young girls, and nothing is done about it. But that is not how we do things, and if you wish to be part of our fellowship, you have to take responsibility and make things right. Are you prepared to do that?”

Rueben was conflicted. He had come to love these people, and being with them meant a lot to him. They had accepted him in a way that villagers had never done. But acknowledging the wrongness of his actions and making it right was territory so foreign to him he was reluctant to go there.

Instead, somebody took him there. Sophia spoke up, and Rueben understood enough Greek to hear her out.

“I know what it feels like to be raped. It destroys your self-respect, and any feeling of value. You become someone’s property to be used and discarded, and worst of all, people expect you to just get over it and pretend it is no big deal. Well now is the time for you to know that it is a big deal. Things need to happen before we can even start to get over it”. Then Sophia nudged Ruth as if to say ‘your turn’.

Instead, noticing Ruth nodding a ‘no’, Eli spoke up. “I think it is time for listening, each considering what has been said; listening to our heart; listening to Yeshua. Such as when he said people will know you are my followers by the love you show one another. Realising he is here with us in spirit, wanting us to be honest with ourselves, and without pretense”.

A lengthy silence followed Eli’s suggestion. Of course we will never know what the introspection did for each one present, but one can assume it had a profound effect on Samuel. Newly married, and the memory of having given the first speech of his life, he was ready for the second.

“Rueben, you know about my wild past, and while it doesn’t include rape, I did some pretty bad stuff. You also know what I have now, because I have acknowledged it and taken responsibility for my actions. Yeshua has helped me live free of the shame and guilt, and enabled me to grow into a proper follower. My life is flourishing as a result. You have this chance to come clean, and help fix the mess you have caused. Don’t blow it”.

It was raw and unpolished. But it was powerful. Rueben remembered what Samuel used to be and who he associated with, recognising too, how he admired what Samuel had become. It prompted something in him to help fix the mess he had caused.

Rueben moved toward Ruth and said “I am truly sorry for what I did to you. I am not asking you to forgive me, that is not my right. What I will do is whatever Naomi pays you to look after her, I will pay you double for the next two years”. He began to weep and turned away. Naomi embraced him, speaking volumes without words. Levi, four years old, joined the conversation by wrapping his arms around the legs of two people he loved.

Sophia saw it and began to weep; Samuel moved to comfort her as Hannah embraced Ruth. This left Samuel’s mum, Sarah, and Eli looking at each other until Eli sat beside her and took her hand. Musical chairs with a beautiful harmony and divine orchestration.

Then Hannah encouraged Ruth to speak, and with some hesitation spoke. “For the first time in my life I am surrounded by people who really care for me. For the first time in my life I can speak for myself and be listened to, and believed. I feel a new chapter is just beginning, and I am ready to turn the pages. That is all I want to say … thank you”.

It was some time before the heavy curtain was moved to one side. Ruth had a new-found sense of belonging, and decided to sit with the others when they came to encourage each other in what Yeshua means to them. Strangely enough, forgiveness was never mentioned – maybe she had, maybe she hadn’t. It didn’t seem to matter. What did matter for this growing counter-cultural group, was what their teacher had said. The focus was not so much on talking about his sayings about getting along with each other, but on living them. It was as though Yeshua’s life-orienting instructions were embedded so deeply, talking added nothing to them.

Strange too, was the fact that the biggest issue the group ever had to deal with didn’t take place in the room with a curtain. Instead a man with a keen sense of the sacred ensured the dealing with serious wrong-doing took place in another home. The home of a man who, out of respect for the people who spoke up, came to see the hurt he had caused and set about making things right. A heart-examining process that did not come to ordering friends who cared, out of his home.

 

It takes two people to construct a camel pack-frame. I mean the size is one thing, but the complexity of it to ensure the load, sometimes the weight of three people or more, is spread evenly over the camel’s back. But when the workmen are masters of their craft, they can work and talk at the same time.

“Did Yeshua actually say to drink his blood and eat his flesh?” Samuel asked.

Eli didn’t answer straight away. Three nails between his lips made talking problematic, besides he needed time to think. Samuel was used to this, so he pondered his own question a bit more.

“What makes you mention that?” Eli asked.

“My Greek teacher told me” said Samuel.

“Looks like your teacher is off-topic, straying from Greek into the language of the street”, the nails now firmly driven home, just like this observation from Eli. He continued.

“There is a huge difference between what Yeshua said, and what people think he said; between what he meant, and what people want to say he meant. I think many people want to fashion what he said into a fancy way of preserving their religion. Those that hated Yeshua have done this all along, but even some of his followers are wanting to keep parts of what they grew up with. In the process, they get distracted, they argue a lot, and focus on things that don’t matter”.

“It matters to my teacher”.

“Yes, as an educated man, part of the elite, the wealthy, and for those holding religious or political authority over ordinary people, these distractions matter. Especially the distractions that bring scorn and contempt upon the Yeshua movement. The idea of eating flesh and drinking blood is repulsive, so, to attach it to our private worship makes their disgust of us, and falsehoods about what we do seem warranted. They feel justified in despising us” said Eli.

Eli continued, “I am disappointed that some Yeshua followers want to take a few of his words literally, and being distracted, completely ignore the simple teachings we should take literally. I mean, take their obsession with sacrifice and the idea of blood cleansing us. It takes away the power of Yeshua’s core message, and leaves only things to write and argue about. The widows, orphans, the sick and the poor get neglected when such ideas take over”.

Samuel loved the way Eli seemed to know so much. It was knowledge that came from somewhere deep within him, and even though there was work to do, Eli placed such value on explaining these things. It was as though, as a master craftsman with wood and leather, the same dexterity flowed over into working with ideas and concepts. Samuel realised how much he admired him.

“So, if Yeshua talked about eating flesh and drinking blood, what did he actually mean?”

Eli put the hammer down, sat on the stool by the stove and moved the kettle toward the hot spot. It signaled a pause with the tools, and getting ready to drink in ideas.

“It seems to me that many of Yeshua’s sayings were meant to confuse clever people, and make sense to simple ones. The people who were attracted to him around here, like the fisherman and farmers, the poor and uneducated, they somehow got what he meant. They couldn’t read, so they relied on memory. They were just as devout as the synagogue leaders, but their focus was on living with the little they understood and showed no interest in fancy talk. I think it was what Moses meant when he told the people to make a simple choice; choose life and prosperity or death and adversity. He stressed that it was not an idea from up in the heavens or across the ocean, so don’t go sending people to look for it. It it is in your mouth, he said, on your tongue and in your heart. In other words, digest this idea and let it settle in your very being; let it become part of you”.

Eli continued, “I remember Thomas talking about something that Yeshua said; it made no sense, and yet it did. ‘Blessed is the lion that the human will eat so that the lion becomes human’. It makes sense if we humans take on the qualities of the lion; courage, measured actions, conserving strength yet fluid speed when needed. And the idea of ‘eating’ the lion means the lion qualities become part of us and live on even though the lion has been killed. That’s what Yeshua meant; that after he has been killed, to take part of the loaf and the cup as though you are taking him to heart; and his teachings are becoming part of your very being. Not just talked about and written about, but a living manifestation of simple truth. In a way, choosing life. Like we do every Sabbath as you know”.

Samuel did know. In fact, he felt he knew enough to give his teacher a better explanation. Perhaps without the Thomas part, for Samuel had an uncanny ability to read people, and to know what they really thought of others by how they spoke about them. A skill, he realised without shame, that was developed in gang life. In situations where alliances were rarely stable, one had to be observant and nimble – just like the lion as it turns out.

To the observant villager at the well that early morning, it would have seemed odd that a young Greek-looking woman was filling the water pots for a very dark-skinned slave girl. The former exuding an air of easy industry, while the latter in a motherly trance, her arms wrapped around a tiny infant. The Jewish women tended to keep to themselves, and while they yearned to know more, were restrained by centuries of custom and an unhealthy disdain for foreigners. They conjectured among themselves and it was many weeks before one of their number got to tell the others why an infant was regularly at the well.

Her account, however was only partly true. The part she got right was the slave girl from the Sudan had been purchased by a prominent citizen of the village some months prior. What couldn’t be ascertained with any certainty was what he had in mind. Having impregnated her made her usefulness in the role of servant-hood somewhat doubtful. He demanded she dispose of the child without him having ever seen it. It was also true that the Greek-looking girl, hardly more than a teenager herself, looked after the child, and brought it to the well each morning so its mother could feel some sense of hope in an otherwise heart-rending situation.

The part that wasn’t true was the Jewish woman’s assertion that these foreigners have all sorts of weird religious practices, including child sacrifice and eating human flesh. Behind closed doors. Different from us. And, not only foreigners. Some Jewish people had become followers of a dead man they claim is still alive. All very weird, but all claims that held the attention of her companions at the well, much to the delight of the speaker.

It may be conjecture, but it was commonly believed that the speaker was in an adulterous relationship with the Greek teacher. Her information, both the accurate and the fanciful, came from a source her companions had no access to. They could only listen, and while wondering where the information came from, at no stage did they treat any of it with caution. They knew for example, that the infant at their well wasn’t the only abandoned child being reared by these strange people. They also knew that the dead man had said something about flesh and blood, so it all made sense to them.

The Greek teacher, a scribe with an air of authority and village recognition, was indeed the source of much information. He handled it with a carelessness and a disregard for truth that meant his information was fashioned to appeal. It was also available for a price, and the buyer usually had little interest in either its accuracy or where it came from.

He had one student that he respected, and it puzzled him as to why he did so. Samuel was learning to speak Greek from him, and he had known the lad well. He remembered, for example, when Samuel ran wild with a group running amok and causing all sorts of carnage in the village and surrounds. And now, this changed young man raised a point on the flesh and blood idea that astounded him. Not least by his quoting of Moses in a way that the learned scribe had never considered. He let it slide, for in his mind there arose an uneasiness that a young maker of donkey pack frames could enter his intellectual domain with such ease.

Also puzzling to him, was the recognition that the change in the young man had to be more than who he worked for, and that Samuel’s love interest was the woman taking the baby to the well each morning. It had to be something the scribe didn’t understand, for these changes in people do not fit with the unusual followers of a dead man. The sad thing is, the scribe lived with the perplexity and had little desire to find out how strange practices could produce such thoroughly decent people. He found the excitement and intrigue of dealing with indecent people to be more useful to him; for they could further his power and esteem.

More satisfying, is the water-carrier woman who did get to see the faith practice that took place behind closed doors. The practice considered ‘weird’ by those who had never been witness to it, turned out to be intriguing but also inspiring. The woman is not likely to inform the others at the well because she was so distracted during the event. The teen-aged slave girl was so overwhelmed by her baby asleep in her arms, she would have difficulty telling anyone about the proceedings. So she didn’t.

As usual the scribe knew what had transpired in the village – in this case information he didn’t seek nor pay for. The slave owner told him. He talked about negotiating her value and release, but it was clear to the scribe there wasn’t any negotiation. The elderly woman whose home became the subject of such curiosity, acted with such speed and ferocity that the papers were signed and the girl gone before the ink had dried.

Were we to inquire of the worshippers in that home about eating flesh and drinking blood, in all likelihood they would have no idea. A few of them may refer to a choice for life on their tongue, and taking true words to heart, but they would avoid anything that made their beloved teacher’s message appear confusing or repulsive.

What is clear, not so much from what they say but how they live, is the fact that the Lion of the Tribe of Judah, known to have been tortured and killed, was alive and well in the hearts and minds of ordinary villagers; helping people, carrying water, and making pack-frames for camels and donkeys.

NOTE: For those who are comfortable with textual criticism and follow the scriptural threads in these stories, the reference to 'eating flesh and drinking blood' does not appear in any manuscript of John's gospel prior to the second century, and in nearly all of them since then. According to Helmut Koester John 6:52-59 'cannot possibly have been part of John's original text'. This raises doubt as to whether Jesus ever said it.

This story was prompted by a reference in Neil Harvey’s ‘From faith to religion: the untold history of the early church’ to the scorn the early church suffered as a result of the misunderstood and literal interpretation of Jesus’ reference to eating his flesh and drinking his blood. Many believed the practice of taking in abandoned babies was linked to that verse.

It is likely many of you can recall the excitement of young love. And the uncertainty of unfamiliar territory. Samuel didn’t have to recall it; he was living it. As is often the case, instead of talking with his mother, he found her close friend, Naomi, to be an ideal confidante. Samuel’s mother did not feel left out because Naomi was well versed in the intricacies of mother’s talk.

Naomi was also well qualified to talk. She had, along with her close friends, spent time in the company of Yeshua himself, and a way of orienting herself in relation to others had become embedded in her heart. I could say heart and mind, but rather think what her teacher had said brought about a change in heart more than understanding in the mind. In her mind, ‘young love’ was a distant memory, but in her heart, helpful understandings were fresh and timely.

“Do you think Sophia likes me?” Samuel asked. “I mean enough to be special friends”.

“Of course she likes you; Sophia likes everybody” Naomi responded. “As for a ‘special friends’ relationship, that’s something you need to be ready for, then you can ask her”.

“Are you saying I’m not ready for a relationship like that?”

“I am saying Sophia is secure in who she is, well grounded and settled in her view of the world and her part in it” said Naomi, before adding “The question is, do you feel settled and grounded?”

Samuel wasn’t prepared for that. He would have preferred some tips on starting a relationship that didn’t involve an examination of his being ‘grounded’ or not. He wasn’t even sure he knew what it meant.

“I’m not sure how I feel really. All I know is that I have changed from a wild boy to a better one since working for Eli” he said.

“You sure have” said Naomi. “I am proud of you, and so is Eli, and your mother”. “You have made a great start, but what you do, is not who you are. Relationships are established and sustained by all the unique characteristics that make up the person you are – your essence, and you need to know what that is”.  

“This is getting pretty deep for me. I thought I could just start a relationship without all this other stuff” said Samuel.

“You can” said Naomi. “Lots of relationships start that way, and most of them don’t end well, or just muddle along to avoid the complications of ending it. You don’t want that, and neither does Sophia”.

“I am learning to speak Greek so I can talk with her. What else do I have to do?” Samuel asked.

“It’s more ‘thinking’ than ‘doing’. More reflection than action. Or perhaps I should say a reflection on action, especially actions that leave us with a deep sense of right living” Naomi said, with emphasis on the final phrase. “A lot of people go through life without ever knowing what right living looks like”.

“Eli talks like that. I listened when he was talking with Rueben the other day. Rueben was all worked up about some ruckus in the temple … something about priests and adultery … he was angry. Eli didn’t even look up from his work, he just listened until Rueben slowed down a bit then told him that that’s how people live when they ignore everything about Yeshua. Eli said the priests have no idea of what right living looks like” exclaimed Samuel, getting a bit worked up himself.

“Yes, we shouldn’t be surprised at what people who ignore Yeshua do, to themselves and to others” Naomi said, wiping her hands on her apron and lifting the discussion to another level. “Those priests might define themselves by what they do – temple authorities, even Yahweh’s representatives – but not by what they are; self-centred and hedonistic. They are only focusing on themselves and their own pleasure.  You see, Yeshua embodied love. That’s not just a word, but something that can change a person’s whole life-orientation. And it does this because love is relational, it introduces an ‘other’, and that changes a person’s focus from themselves to others. Love changes their minds about who they are, from an anonymous creature to a loved child. It’s relational and that is how people can live the way they were meant to live”.

Samuel listened intently, and although such concentration was difficult for him, he felt sure he understood, or at least grasped enough to see where it would help him come to terms with how he defined himself. He had grown up without a father. His most significant influence had been the gang, and for the first time, he now saw that he was defining himself by who he was with. The feeling that he belonged, overrode any concern about the violence and carnage he caused. Now, with a change of mind; a change in perspective, he realised that wild boy was not who he was meant to be.

It is tempting to say that Naomi knew what he was thinking. Perhaps she did, for she said “People still associate you with running amok in the village, but don’t let that bother you, you aren’t that person now. It’s not a bad idea to start by identifying what you aren’t in order to get to see the person you really are. And to know who you don’t belong with in order to see who your real companions are”.

“I get that Naomi. I feel I have made a start. I can say that that life is finished. And Eli tells me, whenever this comes up, to not feel guilt and shame, not even regret, because those things only weigh us down. Instead, he asks, why carry around stuff that Yeshua has taken away. It is starting to make sense to me” said Samuel.

“I am so pleased for you Samuel” said Naomi. “Can I suggest you do some homework for me, and let me know how it goes”.

“Sure, I’m not real good at writing though” said Samuel.

“No, just thinking. A special kind of thinking that works best in a special kind of place. Somewhere without distractions; where you can be alone. Perhaps the place you take Sophia one day, so you can talk and be together” said Naomi with a knowing look in her eye.

“I know where that place is, but what exactly do I think about?”

“Think about everything you have heard about Yeshua; from your mother, myself, Eli, Hannah, even Rueben. Take your time, don’t try too hard. Maybe switch off thinking a bit, and just wait in that place with no distractions” said Naomi earnestly.

“I can do that” he said without hesitation, partly influenced by the reference to Sophia that wasn’t lost on the young man.

Meanwhile, an older man had lost something he wished he hadn’t. His temper. “I want to go in there, grab their knives and castrate them … at the altar if necessary. That will teach them”.

Eli said nothing. However, the picture in his mind of this stocky little street fighter creating havoc in the temple, tassels and shawls flying everywhere, almost made him smile.

“And before you give me the Yeshua line, just remember he caused quite a stir in that place before they killed him” Rueben said.

“I don’t intend to give you anyone’s line. You know as well as I do that religion is not for changing, and challenges from an angry and indignant laity go nowhere. All the power is in the priest’s hands, and they are the ones who care the least” said Eli.

Samuel said nothing either. But something struck him. He realised that there was a time when Rueben’s intention would have Samuel’s enthusiastic endorsement, ready to render knife-wielding assistance. He was no stranger to such violence, but when Rueben was speaking, he was repulsed by the idea. The thought passed, and it hardly came to mind again.  

Until now. High up on a rocky overlook, not far out of the village. It was one of the first things that came into Samuel’s mind. One cannot be sure that he fully understood his homework task, but there is no doubt that his intention to have something significant to report to Naomi was for real. He knew that his task was to contemplate what he knew about Yeshua from what his friends had told him. Yet, the thought of being repulsed now by something he did with dreadful regularity and without remorse, seemed to his young mind a good starting point.

It gave him a good start. For as he looked out into the valley shrouded in an early evening mist, he came to see that perhaps the best insight into that mysterious man Yeshua, was that he had become a friend, and that his influence was already steering Samuel toward the right living that his followers spoke so much about. Away from the impulsive violence toward a considered intention to get along with people. The fleeting thought from Rueben’s anger became embedded in Samuel’s mind with a clarity that excited him. He had begun his homework.

The Yeshua of his mother and Naomi was very similar. They both had been deeply impacted by his words and life. Similarly, they had been a witness to his cruel death and triumphant return from the tomb. For the first time, Samuel had a profound sense of gratitude that they were the closest people in his life, and what an amazing opportunity he had to get to know the person they devoted their lives to. The uncertainty about being able to complete his homework task was evaporating.

The Yeshua that Eli knew, Samuel saw as friend and mentor. Eli, too, had known Yeshua directly, and when he spoke about him, it was from his experience. They were words that had authority, and Samuel had seen on several occasions with a variety of people, the response to such convincing witness. Although, Samuel recognised, their response probably had as much to do with the way Eli dealt with people, as it did his declaration of his friend and mentor. Then something else became clear to Samuel. Yeshua was ever-present and played the mentoring role, even though unseen. Samuel found himself yearning for that too – the homework was getting exciting.

Samuel loved Hannah deeply. He remembered her as the Rabbi’s daughter, and knew that the Yeshua Hannah came to adore was someone who changed her entire world. Changes that took place very publicly, yet with such grace and generosity that the entire village treats her as royalty, like a beloved princess. The village saw her father, now stripped of his priestly status, once bring a disheveled and abused stranger into Hannah’s care. A responsibility Hannah discharged so well, that this girl has flourished. No longer a stranger, but the object of Samuel’s affection. It occurred to him, that Yeshua’s fingerprints are all over the relationships where love has dominated.

Now for Samuel, Rueben was another matter. It was just as well that the homework was sufficiently completed by now that if this part doesn’t come together it won’t matter. Rueben is a believer, and worships with the others in Naomi’s home. As he thought about Rueben’s view of Yeshua, he concluded that belief is not enough. And what led Samuel to this conclusion was the tendency for Rueben to say ‘Leave Yeshua out if this …’ almost as if Rueben wanted to be the authority on his own, and not have to share winning the argument with anyone else.

Something checked Samuel’s thinking. He wondered if he was being too harsh on him; misjudging his friend. Then, just before the homework was completed the thought of being too harsh, from someone who routinely beat and robbed people, was the climax for Samuel. That ‘something’ that checked his thought was indeed someone; it was clear Yeshua was his friend and companion even though Samuel thought he didn’t know him.

The evening light had almost faded. The time had gone so fast, and the concentration so intense that Samuel realised he hadn’t taken in the view. So he waited for the light to fade further, and savoured the feeling of a new dawning in his view of himself. He felt loved, and committed to showing that love to others. He felt settled and assured, perhaps ‘grounded’ is the word; pleased that he now knew what the term meant. He knew too, that the homework tasks had been completed, and Naomi’s assessment was not important. The teacher of right living had appeared in the many encounters Samuel had had with his friends, as well as this night on the rocky overlook.

……………………………………………………

Some time later, Samuel looked out over the valley again, the memory of his previous time there still fresh in his mind. This time however was different. There was no evening mist, and the air was clear and crisp. He remembered the homework Naomi had set for him, how uncertain he was about what was required and whether he could complete it. He remembered the excitement as things became clear to him in a way that he had never experienced, and the sense of having completed it thoroughly, and in a way that changed his mind about so many things. He remembered too, there was a special reason to complete the homework, and this time Sophia sat beside him, their hands entwined.

Very likely, you can remember the excitement of young love. They were living it. And loving it.  

Merv Edmunds
June 2025    

It was the white horse that people of the village noticed. Not so much the colour, but the size. Familiar with donkeys and mules, it was like a giant apparition, head held high, ears alert and nostrils flared and foaming. The effect would have been more stunning if the rider had been an Arab chieftain with a gleaming sword, but instead, he looked just like any other Gentile traveller.

Aware that he was being watched with a mixture of fascination and suspicion, he dismounted, and after much gesticulation had a villager attend his horse. He asked if the scribe by the name of Benjamin was in the village, but as the watchers did not understand Greek, the old scribe’s name was all the villagers caught. Soon, Benjamin, tall and dignified, greeted the rider, and it became apparent that the exchange was welcomed by both men.

Eli and Samuel were in the workshop, heard a commotion and saw the white horse flash by the window. Eli, not one to be distracted easily, didn’t say anything. Samuel, one to be easily distracted spoke up.

“Arabs are trouble wherever they go, especially ones on white horses. I don’t like the look of this, we better put the bolt in the door just in case.”

“It looks like you have it all worked out Samuel. I say things aren’t always as they seem. And no, we leave the door open, just in case there is an encounter worth having,” said Eli.

“I would never trust an Arab; they’re all thieves. I can’t believe the way you always think the best of people no matter what,” Samuel responded, the thread and needle dangling from his hand like an unfinished thought.

Eli finished it for him “Try growing up a cripple and not feeling an outsider and becoming judgemental. And full of envy”.

“So, was it Yeshua that changed you as well as fixed your leg?” Samuel asked.

“I think you already know the answer to that – Yeshua changes everything”.

Eli continued, “You see Samuel, he talked to us about the ways we could all make our lives better, for ourselves as well as others. Even your Arabs. When he spoke, people listened, and while they all heard the same message, when they re-told it, you could tell they had understood it in their own way. People are different, and Yeshua never intended to make us all the same”.

Samuel was puzzled. In fact, the whole Yeshua thing had always been a puzzle to him, a mystery he had no clues to solve.

“So what did he intend for people?” he asked

“That they never lose sight of him and what he represented. You see he came to challenge the prevailing values of humanity, mostly driven by fear. You see a white horse and immediately you are driven by fear to think in the only way you know how. Yeshua represents love, and when driven by love, I see a magnificent animal, and if the rider is an Arab, he is my brother. Perhaps not close, but at least my thinking is oriented toward the belief that he will be one day”.

For Samuel, the puzzle had just become more mysterious. Eli sensed this and put his brad and awl on the bench. Choosing his words carefully and allowing those lengthy pauses where nothing is said, Eli continued.

“There are two great forces in life; fear and love. The values people lived by up until Yeshua came were those put in place by a fallen angel, Lucifer. Fear drives division – a coming apart of relationships, in couples, families and nations. The values Yeshua brought were love, and love causes a bringing together in relationships, in couples, families and nations. So, when a big white horse rides into the village, I choose love, leave the door open, and welcome an encounter with another traveller on the same journey as me”.

“Even if he comes in here and takes your stuff?” Samuel asked.

“Yes, even if he does that. I will let him have whatever he wants, and give him a handful of dates as well”.

Samuel’s mouth dropped. The rider stood in the doorway. The scribe was with him and spoke to Eli.

“This man does not speak our language, so he asked if I could translate for him. He wanted to know if there is a Greek girl by the name of Sophia in this village, so I told him your wife’s father rescued her, and she lives in your house. He would like to speak to her”

“Eli walked toward the rider his hands outstretched. One grasped his hand firmly, the other held his elbow. No words, only a welcoming kindness shown by their countenance, their hands, and their spirit. Samuel was aghast but thought perhaps this is what ‘coming together’ looks like. The rider spoke. Benjamin translated.

“My name is Marcus, I am a falconer in the house of an Arabian chieftain. Sophia is my sister, and our father has died. I promised him I would find her, no matter what. Can I see her?”

Eli responded, still holding the man’s elbow. “Of course you can”.

Samuel said “I’ll go and tell her” and hurried off.

No translation was needed for when Sophia and Marcus embraced. They held each other for what seemed a long time. Eli had tears in his eyes. Samuel wondered what it would be like to hold such a beautiful girl in his arms. It is hard to know what Benjamin was thinking, for he was more familiar with words than emotions.

However, the words between Sophia and her brother flowed so fast, that Benjamin gave up trying to translate. It was only after they had left to see where Sophia was staying that he filled in the details.

“Marcus gave their father a promise before he died that he would find his daughter and tell her of her father’s love, and tell her that every day he would look into the sky and plead for her safety. Since that dreadful night when the Bedouins attacked, he had given up hope of ever seeing her again, but the yearning in his heart never left him”.

Samuel interrupted, “How did Marcus find out where she lived?”

Benjamin continued, “Well, curiously enough, he ran into a group of your old companions in a drinking house a long way from here. They told him you were keen on a Greek girl named Sophia, and it was probably his sister. They knew you are coming to see me to learn some Greek so you could talk her language, so they said to Marcus if he found me, he would find where his sister lived”.

Eli wasn’t surprised but Samuel was. “I can’t work our how they knew that!”

Benjamin smiled, leaving Eli and Samuel more perplexed than before with the wry comment, “We scribes keep strange company”.

“But the strangest thing in all this was when Marcus told Sophia that now he had some authority, he was getting closer to finding the men who molested her. Sophia told him that when he finds them, tell them she has forgiven them, and let them go free. Marcus looked as surprised as I did”.

Just then Marcus came into the workshop, took Eli’s hand, and thanked him for taking good care of his sister. Benjamin translated unnecessarily because Eli already understood. His emotional awareness made words optional; the language of the heart was being spoken between these two men. As Marcus and Benjamin left, Eli was pleased he had left the door open and welcomed an encounter with another traveller on the same journey as him.

For Eli and Samuel, work was out of the question. Eli wanted to talk about Samuel learning Greek and his interest in Sophia, but Samuel had other more pressing concerns.

“First you greet a total stranger like an old friend, then Sophia forgives those rotten creeps who molested her”… I can’t work it out”.

“Yes, it is hard to work out” Eli responded. “The only way I know is to go back to those core principles of Yeshua. Our responses can either bring together, or drive apart. Motivated by love – other-centred; self giving; or motivated by fear – self-centred; including a fear of losing status or how we are seen by others. Being aware of these fundamental truths brings us choice – we choose how to react. Sophia has chosen a response driven by love, and it seems to bring her a peace and joy. And she is freed from the bitterness and revenge. That’s probably how she can want that freedom for her molesters”.

“Yes, Sophia sure is a loving person, and she has peace and joy” said Samuel, making Eli smile. “But the forgiveness is a whole other level”.

Eli began “I once heard Yeshua give Cephas an answer that I have never forgotten. Cephas was tired of his companions, one in particular accusing him of wanting to be leader and spokesman. He asked Yeshua how many times does he have to forgive them; is seven enough? Yeshua said seventy times seven”.

Samuel hesitated, trying to grasp how many times that was. “That’s a lot of forgiveness. You won’t find me doing that, I can hardly manage once, let alone a big number like that. If they kept making me angry, I would whack them one so they stop”.

“Likely they would whack you back. Then a broken relationship that may never come together again. That’s why Yeshua gives us a better way” said Eli.

“You mean like Sophia forgiving those Arabs who raped her? I can’t believe that” said Samuel.

“You mightn’t believe that, but she does. And that’s the point. Sophia believes she can free herself by letting them go unpunished in her mind” replied Eli.

“That means they get away with it. That doesn’t seem fair to me. I hope they get punished in Hades” suggested Samuel, looking at Eli as though for a better explanation.

“No they won’t get away with it. We don’t get away with anything. Either it catches up with us in this life, or it is dealt with in the next. But the thing to remember is Hades is not about punishment, it is for healing; preparing us for living together for ever. More like a corridor between life here and life for ever” replied Eli.

“How do you know this stuff Eli?” asked Samuel.

“Well we can’t be sure about these things. So we have to rely on a mixture of clear thinking, faith, and what people who know more than we do, say”. And I also rely on what I call ‘balance of probabilities’, meaning I hang on to ideas that resonate with my spirit and let them go if they don’t”, said Eli.

Eli was struck with the thought that this young man, who, only weeks ago was running amok with a gang, was now having this discussion and asking such questions. He continued.

“Most of my information about Hades comes from my mother who heard it from Nicodemus, a teacher of the law who became a follower of Yeshua. You see, Nicodemus went to the funeral of his friend and some time later his friend was alive again, having been led out of Hades in a huge procession starting with Yeshua himself. The strange thing is, his friend hated Yeshua, and spoke against him to everyone who would listen. Then he follows him in the procession”.

“Apparently, Yeshua’s influence in Hades was surreal; even the demons were freaked out. They thought the prophets or John the Baptiser had come back to life, and this fear and consternation went through the whole place. Then Yeshua himself appeared, and everyone was overwhelmed by what this friend called a ‘light and lightness’ that enveloped them all. It was like music and singing and harmony they felt and saw, rather than just listened to. People were flat on their faces, some on their knees, all calling out Yeshua’s name. Then people found themselves drawn to join the procession. Nicodemus said his friend doesn’t know if anyone stayed behind, all he knows for sure is that Yeshua is who he said he was”.

Samuel was in a trance. He had never heard such things being said, and was completely unaware his hands had been using a stitch-wheel on a piece of damp leather. It had made a striking pattern, but one impossible to thread. He picked up a thread of a different kind, “I’m still not happy the rapists are part of that procession”.

“No, we think happiness comes from justice and punishment, but it doesn’t. Well, a cheap kind of happiness does, but that is short-lived” said Eli, before continuing.

“I was molested once, and the only way I could come to terms with wanting my father to whip him, was to free myself from wanting something that I couldn’t make happen. Instead, accepting that the man who abused me will be part of that procession, but all sorts of things happen to him, so that when we come together as the men we were always supposed to be, we will be brothers. I am preparing for that now, he is getting that sorted, wherever he is. Probably by fire, and not pretty, but nobody knows for sure”.

There was no part of that small piece of damp leather not impressed by the stitch-wheel in Samuel’s hand. And no part of his thinking not impressed by Eli’s clear-headed grounded observations. Neither men felt like working so Eli said “Let’s finish for the day”. The intensity of the day’s event thus far had tired them, and they needed time to think about it all. And not only them. Each player in this village drama needed to process what it all meant to them individually.

For Eli, there was a deep gratitude for Sarah, Samuel’s mother. She had wanted her wayward son to find his way, and was prepared to pay his wages to be apprenticed to someone who could give the young man direction and purpose. He felt a deep sense of joy for Samuel’s development, although didn’t go so far as to claim any major part in that.

For Samuel, he was having difficulty getting all the pieces lined up. He knew that he was becoming a different person and this brought him both pleasure and apprehension. Until Benjamin mentioned them, Samuel hadn’t had given his former acquaintances a single thought. It was as though, that Samuel, no longer existed, and yet he was pleased they still remembered him. The apprehension came from his manly stirrings. A completely new territory for him to negotiate, but one he realised he must get prepared for. And this was already happening.

For Sophia, unbounded delight. The knowledge that her father and brother were well favoured by the desert chieftain; that Marcus fulfilled his promise to their dying father; but most of all, that her pagan view of an afterlife had been replaced by a quiet confidence that all manner of things will be well in the end. She was assured that her father will know the rest of the story one day, if he doesn’t already. To be sure, such confidence and assurance came from the people surrounding her and the generosity of spirit they showed as much as from her own relationship with Yeshua’s spirit guide. But that guide, like a hovering kestrel, is patient.

For Marcus, the drama played out in a way that he could never have imagined. He was faced with the impossible task of finding his sister when all the indications were that she would not have survived the assaults. And yet, he made a promise to his father, and he had to make moves, not so much ones calculated, but by promptings he had never known or trusted. He knew Sophia’s kestrel had escaped, perhaps she had too. He would not have admitted it to anyone, but the kestrel played a bigger part in this drama than the white horse loaned to him.

For Benjamin, the elderly scribe caught up in the biggest drama of his cloistered life, he was perplexed about a lot of things. Used to making sense with language and text, this drama had dimensions like languages so foreign to him, he could never hope to understand. Given his troubled past, one could understand Samuel’s difficulty in understanding the forgiveness idea, but for a scholar that had read about the concept in several languages, and written about it all his life, to be faced with what it actually looks like on the dusty village landscape, that was something different.

Another perplexing thing for Benjamin was his admission to Eli and Samuel that he associated with the latter’s former low-life companions. And the realisation, curiously coming from the influence of the workshop men, that his association was only for what knowledge he could gain, to further his power in his conniving and manipulation of village affairs. When he compared that activity to encounters that had played out that day, it seemed to the highly respected village scribe, fake and cheap.

Furthermore, Benjamin could have explained the significance of the huge white horse in any number of ways, mostly to do with power, domination, and triumphalism. After the perplexing events of the day, he realised it represented none of these things. But merely a way of enabling a young man on a mission to honour his father, to do so with ease and in style. And to draw people into the other worldliness of love, forgiveness and bringing brothers and sisters together.

Merv Edmunds
April 2025

Mothers talk. Mothers listen, and they ponder things in their heart. Sometimes for days, even weeks. For their heads and their hearts are wonderfully connected. It is part of their intuition or inner knowing; part of their role as nurturers and carers of children. A role that Eli had some understanding of, while Reuben had none. This, as we shall see, becomes apparent as they talked in Eli’s workshop one cool winter morning.

The workshop was an ideal place for talking. It had a small stove that was kept alight for heating glue-pots and water jugs, even when neither were needed. Small off-cuts of wood piled alongside were within easy reach from the two comfy old chairs. Usually Reuben sat while Eli worked on the pack-saddles he made for the men who led loaded donkeys along the main road to the city.

Eli’s apprentice, Samuel, also listened as he worked the leather for the saddles or the oak for the frames. While doing so, he was learning more than his craft. He was learning things that could ensure his recent ‘falling among thieves’ distress does not happen again. Vital things that could enable him to set a course and steer instead of drift with the wind and tide, aimless and out of control.

The aimlessness brought a burdensome grief to Sarah, his widowed mother. That’s why she had talked to Eli’s mother. She knew that Samuel needed to get some direction before it was too late, such as the influence of a stronger character and the guidance of a grounded man. A man like Eli.

“If I pay Samuel’s wage without him knowing, do you think Eli could employ him; teach him a trade, and also some of the skills for living he doesn’t have? She asked Naomi one day.

“Do you think Samuel is ready for something like that?” Naomi asked.

“Well, he came home beaten up pretty bad a week ago, and I have been dressing his wounds and talking to him” Sarah replied. “He is still in pain, but healing slowly. And thinking about where his life is headed”.

“If you think it is a good time for Samuel to make some changes, why don’t you go and ask Eli. He may say no, or he may say yes. Especially if you can pay his wage, at least until he shows some commitment to learning” said Naomi.

“That’s what I worry about. He has never shown a commitment to learning anything – it’s as if he just doesn’t think. And the only people he has taken notice of are just like him, going from one crisis to another” was Sarah’s reply, with that motherly sadness colouring every word.

It was a pity Reuben was sitting beside the stove when Sarah went to ask Eli about giving Samuel a chance at doing something useful with his life. For as usual, Eli needed to think about her request before he replied, and as usual, Reuben didn’t.

“That kid just doesn’t have it. He only lasted two weeks with the fishing men, and even less with the road crew. And those thieving low-lifers he hangs around, they should all be jailed” he said, his disgust undisguised.

Sarah held her head low, tears around her eyes, and the shame of having failed in the raising of her son on her own, all but overwhelming her. It is true, mothers talk, but words don’t come from a heart that is in so many pieces. Broken by cruel words that, while carrying some truth, had shards of contempt so sharp they cut everything they touched. She said nothing.

Until Eli spoke to Reuben, “Sarah came to speak with me, and I think it is best for you to leave us talk. And on your way home, could I ask you to reflect on the words you have spoken to Sarah. You may be right, but you may have also been careless and hurt a mother doing something you haven’t: raising a son who has lost his way”.

We may never know if Reuben did any reflecting on his way home. The only thing we can be sure about is how annoyed he was when he left, suggesting a focus on his own feelings instead of anyone else’s. Indignation and reflection rarely sit side-by-side.

A few days later Reuben came back; worked up. It was a cool winter morning and he stoked the stove so enthusiastically, the top had a circle of deep red. A bit like Reuben’s cheeks, who apart from sitting a bit too close, was animated about the talk of the village. Or the part of the village that cycled from one thing to be outraged about to another in an endless cycle of excited futility. For the outrage and indignation never resulted in anything constructive, but rather had all the necessary components for breaking things apart.

What was being broken was the emerging and settled understanding of the carpenter-turned-healing rabbi, an understanding that Eli had demonstrated perhaps better than anyone.

“The letter says that followers of Yeshua don’t have to keep the Law! I heard the man read it, and he said it was written by Saul of Tarsus who spoke with Yeshua while on his way to kill more followers”, said Reuben with authority, but without revealing his view on the matter.

“Yes”, said Eli without excitement. “A letter from one who never heard Yeshua teach, or see any of his miracles. And one who hadn’t seen him after having come back from being among the dead. He may be an authority on the law, but that doesn’t mean much to me now”.

“But that’s what he is saying! The law no longer matters to followers of Yeshua. His followers can have life after death as a free gift. It is a gift of grace, not something we get by keeping all the law. Isn’t that good news?” asked Reuben

“Of course it is,” said Eli. “As long as people are going to stay focused on what Yeshua said, and keep living in the way he asked us to. Not to earn a place in heaven, but because we can live like we are already there – live how we are meant to live” said Eli, knowing Reuben wanted some statement that better matched his revolutionary fervour.

“It looks to me like you have replaced an old law with a new one” said Reuben. “It’s as though you cannot order your lives without some law in place”.

“It looks to me like you have replaced one teacher for another” said Eli, not sure if he should have been so direct. “Before long there will be lots of letters, and as we can’t read them ourselves, we have to rely on people who can, and they, like us, are prone to all sorts of thinking of their own. At least with the things Yeshua said, people heard him say them, remembered them, and they told others who weren’t there. And he promised that the holy spirit will guide us, something that is within each person. It’s like a law on our hearts as it was always meant to be”.

Reuben saw that Samuel was listening intently, and it unsettled him. He would have preferred to not have to share Eli’s attention with an apprentice, a wild one at that. And he was even more unsettled when Eli asked him what he thought of the letter.

“I don’t know anything about letters. And I have broken nearly every law there is. All I know is that I have never listened to a conversation like this in my life. And if I know anything, it is that I have lived without listening to anyone, and I have lived as though there is no law. Until now. That’s all I can say” he said without any grasp at how profound his words were.

Eli was impressed, but preferred to comment when Reuben wasn’t listening. Reuben was impressed too, but preferred to not show it. Indignation does not give way to reflection that easily.

Mothers talk. So it wasn’t surprising that Naomi told Sarah what Eli had said about his apprentice. Being especially aware that her friend was making an enormous sacrifice to allow it all to take place.

“Eli is very pleased with Samuel. When he is shown something, he gets it straight away. He has a craftsman’s way of thinking and is skilled with his hands” Naomi said.

“What is a ‘craftsman’s way of thinking?” Sarah asked.

“It is thinking ahead, kind of like seeing the finished work and knowing what is needed to make it take shape. Eli calls it ‘vision’ and thinks it is the most important thing he can teach anyone – craftsman or not” Naomi replied.

Sarah recognised the importance of what Eli had observed in her son. It thrilled her heart and she gave Naomi a hug because although mothers talk, they also know when words are not enough.

“I am so pleased!” Sarah exclaimed. “He has never been able to think ahead, to see what his thoughtless actions will cause. And he has never been able to see what he could be. Instead, he has seen himself as just another aimless young man”.

Sarah then told Naomi what Samuel told her as she dressed his leg wound the previous night. “He told me his life is changing, and I asked him how he could tell. He said at the end of the day he is tired, but has good feelings from the work he has done”.

The two mothers were silent. Enough had been said, and each wanted to ponder the significance in their own way.

The two craftsmen were stretching damp leather over a frame, one holding it; the other nailing it in place. Reuben didn’t interrupt until the last nail was in place and the two men looked at each other with a smile. It was at that moment that Eli knew it was time to relieve the young man’s mother of her investment in his future.

“James is not happy about the letter” Reuben started. “He said it will not help things develop as Yeshua wanted. He is afraid that the twelve men entrusted with the task of making sure Yeshua’s wishes are carried out properly, will be sidelined now”.

“Is that so” responded Eli. “The only one I don’t want sidelined is Yeshua himself” he added thoughtfully. Reuben was quiet, and Samuel looked at him from his workbench. Reuben saw a young man developing skills, applying himself to purposeful action instead of destructive behaviour. A young man who went wild when his father died. Perhaps, Reuben found himself wondering, something he himself may have done in trying to cope with such tragic loss. He noticed that the wildness and lack of purpose had gone, replaced with hope and promise. With such thoughts of significance, Reuben lost interest in the letter, buttoned his coat and said goodbye to the workers.

The winter chill was in the air, but something warmed Reuben’s heart as he walked home. It was the gradual awareness of the intricacies of ordinary people’s lives. The mothers, their other-centred thoughts and actions; Eli with his patient instruction and mentoring of Samuel, and the imparting of values that will equip a troubled young man find his way; and an apprentice learning from a master by understanding his thinking and doing what he does. Before he reached his home, Reuben realised talking about the law and letters had never warmed his heart like this.

The mothers talked. About the men in their lives, and about the hesitant apology that Reuben had given Sarah. I say hesitant because when one does anything for the first time, it is usually a faltering attempt. What wasn’t faltering however, was Reuben’s expression of regretful sorrow for viewing Samuel as a failure and not potential. And the importance of considering context, like the death of Samuel’s father. But most touching of all was his apology for being so opinionated and fixed in his thinking.

After a healthy pause, Naomi said: “One of the worst influences the Hellenists have had on us is the tendency for rigid thinking. Holding ideas with tenacity instead of holding them tentatively. And, taking things literally. I fear we are losing our love of metaphor”.

Sarah saw her opportunity to contribute, “Aha, yes, metaphor. Reuben you were once like a rock in the ocean, proud and smug, unmoved by anyone. Now you can be a sailboat; sometimes anchored and sometimes floating free. You can still hold firm views, but also dance with possibilities and play with nuance. Yeshua was like a mystic; that is why we womenfolk loved him. You see, as mothers we have to be playful in our thinking if we are going to do the best for our children. Anchored on some things, and free to move with others. And, because we talk, listen and ponder, we learn what to do and when”.

In a culture where women were disallowed to speak with such directness, Reuben could have been indignant. He wasn’t. Instead, he walked home reflecting on the mothers’ talk. He saw the man he used to be; proud and smug. And now he saw what he could be. Perhaps not a mystic, but at least not a rock in the ocean.

A man seeing for the first time, who he was meant to be. All because these women had embraced the thinking of a mystic, one who stilled the waves and walked on water. They listened to what he had said, and they pondered his words until they took up residence in their hearts.

Yes, mothers talk, and their words can help grown men as well as children.

Merv Edmunds April 2024

Every town has a man like Rueben. Unhappy and disagreeable. A man, were it not for Eli’s mother and the few who met in her home, disliked and avoided by all who knew him. The issue making him particularly unpleasant at the moment is one he has mulled over for weeks, now a flood-tide of emotion that had to overflow into the ears of someone who hadn’t avoided him.

That someone was Naomi, a patient soul who was everything Rueben wasn’t – happy and agreeable, and kindness personified.

Rueben, with nothing so much as a ‘hello’ started with: “I have to talk to you about that Gentile girl who comes to our fellowship”.

‘You mean Sophia, the girl staying with Eli and Hannah?” Naomi asked.

“It is not right that Gentiles meet with us, they have no understanding of the Law … they are not our people” he said indignantly.

Naomi just held him in her gaze, which someone other than Rueben would have taken to mean ‘be careful’. But having missed it, he continued.

“Yahweh is going to restore his kingdom to Israel, and it cannot happen if foreigners keep getting in the way. Take the way Greek language and culture has taken over our ways … even the Romans are swept up in this tide of ungodliness. I cannot stand the way Hannah speaks to her in Greek. It is supposed to be ‘our’ fellowship; not a place for worldly influences to parade around in front of us”.

“But Rueben, Yeshua has broken down those barriers between people and he …”

“Let’s keep him out of it,” Rueben interrupted. He doesn’t have to put up with what we are facing, like the way it is looking more and more unlikely the kingdom will ever be in place.

The tirade continued. Naomi listened to it all, although somewhat distractedly, enough for Rueben to notice. “You don’t seem to be saying much, has that Greek girl worked her way into your favour too?”

“Well yes she has, but I have been quiet since you said to leave Yeshua out of it. If he is not part of the discussion, I won’t be either. I am sure you know me well enough by now. Come, let me rub your neck, those muscles are way too tight”.

Naomi massaged Rueben’s thick neck like she would knead the barley loaves she is well known for making. He felt the soothing touch on tense muscles and let his flow of indignant grievances ebb sideways. Naomi didn’t bring Yeshua into the conversation straight away, well actually she did but Rueben didn’t recognise his being with them. 

“Yes, restoring the kingdom to Israel, as though the golden age of David will just magically appear and make everything rosy again” she said with a sigh. “People forget what happened after David died, they forget the reign of his son; the kingdom torn apart and divided into exiles, captives and slaves. That kingdom is never going to be restored, and while people hang onto a futile hope that it will be, they miss the kingdom that replaced it”.

“But the prophets of old made that very promise, and if the Romans could be conquered it would happen. What we need is a real warrior-priest with God on his side”.

Naomi was aghast. “But Rueben you know Yeshua is the sent one, you believe he was who he said he was!”

“Yes of course, it is just that things haven’t changed in the way they should have, in fact things are getting worse”.

“Yeshua didn’t come to change ‘things’; he came to change us,” Naomi countered, her firm hands emphasizing that word across Rueben’s broad shoulders. She continued.

“I think it is a ‘man’ thing to want to change other people and their surroundings, instead of themselves; They want to get angry and fight for their beliefs, even if they get killed or wounded in the process.  Women are designed to look after their children, so they are always prepared to change themselves, to adapt to what is needed because it is not just about them”.

“Is that why Yeshua made such an impact on women” Rueben asked in a moment of rare contemplation. Naomi understood the connection between tight muscles and rigid thinking, or to be more precise, she saw the way to counter his fixed ideas was by soothing gentle touch. And a hot drink.

“If you have a cup of tea with me, I will tell you what he told us about the kingdom he brought us” she suggested. He agreed, although one can’t be sure about with how much enthusiasm. He was more comfortable with talking than listening. A hot drink and pieces of a loaf baked that morning helped settle Rueben even more, and Naomi began.

“You see Rueben, I am good friends with Yeshua’s mother, his aunties, and the other women, including my special friend Mary from Magdala. He talked with us a lot. I am not saying we knew more than the men, but we processed it differently. They wanted to set up structures with someone in charge; to talk about it and write about it and argue about what he meant. Whereas we just pondered these things in our heart. And when we got together, we talked about what he told us. Like what we do each Sabbath here”.

“So what did he say about restoring the kingdom?” Rueben asked.

“The kingdom he talked about was the reign of Yahweh in people’s hearts. More like a family with a father who loves them, lives with them, and wants the best for them, always. And all his children, not just some” Naomi replied.

While Rueben was grappling with that unfamiliar idea, Naomi continued.

“A lot of people, even those close to him, just didn’t get Yeshua; didn’t understand who he was and what he came to do. And because of this misunderstanding, they made stuff up which was mostly their own ideas, not his”.  

“I can see that has happened” said Reuben. “The arguments over what part of the law we have to still keep to be a true follower gets me confused. When I listen to Eli I get the impression he gets it. Like when he talked about Yeshua being God’s word in human form, speaking God’s mind to us. The law becoming something else, although I am not quite sure what exactly. So what did Yeshua come to do?”

“Well when John the Baptizer saw Yeshua he said ‘Look, there is the Lamb of God, he will take away the sins of the world’. He came to be a sacrifice to end all sacrifices, and the sins of the world have been taken away” Naomi answered.

“I don’t think so!” exclaimed Rueben. “Just look at how the Romans live, and what they are doing to us, sins are everywhere”.

“One thing Yeshua talked about with us was the people of the new kingdom know who they are, and are secure in this authentic identity. They know they are loved and they live as they were meant to live. They are part of a wonderful family, a family that includes the Romans” Naomi said before continuing.

“Sin is not knowing who we are and believing, and living as though our identity is something else” Naomi continued. “Yeshua took that away, but many either refuse to believe it or are simply not aware of it. I know this because I asked him after he came back from the dead if my son being a cripple was because of my sin. He said the notion of sin being what people think of themselves, of having done or not done certain things, was now taken away completely. What has not been taken away, what you say is everywhere, is the pointless futile behaviour going against their creator’s intention”.

Naomi let that settle in Rueben’s mind, then added, “Yeshua also told us how disappointed he was that the idea of sin would become defined not as identity, but behaviour and actions that are either on target or off-target. A sort of organizing idea that becomes a distracting appendix and a foundation of its own building with Yeshua’s name on it. I see signs of that already underway”.

Rueben was confused but didn’t say anything. Naomi continued.

“The signs are the move away from the beautiful unity Yeshua lived and taught, toward division. The idea of sin is being used to separate people into groups such as those who follow the law and those who don’t; those who know about the law – us – and those who don’t; Romans”.

Reuben thought he saw an inconsistency in Naomi’s thinking.

“But surely there is division between Yeshua’s followers who know their identity, and those who still sin; a division of his making”.

“Yes, however the difference is not in the division, but how people react. His followers think kingdom, with a confidence in all being related and one day as family. Whereas those who don’t embrace this idea think a kingdom for only them that excludes people. An ‘us and them’ approach that gives them a liberty to judge and exclude people they don’t agree with or simply don’t like” said Naomi, refilling Rueben’s cup.

Just then Sophia, the Greek girl and subject of Rueben’s indignation came into the room without knocking. She embraced Naomi where she sat, and nodded to Rueben cheerfully. Then an awkward silence, for neither at the table spoke Greek, and Sophia could not speak Aramaic. But she could sing. And sing she did, folk songs, with an amazing combination of voice and tapping sounds that enthralled Naomi and especially Reuben.

He had never heard anything like it, for this was music from a child’s heart, a joyful melody learned from years of wandering, not living in the one place. It was music from desert travellers, and people like them who manage to find pleasure in difficult circumstances. The songs were both poignant and cheerful; like a lament filled with hope, and, as quickly as it started, it ended. Sophia looked at Rueben in a way that discomforted him enough to wonder if the songs were saying something about him he didn’t understand. Then she was gone.

Rueben was discomforted. And perplexed, because something deep within him had changed. He went to the door and looked both ways along the alleyway– no Sophia. Only a lone kestrel hovering, its wings outstretched, its body suspended motionless and its eyes looking all around. Naomi placed her arm on his shoulder but said nothing. Neither did Reuben.

A girl he didn’t like did something that thrilled his soul; she sang travellers’ songs he didn’t understand. Yet the music snuck past his usual disagreement, and beautifully settled something in his heart.

Yes, every town has a man like Reuben. The hope of the world is for enough followers like Naomi to speak truth in love, for it can relieve the tension and bring happiness and agreement. So can a song from an unlikely singer; especially one spirit-guided.

They came out of the desert darkness with a swiftness and brutality only men who live by violence can do without fear or remorse. They were on a mission from a warlord king, they took a falconer and his precious hunting birds, also his son, had their way with his fifteen-year-old daughter, and disappeared into the grieving night. Trained peregrine falcons were prized by warlord kings because they gave such status and esteem to otherwise base and fractious men. The birds killed with speed and precision, characteristics that appealed to this ravaging band that created such horrific carnage before stealing away into the darkness again.

It was especially horrific for Sophia. Ravaged and alone in the darkness, in pain and overwhelmed by the horror, she lay as though dead. She almost was, and as little as she could think, wondered if it were better if she was. She endured the night, saw the sun’s rays emerge from the desert flatness, and with painstaking slowness, managed to make her way toward some shelter. She lapsed into a sleep that, while fitful, blanked out the horror.

When Sophia awoke, it was late afternoon and she realised that water was going to be her most pressing concern. A small wadi was nearby, and although dry, she knew the overnight dew would be on the leaves and by early morning she could quench her thirst a little. She was in pain from the frenzied violence, so movement was difficult. She managed to make her way to some green plants, found some berries to eat and lay down exhausted. Darkness fell swiftly, and Sophia, used to sleeping rough, was soon asleep.

There was something in the night sky that wasn’t asleep. A young kestrel, cared for and trained by Sophia since leaving the nest, had escaped the clutches of the night raiders and was looking for her. She found her. Raptor’s vision being quite beyond our comprehension, it is impossible to know what that young kestrel saw that we never could. It didn’t need, however, that special vision to see that Sophia was waking slowly, somewhat rested, but dreadfully tormented.

Old Shamuel didn’t have a raptor’s vision. However, after a lifetime spent looking at fine print and temple walls, he did have a new-found delight in being able to see into the distance. After such a cloistered existence, walking at the steady pace of laden donkeys, he looked about him with a child-like sense of awe in the simple things of nature. He noticed things his fellow travellers missed, despite them having walked these same roads for years.  

It was not surprising, then, that Shamuel noticed the kestrel hovering over the dry wadi. Looking for small reptiles he thought, but something else intrigued him. The kestrel was looking directly at him, an intense demanding gaze, if that were possible from such small eyes. Then Shamuel noticed the kestrel turning and looking directly below to a distressed and disheveled Sophia. He wouldn’t have seen her if it were not for noticing the kestrel first.

Shamuel approached her cautiously, and already his gentle caring heart was grieving for her. He told her he would help her, not harm her. When he saw the bloodstains, he wasn’t sure that there was much he would be able to do. He wished his daughter were with him. But at least they could speak and understand each other, for the old man spoke Greek as she did.

“We were attacked the night before last by Bedouins who took my father, my brother and their hunting birds. They abused me and while my brother distracted them I was able to escape and hide”. Then Sophia added, “And this is my kestrel who has escaped and found me in the night. He won’t come close however, and I don’t know why”.

Then the kestrel spoke, and both the old man and the distressed teenager heard it, so it is from the mouths of two witnesses that I am able to share this confidently.

“I now know what true freedom is, so I won’t be coming back Sophia. I appreciate the years we had together and your love for me, but I must be free. You see, while I was with you, my food came from you, and I wasn’t aware that it could possibly be any other way. Now I know it was a contract, an exchange whereby I hunted for you and you gave me a place to live and daily food. It worked, but it wasn’t freedom. Now the contract is gone, and I can love you because I choose to”.

There was silence. Even the donkeys paused their grazing and turned around with that bearded face and long-eared donkey look. The kestrel continued to hover, suspended by thought, and watching with the eyes of a friend not a predator. Then Sophia spoke.

“I am sorry it took desert raiders and their violence to make you free, but I am pleased it is so. I look forward to a new relationship where we look out for each other and both keep each other free. And no contract or expectations”.

The kestrel flew off into the desert haze, a dust-driven thing that limits what we can see, but there is something in the raptors’ eye-sight that is more than seeing, it is a special kind of knowing.

The old man and the teenager were keen to get moving. Shamuel rearranged the loading of the packs so Sophia could ride, and in an act of consideration that endeared him to Sophia, he gave her his coat and hat. “You don’t need any more attention from desert travellers, so you can be my son. That is until we get home where you can get the kind of attention you need from my daughter”.

It was Eli, Shamuel’s son-in-law that saw them first. He was holding Levi, who, upon seeing his grandfather, reached out for him, straining against his father’s arms. Then Levi saw Sophia, and what motivated him to act the way he did we may never know. He wanted her to hold him, and what started at that moment was a bond that transcended all barriers. Like the kestrel who sees in a way we can’t, little Levi must have known that one of the most helpful things to begin the healing for that teenager was the embrace of unconditional love. An action from a child with a motive as pure as any could be. No words needed.

When Hannah came out of the house, she was startled to see her son in the arms of a stranger wearing her father’s coat. Shamuel, wise old man that he was, said “Sophia has been molested and abandoned, she needs your help, and we can explain things later. I’ll tend to the donkeys, and then go and get warm”. Then with his hand on Sophia’s shoulder said “I hope you have a good night’s rest my child, you are safe here, and we will look after you as long as you need it”. He kissed his grandson tenderly and followed Eli who had taken the donkeys to the stable. None of the people in the scene playing out that evening realised it, the donkeys either, but they were the last words they would hear this old man of God utter.

When Hannah went to give him his pre-dawn cup of tea, he was dead, still sitting in his chair with a copy of the sayings of Yeshua on his knee. Funeral arrangements were made quickly and word of his passing spread throughout Nazareth and beyond. He was formerly a well-known and much loved rabbi, and judging by the church dignitaries that attended his funeral, the view they held about his choosing to follow that well-known carpenter was put aside in a show of brotherly respect.

At the simple funeral, Eli spoke of the carpenter, how he taught a code for living, how he broke every barrier to knowing Yahweh as father, and by his rising from the guarded tomb, showed he had taken the pain and sting of death away. He added that Shamuel had not left the synagogue as an apostate, but as one moving into a relationship with the God of heaven he had never thought possible.

Sophia was not the only one listening to words and ideas that seemed too good to be true. The big difference however, was she had never been exposed to anything like this, while many of the other listeners, especially the religious dignitaries, were shackled to a set of ideas that made any genuine consideration of these too-good-to-be-true ideas nigh on impossible.

After the last of the mourners had left the house, Hannah and Sophia with Levi in her arms went for a walk. Hannah was keen to know Sophia’s story, not in a prying sort of way but more out of a recognition that this damaged teenager was likely to become part of Hannah’s world. She needed to know more than the fact that she certainly was not Jewish.

“I don’t know where my people come from” Sophia began. “People often call us Samaritans, but my father is Greek. My mother has Egyptian ancestors, and I was born in Babylon, so I am not sure what you make of that”.

Hannah didn’t feel like making anything of that. “I would rather you think of yourself as my sister, not where you come from. But I would like to know why you were on the road where the desert thieves attacked you”.

“My father has hunting falcons. They are trained to go out and capture birds, mainly quail and doves, but sometimes other birds. We would cut the strips of meat off them, dry the pieces, then salt them before selling them at the markets. My brother worked with my father too, and had his own birds. The falcons are valuable, but will only work for one person. That’s why the Bedouins took my father and my brother as well as the birds. I managed to escape, but my kestrel was taken. She later escaped and found me and helped your father find me. She now flies free, but has promised to still keep an eye on me. Eli spoke of your father finding a shepherd, well I like to think of my kestrel as a kind of shepherd”.

“That’s beautiful” Hannah replied. “My father’s shepherd is the carpenter who promised to always be with us, even though he is not here in person”.

“How does he do that?” Sophia asked.

“Eli, who actually met him and talked with him, said he talked about leaving his spirit to be with us and guide us. People referred to his spirit as like a dove, but I think a kestrel is a good metaphor too. I think that’s why your kestrel needed to be free. To appear at the right time and hover over us” said Hannah, somewhat surprised at how profound it sounded.

Levi was sound asleep in Sophia’s arms when they came inside the house, and Hannah let Sophia place him on his little bed. The two sisters paused, and as they looked in awe, the child woke, smiled at each of them and went back to sleep. The spontaneous benediction over, Hannah took Sophia by the arm and without saying anything, walked her to her father’s room. His meagre belongings were gone and a vase of flowers was beside the bed.

“This is your room now. I will miss my father, but having you with us will help me see that life goes on” said Hannah.

Sophia was overwhelmed with the kindness, and being welcomed and shown such love. There was something about the timing that, were she not so overcome with emotions, she could probably articulate. What she did sense, however, was that a deep healing had started. Hannah kissed Sophia warmly, and left her to settle for the night.

When Hannah saw Eli waiting with a hot drink for her, she wept for the first time that day, and felt her husband’s strong arms enfolding her. Even while sobbing, she told Eli how touched she was at the way he had spoken at her father’s funeral, and how impressed she was that her husband presented Yeshua to his fellow villagers in a way that made him more than the carpenter they knew. Then she composed herself and told Eli about her walk with Sophia, her background, the bedroom, and of course the significance of the kestrel. Eli listened eagerly, still holding Hannah, and making her feel heard completely.

“Would you like to hear a story about your father? Or is it too soon, he asked.

Eli hadn’t recognised the traveller that approached him at Shamuel’s graveside. The traveller said he remembered Eli as the person who prayed with his donkeys, and that he had come to the funeral as a representative of many men who wanted to come but couldn’t.

Eli was curious. The traveller continued.

“Shamuel was the finest example of a human being who ever walked with us” he began. “And the reason I say that is because we saw how he lived in a way that everyone should live, and if they did the world would be free of fighting and squabbles. You see, someone stole one of his donkeys, and sometime later we saw the person who stole it come into the camp, and seeing Shamuel, quickly headed off.

We told him about seeing the man who stole his donkey. Shamuel became agitated and asked if we would chase him and ask if he would come back so Shamuel could free him from his guilt”.

“We brought him back, and do you know what he did? He gave him another donkey. He said they had always been together, but the main thing was to free the man from having to avoid seeing Shamuel on the road and in the camps. Everyone was shocked, and I asked Shamuel why he would do such a thing. He told us the carpenter from Nazareth, who was actually Yahweh in human form, told us to treat people how we would like to be treated ourselves. Then he looked at each one of us with a question ‘Is there anyone of you, if you had taken something that didn’t belong to you, would not want to have it all made right?’ The men wanted you to know all this, seeing you don’t take the road anymore, so they sent me to pay our respects to one who treated us as brothers, and to tell you why we loved him”.

It wasn’t too soon for Hannah. In fact, the timing was perfect. Perfect in a way neither she nor her husband could fully grasp. For outside in the night sky waited a kestrel with a keen eye and a special way of knowing. Knowing for example, that the morning after the funeral, Sophia would be looking for confirmation that the healing had begun. Confirmation from her protector and guide, the one that hovers, and shows up when needed most.

And, like Sophia, the one that once was a captive, but now is free.  

They say it is hard to teach old dogs new tricks. So for an old rabbi in his seventies to cast off religious thinking held securely since boyhood, one could wonder if a new faith practice was even possible. Very likely the old man himself wondered the same thing, I mean a change of thinking is one thing, but beliefs and practices are another thing altogether. The rigid protocols of his office over years of faithful adherence made him who he was. He was his thinking, an old sheepdog ready for rest not starting all over.

Surprisingly, starting all over gave him a sense of rest he had never known. His years of tireless work with the flock, while a responsibility he took seriously and endured cheerfully, had left a deep weariness in his soul, and a readiness for the changes that came with him becoming one of the flock. With a new shepherd.

He had heard of the new shepherd some years ago. I mean everyone had, for he had littered the landscape with outrageous claims and ideas so unsettling that he was disposed of. The worst of the littering was around the very religious establishment that was the life-blood of the old rabbi, so not surprisingly, he was pleased the imposter was no more.

Or so he thought. The rabbi’s only child, Hannah, had married a man who claimed the imposter was the real deal, that he walked out of the sealed and guarded tomb alive and undetected. More than that, he had returned to the village where Hannah and her husband live, healed Eli’s gammy leg, and left his followers the assurance they too could live better lives with no fear of death.

Then something happened. Something so profound and life-altering that the old rabbi, or perhaps I should say former rabbi, no longer calls the miracle-man an imposter. The something that happened has not been fully explained, for the central character, the former rabbi was so traumatised by the swift and lethal response from his life-long friends and associates, that he does not go into detail when pressed by the curious and perplexed. The old sheepdog has learnt how to lay low. And also some new tricks.

He has learnt for example, that his view of God, shaped by the only influences he had allowed into his mind, was wrong. Worse than that, it was a view that disallowed a more accurate one coming into focus; one that allowed for relationship instead of religion. A relationship, moreover, while it got him banished from the priestly ranks, it elevated him to the glorious intimacy of sonship. The tired old sheepdog had become a family pet.

I would be lying if I said that the old man adapted to his new faith practices without some misgivings. As he entered his new place of worship, the contrast between what he had known and his new reality could not have been greater. His long-conditioned thinking left him all but overcome by a sense of profound lack; of a priest and the adornments he had always taken as essential part of the sacred process; the scrolls of the law; the candles and incense; the robes and the rituals.

For all that was lacking, however, an overwhelming sense of love, joy and peace, like a flood-tide pushing debris aside, ensured any initial thoughts of lack faded altogether in the former rabbi’s mind. The purity of unadorned simplicity and a coming together of hearts united in their adoration of the new shepherd, convinced him that he was where he belonged – the master’s house. He missed nothing of the high office and welcomed being a fellow believer. In a sense the old sheepdog was now part of the flock.

The flock came together each week in a widow’s simple home. Actually, the boy-hood home of his son-in-law, Eli. It was a single room with a table, several chairs, and a bed that served as a sofa. On the table was a small jug of wine, and pieces of bread broken from a loaf baked that morning. But nothing surprised the old man more than the way he was greeted – a kiss from each one present. And from the widow, a kiss followed by a warm embrace that prompted tears from the old man. He was moved by this simple but heartfelt gesture, and what moved him so, was that despite being a church leader and devoted priest all his adult life, no member of his flock had ever embraced him, let alone a kiss.

He wasn’t aware of how it started, but the singing of one of his favourite Psalms: “The Lord is my shepherd I shall not want”, brought more tears, his head cupped in his hands, his sobs causing a gentle rocking of his shoulders. He was sitting beside Hannah and she placed her hand on her father’s shoulder and rubbed his back. Little Levi was on his father’s lap, and waiting for the crying to stop so he could climb into his grandfather’s arms and bury his face into that soft flowing beard.

The crying did stop at around the ‘my cup overflows’ part and Levi made his move. A coming together of words and actions best initiated and executed without pretence by small children. As for the proceedings, the old man was not sure of what was expected of him, which was just as well, for nothing was. In an atmosphere loaded with love, joy, and peace, all expectation evaporates. Replaced by a beautiful contentment. A present-reality sufficiency rather than the continual striving of meeting expectations. No wonder the weary old sheepdog felt at home, the intensity of what had to be done next replaced with the master’s approval to just be. And rest.

Little Levi also rested. Fast asleep in his grandfather’s arms in fact. The quiet prayers didn’t wake him, nor did the singing of more Psalms. The grandfather, however, was listening intently. It was all new to him. I mean the listening instead of talking was one thing, but the whole idea of worship being participatory and unstructured – that was a type of worship he had never thought possible. Each person spoke from their heart – no scrolls needed.

His son-in-law Eli, spoke with authority, and the eight others listened eagerly. They were taking the message from the good shepherd to heart, and committing it to memory. Eli’s authority, however, was not absolute, for I am privy to something his attentive listeners were not. They were attentive listeners because, like Eli they could not read. Only the old man and his daughter could read.

There were emerging at the time, written accounts of what the good shepherd had said to his followers. One rare account of a lengthy teaching session on a mountainside was obtained by Hannah by way of women’s secret business or something like that. In any case, she valued it highly and spent hours reading it to her husband so he could speak from memory and with authority.

Eli was not the only speaker of course. In between Eli’s memorised passages, there would often be contemplative pauses, ended by someone offering a simple prayer, or reciting a paraphrase of the shepherd’s words as a type of prayer. Thus was the unstructured flow of people being supervised by a spirit of unity and profound truth.

Then the old man spoke – unscripted and unrehearsed.

“This little boy asleep on my chest has taught me so much. There is a bond of love that is so strong and it occurred to me just now that he doesn’t know me; what I did yesterday nor what I am doing tomorrow; he doesn’t even know my name, and yet he loves me and there is a joy and peace that is all he needs for the present. Now he will get to know much more about me as he grows, but the relationship of love has come first”.

“As you know, I used to be a rabbi, and I know the scrolls of the law intimately. I knew about Yahweh, I can name all the prophets, priests and kings. I know the history of the kingdom, and like many of my people waited for the Messiah, the sent one to restore the kingdom to Israel. And all the while missing the relationship of love. My knowledge came first, and it set me up to miss what matters”.

“This little boy has it the right way around. His heart sets him up to love, then knowledge is added to it. I had it the wrong way around, my knowing about things came first, and only now, as an old man, am I starting a relationship from my heart, not my head. My head told me that dead people, even the greatest of our fathers, don’t speak. Hence the scrolls. But my heart tells me that the one who came back from the dead speaks to us. There is a spirit here that speaks heart-talk; I feel it, and I have never known anything like it. Now can we sing that Psalm again, for Yeshua is truly my shepherd. I am a happy man and I want for nothing”.

It may have been the singing that woke his grandson. Or perhaps he was going to wake anyway. Only Hannah, with that sharp motherly knowing, saw her father’s tears fall on the child’s face and knew they would wake him.

There were many tears shed in that little gathering that morning. Joy-tears, not ones of sorrow or pain. And not tears of grief, for the remembrance of Yeshua’s cruel death by sharing the bread and wine together, has a celebratory aspect to it. Rejoicing in the assurance that Yeshua was divine, the one sent to restore a kingdom that no power on the earth could conquer. The reigning king enthroned in the hearts of those who believe with all their hearts that Yeshua was who he said he was. Simple folk living uncomplicated lives of love for others, and lived by a prompting that everything he taught was true.

The old man was the last to leave, somewhat overwhelmed by the cavalcade of emotions, a succession of new feelings and observations that filled him with awe. Glimpses of heaven that could not be passed over without proper consideration. He needed time to grasp their significance.

The widow, watching the old man and seeing deep into his thinking, held the door open for him. Then she spoke: “God is kind, and he is patient. He waits for us to be ready for steps in faith and uncertainty, for they are his steps for us, and his timing is perfect. Don’t look back in regret, don’t feel guilt for anything. You are loved as a child, always have been, it is just that you know this now. And it is the perfect time for you. Shalom my brother”. She kissed him tenderly and considering the strict protocols of the time, one could say recklessly. But certainly not impulsively, for this widow was purposeful in everything she did, she took her own counsel, and disregarded those known to watch in judgment.

The former rabbi, no stranger to watching and judging in a former life, walked with a lightness of step and, knowing his lunch was prepared for him, a deep gratitude and a wide contented smile. A smile that, were it not for his beard, could be seen by village watchers who have their own ideas of why he is no longer a rabbi.

Once a working animal, now a family pet. An old sheepdog eating at his master’s table. One could call it a new trick, were it not for the fact that his days of performing are over. 

Merv Edmunds
December 2024 

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. 

Through the late-evening haze, Hannah could make out the profile of her husband as he led the team of donkeys toward the desert camp. Other travelers were settled for the night, busy with the evening demands of animals, food, and the rudimentary shelter that barely protected them from the cold night air. Tempers were frayed and tiredness reduced restraint after the long day on the road. Outbursts of anger were not infrequent; toward animals and each other.

But not for Hannah. She could feel Eli’s loving embrace, his reluctance to let her go, and his intimate whisperings of how he had been longing for this moment after a long day apart. Hannah was heavy with child, and Eli insisted she wait at the camp while he completed the journey to the coast and returned. Hannah took the opportunity to rest, so pleased she was able to accompany Eli on this, his final journey. She realised how much it meant to Eli to have a companion and best friend that admired him and his work, despite her having never inhabited this sweaty, dusty landscape of men and animals. 

There was another reason Hannah wanted to come along on this final journey. She wanted to camp at the same place where, deep in her heart, she knew Eli was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. This last trip represented the end of an era for Eli; the only work he had ever known, and his father before him. And now a new journey lay before them both, changes and uncertainties will be the new territory, and choices made with the newborn in mind will map their future together.

Eli had come to this decision by himself and it was one Hannah knew only he could make. He sold the business, although when Hannah found out he kept the donkeys, she wondered what, exactly the new owners had purchased.

“I couldn’t part with them” Eli told her. “They have walked beside me for years, and I cannot be sure the new owners would treat them like I have”.

Hannah agreed, thinking of Eli gathering them around him before they settled for the night and praying into the night sky. The outbursts she was hearing from neighbouring travellers contained more curses than prayers, and once again, she saw the innate wisdom and enormous heart of this weary man.  

Within each experience lies the kernel of the next. Seeds that, given time and seasons, will sprout, mature, and bring fruit. Hannah pondered these thoughts while she watched her husband coax the small fire to toast the broken pieces of a barley loaf. Eli spread the toasted pieces with walnuts and honey, before sharing them with Hannah. The conversation turned to the baby, and what sort of things needed to be put in place before it arrived.

For Eli, it was providing for his family now that the work he had done since childhood was coming to a close. He will use the money from the sale of his business to extend and wall-in the tiny lean-to he used for harness and pack repair. Over the years on his journeys home, he often carried branches from fallen trees, seeing in them new pack frames he made when his travel commitments were not so demanding. Hannah encouraged him in this venture, having seen the masterful way he worked with his hands and fashioned things from wood and leather. She admired his courage to leave what was familiar and secure to take this risk, one that would allow him to live at home instead of the desert camps.

The things Hannah needed in place before the baby arrived were not as easily defined, and they both knew it would take several sittings like this for them to become clear. Hannah needed answers to questions she had yet to formulate, and Eli needed time to think things through before saying anything. Used to long days beside his plodding donkeys gave him that time; with his beloved sitting beside him, not so much.

One question Hannah had formulated was: “I am sure we are having a boy, so what should we do so he turns out just like you?”

“Oh no!” Eli exclaimed. “He needs to be himself through and through; to know who he is and believe that. It has taken me years to figure that out. We need to work together to make sure he knows that as he grows up”.

“And we will” Hannah responded. “It is him having a big heart that I really want. An attitude of love for everything and everyone. You love me; you love what you do; you love your team of donkeys; you love fellow travellers; you love the seasons, both summer heat and winter snows; you even love thieves and give them more than they ask for. It’s that love I want our little boy to have”

“And he will” Eli said confidently, “because he will know Yeshua and his father as well as he knows us. If I have a big heart as you say, it is because I have taken Yeshua’s words to heart and live as though they are true. He loved like that, and people who listened to him and believed he was who he said he was, loved him and soon they were living like him. Probably your father was like a lot of clever people who had fixed ideas of what the Messiah was going to do, and when Yeshua didn’t look like he was going to get the Romans off our backs and out of our country, they killed him. Missed the point they did”

Hannah was intrigued, and a little perplexed. “So what was the point of Yeshua coming – the point they missed?”

“To take away the sin of the world and make things right between us and Yahweh. I was told that just before he died on that cross, he said ‘It is finished’ meaning his work of making things right was done”.

“But sin is still all around us, people doing the wrong thing to themselves and to each other” Hannah said with more disappointment than disagreement.

“That is true Hannah, but Yeshua told us that sin is not knowing who we really are and leaving Yahweh out of our lives. Always trying to be like someone else and wanting to control everything. This is a futile way to live, that’s why I call it futility, not sin. Sin has been taken away, it is such a pity people don’t know that good news”.

Eli continued while Hannah listened intently. “Way back in the garden, our first parents didn’t realise who they were and what they had, so being offered a false identity was attractive. They couldn’t resist being as gods, but it was a liar and deceiver who was offering it, so it was something they would never be, no matter what they did. And the same thing has been with us ever since. That arguing you hear from over there is from people wanting to be right instead of happy. Wanting to win instead of all getting along. Wanting to be better than someone else instead of helping each other along the same road, from where we were yesterday to where we want to be tomorrow. It is all futile talk and behaviour”.

This speech in the cool night air took Hannah’s breath away. As the loved daughter of a Rabbi, she was no stranger to theological speeches. But words that had enough weight about them to settle in her heart instead of floating around her head were new to her. Words that were related to real people and real things, and Hannah would never again think when listening to this man: ‘what would he know’.

For this man, she had come to find out to her deep pleasure and admiration, knew a lot. Before they were married and after she had been assertive enough to ignore the village talk, she remembered visiting and sitting beside him as he repaired harness pieces. Once he talked of his parents. His mother was very devout, went to the synagogue several times a week, whereas his father had had a bad experience there and never returned. And yet they talked for hours and never argued. Eli, their only child, loved to listen in.

“From my mother, I learned to stay away from Synagogue, and from my father I learned to talk with Yahweh” Eli said. “And from Yeshua I learned who I am, and to feel strong enough to live this way in spite of people wanting to make me someone else”.

It reminded Hannah of the time Eli had made a new pack saddle out of oak timbers and leather. She had watched him place the finished pack on a donkey, tighten the straps and look at it from all angles, before undoing it and bringing it over to where she was sitting. He sat beside her and with a pouch of small tools, started to carve intricate patterns in the oak pack frame.

“Why are you doing that?” Hannah asked.

“My father always did this, so I do it too” said Eli.

“Yes, but why, it is only a pack saddle for donkeys” Hannah said.

“Hmm, you are right, it’s only a pack saddle. And this carving doesn’t help it fit better or carry more things” Eli responded, the soft leather roll of carving tools with oiled handles laid out beside him.

“And if it was only a pack saddle, it would have no carving on it. However, this is more than a pack saddle … it is something I have created so it carries part of me as well as the load. It reflects who I am and functions as a unique example of my best creative effort. My father taught me this, and he told me that it represents the essential values of Yahweh inherent in everything he creates: beauty, harmony and purpose. It’s like going with the grain”.

Hannah was in awe, but said nothing. Eli continued, “If it was just a pack saddle it would carry its load and fulfil its purpose. There would be some harmony with the animal on which it sits, but no mark of the creator; no aspect of beauty. So, no, it is not just a pack saddle, it is something created to do what it was intended to do, but also display the fact it was made by someone who knew what they were doing. That’s why these delicate lines are carved into the oak”.

The fellow travellers hadn’t quietened down, and every now and then when shouting was heard, Eli would pause and look over with that manly concern, well aware that Hannah was the only woman in the camp. Then he walked to his donkeys, caressed each one in turn, then walked to the noisy group of men. Hannah was worried, but Eli soon walked back through the smoky haze from dying fires.

“What did you say to them?” Hannah asked.

“I thanked them for their company today, and wished them a good night’s rest” he said, as though it was the most natural thing to say to noisy boisterous men.

As they lay in the tent together, arms around each other in a loving embrace, Hannah knew that the only thing that could come between them was in her tummy pressing on his. This yet-to-be child was their new future. One they were facing together with confidence, and love. For each other, for everything, and for everyone.

Merv Edmunds
November 2024