Ezekiel put away the nets for the day as he and his fishermen dragged the boats onto the beach. The day’s catch was abysmal. Each cut was barely enough to live on.
“Hopefully tomorrow will be better,” he said to Simon, who ran the crew.
“I have something I want to talk to you about.”
“Alright.”
“Several of us have decided to follow Yeshua. This will be our last week working for you.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
“Yes, he approached me too.”
“Then you’re coming with us?”
“No, I don’t believe I will.”
“Why not?”
“Everything I have, I built for myself. I want my life to be good, honest. I don’t want to go around listening to some philosopher about a kingdom that exists in the realm of fantasy. I’m a good Hebrew, and I make sacrifices. I keep the commandments as best I can. It has to be enough.”
“But haven’t you ever wanted to be a part of something bigger? I look at Yeshua, and I know there’s more than catching fish.”
“He used the fisher of men line on you too, huh?”
“As a matter of fact, he did, and I believe him. Ezekiel, I want this. I hope there are no hard feelings.”
“Of course not. I hope you find the happiness you’re looking for, my friend. You will always have a job here.”
“Maybe our paths will cross again.”
“I certainly hope so.”
The day fell dark as the men went home, leaving Ezekiel there to mend his nets and his broken heart. He didn’t walk directly home as he did most days. He went for a swim in the sea, letting the gentle waves lap over his cheekbones as he floated on his back. Every muscle ached.
The next morning, Ezekiel woke up on the beach. He didn’t remember falling asleep or even walking on shore for that matter. The color drained from his world. He needed to work, but he couldn’t find the courage to keep going.
It wouldn’t hurt to have a day off. He could send his workers out for the day’s catch and work with what came in.
Along the path, vendors were trying to get in on the action before the market square. A beggar grabbed the front of his garment. “Please, I haven’t eaten in three days.” His accent gave him away as a Samaritan. In a move to appease the man, Ezekiel pulled out three shekels of silver and handed them to him. He may be a Samaritan, but he deserves to eat.
“Why don’t you take him to eat with you?” came a voice from behind. Ezekiel turned to the easy smile of Yeshua.
“Oh! It’s you.”
“I have an idea. Why don’t you treat all three of us?”
“I’m very busy.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“As in, no, you’re not busy.”
“I’m busy being alone,” Ezekiel responded.
“So be it.”
“I don’t need your permission.”
“If you knew me, then you would understand how foolish that statement is.”
“It’s alright, really. I’ll just be on my way,” said the Samaritan.
“My friend,” Yeshua said. “I want to spend some time with you. Ezekiel, what do you say?” “Okay.”
Yeshua smiled. All three went to a little stand and bought some sheep’s milk and pickled sardines. They sat down by the sea and talked. Yeshua built a small fire as they lounged and ate together. They spoke for the next half hour, and Ezekiel noticed something. Yeshua didn’t try to prophesy over him or command him to do anything.
This is new, he thought. The Samaritan sat there nervously listening to every word. Ezekiel felt a stirring in his soul as if Yeshua were an old friend he hadn’t seen in a long time. Every question he asked of the Samaritan was met with a nervous laugh or a one-word answer.
Finally, Yeshua asked a question of Ezekiel. It wasn’t a probing question, as if he wanted some juicy dirt on Ezekiel, but it seemed he truly wanted his opinion.
“What do you think of the newfound peace between the Levite Pharisees and Sadducees with the Roman occupation?”
Ezekiel, afraid to offer his real thoughts, gave a neutral reply. “I’m afraid I’m ignorant of such matters. I know the leaders are walking a thin line, and peace must be attained for the prosperity of our people.”
“That’s a well-measured answer. However, I’m interested in what you really think. Remember, Samaritans hate the Romans as much as Hebrews do.”
“What about you?”
“I hate injustice wherever I see it. I love all people, and I hate when others are bent on causing suffering. Forgiveness is the only way forward. Otherwise, the fight continues, and no one wins.”
“Talk about measured answers . . .”
“Yes, but this one, I believe. You don’t really believe your answer.”
Ezekiel paused for a moment, considering his audience. “I believe nothing good comes from Rome. I believe we Hebrews are losing our culture through this abomination.”
This brought laughter from the Samaritan.
“You speak of your culture as if it were holier than everyone else’s. I have seen abominations come, not from the Romans, but our brothers, the Jews. You cannot only see with your own eyes.”
Ezekiel knew it to be true. Samaritans were half-Jews whose culture mixed with pagan practices, drawing the ire of the priesthood.
“Why do you pose such a question?”
“I’m beginning my purpose soon. I wanted to see what you thought.”
“You already knew what I was going to say, though. How?”
“All will be revealed. On a lighter note, I have a party to get ready for.”
“What kind of party?”
“A wedding party. Well—” Yeshua rose to his feet. “Have a wonderful day.”
Ezekiel and the Samaritan followed his suit and said their goodbyes. The rest of the day went by too fast. Ezekiel felt even more tired from the day than if he had worked. He went home and laid down on his mat. Aaliyah stayed outside the house. She didn’t want to disturb her son, so she went to her father’s house and left him alone for the night.
The next day, Ezekiel went into town ready to fish as he did every morning. Youssef, recently hired to replace Simon, was packing the nets meticulously.
“Did you hear about the wedding last night?”
“No.”
“Well, it was my niece who got married. The feast was amazing, but the bridal party severely underestimated the amount of wine that was needed. Then a friend of my wife, Yeshua, I think his name was, asked to do something. He instructed the master of the servants to fill all their cisterns with water. When they drew the water, it was wine. And not just any wine—the best any of us had ever tasted!”
“I know Yeshua. Simon, James, and John went to study under him. He’s a rabbi and a carpenter by trade.”
“It sounds unbelievable, doesn’t it?”
“It sounds like the wine you had was a little too good.”
“Think what you want, but it wasn’t only me who witnessed this. Everyone’s talking about it.”
“Just help me get this boat into the water. Please?”
“Yes, sir,” said Youssef as he garnered the rest of the men together.
As they pulled three of the boats away from shore, Ezekiel noticed Yeshua walking with a group of men along the beach. Simon was trying to keep people away from him so they could make progress. A crowd was gathering.
Ezekiel and Yeshua locked eyes for a moment. Everything around Ezekiel seemed to slow down as if time had stopped. The boat lurched and brought him back to the present moment.
It seemed strange to Ezekiel that so many people knew of Yeshua in such a short amount of time. He was odd to most people. He seemed to have special knowledge one would associate with a demigod or a soothsayer, yet his power did not seem to come from superstition or enchantment. He didn’t speak in a language from foreign lands or use sleight of hand tricks like the people traveling from the East were so fond of.
It was his demeanor which caught people off guard. He was disarming in a way that allowed him to speak the truth without offense.
As the day lagged on, the work put Ezekiel’s mind at ease. He had wanted to do this for Rina, now he would work for himself and his mother. It would provide a certain amount of satisfaction. He would someday find a lovely girl and marry. For now, though, he had to put her out of his mind. The market never rewarded the sluggard. His body was well-muscled from years of hard work.
In the back of his mind, he thought of his father. Would he be proud or disappointed? Ezekiel imagined he would be proud. He refused to be a disappointment like his father was.
As the last pull of the nets came in, Ezekiel decided to allow his men to fill the baskets for the market. Exhaustion swept through his body like a heavy stone on his chest. He needed sleep, but none came lately.
The men pulled the boats onto the shore and cleaned the fish in the shallow water. Ezekiel walked home, stumbling along the way. A vendor was selling wine in animal skin pouches. Never was Ezekiel so tempted to drink his mind into oblivion. He purchased the wine and drank it on the way home. It was an old wine with a stronger taste than the one he and his mother used to celebrate Passover each year. When Ezekiel arrived home, he fell to his mat and slept hard.