Martha (10 page)

“Master, let me follow you. I want to go with you.”

Martha's heart jolted within her. She wanted to cry out,
No, we need you here. I cannot do it all myself.
Sudden tears stung her eyes. She kept her head down lest anyone see she was upset but watched from the corner of her eyes, straining her ears to hear the Master's answer.

Jesus put a hand on Lazarus's shoulder. “I know, my young friend, but you are needed here.” He became solemn for a long moment. “There will come a day when you will serve me, Lazarus, but it is not your time yet.”

Martha's relief was palpable. She hurried into the storeroom to have a moment to gather herself together.

The disciples, enjoying a respite from long hours on the road, were in a mood to celebrate. Thomas pulled a
kinnor,
a small harp, from his sash and began to plunk its strings, sending a simple melody through the courtyard. Mary picked up her lyre and joined in the music. Jesus seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself, his eyes dancing with the music. Martha suddenly felt like celebrating with them.

As the hour grew late, Jesus rose from the table and his disciples, ever aware of his movements, rose with him.

Martha hated to see him leave. “Master, you are welcome to sleep here.”

“You are kind, Martha, and a generous hostess, but we will retire to the Mount of Olives for the night.”

“Will you come again?”

He smiled and she was lost in the depths of his eyes. “I must travel a long way, but whenever we are in this area again, we will come.”

Lazarus came to the gate. “You are welcome anytime, Master. Our home is yours.”

Jesus glanced over to where Thomas and Mary were talking quietly. “I believe at least one of my disciples has good reason to return also.” His eyes danced and Martha was filled with love for him—not the love she'd known with Thaddeus, but a holy love, deep and abiding. It didn't matter what others said about him. She knew who he was.

 14 

After Jesus and his disciples left them to return to the region of Galilee, Martha and her family returned to their regular tasks. Everyone praised God to think that Jesus had come to their village. Many who had loved ones who were sick or infirm asked anxiously if Martha knew when Jesus would return. She could only shake her head.

Lazarus worked the fields and continued to make bricks for the village, but Martha was aware that he traveled into Jerusalem as often as he could to glean news of Jesus's travels. There were those coming south who were only too anxious to share what they'd seen and heard. Martha marveled as Lazarus shared the stories of the blind receiving sight, the lame healed, demons cast out. Her eyes widened in astonishment as Lazarus told her of two people who had even been raised from the dead.

As the family sat quietly in the courtyard one evening, Lazarus sighed heavily. “There is other talk, sisters. He is angering the religious leaders everywhere he goes. He shows them up for the callous and unfeeling windbags they are. Whitewashed bones, he calls them. Now there is a rumor that the Sanhedrin is looking for a way to get rid of Jesus.”

Mary gasped. “Would they do him harm? Have him arrested?”

Martha was irate. “He's done nothing wrong, except heal the sick and preach about the kingdom of God.”

Lazarus nodded. “I know, but since the priests cannot live up to the prophecies, they feel they have to get rid of this prophet. There is trouble brewing, I can feel it whenever I walk about the city. Those who follow Jesus's teachings are watched with suspicion.”

“Are we in danger, Lazarus?”

“I don't think so, at least as far as I know. We can only watch and see.”

In an attempt to lighten the heavy mood, he turned to Mary with a slight grin. “Have you heard from Thomas?”

Mary blushed. “He sends me word when he can. He and the other disciples were with Jesus near Capernaum but starting for Galilee again. I don't know where they are right now.”

Lazarus rose. “That is good. They are heading south. That means they will return here, I'm sure of it.” He yawned and stretched. “Time for a good night's sleep.” He turned to Martha. “Are your weavings prepared for tomorrow? I'll take them into Jerusalem with me.”

She nodded. “They are ready. Perhaps tomorrow you will have more news of where Jesus and his disciples are.”

Martha looked toward Jerusalem and remembered the first time she heard Jesus's voice. He told her he was coming to her house that day, and he did. Now, with a certainty in her spirit, she knew he was coming again, and she and Mary set to work getting ready for his arrival. With an almost unspoken agreement, Lazarus moved out of his father's room and it was prepared for Jesus. A comfortable pallet, a small table, and her father's oil lamp. One of Martha's best woven rugs was placed on the dirt floor and Mary brought in a jug of field flowers to be placed in the corner of the room.

Martha was anxious for news of the Master, and when Lazarus returned from the city, she hurried toward him. He stood with his head down in the open gateway.

Martha stopped suddenly. “What is wrong? What have you heard?”

He looked up at her and shook his head sadly. “Herod has beheaded John the Baptist.”

Martha felt like someone had struck her in the chest. “Why did he do that? He left him alone for so long.”

Lazarus pursed his lips and closed the gate firmly, too firmly. “The daughter of Herodias, as wicked as her mother, danced for the king, and the drunken old man was so taken with her that he promised her anything she wanted. A servant girl from the palace said he promised her half the kingdom. She went to her mother, who told her to ask for John's head on a platter. It appears the king couldn't back down on his word in front of his court.” He sat down on a bench, staring at the ground.

“I have a bad feeling about this, Lazarus. Wasn't John the Baptist a cousin to Jesus?”

“He was.”

“Do you think the leaders are going to figure out a way to kill Jesus?”

“That is the talk among the believers in Jerusalem.”

Mary approached, having heard the last of the conversation. Her face was white with alarm. “Who is going to kill Jesus?”

Martha put a hand on her arm. “Your brother was just saying that the leaders don't like how he is portraying them, and word is they are plotting ways to get rid of him.”

“Then he must stay away from Jerusalem, for his own safety.”

Lazarus sighed. “That would be our solution, Mary, but Jesus will do what he feels led to do, even if it puts him in danger.”

Martha turned her practical mind to a more basic issue. “What happened to the body of John?”

Lazarus got up and started toward the animals. It was time to feed them. “His disciples came and got the body. They buried him,” he called over his shoulder.

He will come
, Martha told herself. He would need a quiet place away from the crowds, to rest and strengthen himself.

Mary touched her arm. “Should we not prepare for the Master?”

The two sisters prepared food and stored it away. Mary kept the room swept and clean, and the family waited.

Then he was there, standing in their courtyard and greeting them warmly. Only three of his disciples were with him: Thomas, who was unmarried; Judas, son of James; and John. She looked past him, seeking the rest of his band.

“They are with their families for a time.”

Martha realized that she was glad that Judas Iscariot was not with them. His brooding presence last time had made her uncomfortable.

Thomas gazed at Mary, who shyly lowered her eyes, but not before Martha had seen the gladness leap to her face.

Lazarus embraced Jesus. “Master, I grieve for you over your cousin, John. We have heard of his fate and have prayed earnestly for you.”

Jesus put a hand on Lazarus's arm. “Thank you, my young friend. Your prayers are needed.” He gave Martha a grateful smile, seeing her concern. He also turned to Mary, whose eyes were full of love for him as she came and knelt at his feet with a bowl of water.

“Master, let me wash the dust from your feet after a long journey.”

It was the job of a servant, but Martha had no servants. She was tempted to say something, but recognized the rightness of Mary's actions.

Mary washed Jesus's feet and then the feet of his three disciples, lingering on Jesus and then Thomas, who submitted reluctantly. She dried each set of feet with a cloth.

Jesus looked down lovingly at her. “Thank you, Mary, for your kindness.”

Mary gave a deep sigh at his words of praise and rose to empty the bowl of dirty water. She brought fresh water from their storage jar for all to wash their hands.

The men reclined on cushions at the table in the house for the coolness of the month of Hesvan, the fall of the year, was upon them. Rains had been intermittent, and Lazarus had been busy plowing the fields and getting ready to plant the grain. Soon the olive harvest would be upon them when all three of the family would glean what they could from their small grove of olive trees.

Martha had brought her clay cooking stove into the house and cooked in the room that would have been Lazarus and Shua's. Lazarus had made an opening in the roof for smoke to escape, but the house was full of cooking smells.

While Jesus exhibited his usual cheerfulness, weariness showed in his eyes. Though he laughed with them and listened to the stories Thomas and John told about the miracles Jesus had done, he seemed somehow detached from them, his mind elsewhere.

Thomas was telling them about the trip into Samaria. “We tried talking him out of it, but he was adamant. We didn't want to go there, since we have nothing to do with the Samaritans, but the Master prevailed. He sat at Jacob's well and waited while we went into town to buy food.” He looked around as the disciples nodded. “Let me tell you, I didn't want to go into Shechem, but what were we to do?”

Judas took up the story. “When we returned, there was the Master, talking with a Samaritan woman. We remained quiet, but certainly wondered why he was talking with a woman, and one alone at this well. It wasn't even the town well.”

Thomas shook his head. “We had a feeling she was a woman with a questionable reputation.” He glanced at Jesus, who was listening with a slight smile playing about his lips.

Young Judas laughed. “Next thing we knew, she dropped her water jug and ran back into the town. We weren't sure what was going to happen next, but in a short time she returned and brought half the town with her.”

Mary broke in. “Did they mean you harm?”

Thomas shrugged. “No, they wanted to hear what Jesus had to say. They even invited us to come into their town and tell them about the kingdom of God.” He shook his head, thinking about it. “We stayed two days, and many came into the kingdom because of the Master's teaching.”

Martha looked at Jesus with wonder. What an amazing man he was. Never had she met a man with such compassion and love for those in need.

Story after story took up most of the evening. When the first stars came out in the gathering dusk, Martha went to Jesus. “We have prepared a room for you, Master. We—Mary and I—felt it was right. Will you stay?”

The warmth in Jesus's eyes was all the answer she needed as he looked up at her and nodded. He wished them a good evening and went into the room she indicated, closing the leather flap behind him. The other three disciples made their pallets as best they could in the main room, separating themselves on the other side of the room from Martha and Mary. Lazarus slept between the two groups for propriety's sake.

The small group stayed for two days, and Martha sensed a change in Jesus, a determination, yet peace of spirit. She knew when he left the house in the wee hours of the morning to seek a quiet place alone to pray and when he returned. Then it was time for them to go.

“I must return to Capernaum. The rest of my disciples will join me there.” He embraced Lazarus and turned to smile gently at Martha and Mary. His eyes were like deep pools and Martha felt herself lost in their depths.

“I will come to Jerusalem again at Passover.”

Martha turned to him, anxiety filling her heart. “Master, is it safe for you in Jerusalem? There are rumors that the leaders plot to get rid of you.”

“Martha, do not be concerned for me. My time has not yet come and I have more work to do for the Father. No harm will come to me until I have finished what he sent me to do.”

Chastised, she lowered her eyes. He tipped up her chin with one finger. “Watch the road, Martha. I will send someone to you shortly who will bring you great joy.”

She gave him a puzzled glance but could not bring herself to ask him to elaborate. She would trust and wait.

Mary and Thomas spoke quietly in the corner of the courtyard and their faces spoke of the sorrow of parting again. Mary would have to be content until Jesus returned with his disciples, and no one knew when that would be.

As the family watched Jesus and the three disciples walk up the road and turn toward Bethphage, Martha knew at least this time that he would not be going through Jerusalem.