Martha
Martha had not visited Yosef’s grave site in weeks, not with the burdens of her family weighing upon her. Today, she only paused at Yosef’s grave for a few moments. She had a much more recent family death to add to her sorrows.
She picked her way along the stony ground of the village graves. The air had turned warmer with the spring, bringing with it the fragrance of moist dirt and new flowers. The rocky hillside was peppered with green grass and budding flowers. A pretty sight if one’s heart wasn’t so heavy.
Now Lazarus had lain in the family tomb for four days. And here she sat upon a flat rock near the entrance. Beyond, deep in the earth, her brother had been laid to his final rest, joining both of her parents.
The morning was yet early, but the day promised to bring with it some heat. Four days . . . she could barely comprehend it. It had seemed that yesterday, she’d been forcing her brother to sip some tea and assuring him that all would be well.
And then that horrible moment of arriving home to hear Leah sobbing over her husband.
The experience of a wife grieving for her husband had been all too familiar, and Leah’s pain had been Martha’s pain.
Now, with three women unmarried living under the same roof, they would have to find a way to support themselves. Lazarus’s land and wealth would pass to his two sons, but Rhode and Nathaniel were much too young to take on the responsibilities of grown men.
It would be up to the women, Martha knew. They would have to take over the care and the management of the grove. They would have to trust Horeb as their traveling tradesman. Martha was grateful that he was a good and honest man, but how long would he want to work under the tutelage of women and young boys?
Martha loosened her mantle, letting the warm spring breeze tug at her long locks as she untwisted her plaits.
No day in her life had ever been easy, so why should today or tomorrow be any different? As she let the warm breeze wash over her, she decided she’d only remain a few more moments, then return to the house and put her plan into action. Horeb was working day and night, and they needed to create a schedule where the women could help.
The sound of scuttling rocks caught her attention. She looked to see Zachary and Claudia trudging up the hillside. They hadn’t noticed her yet, so Martha had the chance to observe them.
Zachary’s head was lowered, and little Claudia clutched his hand. She seemed subdued as well. The pair paused, and Claudia stooped to pick a few of the newest wildflowers. Zachary gave his daughter a gentle smile and nodded.
Martha’s heart clenched at the sight. The bond of their two-person family was unmistakable.
She hadn’t spoken to Zachary since that terrible day he’d promised to drop everything to find Jesus. She’d wondered about him, how he and his daughter were faring in their tent at the edge of the fields. She supposed she should invite Claudia over soon, and the little girl could have some interactions with someone closer to her age.
But life had been so burdened as of late.
Tears burned her eyes as she thought of Lazarus and how much she simply missed him. If she erased all the burdens his death had brought upon the family, all that was left was the fact that she no longer had her dear brother. His opinions had always been so quick and sure. His laughter so ready. His generosity never withheld.
“Martha,” a little girl’s voice said.
She looked up again to see that she’d indeed been spotted.
Claudia released her father’s hand and ran the last few steps to where Martha sat. She was surprised that Zachary didn’t restrain his daughter like he had that first time she’d seen them at the grave site. Then again, they were no longer strangers.
Martha rose to her feet and smoothed her hair back, realizing she wasn’t currently wearing her mantle. Zachary had stopped a few paces away. His dark eyes watched her, and it was as if he were trying to gauge how to act around her. Did he need to offer condolences again, or could they speak of other matters?
“Hello, Claudia,” Martha said, surprised when the little girl wrapped her arms about Martha’s legs.
“I told Father I hoped to find you here,” Claudia said.
Martha didn’t know what to say to that and looked to Zachary again. The edges of his mouth lifted as he gave a slight nod. Martha had the sudden urge to smile in return, but she held back.
“Look at the flowers I picked for Mother.” Claudia held up her bunch of flowers.
“They’re very pretty.”
“Do you want some for your brother?” Claudia continued.
“Claudia . . .” Zachary started to say, a note of warning in his voice.
“I’d love some,” Martha said. She gave Zachary the smallest of smiles, and he looked relieved.
“All right, Claudia,” he said. “But don’t go too far. I need to be able to see you at all times.”
“I’ll stay close,” Claudia said cheerfully and scrambled away.
Martha watched her skipping among the rocks, bending every so often to pick a wildflower.
Zachary moved closer to Martha, but she kept her eyes on his daughter.
“There was a time,” he said in a low tone, “I wondered if I’d have two of my family members buried here.”
“Claudia is a strong little girl,” Martha said.
“Thanks to your care and wisdom.”
Martha continued to watch Claudia pick her way among some bigger rocks. Zachary had expressed his appreciation more than once, but this . . . this felt different. More personal somehow.
She felt his gaze upon her and no longer upon his daughter. She stole a glance at him.
“Martha, can I ask you a personal question?” he said.
Unbidden, her heart rate spiked. “Of course,” she said, although she wasn’t sure what he could possibly want to know.
“Why haven’t you remarried?”
The question stunned her. Not that someone might ask but that he had asked. Perhaps he’d heard that she’d been widowed now for three years, and since she was still of childbearing age, it was a long while. But it wasn’t long to Martha. Was Zachary simply curious, or was there more to his inquiry?
“You don’t have to answer,” he said.
She realized she’d taken several moments with her thoughts. “Yosef was a wonderful husband. My only regret is that no children were born to our union. I suppose I haven’t stopped grieving and therefore have not considered remarriage. With Lazarus and everything going on in our family, I’ve been so busy.” She’d never spoken so many personal thoughts aloud to a person not related to her. Had she said too much?
“I understand your heartbreak and reluctance,” Zachary said.
She knew he did because she’d been a witness of his sojourns to his wife’s grave site. “I am sorry for your loss as well,” she told him.
Claudia called out to her father, “Look!”
“Very nice,” Zachary said, and Martha heard affection in his tone.
They said nothing for a few moments as Claudia continued her flower hunt, stopping every so often to pick another flower.
“You have many burdens, Martha,” Zachary said. “And Claudia is fond of you.”
Yes, Martha wanted to say, but she was confused at the direction this conversation was going. Zachary had been generous to offer to search for Jesus, and that had been repayment enough for her help with his daughter.
She looked up at Zachary to find his dark gaze upon her. This man was hardworking, gentle, and at times reminded her a little of Yosef because of his devoted character. But Zachary was not Yosef. Zachary was younger, and she’d seen him offer refuge to her sister, Mary. That act alone had quieted any of her straying thoughts.
“I am also sorry about your brother,” Zachary said. “And I’m sorry he isn’t here for me to speak to him about my desire to ask for your hand in marriage.”
Martha stared at Zachary. “My hand?”
A crease formed between his brows. “I know that being a shepherd’s wife isn’t something you are used to, but the lambing season has proved fortuitous so far, and yesterday I spoke to Jeremiah the merchant about purchasing a lot from his property. I plan to start building in a few weeks.”
Martha didn’t know what to think. Zachary was offering her marriage? To care for his daughter, certainly, but there was so much more to a marriage than childcare. Marriage to Yosef had taught her that.
She wanted to understand the workings of his heart. He loved his daughter—that was undoubtable—and it seemed he would do anything to care for her. Including marrying Martha.
She looked away from the intensity in his expression, which she couldn’t read. He didn’t love her; that she knew, and she didn’t expect that. Love grew from sacrifice and service in most marriages. A few couples, like Lazarus and Leah, had love from the beginning.
“Martha . . .” Zachary said, moving closer.
He didn’t touch her, and she knew he was too respectful to violate propriety, but he was close enough to touch. This brought other memories to light, ones of intimacy shared with her husband. Marrying Zachary would surely open that part of her life again. He would want more children, expect more children.
“If there’s someone I should ask permission from, I will,” he said. “Otherwise, I am sure you know your own mind.”
She should know her own mind, but she didn’t.
Claudia was on her way back. In a few moments, their private conversation would be over.
“Why do you want to marry me, Zachary?” she whispered without looking at him.
He hesitated. Perhaps he was surprised at her bold question.
“Because I have hope.”
She lifted her eyes to his, her heart starting a slow thump. This was not the answer she’d expected.
“Hope for what?”
He didn’t shy away from her direct question and even more direct gaze.
“Hope that one day our hearts will heal and we can find happiness in each other.”
Martha’s eyes burned with tears. Oh, how she wanted to heal and find happiness. Was marrying Zachary the right answer, then? “My sister is yet unmarried, and she would not bring the burdens I have to a marriage.”
The crease between Zachary’s brows appeared again, then his brows lifted as if he’d just understood something. “You have never been a second choice, Martha.” His hand brushed against hers so quickly and so lightly she almost doubted it happened at all. “It’s my greatest hope that you will say yes.”
The warm breeze stirred around them, lifting the scent of wildflowers with it. Buried deep inside, Martha had perhaps entertained the idea of remarrying someday. Zachary was hardworking, intriguing, direct in his conversation, and—dare she think it without betraying Yosef—Zachary’s looks were pleasing. Those soulful, dark eyes of his, the sturdiness of his frame, the strong cut of his jaw, the gentle way he had with his daughter . . .
“Father!” Claudia called, her voice nearer than Martha had expected. “Horeb is coming up the hill.”
Martha stepped back from Zachary immediately and turned to see that, indeed, Horeb was heading up the hill. And he was running.
Alarm shot through Martha. The look on the young man’s face was not one of a man coming to pay his respects to a grave site but of someone with an urgent message.
“Horeb,” Zachary said, grasping Claudia’s hand and taking a few steps forward.
But Horeb’s gaze was firmly upon Martha. “There is news,” he said as he drew closer, his breathing labored from his running. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days, and his clothing was more ragged than usual.
“What news?” she asked, knowing her voice was trembling. She didn’t know if she could take any more bad news. Was it Leah or one of her children? The new infant? Had someone fallen ill?
“Josiah was out watching for the next arriving caravan,” Horeb said between gulps of air. “He said that he saw Jesus and His Apostles traveling toward our town a short time ago.”
“Jesus is coming here?” Martha asked, her tone an octave higher. “To Bethany? Are you sure?”
“Josiah has the eyes of a hawk,” Horeb said, gaining his composure. “Jesus is on His way.”
Martha’s heart soared. Jesus was coming . . . but . . . she looked from Horeb to Zachary, and she could see the same realization in his eyes. It was too late. Lazarus was already dead.
Her shoulders sagged, and she wanted to find a place to sit and cry. It was all too much. The hope of finding Jesus, then Lazarus’s death, and now . . .
“My mantle,” she whispered, looking about the ground. She located the embroidered cloth she’d left on the flat rock she’d sat upon. Then she twisted her hair back and tied the mantle about her head despite the shaking of her hands. “I must go to Him.” If Jesus was truly coming to Bethany, He’d be mobbed again, and who knew when she could speak to Him.
“Where are you going?” Claudia asked, her voice small and innocent.
“To speak with Jesus,” Martha said. Tears fell hot and fast. She didn’t exactly know why she was crying, but she knew she was desperate to speak to Him.
She hurried down the hillside.
“Martha,” Horeb called after her. “Wait.”
But she didn’t wait. She couldn’t wait. Her feet had never moved so fast, and she ran along the outskirts of the village, not stopping for a moment, not even stopping to fetch her sister, Mary. Martha ran past the first fields and past the rock walls dividing property from the main road out of the village. She didn’t stop when she saw a group of men approaching. Jesus was among them. This she was sure of before spotting Him.
As she neared, she finally slowed, her heart and breathing quickened. She needed to be able to speak to Jesus and not become a crying mess. Breathing in and out, she readjusted her mantle about her hair.
The men stopped as she approached, and she saw the recognition in their eyes. When she met Jesus’s gaze, her chest burned with emotion. She wouldn’t cry, though. She wouldn’t beg. But the words tumbled out after Jesus greeted her.
“Lazarus is dead,” she said, a sob threatening to escape despite her resolve. “Lord, if thou had been here, my brother wouldn’t have died.”
Jesus’s gaze didn’t waver from hers, and she continued. “But I know that, even now, whatsoever a person asks of God, God has the power to grant it.”
The Lord’s expression was gentle, knowing, and full of wisdom. “Thy brother shall rise again.”
Yes, of course he would rise upon Resurrection. It had been only one small comfort, but he was gone now, and their entire lives had changed. She glanced at the Apostles, who had also gathered around. Their expressions were solemn and full of compassion.
“I know that Lazarus will rise again in the Resurrection at the last day,” she said at last. She wanted Jesus to know that she’d learned His teachings; she hadn’t forgotten them.
Jesus moved closer, His tone gentle as He said, “I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die. Believest thou this?”
Yes, she could never deny her knowledge. “Yes, Lord. I believe that thou art the Christ, the Messiah, which should come into the world.”
Despite knowing that Jesus’s arrival was too late for her brother, Martha still felt gratitude flow through her. His compassionate gaze made her feel that He understood her sorrow, for Lazarus had been His friend too. Closer to the village, others had noticed the arrival of Jesus and His Apostles, and soon the crowds would gather. Jesus asked after Mary, and Martha told him, “She is yet at home. I came as soon as Horeb informed me you were on the road to the village.”
Jesus asked that she bring Mary to meet Him before He entered the village and was faced with the crowds.
So Martha took her leave, hurrying back home. By the time she reached the courtyard, several of the village women were there already. They’d made a habit of showing up each morning and preparing food while offering words of consolation.
Although it was early yet, honey cakes were baking, and the smell of cooking porridge filled the rooms as Martha moved to the cooking area. Mary was sitting at the table, cradling their infant nephew in her arms. Leah must still be sleeping, which was a good thing.
Martha greeted the other women, then whispered to Mary, “Come with me.”
But the other women overheard. “Has Jesus come at last?” one woman asked.
“Yes, the Master has arrived,” Martha said in a hushed tone. “He has asked Mary to come so that He might offer condolences about our brother.”
“Let me hand the babe to Leah, and then I will come.” Mary walked into the corridor, and Martha had time to breathe for a moment.
When Mary returned, the women left the house together. Taking the back roads again, they hurried to just beyond the village borders, not wanting to alert the rest of the village. Jesus was sitting on the rock wall, surrounded by His Apostles. There seemed to be a discussion going on, but as soon as the women neared, Jesus rose to His feet to greet Mary.
Mary sank to her knees before Jesus. She clutched the hem of His robe and cried out, “Lord, if thou had been here when my brother was ill, he wouldn’t have died.”
The other women had remained behind Martha, but now, they sank to their knees, weeping and keening over the loss of Lazarus. Martha blinked back her own tears. She’d grieved over her brother, yet even on the fourth day since his passing, the wound was still deep and raw.
Her chest tightened, and she blinked against the burning in her eyes.
Jesus turned his gaze upon Martha. “Where have ye laid him?” He asked in a voice that was gentle yet rose above the sound of the crying.
Martha exhaled. “Lord, come and see.”
The group followed Mary and Martha as they led the way to the burial site. More people in the village were alerted, and soon a crowd had gathered upon the hill of tombs.
Martha motioned toward the tomb site, then stood to the side. Jesus clasped His hands and bowed His head before the stone covering the underground cavern. Martha’s emotions welled again as she saw the tears in Jesus’s eyes.
He was grieving for her brother too.
Mary slipped next to Martha, and the two sisters linked arms.
The crowd increased, and those in the back murmured, asking what was going on. Comments filtered through the crowd, and Martha heard one person say, “See how He loved him.”
Other voices rose above the others, although they were still hushed. An older woman said, “He has opened the eyes of the blind, so could He not have prevented Lazarus from dying?”
Martha’s heart pinched. These had been her exact criticisms, but now that Jesus was here, and she saw how He wept, Martha no longer felt frustration. Sorrow, yes, but peace also. She pulled Mary, whose crying had softened, closer. Martha closed her eyes for a moment. Jesus was here, and all would be well. Somehow, some way, she and the women of her family would survive this setback.
When she opened her eyes again, she felt another’s gaze upon her. She turned her head to see Zachary standing in the midst of the crowd, seemingly apart from the others. She’d not given him an answer, not yet. In this moment, she felt strangely connected to him, as if they had the same heart. Their shared experiences linked them in a way unlike any other. But did that mean she should accept his offer of marriage?
His dark eyes were upon her, filled with sympathy for her lost brother and empathy for their shared state. She knew he was still waiting for her answer, an answer she wasn’t ready to give. Not now.
Jesus stepped closer to the stone, and His movement shifted Martha’s attention back to Him. Jesus ran the tips of His fingers along the crevices of the rock, then said in a firm tone, “Take ye away the stone.”