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“Rabbi, can I ask your advice?”
Gamaliel was reclining near the table after a sumptuous meal of grain, beans and figs. I had just poured a cup of wine and passed it to my master. I sat on the floor.
“Jacob, what can I do for you?”
I lowered my eyes for a moment, feeling somewhat silly about my concern. “How do you keep your patience with us? I mean, I would imagine that every year you get a new group of boys asking the same stupid questions as the last group, making the same mistakes. It must be very difficult for you to keep up your hopes when you are faced with the same disappointments year after year.”
The old man took a thoughtful drink of wine and smacked his lips in satisfaction. “Not disappointment, young man. It’s like the farmer sowing his seeds. He throws some of his seed on hard dirt, and the birds come along and eat them. He scatters some seed in rocky soil, and after sprouting briefly it dies out. But then he scatters more of his seed in good, rich soil that has been cultivated well, and they sprout and flourish and bear much fruit.
“So it is with the young men whose parents send them to study with me. Some are like the hard-packed dirt — the knowledge never sinks in. But we can always hope something will happen to break open the dirt and allow some of the seed to enter. Some are like the rocky soil — they absorb the knowledge but have too many distractions in their lives to make good use of it. And some, like yourself, are like the rich soil that absorbs the knowledge and lets it grow greater than even I could imagine. The farmer does not give up because some of the seed did not bear fruit. He nourishes the seed that has fallen into good soil.”
Gamaliel took another sip of his wine. “Why do you ask, Jacob?”
I shrugged. “Since I’ve been working with the other boys, I’ve noticed that some of them seem to have no aptitude for learning. And some of the others, though they are very sharp, do not strike me as the type to enter the priesthood. In fact, now that I think of it, they remind me of one of my younger brothers. Very smart, but I could never picture him working in the Temple.”
The lamps flickered as we sat absorbed in our thoughts. The students had gone home hours earlier, and Rachel, the servant woman, had brought food upstairs for us before retiring herself.
“For instance,” I continued, “one boy’s parents are Roman citizens, and he never lets the others forget that he has a higher position than they. He is knowledgeable, yes, but his arrogance prevents him from ever connecting with his fellow students. He even refuses to take instruction from me.”
“Ah, I know of whom you speak,” Gamaliel sighed. “His parents contribute a large amount of money to the Temple treasury, almost as much as your own father. They did not ask me to accept their son as a student. No, they told me that he would arrive by a certain date and instructed me to see to his lodging and care. Young Saul has a delicate nature, his father said in the letter, so I must be sure that he receives only the best food. Harrumph,” he grunted. “I think the boy has been raised on bitter fruit, and that will dominate his diet no matter where he stays.”