When Jesus Wept - By Bodie Page 0,2

considered all I had heard. Such a man was not only a danger to himself, but dangerous for everyone who stopped to listen to him. “Work in my vineyard is what I need to focus on.”

Martha raised her hand in greeting. “Shalom, Judah! Good morning, my brother! I have a meal prepared. Enough for you too, Judah.”

Judah laughed. “As always, Martha. Enough for me and ten others.”

“Will you stay and sup with us?” she asked.

“I will. So much to discuss with your brother.”

“David … welcome back from your long journey.” Martha kissed me. “It is a new day, my brother. Was all well at the synagogue?”

We would not speak again of Eliza and the baby. “It seems prayers for rebellion against Herod Antipas have been heard,” I replied, touching the mezuzah on the doorpost and reciting the blessing.

“Beautiful day, then.” Martha led Judah and me to the dining table, laden with the finest foods. A feast to bring me back to an enjoyment of life. It occurred to me that Judah had planned all along to walk me home. We did not speak openly about the present state of corruption among our leaders but discussed Scriptures and the history of our fathers, who had managed to survive corrupt and apostate kings in generations before us. In this way we explored the world we lived in, by remembering what had gone on before.

Had there ever been a time like this in all the history of Israel?

The answer was yes.

Was the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob faithful to those who remained faithful? The answer, of course, was yes. But that did not mean good men would not suffer for the sake of our holy commands.

Judah and I ate slowly, chewing on God’s Word as the true feast of our minds and hearts. Hours passed and my pain lessened. I was surprised by my ability to smile at my friend and my sister again. Only the night before I had doubted I would ever smile again.

The last prayer of thanks was given, ending our meal marking my return to life from the House of Mourning.

My sister Martha concentrated on the matters of the house and servants. Her work for me and my estate was perfunctory and effective. But the house seemed bland and flavorless without the great love and joy of my wife to season it.

My heart lived in the dungeon of despair. At night, in the time when darkness exaggerates everything, my thoughts were without the hope that morning would ever break.

Chapter 2

In spite of my sorrow, I welcomed the sun each day. Work was my one consolation. The vines of the House of Lazarus were lush and beautiful. My winemaker was a thin, sun-parched raisin of a fellow named Samson. He had spent his life in the vineyards and risen through the ranks as a laborer to become one of the finest vintners in the land. Under his supervision my vineyards flourished, and the Lazarus estate wines were praised in the halls of the great.

Very early one morning I mounted the white mare to survey my property. Samson preferred to ride a donkey, which allowed the little man to be closer to the ground. Three of Samson’s pet goats followed after us.

“You see, sir, I bring my own ‘cheesemakers’ with us. Very good with wine and dried apricots.” Samson whistled to the goats, whose pleasant faces seemed to smile in agreement.

We rode through the vines planted on the rocky limestone of the south-facing vineyard. The fruit on these vines was smaller and the foliage less exuberant than the opposite side of the hill.

When I commented on this, Samson slid off his obedient mount, patted his goats, and leaned in to examine a tight cluster of grapes. He plucked two berries, giving me one and holding the other in his open palm. “Inhale the aroma, sir.”

I obeyed. The fragrance was rich and sweet. “Ahhhh,” I breathed.

Samson was pleased with my response. He gestured, and together we popped the berries into our mouths at the same moment. The flavor burst on my tongue. I let the juice linger.

“Good,” I said.

“An understatement, sir, if I may be so bold.”

“Intense,” I corrected.

He plucked a bunch and handed it up to me. “Breakfast. It’s good to be alive on such a morning as this, if I may say so, sir.”

“Good. Yes. But still not easy.”

Samson joined me in our impromptu meal. With a wave he embraced the struggling vines. “These are your most faithful vines,