Martha (12 page)

Martha paused in her serving as Lazarus asked, “You say the man had been born blind? Did he have eyes?”

Matthew waved a hand. “Yes, he had eyes, but they were almost pale, milky colored. It was obvious he couldn't see.”

Thomas spoke thoughtfully. “We were sure that the man or his parents had committed some terrible sin for him to be born blind. What did we know?”

Simon, sitting at Jesus's right hand, turned to him. “But what did you say?”

“That neither he nor his parents sinned, but that the works of God should be revealed in him.”

Matthew laughed. “You should have seen the faces of the crowd when the Master spat on the ground and mixed it with clay, then he put the clay on the man's eyes and told him to go and wash in the pool of Siloam.”

Mary burst out, “And then what happened?”

Thomas looked down at the table, remembering. “He washed off the clay and came back seeing.”

Martha and Mary gasped at once.

Lazarus, on Jesus's other side, leaned forward. “You said you thought the Sanhedrin would do something? What happened then?”

Judas, who'd been quietly listening, spat out, “The religious leaders couldn't believe their own eyes. They thought it was a trick of some kind and after questioning him over and over, finally had to call his parents to ask them if the man was truly born blind. When they affirmed that he was, they still wouldn't give credit to the Master. They wanted him to just give God the glory, calling Jesus a sinner.” He pounded his fist into his hand, causing all to jump. “Instead of acknowledging that a major miracle had been done, they were angry.”

Lazarus shook his head. “Why were they angry?”

Judas leaned back, a sneer on his handsome face. “Because it was done on Sabbath. When the man insisted Jesus must be from God to do such a miracle, they actually threw him out of the Temple.”

Martha pondered this story in her heart. As she heard of the confrontations with Jesus and the religious leaders, a sense of apprehension grew. Sooner or later the leaders would act, but when? She and Mary gathered the empty platters to clean them and, after removing the main dishes and bread from the table, replaced them with date cakes and a platter of fruit. Lazarus poured wine into their wooden goblets, but none of the disciples drank to excess. Jesus only sipped his wine with his meal and they followed his example.

Simon insisted that the next time Jesus was in Bethany that it was his turn, out of gratitude, to host Jesus at his home, and Jesus agreed that he would be there.

Martha and Mary quietly cleaned up after the meal, and Martha then settled down on a nearby bench to listen to Jesus as he shared with his disciples and taught all of them the truths of being a good shepherd. He compared himself to the shepherd and the people to the sheep the shepherd watched over.

“I am the door,” he told them. “If anyone enters by me, he will be saved, and will go in and out and find pasture.”

Martha realized the pasture was heaven. Jesus was the way to heaven. She sighed contentedly, surveying her courtyard and the men who were sharing it with her family. She thought back to the time she had decided to run away with Thaddeus. It was not to be. If she had gone, she never would have had the opportunity to meet and hear Jesus. The God Who Sees knew her life and ordered her days. Whatever was to come, she knew she could trust him.

She looked over at Mary and Thomas, sitting together in a quiet corner of the courtyard, near but not touching, absorbed in Jesus's words. Whatever tomorrow might bring, it was in God's hands. A small breeze wafted through the courtyard as she sat very still, holding this moment and this night to her heart.

 17 

After his brief visit with Martha and her family, Jesus left quietly with his three disciples in the early hours of the morning and went to the Garden of Gethsemane to pray. They would visit other towns and villages before returning to Jerusalem.

Now the twenty-fifth of the month of Kislev had arrived, the time for the Feast of Dedication. Martha, shivering with the winter cold, moved the small cooking stove indoors.

She called out to the courtyard, “Mary, will you get the menorah from the storeroom? I imagine it needs polishing.”

“I have it already,” Mary called back.

Martha went to the door. Mary was already vigorously polishing the candleholder to a high shine. Shaking her head, Martha went back to setting up the winter cooking area. Sometimes she had to remember that Mary was not a child who had to be told what to do. Mary had taken over half the load of work off Martha's shoulders.

That afternoon, Martha finished the sash she'd woven for Lazarus. Mary's was already finished and wrapped in a cloth. They were the only gifts she'd be giving her brother and sister during the eight days of Hanukkah. Fortunately they were able to go about their usual work, for no tasks were forbidden or unlawful during the festival of lights, except on the Sabbath.

That evening when Lazarus returned, they lit the
shamash,
the guard candle, and then used it to light the first menorah candle.

Martha gave Mary and Lazarus their sashes that evening. Mary gave Lazarus and her sister each necklaces she'd made from beads—a large dark brown bead to represent the earth, with smaller black beads on either side on a leather cord for Lazarus. Martha's necklace was made of small lapis lazuli–colored beads. Lazarus, as keeper of the money of the household, gave Martha and Mary a small leather bag of coins. Though some families gave gifts to each other each night of the Feast, Martha suggested they not try to do that.

“After all, there are no children in the household,” she reasoned.

The family did give small gifts to Tobias and Chloe's little girl, Reza, a top and a small doll made of fabric scraps, which Mary had carefully sown.

There was no window facing the street, so the family placed the menorah each evening on a stand in the courtyard where it was protected from the cold night breezes, and those passing by could see its light.

The house was filled with the cooking smells of special foods that were prepared during the season.

Mary sang as she fried the potato pancakes in olive oil. Martha had made the jam-filled doughnuts that Lazarus loved. She had to admit she loved them herself and ate three that morning.

They all loved the special cheeses, and Martha unpacked them from the crocks where they had ripened.

It was a festive time in Bethany with neighbors wishing each other “
Gemar chatimah tovah.
” “May you be sealed totally for good.”

Lazarus wanted to hear Jesus again, and on the fourth day of the Feast, the family went into Jerusalem where Jesus walked and talked in the Temple on Solomon's Porch. As he again taught the people, the Jewish leaders taunted him.

“How long will you keep us in doubt? If you are the Christ, tell us plainly.”

Jesus answered, “I told you and you do not believe. The works that I do in my Father's name, they bear witness of me, but you do not believe because you are not of my sheep, as I said to you. My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me. And I shall give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; neither shall anyone snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all; and no one is able to snatch them out of my Father's hand. I and my Father are one.”

To Martha's horror, some of the Jews in the courtyard took up stones, and she realized they were going to stone him. She and Mary shrank back against Lazarus, her heart thumping so loud she thought someone could hear it.

Jesus faced his foes calmly. “Many good works I have shown you from my Father. For which of those works do you stone me?”

Someone shouted from the crowd—it was one of the scribes.

“For a good work we do not stone you but for blasphemy, and because you, being a man, make yourself God.”

Jesus stared him down. “Is it not written in your law, ‘I said you are gods'? If he called them gods, to whom the word of God came, do you say of him, whom the Father sanctified and sent into the world, ‘You are blaspheming' because I said I am the Son of God? If I do not do the works of my Father, do not believe me, but if I do, though you do not believe me, believe the works, that you may know and believe that the Father is in me and I in him.”

Some of the Jews made as if to seize him, but he walked calmly through the midst of them as if they were standing still and, with his disciples following, left the Temple.

Martha stood amazed and looked at her sister and brother.

Lazarus was shaking his head. “If I had not just seen this with my own eyes, I would not have believed it. They were ready to stone him, yet as he passed by, no one made a move.”

“It is because of who he is,” Mary murmured.

Martha looked toward the Temple gate where Jesus left. He was now out of sight. “Yes, sister, I believe you are right.”

The crowd broke up and the three made their way back to Bethany. Many of their neighbors walked with them and the men murmured quietly among themselves. Martha and Mary walked in silence, absorbed in their own thoughts.

When the Feast of Dedication ended, word came to the village that Jesus and his disciples had returned to the land beyond the Jordan where John had baptized, and he would remain there for a while, teaching and healing those brought to him.

Martha worked hard on her loom to finish a second rug for Lazarus to take into town. They could use the money, for feeding so many had caused their food supply to dwindle quickly. With the rains, Lazarus had not been able to do much brick-making or work on anyone's home. He spent time with Nathan at the blacksmith's shop and helped him with some work, just to have something to do. He developed a slight cough. As it worsened, he waved away Martha's concerns.

“Lazarus, you must wear a warmer cloak when you go out.”

“I'm warm enough, sister. Do not worry about me.”

Martha kept her peace but caught Mary's concerned look as the cough deepened and settled in his chest.

That night, Martha awoke as Lazarus tossed fitfully on his pallet. She rose and hurried over, putting a hand on his brow. He was hot with fever. She put cool cloths on his forehead and tried to get him to sip some water. When daylight came, Mary, who had watched through the night with Martha, ran to fetch Anna, the healer.

Anna made a compound of some of her herbs and mixed them with hot water. Lazarus took only a little and the rest dribbled down his chin. Anna tried poultices on his chest, but the fever did not abate. Nathan came to inquire and was alarmed as he looked down on Lazarus's flushed face and glazed eyes.

“I did not realize he was this ill. Has Anna, the healer, not been able to help?”

Martha shook her head. “She has done all she can. The fever rages no matter what we do.”

The two sisters and Nathan prayed fervently for his recovery, and finally Martha rose from her knees. “We must send for Jesus. The Master will know what to do. Has he not laid hands on the sick and healed them? Lazarus is his friend, he will come.”

Nathan gathered himself. “I will go. He is in the countryside of Perea. I should not have trouble finding him.” He looked down at Martha's stricken face and said gently, “I will bring him to you.” He threw his cloak back on and rushed across the courtyard. As the gate swung closed behind him, Mary looked after him. “He is a true friend, sister. He will find Jesus for us.”

Martha looked back at her brother and listened to his ragged breathing as he tossed about on his pallet. She murmured half to herself, “But will the Master get here in time?”

 18 

Martha awoke with a start and rubbed the back of her neck.

“Mary?”

Her sister looked up and gave a slight shake of her head. “No change.”

“I didn't realize I'd fallen asleep. I'm sorry.”

“You've hardly left his side in two days. You must rest sometime.”

“And you?”

Mary gave her a wan smile. “I've dozed a little.”

Mary went for some warm broth, and when she returned, Martha took the bowl and tried to spoon some into her brother's mouth.

“You must keep up your strength, Lazarus.” She thought desperately for something that would reach him. “The Master is coming. He can help you.”

To her relief, Lazarus opened glazed eyes. “Jesus . . . coming?”

“Yes, yes. He is on his way. Nathan went to find him.”

Mary took one of Lazarus's hands, but he suddenly jerked it from her grasp, crying out incoherently. Martha bent down to try to understand him, but he seemed to be battling something she couldn't see.

Suddenly he became calm and Martha realized he had passed out again. The sisters sat watching his chest move agonizingly up and down as he struggled to breathe.

Martha watched her sister put another cold cloth on his forehead and found herself thinking back to when he was small. She was only four years older, yet she had always looked after him for her mother. Oh, the tricks he would play on her! She thought of the mouse he put in her pallet one night that caused her to wake up the neighbors with her screaming. He had been curious about everything, pausing to stoop to watch insects and small creatures in their courtyard. Once he caught a lizard by the tail, and she smiled to herself remembering his bewildered expression when the lizard fled, leaving his broken tail in the little boy's hand.

Mary suddenly spoke. “Are you all right, sister?”

Martha, startled from her musing, looked up. “I was just thinking of some of the tricks he used to play on us. He was always getting into mischief.”

Mary nodded. “I was remembering the time he decided to ride our donkey, the one that had such a bad temper, and he promptly landed on his bottom. He sat gingerly for a while.”

“And then there was the field mouse he put in my pallet one night.”

“Oh Martha, I thought your screams would wake the entire neighborhood. You checked your bed every night for a month after that.”

The two sisters smiled at each other briefly at the memory.

Martha looked down at Lazarus, still so young. She had ordered her brother and sister around since they were small and even after their father died. Yet in the last two years, Lazarus had become the male head of the household, and she began to defer to his judgment more and more.

Lazarus woke and Mary gave him sips of water. He slept again, his breathing so shallow Martha had to look twice to see if he was even breathing at all.

Martha rubbed her temples, the weariness and sorrow a weight upon her heart. How long could he endure this fever? Leaving Mary to watch over him, she went out to the courtyard and walked slowly to the gate. Where was Jesus? There was no sign of him, or Nathan. Did Nathan have trouble finding the Master? Had Jesus and his disciples moved to another area? Where were they?

As another day passed with no sign of Jesus, Martha's heart became like a stone in her chest. Didn't the Master care about them? He had called Lazarus his friend. They had spent many hours talking with one another. Surely at the first news of Lazarus's illness, Jesus would have left wherever he was ministering and hurried to them.

Fear subtly became anger, but Martha tried to wave it away. Jesus would come. He had to. He wouldn't let his friend die, would he? She pursed her lips. The frown on her face deepened as she gave free rein to the ugly thoughts.

Martha took turns with Mary, one staying with Lazarus, while the other prepared a meal or fed the animals. Both women slept little and weariness increased the silent tirade that tumbled through Martha's mind. She thought of all the times she'd prepared food over the last year for Jesus and his disciples, the hours cooking and baking. Now when they needed him, he did not come. And where was Nathan? Had he been waylaid on the road? Had he reached Jesus? The thoughts went round and round in her head until it ached.

A sense of apprehension clutched at Martha's heart. Her brother's breathing sounded like dry sticks rubbing together. “Keep fighting, Lazarus, don't give up!” she murmured. The heat and perspiration from his body told her the fever still raged. Her heart pounded as she called Mary to his side. Martha took one of his hands. Mary, her face mirroring her sister's fear, took the other.

Lazarus opened his eyes slowly and gave them a weak smile. He struggled to speak, and finally gasped, “Martha, Mary, dear sisters, I'm . . . sorry . . .”

“Sorry for what?” Martha cried. “Lazarus, speak to us.”

He closed his eyes again, sighed, and lay still. His hands went limp in theirs.

“Lazarus?” Mary touched his face and looked up at Martha, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Martha slowly laid her brother's hand by his side and, choking back a sob, nodded her head. “He is gone.”

The sisters reached for each other over the body of their loved one and wept.

Mary released her sister at last. “I must get Anna.” She rose, steadying herself, and with a sigh, left the house.

Martha knew Mary's face and sad demeanor would tell the neighbors their brother had died.

Martha looked down at Lazarus a long moment. He seemed as though he were sleeping. She turned and walked slowly out into the courtyard and sank down on a bench to await Mary's return. Her hair, normally bound up neatly, straggled down the sides of her face. Her shoulders sagged and her hands, which were rarely still, were clasped in her lap. What good would it do if the Master came now? The words echoed in her mind.
It is too late
. . .
too late.
Lazarus, his beloved friend, was dead. There was nothing to be done now but prepare the body for burial.

Anna came with haste, bringing ointment and spices, and the three women did what they needed to do with linen cloths and spices to prepare his body for burial. Martha sighed. She had buried her mother and father. Now Lazarus would join them.

The women worked with deft hands, for in the heat of the day Martha knew his body would decompose quickly. Mary's face was pinched and Martha moved in a daze, methodically doing what they had to do. When they were ready, Shaul, Tobias, and other men from the village came to carry the bier to the gravesite. The two grieving sisters walked with their arms about each other. Martha let the tears flow as she listened to their neighbors and friends cry aloud and cast dust in the air to show their sympathy and grief. The men placed Lazarus's body in the tomb and pushed the sealing stone in place.

Martha stayed with her sister, weeping and receiving the comfort of their friends near the tomb. When at last the afternoon shadows began to drape over the rocks, the sisters made their way home. Women of the neighborhood brought food. Martha could not cook during the week of mourning, neither did she care. The one she trusted, whom she had put her hope in, had not come.

Women took turns sitting with Mary, but Martha separated herself. The grief and pain were like a red-hot iron in her chest. She sat in a corner of the courtyard, eating only when her friend Esther's mother, Judith, brought her some stew and threatened to spoon it into her mouth. Martha's bitterness rose like bile in her throat as the days went by slowly and there was still no sign of Jesus or Nathan.

Mary tried to comfort Martha, but she too could only say, “If only the Master had been here.”

Martha looked toward the gate. “I just don't understand. Why didn't he come?”

The days of mourning passed slowly. Then, on the fourth day after the burial of her brother, Mary sat in the house, surrounded by some of the women of the neighborhood, as she quietly played her harp. Martha remained outside in the courtyard, staring unseeing at the shadows on the wall.

Suddenly Judith rushed into the courtyard. She was nearly out of breath as she shook Martha's shoulder. “Jesus is coming! He is just outside Bethany.”

Martha looked up slowly. “Jesus is here?” She sat still a long moment. What could she say to him? Could she vent the feelings that had gathered momentum during these last days? For the first time, the thought of having the Teacher and his disciples stay at her home brought a frown.

She stood up and nodded to Judith, who stood by anxiously watching her. Straightening her shoulders, she left the courtyard. She could not bring herself to hurry. There was no need to hurry now. Reluctance slowed her feet as she approached the small group of men, including Nathan, who stood quietly watching her.

All the angry things she had planned to say dissipated as she approached him and looked into his face. His eyes seemed to bore into her very soul. He knew her bitterness, yet there was no condemnation in his gaze. As the depth of his love poured through her, she could only fall on her knees and grasp his hand. The words tumbled forth from her heart. “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” She heard the reproach in her voice, yet as she looked up at him, a glimmer of hope stirred. “But even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you.”

Jesus lifted her to her feet. “Your brother will rise again.”

Martha gave him a quizzical look. “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection, at the last day.”

He smiled at her. “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me, though he may die, he shall live. And whosoever lives and believes in me shall never die. Do you believe this?”

Did she believe this? Her mind raced as she thought of the recent dark days and the hope that had blossomed, faded, and then died as she waited for Jesus to come.

Jesus stood quietly, waiting for her answer. Did she still believe? She had seen the miracles. She had watched as Jesus healed the lame and sick. How could she deny his power? Lost in the depths of his eyes, to her surprise, like a ray of sunlight on a foggy morning, a sense of peace flowed over her. She felt her heart stir and, in spite of all she had gone through, saw her answer.

She spoke haltingly. “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, who is to come into the world.”

“Would you fetch Mary?”

“Yes, Lord.” She turned and walked quickly back to the house. Nathan caught up to her. She paused to let him open the gate, and then faced him. She had to ask. “Did you have trouble finding him, Nathan?”

He shook his head. “No, I found him quickly. When I told him, he merely nodded and said, ‘This sickness is not unto death, but for the glory of God, that the Son of God may be glorified through it.'” Nathan frowned. “We stayed there two more days. I felt from his words that Lazarus would live.”

“When you found him, did he realize how ill Lazarus was?”

“He knew. I made it clear. After the two days, he suddenly announced we were heading back to Judea. Then he told us Lazarus slept and he was going to wake him up.”