When Jesus Wept - By Bodie Page 0,44
thinned some fruit already, you see. Plucked unripe bunches that are set too low and so will never fully ripen. They only hold a promise of a good crop, but in the end they take away from the best. Now the vine is pouring all its lifeblood into the fruit that remains.”
Jesus nodded. “A beautiful vineyard, David ben Lazarus. You tend it with wisdom.”
I blushed at the compliment from one who seemed to possess the purest wisdom. “I see my workmen were too easy on this row. Too many fruitless branches left to grow without purpose.
And to the detriment of good fruit. I’ll send my men through a second time to thin the leaves and cut away the canes to expose the fruit. It will go on all through the summer right up to harvest.”
Jesus brushed his hand over the foliage. It almost seemed the leaves turned toward him as he passed by. I wondered what extraordinary wine would come from this vineyard because Jesus had walked through it.
I thought for an instant I smelled Eliza’s perfume and heard her laughter. Tears sprang to my eyes and trickled down my cheeks.
He asked me, “Lazarus, why do you weep?”
“You know, Lord. My wife. My baby. A year ago. Seems like a day and also like forever.”
“You’ll see her again, my friend. Do you believe me?”
“Yes, Lord. On the last day, when all are resurrected. But for now, I feel like this leafy branch … cut off. Not much good to anyone. Not even to myself. I don’t know why God took her. And our son. I prayed and worshiped, and I offered every sacrifice according to the laws of Moses. But even righteousness could not save the ones I love.”
“You question God’s will?”
I wiped away my tears. “She’s gone. Plainly I can’t question that it is God’s will to take her. But I question why it should be God’s will? Why take from me the thing I hold most dearly in all the world?”
I studied his profile as we walked. Eyes forward, he seemed to see something far away at the end of the row. He asked, “What’s your answer?”
“I don’t have one. I was hoping you would have an answer.”
“When a good man suffers … perhaps it makes his roots reach deeper for the water?”
“I see that. Yes. The metaphor is perfect. The vine is stressed, and the berries grow with more character. But even so, Jesus, I am so alone. I am pruned down to the trunk and … without my love … without my friend. Why? What did I do wrong?”
“Through no fault of your own,” Jesus concluded.
“Not my fault? Then why has this calamity come upon me? I have been searching for the answer for a year. My sin? What is it?”
“Suffering comes to all men on the earth. It is a fact … from man’s rebellion and separation from the Lord in the Garden. It is written that one day you will see Messiah wipe away every tear—no more suffering and no more death. Meanwhile those who love God are not exempt from pain. But for the righteous man to suffer? Think of it! Only the wise vinedresser knows what will make the best wine. The vine is stressed—it reaches deep for the water, the shoots are pruned, the clusters are thinned, and in the end the fruit is richer and the wine is full of character and grace. Though the growing may be difficult, God will be glorified at the end of every righteous man’s story.”
I nodded, but the floodgates of my heart were open now and I could not be silent. “There is a young man, a beggar at the Nicanor Gate of the Temple. He’s been blind from birth. I heard some of my friends—religious scholars, not farmers like me—they discussed who had sinned to make this boy blind from his birth. They discussed this in his hearing as though blindness also made him deaf. It troubles me, this cheerful boy with his smiling face and his begging bowl. Jesus! I pray you answer my question! What purpose is served in their mocking and his suffering?”
Jesus smiled. “Shabbat shalom, my dear friend. Come with me to the Temple tomorrow.”
The Mount of Olives was packed with family groups gathered outside the walls of Jerusalem. The road leading past the Pool of Bethesda was jammed with worshipers going up to the Temple. They would celebrate Sabbath worship before returning to their camps to spend the