The Shepherd Chapter 11

Chapter 11

          It was the worst day of my life. My father had passed away, and I hadn’t been there. My parents were aging, and all of us children were grown and away from the nest. Thankfully, my younger sister, Sarah, lived nearby. I got to Bethany as quickly as I could, but the seven-mile trip took me most of the morning. Baruk assured me that he could take care of the sheep for a few weeks. “Take as long as you need,” he had said to me.

          Family and friends were all around as I arrived near noon. Mother was glad to see me, and we hugged each other and sobbed for many minutes. My father had come down with a fever two days before, and had passed away that night. Something dreadful was going around Bethany. While the women folk prepared the body, I discussed funeral arrangements with my brother and brother-in-law. We had a family cave nearby and my father would soon join his parents in their final resting place. Friends continued arriving and I wept with each one. What a blessing to have so many good friends. My father had made an impact on many lives. I always thought, “When shared with friends, good times are twice as good and bad times are half as bad.”

          My father’s service was as good as a funeral could be. Many friends said kind words, and the rabbi shared comforting words from Scripture. To be honest, I couldn’t recall exactly what was said. I only recalled the feeling of loss.

          Friends stayed and talked late into the evening, and we were exhausted by the time we fell asleep that night. It had been years since I had slept at home, and I felt like a little kid again. I woke once in the night and checked in on my mother. She was sleeping soundly, and I was grateful. Mine was a good childhood. I had left home when I was thirteen to seek my own way. I was grateful for Mr. Isaac who had given me a job and direction in life. He told me the same things that my father had told me, but they were coming from a different person. I listened to Mr. Isaac; I should have listened more to my father.

          With morning light, the day seemed a little better. We enjoyed bread and cheese and talked and laughed. More relatives from greater distances arrived through the day. Each time that I told the events leading up to my father’s death, it became more of a story and less painful. Time was healing my hurt.

          Then our neighbor, Martha, came from the house next door. Her brother was sick, and she needed advice from my mother. I felt it was too soon for my mother to get involved with someone else’s problems, but mother wanted to help. Martha’s brother, Lazarus was sick with a fever just like my father had died from. I went with my mother and Martha to see what we could do.

          When we arrived, Lazarus was in his bed burning with the fever. His other sister Mary was washing his forehead with cool cloths. Martha was wringing her hands, not knowing what to do. I had a sinking feeling that Lazarus had the same fever that my father had died of. But I said nothing to Martha. I could see Lazarus’ condition brought back painful memories to my mother.

          Martha moaned, “If Jesus were here, he would know what to do.”

          I spoke up, “You know Jesus of Nazareth?!”

          “Martha replied, “Yes, the Master is a good friend of ours. He stays with us every time he comes to Jerusalem. Our family is distantly related to his family on his mother’s side.

          My mind raced. I asked, “Has anyone tried to reach Jesus?”

          Mary looked up from Lazarus and said, “No, I don’t know where he is. He is somewhere in Galilee, but I have no idea where.” Then she rinsed the rag in cool water, wrung it out, and wiped Lazarus’ fevered forehead once again.

          I knew that Lazarus had only one chance. I had to get to Jesus, and quickly!

          I announced, “I think I know where I can find Jesus. It will take a day to get there and a day back, but I’ll hurry.” But I thought to myself, “I don’t know if Lazarus can hang on. But I do know that Jesus is his only hope.”

          The ladies looked from one to another, thankful and fearful at the same time. The gravity of Lazarus’ situation was sinking in.

          Mary spoke first, “Then Go! And be quick! Do what you can, Samuel, please!” And she began to cry.

          I hugged her, and then Martha, and then my mother, and I was off. I stopped by mother’s house to get some food and was on the road in ten minutes. Galilee was a large area. But I had a hunch that I could find Jesus with his disciples somewhere near the Jordan River up towards Bethany Beyond Jordan. That’s where John used to baptize, just before Herod had him arrested and executed. Jesus resorted there often with his disciples. Or he could be on up towards Aenon, but Bethany Beyond Jordan was closer, and on the way to Aenon. I hoped that I was right. Lazarus didn’t have much time, and Jesus was his only hope.