A Different Kind of Fishing, Part 2

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copyright ©Vincent Marquis, 2020

(This is the second part of a story about Jesus calling Peter, Andrew, James, and John as disciples. It is based on the relevant New Testament passages in the Gospels Matthew, Mark, and Luke, with some literary licence).

Shim’on paused his rowing to look.  After a few seconds he responded, “Hey, I think you’re right!  It’s a bit far to tell for sure, but I believe you.  I wonder what he’s doing there right after sunrise.  I hope he wasn’t coming to buy fish.”

“Yeah.  That would be embarrassing,” chuckled Andreas.  He called across to Ya’akov and Yochanan in the other boat, half joking, “Hey, Ya’akov, Yochanan!  Look who’s on the beach waiting just for us!”

The other two partners paused their rowing too.  After a few seconds, young Yochanan, who also had acute vision, declared without any hesitation, “Hey!  It’s Yeshua, the new rabbi in town.  Cool!  I’ve been hoping to hear him teach and meet him.  There are some pretty strange stories going around about him.”

Ya’akov cautioned him, “We’ve work to finish before you go off listening to a preacher.  Most of those stories are made up anyway.”

Andreas responded, “I don’t know about that, Ya’akov.  I was at the Jordan ford when he came for mikvah with the Immerser.  Something pretty amazing happened.  I saw and heard it all myself.”

“Yes, yes, we know what you say you saw, about a dove coming down on him and the Immerser saying he should be immersed by Yeshua instead of the other way around.  And a thunderclap out of clear blue sky!  We all know what a good imagination you have, Andreas,” finished the sceptical Ya’akov.

“It was not my imagination!” snapped Andreas.  “There were hundreds of people who saw and heard the same thing as I did.  Ask any of them.”

“Yes,” said Yochanan.  “I spoke to my friend Talmai yesterday, and he was there too.  He said that that is just what happened.  But that Yeshua told Yochanan to immerse him anyway because it was what was needed to satisfy righteousness.”

Andreas pondered.  “What a strange thing to say.  I wonder what he meant.  Now that I think about it, after he immersed Yeshua and as Yeshua was leaving Yochanan said something even more puzzling.  He called Yeshua the “Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world”.  He said he would immerse people in fire.”

“Yes!” added Yochanan.  “He did say that.  Now I really want to meet this Yeshua.  He was gone for a while, but now here he is again.  I’m super curious.  And now here he is on our beach.  Oh wow!”

Andreas the joker laughed, “Yep!  And he’s there to ask you for the best fish in your boat, Yochan,” he jibed, using his younger friend’s short name.

Shim’on was lost in deep thought and ever so slightly trembing as he listened to this banter.  The chill?  Yeshua, the new mystery man, was standing on the beach, and, he could see, plainly looking out over the lake at the four of them in their two fish-empty boats.  He had only ever seen him very briefly in the last few days that he had been in K’far-Nachum since his return from Y’hudah.  It was rumored he had not even gone to Yerushalayim, but out into the wilderness south-east of the city, down Yericho way. 

If he was an up and coming new rabbi, one even recognized by the Immerser as someone special, why would he come back here to the backside of Israel?  Why didn’t he go to the city and set up in the Temple Porticos like the other rabbis seeking to gather disciples and make a name for themselves?  He would never get anywhere by spending his time up in the Galil among its uncultured peasants and yokels.

Yet here he was.  Shim’on felt uncomfortable.  Yeshua was still staring out at them as they drew near to shore.  What did he want?  They were just about in ear-shot now, and the rabbi’s voice drifted out to them across the water.

“Good morning, friends.  Could you come into shore and let me get into your boat?”  Shim’on knew he was talking to him.  He looked at Andreas, who looked as startled as he was, but quickly responded, “C’mon, Shim’on!  Let’s do it!”

Shim’on shrugged as if he was indifferent, but mumbled, “Alright.”

Yeshua watched them come in as the boat’s prow bumped against the wharf.  He had a huge smile as he said, “I really appreciate this, friends.  I’m Yeshua.”

Andreas reached out to help him up over the gunnels, saying, “I’m Andreas and this is my brother Shim’on.  What did you have in mind, rabbi?”

“If you don’t mind I just want to spend a few minutes talking to the people who have followed me to the shore.  If I’m in a boat they’ll see me better and my voice will carry.”

“Sure, no problem,” Shim’on answered.  He felt as if he were almost standing outside himself listening.  The man’s eyes were uncanny, but not creepy.  He read real compassion in them, a sort of genuine caring.  His voice also intoned the same sense.  It was melodious, somehow soothing and authoritative at the same time.

Yeshua asked, “So this is your boat, Shim’on?”

“Yes, rabbi.  Andreas and I own it together.  Those two in the other boat are Ya’akov and Yochanan, our partners.  You might know of their father, Zavdai.  He owns a number of boats around Kinnaret.”

Yeshua grinned.  “As a matter of fact, I’ve done business with Zavdai.  My father Yosef and I helped him build a dock a while back and we made some furniture for their house a few years ago.  I don’t know if Ya’akov and Yochanan would remember me, but I remember seeing them around and chatting with them back then.”

“Small world!” said Andreas.  “Hey, Ya’akov and Yochan.  Do you remember Yeshua the carpenter working at your house and your father’s dock a while back?”

The other two looked sharply at the rabbi.  “Well I’ll be!.  Of course.  Yeshua the carpenter from Natzeret!  But, you’re now a rabbi?  That’s quite a shift!” said Ya’akov the sceptic.

Yeshua ignored Ya’akov’s tone and answered graciously, “It’s really nice to see you both again.”

He then moved to the sturdy forward shelf in Shim’on’s boat and stepped up where the crowd, now numbering several hundred, could see him.  His voice was resonant and conveyed real authority as he first told them a story about a pearl followed by another one about a treasure buried in a field.  He finished with a blessing on them as he dismissed them to go about their daily concerns.  He reassured them that he would be available later outside the synagogue for them to come with their sick and unwell.  Right now he needed to spend time with his new friends.

He stepped back down into the boat as the crowd began to disperse calmly and peacefully.  As simple as this had all been, lasting no more than ten minutes, Shim’on, Andreas, Ya’akov and Yochanan had been spell-bound.  They had just met him but somehow it seemed as if they had already known him for years.

Something buried deep inside was welling up in Shim’on, something linked to this unusual person, so unlike anyone else he was likely ever to meet again.  In shock, Shim’on the strong, the bluff go-getter realized that this Yeshua scared him.

It made no sense.  There was no threat of any kind.  The young rabbi was of an age with him.  He was a man who exuded peace and compassion, but Yeshua genuinely scared the wits out of him!  It was said that there was no one taller or stronger than Shim’on in K’far-Nachum or the whole region roundabout.  Yeshua was tall too, and his build said that he was also strong, a craftsman used to hard work.  But he exuded shalom.  His stories about Adonai and the Heavenly Kingdom seemed to be about a Person he knew. “So how was the fishing last night?” said the rabbi.  “I don’t see many fish in the boats,” he smiled.

A Different Kind of Fishing, Part 1

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Copyright ©Vincent Marquis, 2020

by Vincent Marquis

(Note: This post and the next two will be different from the usual fare in worldvyoublog.com. I am sharing a short-story based on the first meeting of Yeshua/Jesus with several of his first disciples. The story is a re-imagining of those encounters based on the New Testament. Literary licence accounts for a my not totally strict adherence to the accounts in Matthew, Mark, and Luke.)

Shim’on was dog-tired and discouraged.  The dawn was breaking and the night’s fishing had been pathetic.  Nothing to show for twelve hours work except sweat, a chill in his bones, sore muscles, and bad humour.  His stomach growled with hunger.  He had long since eaten his midnight lunch of bread, dried fish, and figs.  Their water jar was almost empty, although there was Kinneret to dip into.  As he carefully coiled his net, he was looking forward to a cup of wine at home along with his morning meal. 

He barked at little brother Andreas to get a move on in pulling in the other linen-weave net.  The sooner that got done, the sooner they could dock the boat, get ashore, clean the nets, and go home to eat and rest.

Ya’akov and Yochanan had had no better luck.  In their boat about fifty cubits to starboard, they too were hauling in their empty nets.  Time to call it a night. 

The last few weeks of late spring had been pretty slim, and that would make for a hard summer if it kept up.  With the nets finally in the boat and placed in their spot behind the mast, he and Andreas put their cloaks on over their tunics and sat at the oars to head for shore.  Their destination was the fisherman’s wharf in the center of their home town, K’far-Nachum. 

K’far-Nachum boasted a large market district where most anything could be bargained for, even pigs from the Decapolis for the Gentile residents.  Right next to the market was the fine new synagogue with its boundary wall, its colonnaded courtyard, and well-tended garden.  The congregational assembly hall was large enough to accommodate hundreds at prayer.  The interior decor included a finely tiled mosaic floor laid out with colorful natural scenes to glorify Adonai as Creator.  It was complemented by the fine craftsmanship of the ark where the sacred scrolls were kept.  Unlike poor villages and towns whose synagogues could afford only the most essential scrolls of Torah and a great prophet like Yeshayahu, K’far-Nachum’s had many.

Although the town fell under Antipas’ Tetrarchy rather than the Roman Governor of Syria or his subordinate, the Procurator of Y’hudah, the great shadow of Rome was never far should trouble arise.  While the majority of the locals were Jews, there were Greeks, Syrians, Nabatæans, Bedouins, and a few Phoenicians.  Most Romans only passed through, but there was a small contingent of Roman auxiliary troops camped on the outskirts.  Antipas was glad to have them there.  They ensured the roads remained free of bandits.  Troops marching south to Y’hudah from Syria were not an unusual sight either.

Most residents of K’far-Nachum, as throughout the Galil, spoke at least two languages.  Shim’on and his partners spoke Aramaic among themselves and were conversant in Greek.  They could all read the Hebrew scrolls in synagogue as well, although Hebrew was not a daily language.

Shim’on and his partners had prospered since settling here.  Fish were always in demand and the lake was usually generous.  The P’rushim and Scribes disdained the Jewish Galileans as unclean and ignorant, but Shim’on was a good man who followed the Law as best he could.  His irritating younger brother had lately been going off for days at a time to go listen to that rabble-rouser, Yochanan the Immerser.  The man was considered a prophet by many, the first in over four hundred years.  His message was mainly about repentance, telling people to undergo mikvah and prepare for the coming of someone greater who, he said, would baptize with fire!  Presumably he meant the long-expected Mashiach.

What in the name of the Blessed One did “baptizing with fire” mean?  He could understand undergoing a ceremonial mikvah to symbolize a desire to live a pure life for Adonai.  He hadn’t done mikvah yet, but he sometimes felt a tug in that direction.  He was well aware of his faults and that, as an example of Adonai’s chosen people, he fell far short.  About this baptism by fire he had no clue.  It sounded downright unpleasant!  But prophets were always rather cryptic.

He was a man with responsibilities, with some property, with a place in society in this part of the Galil.  He was the respected heir to a family business that his grandfather and his father, Yona, had worked hard to establish in neighboring Betsaida.  After Yona had retired, Shim’on had moved to K’far-Nachum, a more strategic location, and the move had proved a good one.  Andreas had followed him.  Shim’on had a decent house, a good wife, and a charming little girl.  His wife Shoshana’s mother had recently come to live with them because she was now a widow and her health had been deteriorating.

Brooding, he pulled on his oar.  “Life is basically good,” he told himself, “so why do I feel unsettled, as if I’m missing something?  What is this?  I’m not like this!  I’m a joyful fellow.  I love what I do.  A few weeks of bad catches are part of the game.  It will all balance out in the end.  Besides, this is what Adonai has given me, so it is wrong for me to grumble and be unhappy.”

But still he brooded.  He made no pretention about trying to live a perfect life like the P’rushim who paraded around all day in prayer-shawls with long t’alit, making sure everyone heard them and saw them as they went to synagogue or scolded someone for violating some minute rule.  Who made all those rules anyway?  He could remember few such minutiae from the hearing of Torah in synagogue, or even in the rabbi’s teaching for his now long-past Bar-Mitzvah.

The nature of his work and the people he dealt with exposed him to “uncleanness” every day.  He did his best not to build up resentment or hold grudges, to let his eye wander after pretty young maidens or, worse, the sensuous women of the night that lived in a certain part of town.  They could be seen walking around the market to advertise their availability.  There were occasional days or nights when he had been tempted to sneak off.  He shook his head to clear it.  Shoshana was a good woman and mother and all he could desire.  Little Hannah was the delight of his eyes.

“Stop it, idiot!” he mumbled aloud to himself.

Andreas, sitting on the seat at the other oar on the opposite side of the mast with its folded sail and tied down spar, looked over at him quizzically.  The morning breeze was up now, making the rowing a little stiffer.  “What are you mumbling about, Shim’on?”

“Nothing important,” he answered.  Then, to change the subject, he asked, “So do you think the Immerser is the Mashiach?”

Andreas was emphatic.  “He’s a real Prophet, and when I listen to him, I feel like I’m hearing the words of Adonai!  I like to listen to him, and you should come sometime.  We could do mikvah together with him.  It would do you good.  I’m planning to do it soon – next time we have a few days without fishing to do.

“And he says very clearly that he is not the Mashiach.  He says that Mashiach is already among us, and bringing an axe to cut down the trees that don’t bear fruit.  Really, Shim’on, you should come to hear him.  He knows how to put those arrogant P’rushim in their place.  Sometimes he really gets them mad, tearing a strip off them about their hypocrisy.  And he lays into Prince Herod too about his sleazy behaviour with his sister-in-law.”

Shim’on laughed, his humor improving.  Andreas had a knack for lifting his spirits.  He was blessed to have such a brother who was also his best friend.  He had always wondered why his father had given Andreas a Greek name.  Yona had only said that it was to honor a close friend who had died in the time of his youth.  There was a story there which he longed to know.  His father had had some sort of adventure with a Goy friend as a young man, but no one ever talked about it. 

Family and neighbors had gossiped about Yona naming a son after a Gentile ever since.  It made Shim’on self-conscious.  He and Andreas had to be extra careful so as not to bring more shame on the family by being accused of compromising.

He glanced behind him.  They were still at least eight hundred cubits from shore and the morning breeze was getting stiffer by the minute.  The sun was over the horizon and now giving some warmth.  His quick glance to shore had shown him a bit of a crowd gathering.  What could make that happen at this hour? Andreas had seen it too.  He had especially good eyesight and piped up, “Say, I think that new rabbi from Natzeret is on the beach.  He has quite a group there with him.”