18

The Secrets of Bethsaida

BETHSAIDA WAS BUSTLING with activity on this morning, the sixth morning after the fall of Jerusalem. By dawn’s first light the fishermen had launched their boats. The embers on the morning hearth were still aglow as most of the women had begun their trek to the spring at the base of the hill across from the village. But Mattheos slept on. The wear of his journey had caught up with him.

Jacob guarded his guest’s sleep from the children. He could hardly believe that one of the original Twelve, Mattheos, whose life reached back nearly seventy years, was right under his roof. Jacob’s father, who had died some years ago, would have been thrilled at this.

The thought of his father’s death brought up a familiar feeling of sadness, tinged with both guilt and frustration. Philip’s death was shrouded in mystery. Some said he was martyred for his witness to Jesus, stoned to death. Others said he had fallen down a steep hill and broken his neck. As a son it was troubling to not be sure what happened in that remote part of Syria, nor to be able to recover the body and give his father a proper burial. The first duty of a son in honoring a parent was to assure a proper burial. He felt like a failure.

A baby’s cry pulled him out of his melancholy. Esther, his eldest child, jumped up to answer the infant’s cry. But the sound had already roused Mattheos, who had been sleeping in a small bedroom off the courtyard.

Sitting in the warmth of the morning sun a while later, Mattheos enjoyed a light breakfast of freshly made unleavened bread and dried fruit, washed down with a little watered-down wine. He was preparing himself to ask Jacob the big question—one he was half afraid to ask for fear the answer would be no.

“Jacob, let me tell you what I am hoping to find,” Mattheos began, brushing some crumbs off his lap. “I’ve been burdened by the need—and a desire—to write down all I can about Jesus while I am still able. Rumor has it that somewhere in one of these villages there is a collection of Jesus stories, maybe sayings, or miracle stories, or parables . . . something. What do you know? Can you help me find something like that? I am especially interested in the sayings of Jesus. I already have a good deal in Mark’s good news story, which I have on a scroll.”

“Well,” Jacob began, and paused, making Mattheos’s heart flutter with suspense. “You have come to the right place. Almost, anyhow. Let me tell you the story of Peter’s assembly. When Peter finally came home—it was for a brief period, about ten years ago now—he turned the family house here in Bethsaida over to Andrew’s family. Peter then relocated to Capernaum, to his mother-in-law’s house, which—as you well know—Jesus made his home base while in this region.

“Worship was held in that Capernaum house, small as it was. We would all pack ourselves in there on Sunday evenings and have a blessed time. But it was not adequate, and there was no place to store anything. Besides, there was always friction with the Pharisees in Capernaum. And that has continued over the last decade.

Figure 18.1. The octagonal “house of Peter,” now under a modern Catholic church in Capernaum

“On one occasion a scroll with some teachings of Jesus was left in the house while everyone was out, and someone came and took it. It was never seen again. So we learned the hard way to make multiple copies of our sacred texts and to store the originals somewhere safe. The copies are not perfect. I, for one, am no scribe, and I could not always decipher the original. But fortunately some of the originals still exist! And if you don’t mind a bit of a hike, I can take you to them now.”

Mattheos trembled with excitement. He could not wait to get his hands on these scrolls, whatever they held. With his stylus kit, ink, and papyrus, he was ready to begin copying at once. “Will I be able to take the documents with me to Capernaum and then bring them back? Or at least to your house, where I can copy them carefully in a safe place?”

“I suspect we can manage the latter, but we will have to ask old Jude, the shepherd who watches over our precious things. You see, we heard about how the Essenes were smart enough to hide their documents in caves overlooking the Salt Sea. And we have plenty of caves around here. So we picked a spot that could be overseen by someone, or at least checked on regularly. We have four jars with lids on them, and each one is full of scrolls. Surely you know the cliffs of Arbel?”

Mattheos’s heart sank. “Please do not tell me I need to climb up there to get these documents. Not that I wouldn’t attempt it! But these bones are old.”

“Not to worry. I’m still able! I will help.”

That afternoon, Jacob and Mattheos struck out on the main road back down through Capernaum. Jacob led the way, up into the hills that overlooked the sea of Galilee.

Figure 18.2. Caves in the Arbel cliffs, near the Sea of Galilee

“Our people have often hidden in these caves, including during the recent wars with Rome. Mostly they have hidden in caves on the other side of the cliff. We are headed to one that is on this side of the cliff, facing the sea—an unused one, never visited by strangers.”

Mattheos looked up the hill where Jacob was pointing, where the cliffs rose vertically from the ascending slope. He groaned. “This may call for singing a psalm of ascent!”

Jacob smiled and forged on. From time to time he offered Mattheos assistance over obstacles. Taking a rest and a drink of water from the skin Jacob carried, Mattheos said, “Tell me it’s one of the lower caves, please.”

Figure 18.3. View from an Arbel cliffs cave

“Yes . . . and no. It’s accessible from ground level. But it’s above some of the lowest ones. We wanted to put it beyond easy reach. Ah, can you see the sheep up there near the base of the cliff? Jude can’t be far off.”

Mattheos noticed a solitary tree clinging to the scree near the top of the cliff. He gestured towards it. “You know, Jacob, sometimes hanging on to our convictions and faith in Jesus is a bit like that tree. You have to have deep roots and be able to lean into a prevailing wind.”

Jacob smiled. Mattheos was a sage, seeking wisdom wherever it might be found, like a composer of proverbs.

Around a corner, near the base of the cliff, an elderly man appeared, poking his staff at a sheep that had strayed from the herd. His long white beard gave him an aura of antiquity.

“How old is that man?” asked Mattheos quietly.

“Let’s put it this way: Jude is originally from Nazareth, and he remembers Mary and Joseph before they got married. He’s the one you need to talk to about Nazareth.”

Mattheos, astounded, replied, “But that would make him at least eighty years old!”

“Yes. He’s an elder of elders, the oldest living follower of Jesus I know. But he’s as spry as I am, and he has a sharp mind.”

Jacob whistled and waved at the stooped figure as they approached him. “This is Mattheos,” he called out. “One of the Twelve!”

Jude drew near. “Greetings!” he said, and looked closer at Mattheos. “You look like a tax collector I once knew in Capernaum, a Levite. Was that you?”

Mattheos responded with a grimace and said, “Yes, I am afraid so. But Jesus rescued me from all that.”

“A good thing, too. There were Jews in Capernaum ready to stone you after that last big taxation, right before Jesus arrived there!” Jude snorted and raised his eyebrows. “So what brings you here?”

“I’m hoping to see the documents you have hidden in a cave up here. I am writing a story of Jesus, like Mark did, only more detailed and longer.”

Jude nodded and pointed up the hill.

When they got to the face of the cliff, Jacob said, “You can leave the rest to me. The scrolls are in jars up there in that cave. But before I climb up there, a few questions. As I recall, they are all in Aramaic. One has the genealogies of Mary and Joseph. There are also other documents that Jude brought back from Nazareth once the war began. That was long after Joseph died and Mary had gone to Ephesus from Jerusalem. Which scrolls do you want first?”

“I’m most interested in those genealogies and any collections of sayings of Jesus,” said Mattheos.

Jacob climbed with practiced skill up to the cave opening. Mattheos could tell that he had climbed up this particular rock face before. The entrance to the cave was barely visible behind the undergrowth at its entrance. After crawling in, Jacob turned to poke his head out of the cave mouth and wave. His view from there was inspiring, with the Sea of Galilee in the distance and green patches of cultivated soil in the foreground—mute witnesses to the labor and transforming magic of hand-carried water to the fields from a spring near Bethsaida.

“All is secure up here!” Jacob called down.

It took several minutes for Jacob to extract the requested rolls, each bound with leather thongs to keep them compact and prevent their outer edges from fraying. He brought them down with care, handing them to Mattheos to put in the pack he had brought to carry them. Jude, asserting his role as caretaker, asked, “When will you bring them back? We want to keep them safe and not let them get lost.”

“I understand and agree. Give me a week to copy things, and we will make this pilgrimage back up the hill. I know you trust Jacob, and so I will give them to him to bring back to you. Is there a list of the contents of these jars somewhere?”

“Oh,” said Jacob, laughing. “I forgot to mention that we do have that list at my house. I will find it, and you can look it over and tell me what else you need.”

“One more thing,” said Mattheos, remembering a question he wanted to ask. “Do you know if there is a scroll with stories about Peter himself?”

No sooner had Mattheos asked than Jacob was climbing back up to the cave to retrieve one more scroll. As he climbed down he said, “This one was the last to leave Peter’s house. It was precious to the family. They are all dead or gone now, all of them except one distant cousin who still lives in Capernaum. The family became very unpopular with some of our kinsmen in the town, and most of them moved eventually.” Jacob returned to the ground and made motions to leave, but Mattheos wasn’t ready yet.

“Before we leave,” Mattheos asked Jude, “Please tell me about Mary and Joseph in Nazareth when they were young. How did their marriage actually come about?”

Jude reclined on a large rock, and looked out over his sheep. “Hmm.” He arranged himself before beginning his tale. “Mary was a mere child, barely thirteen, when she became engaged to Joseph. He was several years older. He came from a good, devout family. Joseph had struck a deal with Mary’s father. During their year of betrothal before the wedding, she was already his wife in all things except they did not live together, nor did they have relations.

“It was a total shock—a total shock—when Mary was found to be with child. Mary was a good girl, very careful about herself and respectful of her parents. Her explanation of how this had happened stretched the credulity of even the most devout who believe in miracles and angels and such. But she stuck to her story.

“Joseph was very shaken up by this. He would have to formally divorce her, since the marriage contract had already been signed and settled some months before. He wanted to do this quietly, so as to cause as little scandal as possible. But Nazareth is a small town. Tongues were bound to wag, rumors were bound to spread. Many assumed that Mary had been taken advantage of, but was too ashamed to admit it. There was even a name bandied about, a Roman soldier named Panthera, who was suggested as the guilty party.1

“You see, no one expected a miraculously conceived messiah. Our prophecies had not been read that way up to the time of Mary and Joseph, not even the famous prophecies in the early portions of Isaiah. But then something happened. Joseph had a dream in which he was told, ‘Don’t be afraid to take Mary as your wife. The child is of God.’ Well, this required Joseph to swallow a lot of pride—and honor. Was his wife’s firstborn child not to be his own child? On this the Torah offered silence. He had simply to swallow his pride and move forward in faith. And he did. But I can tell you the people in the town respected him less, not more, for doing so. It was like he was compromising the standards of holy marriage or righteousness. But he never complained, and he never would respond to those who tried to pry out of him what really happened to Mary.

“Fortunately, when Mary was very pregnant, she and Joseph got out of town for a while, going to their ancestral home of Bethlehem. And the baby was born there. When they came back to Nazareth, Joseph simply put his head down and went to work, building and making himself useful to the community. In time Mary had more children, and the circumstances around Jesus’ birth receded into the past. But then, when Jesus was baptized by John and began his ministry, the old stories were revived again, in many forms. Nazareth’s longtime residents had questions about Jesus, questions about his rising above his station in life. He was just an artisan’s son, after all. This really boiled over when he came and preached in the synagogue in Nazareth.

“You can imagine what those same people said when Jesus was crucified. Jesus was right—a prophet is not without honor, except in his own town, among his own kin, and even within his own family. You see, even his own brothers didn’t really believe him in those days. Yes, they knew he could do some remarkable things. But if you ask me, it was like the story of Joseph and his brothers in the Torah. There was sibling rivalry, jealousy, stupidity. His brothers didn’t even see to Jesus’ burial, a telltale sign of what they really thought. They were deeply ashamed of Jesus and how his life ended. He seemed to have abandoned his own family for some kind of ministry that ended in disaster. And as you know, our people have often thought that how a person dies reveals their true character. What is that saying from the Torah—“cursed be he who hangs on a tree.” So people well and truly thought ill of Jesus after his shocking death. That is, of course, until Jesus appeared to Jacob, his brother, and many others. Well, that changed everything. Mary had always held faith in her son Jesus all along, even when she did not understand very well what he was doing and why.”

Jude cleared his throat. “There is much more to say. But we can continue this conversation later.”

Mattheos had listened with rapt attention, and stored Jude’s story away in his mind. The sun was now high in the sky, and shone hot upon them. After final greetings and embraces, Jacob and Mattheos waved goodbye to Jude and headed home.

Now the real work would begin for Mattheos.