never be healed. Never, since time began, has it been recorded that anyone ever opened the eyes of one born blind. See for yourselves that I’m right. All the authorities agree that it is hopeless—the ultimate in divine retribution and an example to us all.”
With that the high priest and his flotilla swept on into the building. Over his shoulder he addressed Nicodemus: “Nicodemus, don’t be late to the council meeting, or we’ll have to start without you.”
The door of his chambers banged shut behind him.
Nicodemus was seething. “Doesn’t he just hope I’ll be late. Because he knows my uncle and I are two of only a handful on the Sanhedrin who don’t automatically support him in all he says and does.” Turning toward the blind boy and stooping low, he said, “That was disgraceful and cruel, Peniel. I’m sorry you had to hear that.”
Smiling, Peniel replied, “I’ve heard much worse, really. And I am an object lesson, you know. I like to think that when folk come to the Temple to pray, and they see me, that they are reminded of all they have to be thankful for. Besides, once a year Lord Caiaphas sends each of the Nicanor beggars a silver coin.”
“Once a year …,” Nicodemus sputtered. “Here, boy, are five silver coins, and I regret I have no more with me.”
“I am going to make a fellowship offering,” I said. “Would you like a haunch of mutton when I come back this way?”
Peniel’s face beamed. “Very much! Thank you both, very much, kind sirs.”
“I must leave you,” Nicodemus said to me. “Perhaps I’ll ride out to visit with you one day next week. You should be on the council yourself, you know.”
“Not me,” I protested. “I have no desire to get involved with politics. It never leads to anything good.”
“Amen to that,” Peniel concurred. “That’s why I keep my ears open and my mouth shut.”
I selected the ram for my fellowship offering from the preapproved flocks available for purchase on the Temple Mount. Because I shamelessly used Nicodemus’s name, I was not seriously overcharged, as were all the unsuspecting pilgrims from the Galil and elsewhere.
The eastern expanse of the Temple plaza was entirely given over to the noise and smell of commerce. Entire herds of bleating goats and sheep competed with lowing bullocks. Flocks of twittering doves responded to the cries of vendors hawking their wares. All these noises mingled with the chants of the psalms. The air was punctuated by the sharp, metallic odor of blood and the aroma of the meat charring on the altar.
I gathered with a group of other men who all had a todah—a thank offering—to perform. One had been in a shipwreck and survived. Another had received word his only son had been killed while on a journey to Ecbatana, but the rumor was proven false when the son returned unharmed. Still another had recently seen the birth of his firstborn son and was celebrating with his friends. I swallowed a flood of returning grief and offered my congratulations.
A chorus of Levite singers began the hymn: “Give thanks to the Lord and call upon his name.”
“Give thanks to the LORD, proclaim his name
make known among the nations what he has done.”
At which point those of us gathered around the altar of sacrifice joined in:
“Sing to him, sing praise to him;
Tell of all his wonderful acts.”2
A todah is a celebration of thanksgiving, but it is also a commemoration of past blessings and triumphs. It was a way to remind ourselves and others of God’s faithfulness.
Even in the midst of being grateful, there was an undercurrent of longing because things still weren’t all they should be:
“Cry out, ‘Save us, O God our Savior;
gather us and deliver us from the nations,
that we may give thanks to your holy name,
and glory in your praise.’ “3
All the people standing around the altar and all the witnesses to the sacrifice or awaiting their turn to approach the altar, shouted, “Omaine! Hallelujah!”
Once the ram was slaughtered and roasted, half the meat became the property of the priests who performed the sacrifice. The rest, two quarters of roast mutton, was returned to me, wrapped for carrying home.
One parcel I immediately took to Peniel.
“Thank you, sir,” he said as I approached.
“I hadn’t even spoken yet. How did you know it was me?”
“I heard the Hallelujah sounding. When I smelled the delicious aroma coming directly toward me, I knew it was you … or at least I hoped!” He stood, begging