Three Days: A Mother's Story (15 page)

18

“PLEASE, MARY,” I BEG after Sarah and I have washed and been seated at the table on the terrace that overlooks the lake. “Please, tell us what has happened. We are starving for news. Has Jesus met with his disciples yet? Have you seen him?”

Joanna, Susanna, and Mary, the mother of James and Salome, are also staying with Mary, as are a few others. We are all sharing this evening meal together, and I cannot help but notice how everyone looks much more relaxed and happy since the last time I saw all these women.

“So much is happening,” our hostess says as servants begin to bring dishes heaped with food. “Where do I begin?”

“We feel certain now that it was actually Jesus who met us at the tomb,” the other Mary says. “After we heard accounts of others who have met him. It seems that many do not recognize him at first, for he is changed.”

“Changed?” I ask, feeling a shadow of concern.

“Glorified,” Mary, our hostess, says. “They say he no longer seems so much like an earthly man.”

“Except that he still has holes in his hands,” Joanna says.

“Yes,” Mary says with wide eyes. “He has even revealed himself to Thomas. They say he told Thomas to put his finger right through the holes in his hands as well as the puncture wound in his side. And Thomas obeyed.”

“Oh my!”

“Then the Lord said to Thomas, ‘You believe because you have seen me. I will bless the ones who believe in me
without
seeing.’”

I feel a warm rush running through me as I glance across the table at my sister’s smiling face. We both have yet to see him. Perhaps we never will. Nevertheless, we both believe.

“Tell them the fishing story, Mary,” Susanna says eagerly. “Indeed, that is a good one.”

As we dine on excellent food and wine, enjoying the dusky light on the dark blue lake down below us, Mary begins to speak. “Some of the men were discouraged when they came up here with such enthusiasm but were not met by the Savior. I believe Simon Peter felt worst of all, and he suggested that they return to their old livelihood, which, as you know, is fishing. So they got out their old boats and their nets and set out in the evening to fish. Well, they fished all night, and yet they never caught a single fish.” She threw back her head and laughed merrily. “Can you imagine how they felt then? After all they had been through and they could not even remember how to catch fish?”

I shook my head in wonder as I took another bite of tender lamb and waited for her to continue.

“Well, it was morning, and they had just pulled in their empty nets and were ready to give up when they heard a stranger calling to them from the beach. He was telling them to throw their nets out on the
right
side of the boat. Well, you can just imagine how they reacted to that. Here they had been fishing all night without catching a single thing. John said Peter was grumbling something fierce as he reluctantly helped his brother toss the nets out again. But the nets barely touched the water when they began to fill with fish.”

I know now that the stranger on the beach
must
have been Jesus, but I listen quietly as Mary continues her story.

“So they dragged their bulging nets to shore and climbed out of their boat to thank this man, and he had already gotten a fire going on the beach, and he invited them to join him for breakfast. Of course, they were curious as to who this man was, although they strongly suspected it was the Lord by then. But when he broke the bread and fed them the fish, they were absolutely certain it was him. It was the third time he had shown himself to them.”

“But tell them about Simon Peter,” Susanna urges.

“Yes, yes,” Mary says. “I almost forgot. Andrew told me about this. It seemed that even though Peter was glad the Lord was alive, he still felt miserable for the way he had denied him on the day of his death. Well, after they had finished their breakfast, Jesus took Peter aside and said to him, ‘Simon Peter, do you love me?’ And, naturally, Peter said yes. And Jesus said, ‘Then feed my lambs.’ But then Jesus asked him the exact same question again. And once again, Peter said yes. And Jesus said, ‘Tend my sheep.’ And then . . .” Mary pauses, I think to catch her breath, but I can hardly wait to hear the rest of this story.

Her eyes grow wide with excitement, and she even stands up as she continues. “Jesus asked Peter this exact same question a third time. And, of course, Peter was just falling apart by then, poor man, and he cried out, ‘Lord, you know all things! You know I love you!’ And then Jesus simply said once again,
‘
Feed my sheep.’”

“Three times!” Susanna exclaims. “You see, Mary? Jesus wanted Peter to have three times to make him feel better.”

“Oh, that is absolutely wonderful,” I say as I clap my hands. “I am so happy for Simon Peter. He must be so relieved.”

“You have never seen anyone so joyful,” Mary says as she sits back down at the table and sighs. “Truly, Peter is a new man.”

“And where are the men now?” I ask as Joanna passes me a dish of figs covered in honey.

“They have gone off to the hills with the Lord,” the other Mary says. “We have not heard from them since they left.”

“And has Jesus revealed himself to any of you again?” I ask.

Mary shakes her head. “No, but it is enough just to know he is here.”

“Yes,” I tell her. “That is how I feel.”

We visit after dinner, sharing our various stories and experiences with each other, and once again I am reminded of how these women feel like family to me. And I think of John, Jesus’s beloved disciple, and how he is like a son. Even so, I cannot completely dismiss my own children. I am reminded of my son James and that look of longing in his eyes before I left home yesterday and how he made me promise to send word back to him. Something I shall do first thing in the morning.

Sarah and I share a lovely room to sleep in. I suspect it is the best in the house, and I am honored that Mary is so generous. The room has a window that overlooks the lake, and although I should be exhausted from travel, I still feel a lightness and joy in my spirit, and after I hear the quiet breathing of my sleeping sister, I arise from my bed and go to look out the window. The stars are shining brightly, reflected like glistening jewels on the surface of the smooth, dark lake. I think to myself,
He is out there right now
. My son—rather, the Son of God—is out there with his disciples tonight.

Then I return to my bed and sleep more soundly than I have slept in weeks.

When I wake up I hear the sounds of voices in the house. Male voices—and they sound happy. I hurry to dress, and, without waking Sarah, I slip down to see what is happening. I hope to see that Jesus is here. But when I get down to the main room, I see only Peter and John.

“Mother!” John cries when he sees me. He hurries over and hugs me. “It is so good to see you again. Have you heard all the wonderful stories about our Lord?”

I nod, smiling. “I am so happy.”

“Jesus has just left,” he informs me, but I try not to show the disappointment I feel at this news. “Before he left he gave us some important messages. As soon as everyone is up, I will share his news with all the women.”

Before long, we are all gathered around the table again. Mary’s servants have prepared a very elegant breakfast for everyone. I must admit that I am beginning to feel like a queen. And while it is an interesting change for me, I am not completely comfortable with this luxurious lifestyle. Still, I am grateful to Mary for her gracious hospitality.

After we finish eating, Simon Peter stands to address the group. I instantly recognize what Mary has been saying about how he has changed. I definitely see something different in his eyes. It is a mixture of confidence and peace, and what I might best describe as humility. Yes, I do believe this fisherman has changed!

“Jesus took us into the hills,” he begins slowly, putting emphasis on each word. “And while we were there, Jesus told us that all authority in heaven and earth has been given to him.” He pauses, allowing us a moment to absorb these words.

“After that, Jesus charged us to go out and to make disciples of all nations. He said that we are to baptize them in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. And that we are to teach them all the things he has taught and commanded to us.”

The room is completely silent, and I feel that everyone in here believes that this message is for each one of us personally. Then Peter continues. “Finally Jesus said, ‘Remember, I am with you always, even to the end of time.’”

I run these words through my mind again.
“Remember,
I am with you always, even to the end of time.”
I repeat this to myself several times until I am certain that this promise will be etched upon my heart.

“Is that all?” our hostess asks, and I feel sure she speaks for all the women, for that is the exact question on the tip of my tongue.

“No,” John says. “There is something else. The Lord has commanded for all of us, for all who believe in him, to meet in Jerusalem and to wait there for him to bring us power from on high.”

“And he will meet us there?” I ask hopefully.

“That is what we believe,” John says with a cheerful smile.

“We will leave at once,” Peter announces. “You are welcome to travel with us if you are ready. Or we can meet up with you later.”

Plans are quickly made. Oh, how I appreciate Mary’s ability to take charge for the rest of the women. She is so assured, and her mind is sharp and quick to remember what is needed. Finally she decides that we will travel on our own and that she will send a messenger ahead of us to arrange our stay with Mary and Martha near Jerusalem. There we will tarry until the men have determined where we shall gather to wait for the return of our Lord.

“I am so sorry that you have to travel again so soon,” Mary tells me as we set out on our journey the following morning.

I laugh. “Do not be worried,” I assure her. “I may be old, but my legs are as sturdy as a donkey and my heart is as light as a dove. I think I could walk forever as long as I knew I would meet up with my Lord in the end.”

It is the second day of our trip when we reach Nazareth just before noon. I have already told Mary of Magdala about my son James and his growing interest in his half brother, and we have agreed to take our midday rest in the same town that once made the Son of God feel very unwelcome.

And I cannot say that my neighbors make us feel any more welcome on this day. We receive bold stares, and people hold their hands before their mouths as they whisper to one another. One can only imagine what they are saying. But, determined to ignore this, I take my sister travelers to my humble home, where I am determined to make them welcome. My daughter-in-law, Joses’s wife, is surprised to see us coming. And although this is my home, one that I share with my sons and their wives, I sense that I am intruding into her space.

“We have only come to rest for a spell,” I quickly assure her. There is no sense in letting her think that my friends and I will be here for longer than that. “After our rest and after the heat of day passes, we will have something to eat, and then we will continue on our way.” Now, it is our custom that young women show respect to their elders, particularly daughters-in-law to their husbands’ mothers. A normal response to my announcement would be to offer to help and to serve us food. But Joses’s wife simply nods, then goes on her own way. Not unlike a slap in the face.

I tell the women to make themselves comfortable in my modest home, then go off in search of James. As expected, I find him in the workshop, but, to my surprise, my Hannah is also there. I tell Hannah I have guests who are hungry and tired, and, since James has no wife, ask if she could attend to them. Maybe I have raised my daughters well—although I do not deserve such credit—because as I take little Mary into my arms, Hannah departs to see to the task of preparing food for my friends.

“What is my mother doing now?” James asks as he sets aside a saw.

I tell him all the news from Galilee, and I can see that this makes an impression on him.

“So you are going to Jerusalem again?” he asks as he removes his work apron and then shakes the sawdust from it.

“We will leave as soon as the heat of day has passed.”

He frowns. “I have some things I must attend to first. But when I am done, may I join you down there?”

I smile. “Of course! I would be delighted to see you there.” I tell him where we will be staying, with Martha and Mary, and he promises to meet me before the second Sabbath.

“Shall I invite others?” he asks in an uncertain voice.

“Yes!” I urge him. “Invite anyone who will come. All of your brothers and sisters are more than welcome. Any who believe in the Son of God are welcome.”

He makes a half smile. “I do not imagine we will have much of a traveling crowd, Mother. Not from
this
town, anyway.”

I nod with understanding. After all, this is Nazareth. “Even if it is only you, James, you are most welcome.”

19

WE ARE SOON ON our way, and we seem to be growing in numbers as we go. I am pleasantly surprised, just as we are leaving Nazareth, when I discover that my dear friends Rachel and Myra want to join us. They have hastily packed and are ready to travel.

“The more the merrier,” I tell them as we hug. Then I introduce them to my other women friends. “So far, these two are the only other true followers of Jesus in my hometown.”

“And that is only because of Mary,” Rachel adds.

I laugh, then say, “And that is only because of Jesus.”

After a couple of hours, Mary of Magdala announces that we will spend the night in the town of Nain. “We have friends there,” she tells us.

“Nain?” I say to Mary as we get closer to the town, which is just south of Nazareth. “Is not that where Jesus raised a boy from the dead?”

“Yes,” she says. “I saw it with my own eyes.”

“Can you tell us about it?” I ask.

“Yes,” Rachel urges. “Please tell us, Mary.”

Mary smiles, and I think, not for the first time, that this woman is a born storyteller. “We had recently been in Capernaum,” she begins. “Do you remember hearing of the centurion who asked Jesus to heal his servant?”