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“Rabbi Jacob! Rabbi Jacob!”
I stopped in the street and craned my neck to see who was calling. The sun had only risen midway up its morning arc, so the marketplace was still crowded with people buying and selling food. The air was rich with the smells of freshly cut barley and newly picked herbs and vegetables. I saw some early apples at one stall, as well as figs. Rachel would make us a fine meal tonight.
An old man waved at me. He used a large stick to support his weight as he hobbled toward me, and I could see he was missing several teeth when he excitedly smiled in my direction. He looked familiar, but I could not place him immediately.
“Rabbi Jacob, I wanted to thank you again for what you and Joshua of Nazareth did for me. When you broke bread with me, I felt accepted among my people again.” He spread his arms and looked down to show me his body. “And look, I am walking! You did that for me. You gave me something to live for.”
Ah yes, that’s why I recognized him.
“I remember you.” My brother had tricked me into sharing a bite of bread with a beggar in the street. But this man looked different now. Ever since I was a young boy, he had been sitting on the ground and begging, too lame to get to his feet. But now he was not only standing, but I could see a healthy glow in his face. “And your name was —“
“Asaph bar-Azariah. Rabbi, just breaking bread with me was a miracle, and I want to thank you for changing my life. I give glory to God for the gift of Rabbi Jacob.”
I told him, “It was Joshua of Nazareth who first took notice of you.”
“Yes, him too. I thank God for both of you.”
I automatically moved to the next step in all cases like this, as I had learned in my training since youth. “And did you make a sacrifice at the Temple to give thanks to God?”
Asaph, though still smiling, looked down at his feet as he shook his head. “No, I am not fit to approach the Temple, Rabbi. I cannot afford to buy a lamb, or even one of the pretty white doves to sacrifice. And though I earn almost a full denarius every two weeks as a watch keeper for the community kitchen, I can’t afford to convert it to Temple currency for a sacrifice. But I am happy anyway, and I hope God will forgive me for my poverty.”
I was still flabbergasted at the change in Asaph’s appearance. Here was true vitality! And he said it was the result of just breaking bread. Truth be told, I would never have allowed any part of my body to touch this man before, as that would have made me impure. I recalled how angry I was when Jesus gave me and the others bread, and then included the beggar. Later that day, I had gone to one of the pools to immerse myself before returning home to eat with Gamaliel, lest I bring shame to the house.
But look at this miracle standing before me now!
“Asaph bar-Azariah, do you have time to come with me now? I would like to go to the Temple, and I would be honored if you would come with me.”
Tears sprang to his eyes and tumbled down his cheeks.
“Rabbi, are you sure? I am not needed at the kitchen until late this afternoon. If you are willing to take me to the Temple, this would be the greatest moment of my life!”
“Then let us start immediately.” I held out my arm. “Here, lean on me as we walk. We have many stairs to climb before we get there.”
He tried to impress me with his strength, but it was a slow walk. But as we strolled arm-in-arm toward the wide, stone stairways, with Asaph alternating his weight from his staff to my arm as he limped, we managed to exchange a few words.
“So tell me about your life. You must have an interesting story to tell.”
“Ah, Rabbi, my story isn’t much different than many of the people you see around you. My father lost our farm when he had to borrow money to pay the taxes. He repaid the money, but the man who lent it to him charged interest too, that my Dad couldn’t pay.”
“But that’s not right! Our people are not supposed to charge each other interest.”
Asaph turned an eye toward me. “Aye, Rabbi, that’s what they tell us. But the rich are another breed, with their own set of commandments. The rich charge interest, and if you can’t pay, they seize your land and sell you into slavery.”
“You were a slave?”
“No, I’ve had bad legs since I was a child. But they sold my father and mother to some Greek trader, and I never saw them again. A neighbor was bringing his crops here to market, and he let me ride on the wagon. And I’ve been here ever since.”
We had reached the steps and started climbing. Asaph would lean on both my arm and his staff to raise himself up to the next step, and then I would follow. Then we would start the process again for the next step. I did not attempt any conversation until we reached the top.
I recalled how Father had paid taxes for a number of families in Galilee, asking only a small part of their crop in payment. And then, as is required in the Law, he released the debt after seven years. Many farmers remained free landowners because of Father’s generosity and strict adherence to the Law.
“It’s not right what that lender did to your parents and you.”
“Rabbi,” he said, catching his breath, “it is not for me to say what is right and wrong. I could only guess that my father did something wrong, or maybe his father did something wrong, and I am paying for their sin.”
As we made our way slowly across the courtyard, I struggled to make sense of Asaph’s plight. Surely the Lord would not hold the sins of the father against the son. Every page of scripture I had studied in my life, every lecture I had heard from Gamaliel and other scholars, every fiber in my own being told me that a man could not be held to account for things over which he had no control. He may find himself in adverse circumstances, and he may have to struggle to get out of those circumstances, but he should not be sentenced to a life of captivity for something that happened before his birth.
We stood before a booth I often frequented. “Two doves, please. Your whitest doves.” The man handed me two small wooden cages, each containing a bird fluttering its feathers but unable to spread its wings in the confined space. I paid the man and carried the two cages in one arm while Asaph continued to lean on the other.
As we approached the altar, I could hear Asaph muttering in amazement and could feel his hand quivering on my arm. I stopped and handed one of the doves to him, signaling him to watch what I did and then repeat it himself.
“My name is Jacob bar Joseph, and I have come to praise the Lord our God,” I said to the priest at the altar. I handed him the cage, and in quick order he removed the bird, and with a quick flip of the wrist he wrung its neck. He held the bird firmly as it convulsed in death spasms.
“Jacob bar Joseph, the Lord our God has received your sacrifice.” I bowed my head in response and then turned away. I nodded my head sideways to Asaph to let him know it was time. He raised himself up impossibly straight and edged forward.
“My name is Asaph bar Azariah, and I have come to praise the Lord our God.”
After the priest had killed the dove, he said, “Asaph bar Azariah, the Lord our God has received your sacrifice.”
Asaph fell to his knees, wailing and weeping. The priest, who knew me well, grimaced and signaled for me to do something. I helped Asaph to his feet and led him away from the altar, even as he continued wailing and calling out his praise to God and everyone else within earshot.
After we had crossed the courtyard again and reached the top of the grand staircase, Asaph let go of my arm and grasped his staff with both hands.
“Thank you, but let me do this on my own,” he said as he planted the end of his staff on the step below us and lowered himself down. After he had both feet on that step, he again planted his staff on the next and lowered himself down.
After he had gone down five of the steps, I stopped hovering behind to catch him if he fell. It was slow going, but I went down the steps one by one at his side.