15

The House of the Fisherman

LATE ON THE FIFTH DAY after the fall of Jerusalem, Mattheos settled into a fisherman’s little house near the synagogue in Capernaum. He had no trouble convincing the fisherman to rent the house to him, at least until he could manage to acquire one of his own. The fisherman needed money desperately. The war had been bad for the lakeside economy and that of Galilee more broadly, and business had suffered. Mattheos had determined to try to find the house he saw in his dream by climbing up the hill to old Bethsaida the next morning. He was tired, but also anxious to get to work on his narrative of the life of Jesus. Eventually he would need to visit Nazareth as well, in search of more source material.

At dawn of the sixth day after the destruction of the temple, Mattheos was up early, watching the sun rise over the eastern rim of the sea. In the foreground, fishermen were already casting their nets on the water. After a little bread with some wine and figs, Mattheos began the four-mile walk to the center of Bethsaida. He would ask for the big house of the fisherman.

Mattheos’s memories of Bethsaida were clouded by the decades. Though he recalled the long climb up the hill to reach the little village, its wearisome length had receded from memory. Of course, he had not forgotten that it was a border town, where toll takers collected from merchants and travelers crossing into Galilee. And he recalled the antiquity of the village, stretching back many centuries. But he did not know whether there were still Christ followers in this town, and he was apprehensive about poking around and inquiring after them. Years ago there had been tensions in these little fishing villages about Jesus’ disciples. And he wondered whether there was a Roman presence in the town—something he did not relish encountering again.

Figure 15.1. Map of Galilee in New Testament times

It was a windless morning, and the sun seemed relentless as Mattheos climbed up the hill. Sweat beaded and streamed from his brow, and he was tempted to find a place to rest for a while, but he was convinced that his dream and its house were significant, given to him as guidance. The image of the house was clear enough, and he was intent on finding it.

Figure 15.2. Fishermen mending their nets

Starting on the side of the village closest to Capernaum, though, nothing seemed to match up, and he began to feel discouraged. Town folk were coming and going as he wandered—women returning home from the springs with water jars on their heads, men returning from a night of fishing. He could smell the fresh fish. Two fishermen with their little weighted nets passed him as he continued on. And as it goes in a small village, people looked at Mattheos, trying to place him in their mental map of village life and citizenry.

Finally, coming almost to the end of the little village, Mattheos saw a house with a big courtyard and a separate kitchen at the back of the property. There was something of a villa—by village standards—on the right side of the courtyard. Beckoning to a boy running by, he asked, “What is this house?”

“The house of the fisherman,” the boy replied, pointing to nets drying in the courtyard, and then dashed away.

“Perhaps I have finally arrived,” said Mattheos to himself. Mustering his courage, he walked up and gave a vigorous knock on the door. Soon enough a young woman with a head covering opened the door.

“Shalom,” Mattheos said. “May I ask whose house this is, and is the master at home?”

The girl turned stern and said, “If you are selling something, we don’t want any. And if you are a tax collector, we have already paid!”

“No,” said Mattheos chuckling at how the girl had gotten it half-right, “I am not a peddler. I am looking for an old friend.”

The girl softened a little and opened the door more widely with the words, “This is the household of Philip. His sons and wives live here now.”

“Philip! Excellent. Might I speak with one of the men of the house?”

As she turned away from the door, she called, “Jacob, someone here at the door is wishing to speak to you.”

“Ask him to come in,” said a muffled voice from deeper in the house.

Mattheos stepped into a large family room. It was a scene of domestic activity—someone cooking to his left, and to his right an older woman and two younger ones sewing. But most promising of all, across the room a man—a literate man!—was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of a small writing table with a scroll.

“Whom do we have the honor of meeting?” asked the man.

“My name is Mattheos, and I was a friend of a Philip who once lived in this village. Was this his home?”

The old woman in the corner looked up from her sewing. She abruptly stood up and came close, inspecting his face.

“Would you be the Mattheos, one of the Twelve?”

“One and the same!” beamed Mattheos. “I am the man.”

At once the woman clapped her hands, and an attendant came and offered to wash and anoint his feet and even his scalp. Mattheos was not about to turn down this hospitable gesture. The younger man sitting at the desk stood up and came and embraced Mattheos after his anointing. “Shalom alechem,” he said.

“And on your house and family as well,” Mattheos replied.

“So you knew my father?”

“I did indeed! But it was long ago, forty years or more. A whole generation in the past. What happened to the household of Peter and Andrew?”

“Andrew died, and as you may know, Simeon was martyred in Roma, God rest his soul. What is left of Simeon’s family resides in Capernaum in the so-called house of Peter, where we meet to worship. I am Jacob, Philip’s eldest son.”

Mattheos briefly thought of indulging his curiosity and asking for more details on all of these things, but instead he said, “Jacob, I would like to hear more of your story. But right now I am on a quest to find any written collections of the traditions and sayings about the Master. You wouldn’t know where I might find such things, would you?”

“I do indeed,” Jacob said, smiling. “G-d has guided you to the right place. But we must first break bread together. Please sit on the mat here and tell me how you came to find me. Weren’t you in Jerusalem with most of the other disciples?”

Mattheos accepted a bowl from the older woman who had recognized him. “What brought me here is a long story. But yes, I was in Jerusalem. But Jerusalem, including the temple, is no more.”

What’s in a Name? Petros

Petros in Greek, or Cephas in Aramaic (meaning “rock” in either language) was simply the nickname Jesus gave a man named Simeon, which is the Hebrew form of the Greek name Simon. It is interesting that Simon Peter is called by his Hebrew name, Simeon, by the brother of Jesus in Acts 15:13, and this is also used in 2 Peter 1:1. If Mattheos indeed spoke Aramaic, he would have used the Aramaic or Hebrew form of the man’s name.

Jacob’s face fell, and he put down his bread. “We had heard of this, but you are the first one to confirm it in person. Were you there when the temple was destroyed?”

“Yes,” said Mattheos, his throat tightening. “Yes, I was there. As Jeremiah said: ‘It is a desolate waste, without people or animals. Yet in the towns of Judah and the streets of Jerusalem that are deserted, inhabited by neither people nor animals, there will be heard once more the sounds of joy and gladness, the voices of bride and bridegroom, and the voices of those who bring thank offerings to the house of the Lord. For I will restore the fortunes of the land as they were before, says the Lord.’

“I cling to that hope now, but realistically, it does not seem likely things will be restored any time soon.”

“Perhaps not until the Restorer returns, once and for all,” Jacob said.

“Perhaps you are right,” said Mattheos. “But let us talk now of happier things.”