the festivities.
When we arrived the guests were still belligerently clamoring. The cantor tried to restore the lighthearted mood with more singing.
“You have stolen my heart, my completer;
you have stolen my heart
with one glance of your eyes,
with one jewel of your necklace.
How delightful is your love, my completer!
How much more pleasing is your love than wine.”2
He got no further, being drowned out by calls of “More wine!”
What happened next was incomprehensible to me.
I saw a trio of servants approach the master of ceremonies. Two of them combined in pushing forward the third, who carried the pitcher in her hand. That she was unwilling to carry out her assignment was plain by the way she hung back. At last the master of ceremonies noticed her and demanded what she wanted.
I saw her pour from the pitcher into his empty cup.
I saw him raise the goblet to his lips and drink.
Over his face came an expression of wonder and delight, mirrored in consternation and confusion on the face of the serving girl.
Soon relays of serving men and women were snaking through the crowd. Firelight danced and sparkled on the flow of wine, like streams of glistening red fire as they filled and refilled cups and goblets and mugs.
What had happened? From what secret trove had this new supply suddenly emerged? Why was the master of ceremonies slapping the bridegroom on the shoulder in evident congratulation?
I had difficulty getting the attention of one of the servants. Many guests, waving their goblets aloft, caught her before she got to me. I was fortunate there was even a mouthful remaining.
“Wait!” I demanded of her as she prepared to dart away. “What happened?”
“That man … the one from Nazareth,” she explained. “He had us fill the jars with water from the well, then told us to draw it out and take it to the master of the feast to taste, and … see for yourself!”
At that moment the master of the feast said loudly to the bridegroom, “Everyone brings out the choice wine first and then the cheaper wine after the guests have had too much to drink; but you have saved the best till now.”3
I raised the cup to my lips.
Incredible sensation! If my wine had a faint lavender aroma, this was like walking through an entire field of lavender and roses. This wine burst on my tongue in waves of exquisite tastes—powerful without being overwhelming. The flavors were the embodiment of an endless summer of ripe fruits—a banquet.
The most memorable wine I had ever experienced.
And meanwhile the cantor sang:
“Praise the Lord, O my soul!
He makes grass grow for the cattle,
and plants for man to cultivate—
bringing forth food from the earth:
wine that gladdens the heart of man,
oil to make his face shine
and bread that sustains his heart.4
“Return to us, God Almighty!
Look down from heaven and see!
Watch over this vine,
the root your right hand has planted,
the son you have raised up for yourself.”5
Part Two
In the last days …
everyone will sit under their own vine
and under their own fig tree,
and no one will make them afraid,
for the LORD Almighty has spoken.
MICAH 4:1, 4
Chapter 10
I was on my way into Jerusalem to make a fellowship offering at the Temple. Other services were for sin and guilt and forgiveness. These were somber in nature, as befitting their purpose. The fellowship offering was a joyful sacrifice of praise to the Almighty for answered prayers, or just to say thanks to the Lord of heaven and earth for his goodness.
As I strode along I sang:
“Ha’yadeh, l’Yahweh, ke tov, ke l’Olam Chessid
Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good,
for his ‘to forever love and mercy.’ ”1
In this instance I wanted to convey my gratitude for the success of the wine in the oak barrels. It was in my heart to establish the reputation of the House of Lazarus throughout the empire. This new vintage gave me exactly that opportunity.
How could I not be grateful?
In riding toward the Holy City, I passed by Bethphage and thought again of the loss of my grandfather’s property and his life through the treachery of Bikri. The recollection was more bitter in my thoughts than sour wine in my mouth. My grandfather was completely innocent of wrongdoing.
It did not matter that Bikri had already endured decades of suffering to repay his perfidy. As far as I was concerned, it still was not enough.
I had become increasingly convinced that there was much about the world and about my nation in particular that needed to be corrected. Since the