The longest lines were composed of families like her own, who were waiting for a priest to inspect the lamb they had brought from home. Today, five days before the feast, was the day each family selected their lamb and had it declared acceptable for the Passover sacrifice. Families without lambs waited to purchase a “clean” one from the priests. Leah’s father and brothers joined the inspection line, carrying the lamb from Abba’s flock, the lamb Leah had secretly named Little One. As she joined them in line, she warned herself not to get sentimental. She knew from the time Saul first separated Little One from the flock and tethered him in the yard for Leah to feed that he would be their Passover sacrifice. She had tried not to become too attached to him, but she hadn’t considered that the lamb would become so attached to her. He followed her around the tiny yard like her shadow, bleating piteously with his funny hoarse stutter whenever she disappeared from his sight, licking her with his scratchy pink tongue whenever she knelt to feed him.
When it was their turn for the priest’s inspection, tears filled Leah’s eyes as Saul brought Little One forward, cradling him proudly in his huge arms. Leah was proud of their lamb, too. He was perfect—clean, healthy, uninjured, spotless. She forced back her tears, not daring to cry. Abba would rebuke such foolishness.
As the priest set him on the table to inspect, he spread his broad hand awkwardly over Little One’s head, clumsily poking his thumb into the lamb’s eye. To Leah, the act seemed deliberate, and she nearly cried out along with the lamb. The priest frowned unpleasantly as he examined Little One, his expression that of a man who has just eaten sour grapes. He wore a white robe of very finely woven linen and a matching white turban on his bushy black hair. His fierce black eyebrows touched in the center when he frowned, and with his beaked nose, he reminded Leah of a raven. When he opened his mouth to speak, she almost expected him to crow.
“There is something wrong with this lamb,” he said as he ran his swarthy hands over Little One’s head. “Look . . . See here? His eye is running.”
“That’s because you poked it!” Leah cried out.
Abba whirled to face her, horrified that she had spoken. Mama grabbed Leah’s arm and pulled her aside, shaking her. “Leah! You’ll disgrace us!” she said in a harsh whisper. “It’s shameful enough that you can’t hold your tongue in Degania, but that man is God’s holy priest!”
“But he poked our lamb’s eye on purpose! I saw him—”
“Hush! Or you will never be allowed to come here again!”
Leah bit her lip as she turned back to watch the priest. His chin tilted arrogantly as he gestured to Little One.
“I cannot ignore this animal’s rheumy eye. The lamb is defective.”
Abba’s shoulders slumped. He looked small and insubstantial beside the fleshy priest. “But . . . it’s all we have, Your Honor,” he said.
The priest’s eyes were half closed as if the proceedings bored him. “The animal might bring a few shekels in the Roman meat market, but it isn’t suitable for Passover. I could spare you the trouble of selling it and exchange it for a clean lamb, but you will have to pay the difference in price.”
“How much difference?” Abba said hoarsely.
“Your lamb and one shekel of silver in exchange for that animal over there.” He gestured to one of the lambs tethered behind him. “It’s the same size as yours.”
Leah raged in silence at the injustice. The other lamb was much smaller than Little One, with scarcely any fat. The meager meat on its bones would barely feed her family and Cousin Samuel’s, much less provide second helpings. She longed to protest, but Mama gripped her arm so tightly it hurt.
Abba removed his money pouch and slowly began piling silver pieces on the priest’s scales. Gideon turned his back as if unwilling to be a witness. As he came to stand beside Leah, she could tell by his tight lips and clenched fists that he was as angry as she was.
“It’s not fair,” Leah whispered to him. “We’re being cheated.”
“I know,” he said.
“Can’t we do something? Isn’t there a judge—”
“The priests
are
the judges.”
The mound of silver Abba was forced to pile on the scale left his pouch nearly empty. The profits from the sale of his early grain crops were nearly gone, and he still had to pay the temple tax of a half-shekel apiece for Saul, Gideon, and himself. There would be nothing left to pay their Roman taxes by the time they got home.
“Abba ought to keep all the barley we brought,” Leah whispered. “That crook doesn’t deserve our tithe.” It made her sick to think of the crow-faced priest sitting in his mansion on the hill, eating Abba’s grain while they went hungry.
“Come,” Abba said when the deal was finished. “We’ll take this new lamb back to Samuel’s house.” Leah could tell he was disheartened.
“If it’s all right with you,” Gideon said, “I would like to stay and look around for a while. I know the way back.”
“May I stay, too?” Leah asked. “Please?”
Abba nodded wearily. “Be sure to stay together, and don’t wander too far.”
Leah and Gideon explored the huge Court of the Gentiles first, acres and acres of stone pavement surrounded by pillared porches. “I want to get closer,” Leah said, gazing at the gilded sanctuary near the center of the plaza. A thin plume of smoke rose heavenward from the holy altar.
“You can only go as far as the Court of Women,” Gideon warned.
“I know. Will you take me there?”
“All right.”
A thrill of excitement shivered through Leah as she approached God’s dwelling place on earth. But once inside, the view from the women’s court disappointed her. She had to peer over the other women’s heads and look through a row of narrow openings just to see into the Court of the Israelites where Gideon had gone, and that view was obstructed by the backs of all the men who were inside. It was just like the Torah lessons in the synagogue back home—she was excluded because she was a woman. As the sweet perfume of incense drifted into her courtyard, she wondered what it would be like to be able to approach God’s altar, to worship Him up close instead of from far away.
“There wasn’t much to see,” Gideon told her when he emerged through the Nicanor Gate a few minutes later. “We’re much too late for the morning sacrifice and too early for the evening one.”
As they skirted the edge of Solomon’s porch, Leah’s attention was drawn to a crowd that had gathered around a speaker. He wasn’t a scribe, or a teacher of the law, or even one of the Pharisees’ rabbis, but an ordinary working man like Abba with a lean, muscular body and sun-browned skin. With his smiling bearded face, pointed nose, and small round ears, he reminded Leah of the little brown-furred coneys that lived on the hillsides back home among the rocks. He spoke in the clear, plain dialect of her district of Galilee. But what drew Leah to a halt was the fact that women as well as men sat listening at his feet.
“Gideon, wait.” She pulled her brother to a stop beside her. “Can’t we listen, too?” He shrugged, then leaned against one of the pillars with his arms folded to hear what the man had to say.
“The Prophet Jeremiah foresaw this day,” the preacher said, gesturing broadly with his work-callused hands. “Jeremiah wrote, ‘Woe to the shepherds who are destroying and scattering the sheep of my pasture!’ The prophet was talking about the leaders and priests whose job it is to shepherd His people Israel. He said the wicked shepherds would be punished but that God Himself would gather the remnant of His flock. God spoke the same message through the Prophet Eze-kiel, saying, ‘I myself will tend my sheep and have them lie down . . . I will search for the lost and bring back the strays. I will bind up the injured and strengthen the weak, but the sleek and the strong I will destroy. I will shepherd the flock with justice.’”
Leah glanced at Gideon to see if he was also thinking of the corrupt priest who had just cheated their father. Her brother was standing up straight, listening with rapt attention.
“Isn’t it enough,” the preacher continued, “for these wicked shepherds to feed on the good pasture? Must they also trample the rest of the pasture with their feet? Isn’t it enough for them to drink clear water? Must they also muddy the rest with their feet? Must God’s flock feed on what they have trampled and drink what they have muddied? God says, ‘I will save my flock, and they will no longer be plundered . . . I will place over them one shepherd, my servant David, and he will tend them and be their shepherd. I the Lord will be their God, and my servant David will be prince among them.’ Yeshua the Messiah said, ‘I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.’ And so Yeshua gave His life as our Passover sacrifice to remove the barriers that stand between us and God.”
Who was this Yeshua? Leah wondered. She would gladly follow a leader who was as gentle and caring as her brother Saul was with Abba’s sheep. Especially if that shepherd would break down all the walls that the priests and Pharisees had built and allow her to draw near to God.
She nervously glanced around, still unsure if she was even supposed to be listening, and saw that a woman had moved to stand close beside her. “I see that you’re interested,” the woman said softly. “Oh no, it’s all right,” she quickly added when she saw that Leah was about to flee. “You may stay. Yeshua the Messiah has many women disciples. God’s Spirit was poured out on men and women alike, just as the prophet Joel said it would be. Divisions between rich and poor, slave and free, male and female don’t exist in His kingdom.”
Leah remembered the words of Matthew’s Torah lesson that she had learned outside the synagogue window. “‘They will all know me, from the least . . . to the greatest,’” she recited aloud.
“Yes, that’s right. Yeshua came—”
“It’s time to go,” Gideon said. He gripped Leah’s arm and pulled her away.
“Gideon, wait! I want to hear—”
“Abba would forbid it.” He propelled her across the courtyard toward the stairs.
“But they were talking about the Messiah.”
“I know. Everyone wants the Messiah to come because our lives are so unbearable. People are willing to believe anything. But if he really came, then why are we still under Roman rule? Why are we still hungry? The real Messiah will fight the Roman armies. He’ll feed us with manna when he comes, and we won’t be hungry anymore.”
Leah wondered what it would be like to have a full stomach all the time, like on a feast day or after a wedding celebration. At home, Abba and her brothers always ate first because they needed more food for their hard labor. Leah felt hungry most of the time, even after eating.
As they neared the stairs that led from the Temple Mount, Leah suddenly heard a familiar sound. It was a lamb bleating with a distinctive hoarse stutter she recognized immediately. She turned and saw a well-dressed man walking toward her with Little One under his arm.
“Little One!” she cried. He bleated loudly in response to her voice and tried to wriggle free. “Gideon, that’s Little One, that’s our lamb!” Leah ran to him. Little One’s stubby tail spun in happy circles when he saw her. The man had a difficult time restraining him.
“What are you doing?” he shouted angrily. “This is my lamb. I just purchased it for Passover.”
“For Passover!” she cried. “Did the priests tell you this lamb was acceptable for the sacrifice?”
“Of course it’s acceptable! Now get out of my way, girl.”
“The priests cheated us!” Gideon shouted as he hurried to Leah’s side. “We brought this lamb from our village in Galilee and the priests told us it was unclean.”
“You must be mistaken.” The man tried to edge around Gideon but he blocked his path.
“I’m not mistaken! My sister raised him, she knows him, and the lamb recognizes her!” Little One’s cries grew louder as he struggled to free himself and go to Leah. “The priests stole our lamb,” Gideon insisted, “and they stole Abba’s money! You have to bring him back and tell the authorities what those lying, cheating priests did!” Gideon began wrestling with the man, trying to pull Little One from his arms.
“Hey, stop! Let go! This is my lamb! Thief!”
Suddenly two Roman soldiers appeared out of nowhere. Their beardless faces looked naked and ugly, their heads grotesquely small in their close-fitting helmets.
“Gideon, look out!” Leah cried. She backed away in terror.
“Get your filthy hands off me!” Gideon cried. “I’m telling you we were cheated! This lamb was stolen from us—!” All the air suddenly rushed out of him with a loud grunt as one of the soldiers punched him in the gut. Gideon doubled over, gasping in pain, but the second soldier cruelly yanked Gideon’s arms behind his back, forcing him upright. The man holding Little One thanked the soldiers and quickly disappeared down the stairs.
“No . . . stop! My brother isn’t a thief!” Leah cried as the soldiers began dragging Gideon across the courtyard toward the Antonia Fortress. They ignored her, as if she wasn’t even there.
Leah didn’t know what to do. Too terrified to follow them, she stood alone, dazed. It had all happened so fast.
Please, God, let this just be a terrible dream!
But it wasn’t a dream. They were arresting Gideon.
She was aware of people staring at her, skirting around her in a wide arc as she stood alone, weeping, but no one stopped to help. She was at the point of despair when she felt a comforting arm encircle her shoulder and heard a soft voice asking, “What’s wrong, dear one? Can I help you somehow?”
Leah was surprised to see the woman who had spoken to her on Solomon’s porch. Her face was so kind, so concerned, that Leah threw herself into the woman’s arms.
“The Roman soldiers just took my brother away and it was all my fault! I don’t know what to do!” The woman held Leah and allowed her to cry, gently rubbing her back.
When Leah’s tears were spent, the stranger said, “What’s your name, dear one?”
“I’m Leah, daughter of Jesse from Degania in Galilee.”
“Is the rest of your family here in Jerusalem with you, Leah?”
“Yes, but Gideon knows the way back to where we’re staying. I don’t remember!”
“Tell me everything you do remember, and I’ll try to help.” Her voice calmed Leah, and she was able to explain to the woman about Cousin Samuel’s house in the laborers’ district outside the city walls. “I know where that is,” the woman said. “It’s a large neighborhood, but someone is bound to know Samuel the Galilean if we ask enough people.”