Martha
Martha hadn’t slept, or at least she didn’t think so. It seemed she’d been aware of every hour that had passed during the night. She’d noticed the filtering moonlight as it shifted in the darkness of her bedchamber. Today was the day . . . although dawn had yet to soften the black sky, Martha knew it was close. She could feel it.
Was Jesus awake right now? Breaking camp? Traveling toward Bethany? How many would be traveling with Him? He had Apostles to think of as well. And that brought Martha’s thoughts to the food preparations she’d been doing all the previous day after Lazarus and Horeb had told the parable of the compassionate Samaritan.
The story hadn’t left her mind as she thought about how she’d shut out the caring people after Yosef’s death. And how she still shut them out. True, she interacted with her siblings and Leah and her children, but Martha held herself apart more than she shared.
The Samaritan had helped a stranger without thought of the cost of both money and time. When was the last time Martha had done that? Zachary and Claudia leapt to her mind. She had done some good, something small. Would Claudia have recovered without Martha’s interference? She would never know. But the gratitude in Zachary’s eyes had been enough for Martha to know she’d done the right thing.
Is that what Jesus had meant? Serving someone, regardless of who they were, like you would your own family member?
When Martha arrived in the cooking room to get an early start on the chores in preparation for Jesus and His Apostles’ arrival, she found Mary at the kitchen, cutting vegetables for a stew. The room was aglow from the fire in the hearth, but no one else was about.
“Couldn’t sleep either?” Mary said in a soft voice.
Martha smiled. “Hardly.” She was glad to see that the color had returned to Mary’s cheeks and the brightness in them was coming back. Although suffering through the canceled betrothal hadn’t been ideal, all in all, seeing her sister returning to health was the most important thing.
Mary continued her chopping, a soft smile on her face. “What do you think He’ll look like?”
Martha raised her brows. She hadn’t exactly thought about that. She assumed . . . what had she assumed? “I don’t know. I’m not even sure how old He is.”
Mary paused in her work and rested her chin on her hand as she gazed toward the fire. “He seems so full of love and kindness.”
Martha nodded, even though her sister wasn’t looking at her.
“It’s a wonder that He travels like a vagabond,” Mary said. “Lazarus told me He sleeps most nights outside and has no home of His own. His family home is in Nazareth, but He spends very little time there.”
“By traveling, He can reach more people, I suppose.” Martha’s gaze was caught by the fire in the hearth as the flames sputtered and crackled. They had no idea what time Jesus would arrive, but they’d need to be ready to serve a meal to Him and those He traveled with. Martha turned to help Mary with the chopping, and once that was done, they worked on grinding more barley flour and making honey cakes.
By the time Leah was awake, the morning meal was already prepared. Rhode and Nathaniel stayed home from the synagogue to clean up the outer sections of the courtyard. Martha wished she could send Mary to the market for a few things, but she didn’t know how Mary would fare out in public so soon.
Martha feared they’d run out of wine and other food supplies if they were to feed several men. When dawn had well passed and the morning proved to be cold and clear, Martha told the women in the cooking room that she wouldn’t be long at the market.
Mary gave her a grateful look, and Leah nodded. “If there is winter fruit, buy some.”
Winter fruit was expensive and a luxury they rarely indulged in. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Leah said with a smile and handed over an extra pair of coins.
Martha thanked her and headed out the door. As she passed by Eunice’s house, the woman paused in her sweeping of the mosaic tile surrounding the fountain in her courtyard.
“Have you heard the news?” Eunice asked. “Jesus of Nazareth is on His way. He’s a man of many miracles.”
Martha tried not to look stunned. She hadn’t realized that word had spread to the neighbors, but when she reached the market, it was clear that everyone in Bethany knew about Jesus’s miracles and expected His visit that day. Some women stood in groups, conversations hushed, while others haggled over food and wine with increased fervor. The men weren’t in their fields or homesteads but milled about the market, anticipation in their expressions.
Martha bustled to the wine seller. He was rationing what he’d sell, so she purchased only two jugs of wine. Clutching them close, she crossed to Josiah’s cart.
Josiah was perhaps the only merchant not encumbered with a crowd of people bargaining prices with him. Martha hurried over and met his wide-eyed gaze.
“Unless you have a family member ill,” he said, “I don’t have anything to offer today. It appears that the True Healer is about to take over my profession.” His words weren’t full of malice but of curiosity and skepticism.
“Josiah . . .” Martha said in a quiet tone so as not to be overheard. “Lazarus has invited Jesus to our home and—”
Josiah chuckled. “I’m sure everyone has invited Him to their homes. Good tidings to you.”
Annoyed now, Martha walked around his cart to stand near him. Keeping her voice low, she said, “Josiah, I’m inviting you to our home to meet Him. I don’t know when exactly He’ll arrive, but when He does, we’ll send word to you through one of Jesus’s Apostles.”
He frowned. “His Apostles?”
“Jesus has disciples he travels with,” Martha said. “Lazarus and Horeb have met them. They act as protectors as well.”
Josiah rubbed a hand over his chin, then focused on her. “That makes sense. Yes, send me word. I’d like to meet this Jesus of Nazareth.”
Martha nodded, then turned to go.
“Wait,” Josiah said.
When she looked back at him, he said, “Yesterday, Zachary visited my cart. He asked after you. He mentioned how you helped his daughter.”
Martha hoped she was tamping down her rising blush so Josiah wouldn’t see the curiosity burning inside her. She’d thought of Zachary and Claudia night and day, wondering how they’d fared. Still, she only visited the market in the mornings and not in the afternoons when she might encounter him.
“Claudia was with him,” Josiah added.
Martha gave a small nod. “How does she fare?”
Josiah’s smile was telling enough. “She’s quite recovered, and it’s no small matter. I believe you saved her life, woman.”
She shook her head. “I was only following my instincts.”
Josiah’s gaze shifted past her, and his brows lifted.
Martha turned to see what he was gazing at. Zachary strode toward them, Claudia’s hand clutched in his. Martha hadn’t prepared herself for the moment when she’d see him next. Now, seeing him in the marketplace with Claudia at his side, looking sweet and healthy, stirred something in Martha’s heart.
“You have heard, then?” Zachary asked with no preamble when he reached Josiah’s cart.
Zachary’s gaze was on her, although his words could have been for anyone.
“Yes, I have heard,” Martha said, bending in front of his little girl. “And how are you?”
Claudia’s smile was shy as she clung to her father’s hand. “You’re the one who helped me. Father told me you’re an angel.”
Martha’s cheeks were surely heating, so she kept her gaze on the girl. “You are very blessed to have your health back. I’m glad to see you well.”
Claudia scrunched her nose. “Is your sister still sad?”
Swallowing, Martha stalled, wondering how to answer the young girl when her father was listening. “She is having a good and busy day.”
Yes, she felt Zachary’s gaze on her, but she wasn’t ready to look him in the eyes.
Claudia nodded enthusiastically. “Does that mean I can come and play with Naomi now?”
Martha had almost forgotten about that suggestion. “Well, yes, but not today, I don’t think.” She had no idea how long Jesus would be at their house. It was probably not the best time to have additional guests to worry over.
“We don’t want to invite ourselves, Claudia,” Zachary said in a quiet voice.
“But Mary said—” Claudia started to protest.
“It’s all right,” Martha quickly said, looking up at Zachary. “We would love to have her over anytime but . . .” She might as well confess since the whole of the village would know soon enough anyway. “Lazarus says that Jesus will be coming to our home today, and we are busy with preparations.”
Speaking of preparations, Martha had already spent too much time at the market. She held Zachary’s gaze, which was solely focused on her.
“I have heard of Jesus of Nazareth,” Zachary said. “I’ve had a few conversations with Horeb about Him.”
Martha couldn’t look away from his dark eyes. “Yes, Horeb reveres Him above all else, and so does my brother.”
“Horeb has made that clear.” The edges of Zachary’s mouth lifted into a slight smile. Thankfully, the intense worry on his face had fled, replaced with something like hope.
She smiled in return. “He has not been quiet about it in the least.”
Zachary’s eyes crinkled at the corners as his smile deepened. “No, he has not.”
Martha felt a pull toward him. She wanted to step closer and share more conversation, but a hush fell over the marketplace as if everyone had been struck dumb at the same moment. Goose pimples skittered along Martha’s arms before she’d turned fully to see what was going on.
“Father?” Claudia said in her tiny voice.
He hoisted her into his arms and stepped closer to Martha as they watched the crowds of the market part like a large hand had pushed them aside. Coming into the market square on the far side walked a group of men, the likes of whom Martha had never seen.
Their steps were slow but purposeful. Others crowded behind the smaller group of men, people who weren’t from Bethany, but they were men and women alike.
Even though there were plenty of people to create a mob, the villagers merely watched in silence as the group entered the marketplace. Martha scanned each face until she stopped on one of the men, who’d paused in his step as a woman moved forward from the village crowd.
Martha recognized Tamara, the elderly woman whose hands wouldn’t stop trembling. Recently, Martha had heard that Tamara’s daughter-in-law had to administer food and water to her because Tamara couldn’t even hold a cup.
The same man in the group paused and turned toward her.
Martha stared, her heart thumping. Somehow she knew that the man who’d paused was the man named Jesus. His robes were simple, a dark brown of loose weave. From this distance, she couldn’t see His eye color, but His hair was deep brown and wavy against His shoulders.
“It’s Jesus of Nazareth,” Martha whispered to herself.
Zachary and Josiah said nothing, and Claudia kept her arms clutched around her father’s neck.
Martha watched as Tamara held her hands out to Jesus. He clasped her hands in His. Martha was too far away to hear any words spoken, but she saw Tamara sink to her knees and bow before the man as her shoulders shook. Was she crying?
Even though Martha wasn’t sure what had happened, her eyes burned with tears as her throat stiffened with emotion. The whispers started in the crowd, moving through the people until Martha heard them for herself: Jesus has healed Tamara.
Martha’s breath left her chest. She wanted to rush to Tamara and see for herself, but she couldn’t move her feet. Rooted to the ground, she watched a young man, Benjamin, hobble forward, gripping his cane, and beseech Jesus. Benjamin’s leg had been broken the year before in a fall, and he’d used a cane ever since.
Again, Jesus spoke to the man, and when Benjamin sank to his knees without the use of his cane, Martha could only stare.
She looked over at Josiah to see if he was seeing the same thing. His eyes were focused on the scene, and his mouth was agape. Next, Martha looked at Zachary. He met her gaze, his eyes full of wonder.
The crowd seemed to part when another man who was rarely seen in public approached Jesus. Simon the leper had lost his living when he’d contracted the disease. His bandages might have been hiding his sores, but he was still fearsome to behold. Martha had often left food baskets at the door of his house, a small way to help provide for a destitute man.
With her heart climbing her throat, Martha watched as Simon the leper approached Jesus and beseeched him. The townspeople near Jesus stepped back, not wanting to be near an unclean man. Mothers ushered their children away, and a couple of men looked like they were about to force Simon to leave. But Jesus raised his hand as if to tell everyone to be at peace. Then He leaned toward Simon and spoke. Although Martha couldn’t hear the conversation, soon Simon straightened, then tugged off his bindings.
It was as if the man had never contracted the disease. The people in the market murmured their astonishment as Simon laughed and cried about his healing. He held out his hands, examining the clear skin upon his fingers and palms. Then he touched his face and neck, finding them sore-free. “I am clean,” he cried out. “I am clean.”
His smile was brilliant as he gazed at the surrounding crowd. “Where is the priest? I must certify my cleanliness.”
Tears ran freely down Martha’s cheeks at the sight of the miraculous healing. Jesus was here. And He was performing miracles, ones she’d only heard about, before her very eyes.
Soon, Jesus would come to her home, another remarkable event. And she had nothing ready. At least not as much as she needed. He was healing people in the streets of Bethany while she stood by. She needed to provide Him a meal, and right now, Leah and Mary had no idea He’d arrived.
“I must go,” Martha said in a rush to Zachary. “Jesus will expect a meal, and I’ve much to do.”
“Do you need help carrying those wine jugs back to your home?” Zachary asked.
Martha didn’t even have time to consider his offer. “I can carry them,” she said, knowing she was possibly being discourteous by turning down his offer. Her thoughts were disjointed and wouldn’t fully connect.
She took a step back, then another. Zachary merely watched her but said nothing. Then she turned and hurried from the market, clutching the wine jugs. She passed villager after villager heading in the opposite direction. Some of them asked if Jesus had truly arrived, but she only nodded, no longer having a voice to speak.
Questions circled in her mind. How long would Jesus be in the marketplace? When would He arrive at her home? Would all of His Apostles come inside and want to be fed? Should they set up an eating area in the back courtyard? Yes, that would probably be best. But the air was chilly, and surely the men would be more comfortable inside.
She didn’t know where Lazarus or Horeb were either. Maybe they had heard fresh news? What had Jesus said to them exactly? By the time she entered the cooking room from the back of the house, she was perspiring, and her pulse was thudding. Both Mary and Leah were in the cooking room, and they looked over at her in expectation.
“He’s here,” Martha said, not explaining who “He” was. “I saw Him in the marketplace. He healed Tamara, Benjamin, and Simon the leper before my very eyes. Nothing is ready, and He could arrive at any moment. What will we feed Him?” All of the anticipation and emotions caught up with her, and she burst into tears.
Mary hurried over and took the wine jugs from her arms before she dropped them.
Martha sank onto a bench and buried her face in her hands. Leah moved close and rubbed her back. “We have all the food, Martha. We only need to begin preparations now. You’ve brought enough wine, and we can feed Jesus and His Apostles olives, figs, cheese, and bread while we work on the rest of the meal.”
Martha was still crying, but she nodded. “All right,” she said over a choked voice. “Let’s begin the platters so that we have something ready the moment they arrive.” She lifted her head and wiped at her cheeks. “What about the washing basins? They need to be prepared. Surely they’ll want to wash after their journey.”
“Yes,” Leah soothed. “Mary, can you fetch all of the basins in the house? Heat water over the fire, and when you fill the basins, add our best oils.”
Martha took several deep breaths as Leah gave out instructions. There were three of them; they could do this. It wasn’t all up to her. The moments sped by nearly as fast as her heart rate.
Mary prepared the basins while Leah mixed the honey cakes and set them to bake. Martha arranged the platters, then speared fish on skewers and set them over the fire in the hearth. They’d need tending and turning every so often. Martha hurried to the gathering room and peered out the front door. No sign of anyone arriving yet. She called for Rhode and Nathaniel, but they didn’t answer. Perhaps they’d followed the crowds to the market.
Reentering the gathering room, Martha set about arranging cushions. Then she lit oil lamps although the sun was still up. Next she burned incense, letting the aroma waft through the room and give everything a sweet, calm scent.
The next moments turned into an hour, then two hours, and still Martha felt like they were behind in all the preparations. When the front door opened, Martha paused while stirring the stew. She released the long spoon and stepped away from the hearth. Voices. She heard men’s voices.
Mary caught her eye from across the cooking room, and Leah had raised her head from where she sat.
All three women paused, gazing at each other as the male voices threaded through the house and into the cooking room.
Lazarus spoke above the rest.
“Welcome to our home, Jesus,” Lazarus said. “I will fetch water for you and your disciples.”