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kisstheson -> The woman who was healed of broken heart (6/9/2008 3:49:20 PM)
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The woman who was healed of a broken heart . Part 1
The house of Simon the Pharisee was now in sight standing at the end of the cobble stone street, a limestone dwelling, the largest in the neighborhood, surrounded with palm trees, and a court yard lined with benches, torches and elaborate gardens. Yeshua walked a couple of paces ahead of his twelve disciples. He listened to the conversation of the rag tag group of men following behind. Although they tried to keep a soft tone bits and pieces of what they were saying reached his ears.
“I don’t know why the master is going there. Why would they invite him to dinner? They could care less about him or his message.” complained Kepha. Yeshua knew the biggest and the broadest of the disciples spoke. He could tell by the sound of his gruff, baritone voice. As he imagined the shaggy salt and pepper head shaking from side to side and the words forming between a bushy beard Yeshua couldn’t help but smile.
“Remember our last encounter with the pharisees?” This time the youngest spoke, young Yochanan ,son of Zebedee, handsome, clean shaven, with his large soulful dark eyes that always was portraying the exact feelings welling from his heart. Yochanan the youth wore his heart on his sleeve. “They tried to trap Yeshua with their questions.” he said. “They wanted to make a fool out of him!”
“Some of the Pharisees do believe in him.” observed Andrew, Kepha’s dark haired more temperate brother.
“A few believe in him.” Yacov reminded the others. The oldest of the Zebedee sons, Yacob was nearly Yochanan’s twin in appearance.
“Too few believe in him.” argued Philip the Greek. “I say this whole meeting with this…Pharisee…whatever his name is… is a waste if time.”
Yeshua regarded the conversation with whimsy. Did the disciples not yet understand that he did whatever the Father told him to do? He was going to the dinner trusting the Father had a good work to accomplish. Yeshua turned and joined the group. He eyed Philip, “his name is Shimon.” Yeshua instructed him with a slight smile wreathed by a sparse black beard. “Remember that name. You don’t want to offend this Pharisee unnecessarily.”
“But master…” Yochanan stood still and waited for the others to do the same. The disciples complied. So did Yeshua. Yochanan made a gesture that included his turban and his raggedy clothes. “Look at us. Do we really look like we belong in a place like the house of that rich old Pharisee? We look like a group of vagabonds and beggars..”
“Sordid criminals at best.” sighed Natan’el scratching his beard.
The men protested. When the others to quiet down Judah added his own objections in a smooth, soft spoken voice.
“Criminals, Not I!” he said. His handsome profile lifted high as he adjusted his robes accordingly which were in truth a bit more kempt and colorful than the rest.
“Don’t think you’re any better than the rest of us Judah Ish Kerioth!” snapped Thoma.
Yeshua surveyed his men. They appeared hot and tired, a sorry sight. Before evening approached they had washed their heads and hands and feet at the village well and done their best to straighten out their robes. He knew he didn’t look much different then they. Even in the light of his oil lamp he noticed keenly the dust clinging to the folds in his brown home spun robe. He felt the sweat gathering beneath his turban. He had wetted it down at the well but it was already bone dry. And his feet…it was impossible to keep them clean. His worn sandals did little to protect them from the unpaved dusty, sheep and camel driven roads outside Bethany. The one comforting thought was the custom, especially among the well to do, to have a servant at the door ready with a basin water to wash the feet of guests. The servant would also supply oil to smooth unruly hair and to cool the brow, a welcoming fragrance on a hot day. All this would be done before he and his men would enter the dining area. At least he and his men would be presentable. Back home it didn’t matter, the poor could not afford such luxuries. Among the rich however, everyone would notice unclean feet and hands touching expensive tapestries and cushions.
Continued...
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