Daughter of Cana Read online

  I left the innkeeper’s house and stepped into honeyed sunshine. The day would be perfect for traveling, and if HaShem willed it, we would cover a great distance before sunset.

  But first we had to see if Yeshua’s words would prove true.

  Thomas had left the inn before sunrise and remained away for several hours. I was itching to search for him, yet Jude bade me to be patient. “If we leave the inn, we are likely to miss him. It would be better for us to wait here and see if he has heard any news.”

  By the time Thomas returned at midday, my patience had been stretched thin. I spotted him from a distance and ran into the street to meet him.

  “Well?” I asked, my pulse pounding with anticipation. “Did you see any of the other disciples? Did you see Mary or Miriam or Joanna?”

  Thomas closed his eyes and opened his mouth, a signal that he was too overcome to speak. He dropped onto a wooden bench in the courtyard. “There have been,” he finally said, “developments.”

  “What sort of developments?”

  He blew out a breath. “I saw Peter and John near the house where we ate the last supper. I saw the women, too. All of them said Yeshua is alive. The women saw angels in the cemetery, and Miriam met the Lord herself, or so she said. Of course, she thought he was the gardener, and he may well have been—”

  I grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “You’re making no sense. Please, come inside. Gather your thoughts and start at the beginning.”

  Thomas did as I asked, and as he began to explain, Jude came out of the men’s chamber and sat beside me, leaning forward to listen.

  “Joseph of Arimathea buried Yeshua’s body in a garden tomb,” Thomas said, glancing from me to Jude. “Because the Passover feast and Shabbat were approaching, the women were not able to properly wrap the body until today.”

  “You have already told us this,” Jude interrupted. “So what happened today?”

  Thomas held up a hand. “I am trying to tell you, so be patient. Early this morning the women went to the tomb. When they arrived, someone had rolled the stone from the opening.”

  I frowned. “Are you saying someone stole the body?”

  Thomas shook his head. “The Sanhedrin had stationed guards at the tomb, for fear of just such a thing. But the guards were gone when the women arrived, and two men in gleaming robes stood at the entrance. They asked the women why they were looking for the living among the dead.”

  Jude buried his expression in his hands as a primitive tremor shook him.

  “So . . .” I swallowed hard, barely able to speak the hope that had begun to pound in my chest. “Does Yeshua live?”

  “How could he? He died. He is gone. Unless I see the nail prints in his hands, put my finger into the mark of the nails, and put my hand in his side, I will never believe otherwise.” Thomas breathed an exasperated sigh, murmured something about getting some sleep, and went into the men’s chamber.

  Jude and I looked at each other, then he asked the question uppermost in my mind: “So what do we do now?”

  “We do not go back to Galilee.” I folded my hands. “Not until we know for certain.”

  “And how are we to know?”

  My thoughts scampered, then honed in on a strong possibility. “Who would he visit first? His mother?”

  Jude’s brow furrowed and he shook his head. “If what the women told Thomas is true, he has already appeared to them.” He made a fist. “So he would go to his disciples. James and John, Peter—all of them.”

  “And Thomas,” I added. “He must not go to sleep; he must join the others.”

  Jude smiled, and together we called for my brother.

  Thomas did not go see the other disciples when we roused him. Instead he rolled over and went back to sleep, and I decided my brother was stubborn after all.

  Jude and I went out to see what we could learn from others in the city. People were still talking about Yeshua, but today they were talking about his empty tomb. “His disciples came by night and stole the body away,” a woman told me at the marketplace. “He said he would rise again, so his disciples would do anything to make him seem like a god.”

  Jude looked at me. “I do not think,” he said, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth as he led me away, “that we should return to Galilee so soon. Let us stay in Jerusalem for a few more days, until we know the truth of this matter.”

  So we did.

  The next morning the city was ablaze with news of two men from Emmaus. Quiet supporters of Yeshua, they had been in Jerusalem for Passover. “We were hoping he was the one about to redeem Israel,” they were saying when we encountered them in the marketplace. “So as we walked to Emmaus, a man began to travel with us. We did not recognize him, so we told him everything that had happened in the city—how Yeshua had been a prophet, powerful in deed and word before God and all the people, and how the ruling priests and our leaders handed him over to be sentenced to death, and the Romans executed him. We told him also about the women who had seen him and claimed he was alive.”

  “The disciples stole the body,” a man in the audience jeered. “The resurrection story is a lie!”

  The men only smiled.

  “We could not believe that the fellow walking with us had not heard about these things,” the taller man went on, ignoring the scoffer. “Then the man said, ‘Oh, foolish ones, so slow of heart to put your trust in all that the prophets spoke! Was it not necessary for Messiah to suffer these things and to enter into His glory?’ Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he explained to us all the things written about the Messiah in the Scriptures.”

  “And then,” the shorter man said, “the hour was drawing late, so we invited him to join us for dinner. And when we reclined at the table, he took the matzah, offered a blessing, and, breaking the bread, he gave it to us. And our eyes were opened—it was Yeshua! Once we recognized him, he vanished.”

  “Gone!” the tall man said, his smile beaming through his beard. “And we looked at each other and said, ‘Didn’t our hearts burn within us while he was explaining the Scriptures to us?’ So we got up and walked back to Jerusalem so we could tell everyone that Yeshua is risen!”

  “There is more,” the short man added. “We found the disciples and learned that Yeshua had also appeared to Simon Peter. While we were telling our story, Yeshua appeared in the room with us and said, ‘Shalom Aleichem! Peace be with you.”

  “The disciples were afraid,” the tall man said, laughing. “They thought they were seeing a ghost. But we knew they were not, because we had seen Yeshua break the matzah. And then Yeshua said, ‘Why are you so shaken? And why do doubts arise in your heart? Look at my hands and my feet—it is I myself! Touch me and see! For a spirit doesn’t have flesh and bones, as you see I have.’”

  “They were still terrified,” the short man said, “so Yeshua said, ‘Do you have anything to eat? So they gave him a piece of broiled fish, and he ate it before their eyes so they would know he was real.”

  “And alive,” the tall man added. “He is definitely alive.”

  I stood on the street, Jude at my right side and dozens of strangers before and behind me, as the testimony of the two men echoed in my head. Didn’t my heart burn when I listened to Yeshua explain the Scriptures? I had resisted him at first, but after witnessing his miracles, I could not deny his God-given authority and power. And who but God had the power to forgive sins?

  “Are you Mashiach, Son of the blessed One?”

  “I am, and you shall see the Son of Man sitting at the right hand of the Powerful One and coming with the clouds of heaven.”

  The realization swept over me in a wave, one so powerful I nearly fell to the ground. I caught Jude’s arm as the pieces slipped into place.

  “‘Yet I know that my Redeemer lives,’” I whispered, “‘and in the end, He will stand on earth. Even after my skin has been destroyed, yet in my flesh I will see God; I myself will see Him with my own eyes . . .’”

  A shiver
rippled through my limbs. Yeshua, the One foretold by prophets as long dead as Job, had been conceived of the Ruach ha-Kodesh and born to an obedient woman named Mary. The old man and woman at the Temple had recognized him in his infancy. The priests at the Temple had been astounded by his knowledge as a twelve-year-old. John the Immerser had paved the way for him. Yeshua had turned water into wine, healed the sick, demonstrated his power over demons and death, fed the hungry, calmed the storm, and cleansed HaShem’s Temple . . . because he had the authority and power to do so. He was our prophet and our messiah, and those who submitted to him, HaShem’s son, entered the Kingdom of God . . .

  Did Jude see it? Did Thomas? The evidence had been before us for years, so how could I make them see?

  I turned to Jude, my knees weak. “Thomas should have been with the twelve today. He would have realized the truth.”

  “Thomas is grieving,” Jude said, his voice unusually husky. “He is not thinking clearly.”

  “But why should he grieve when Yeshua lives? He should believe Mary and Miriam and Peter and the men from Emmaus—he should believe us! I do not have to see Yeshua to know he lives. He is the son of God.”

  Jude looked down at me, and beneath the rough surface of his face I saw motion and flowing as though a hidden fount were breaking through. He grasped my shoulders and stared at me, his eyes brimming with wonder, regret, and joy. Then he wrapped his arms around me in a fervent outpouring of emotion.

  “Yeshua is the Son of Man,” he murmured, his voice clotted with feeling. “The One Daniel saw, the One who came with the clouds of heaven. ‘Dominion, glory, and sovereignty were given to Him that all peoples, nations, and languages should serve Him. His dominion is an everlasting dominion that will never pass away, and His kingdom is one that will not be destroyed.’”

  I did not know the writings of the prophets as well as Jude, but I knew his eyes had been opened to the truth.

  “You must give your brother time,” Jude said when he finally released me. “It is not easy to believe what men consider impossible.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Tasmin

  Eight days after the Feast of Firstfruits, Thomas joined the other disciples in the house where they had eaten the last supper. Because they were still afraid of the chief priests and elders, one of the disciples locked the doors.

  Jude and I were not there, of course, but Thomas gave us the details. He said they were sitting in the room, talking about where they would see Yeshua next, when suddenly he appeared before them and said “Shalom Aleichem.”

  “He was looking directly at me,” Thomas told us, tears welling in his eyes. “He had come, I think, for my sake.”

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  A lone tear trickled down my brother’s cheek. “Because he looked at me and said, ‘Put your finger here, and look at my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe!’”

  I gasped. “What did you do?”

  “What could I do? I fell on my knees before him and said, ‘My Lord and my God!’ Then he said, ‘Because you have seen me, you have believed? Blessed are the ones who have not seen and yet believe.’” Thomas’s gaze moved into mine. “Blessed are you, sister, because you believed when I could not.”

  I swallowed the lump that had risen in my throat, reached for my brother, and held him tight. “It is enough that we both believe,” I told him. “And soon others will enter the kingdom of God, too.”

  “Did he say anything else?” Jude asked.

  Thomas wiped the tear from his cheek, then cleared his throat. “He said he would meet us in Galilee.”

  We went back to Galilee, but not quite as we planned. Instead of traveling in a cloud of gloom and sorrow, we went rejoicing, knowing that Yeshua would soon meet us again.

  Our traveling party was a large caravan, made up of the twelve—including Matthias, who had taken the place of Judas Iscariot—the women who had followed Yeshua, Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus and many others who had come to believe Yeshua was the Christ. Jude and I were pleased to be among those who not only knew Yeshua but also believed in him and understood his message.

  We remained on the main highway, and as we passed by Cana and Nazareth, my heart yearned for my loved ones. I would have given anything if Abba could have met Yeshua, and I wanted Aunt Dinah to meet him. When I mentioned this to Jude, he smiled, took my hand, and pulled me to the side of the road.

  “What are we doing?” I asked.

  “We are going to Cana,” he answered. “We are going to get your aunt Dinah and Yagil and anyone else who wants to come. We will do the same in Nazareth, and in every other town we pass along the way. Is there any better time for them to know their Messiah?”

  With joy and anticipation, we went to my hometown and Jude’s, inviting anyone who would listen. Dinah responded to our invitation, as did several of our neighbors, but many scoffed at us, saying we were foolish for believing a crucified man could live again. We received the same reaction in Nazareth, where several of the townspeople were openly suspicious of Jude for declaring that Yeshua was the son of God. “It’s fraud,” one man proclaimed, “and now the entire family is part of it.”

  James, Simeon, and Joses were willing to join us, though they were not ready to accept Jude’s story. They came with us because they saw a change in him and, as Joses said, “We’d better find out if Jude is mad or if there is something to the story.”

  Yeshua had told the twelve where he would meet them, so we returned to the Galilean hillside where he taught so many times. As before, we constructed simple tents and cooked fish over small fires, occasionally lifting our heads and looking toward the summit, waiting for Yeshua to appear.

  “So why doesn’t he come?” I asked, looking around for Yeshua. The hillside was crowded with several hundred people. “Why is he waiting?”

  Jude smiled. “Perhaps he is waiting for all those who are meant to be here.”

  We slept that first night under a dark canopy of sky, sprinkled with countless sparks of light. Lying on my back next to Aunt Dinah and Yagil, I sighed in contentment.

  “I don’t know why you’re so happy,” Aunt Dinah groused. “We should have brought more blankets. My bones do not like this uneven ground.”

  “Try not to think about it,” I urged her. “Think instead of the beauty around us and the glory of the heavens. HaShem created all of it for us to enjoy.”

  Dinah grumbled only once more, allowing me to fall asleep to the comforting churr of insects.

  The next morning I opened my eyes to a pink sky tinted by the rising sun. Yagil was sitting up, grinning at me, and without a word he pointed to the hilltop.

  Yeshua.

  He stood there, wearing a robe so white I had to squint to look at it. But his eyes were warm and human, and the smile on his face said welcome. All around me, people were waking and realizing that Yeshua had appeared among us. A palpable astonishment swept over the hillside.

  Not far away, Jude had camped with Thomas, James, Simeon, and Joses. I rose to my knees and saw that their faces were blank with astonishment. James’s face in particular was a study in shock; the rising sun highlighted the new lines grief had carved into his cheeks. What must he be feeling? As the oldest son of Mary and Joseph, he had been the man of the house after Yeshua left to fulfill his calling. Though James had mourned his brother’s death, he had steadfastly refused to believe . . . until now.

  Yeshua began to walk down the slope, his voice ringing over the hillside as he came toward us. “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to Me,” he said, a smile emphasizing the laugh lines around his mouth and eyes. “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, immersing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Ruach ha-Kodesh, teaching them to observe all I have commanded you. And remember! I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”

  Somehow—I’m not sure how or when—I looked over and saw Jude standing beside me, his hand i
n mine as together we knelt before our risen Lord and King.

  EPILOGUE

  Tasmin

  This,” Aunt Dinah called, grinning as my smiling groom led me through the courtyard gate, “is the day you have been waiting for. If only your father could see you now!”

  I clutched the top of my veil as the wind threatened to blow it away and leaned closer to Jude, who was ducking beneath a shower of flower petals.

  “You have managed to collect quite a crowd,” I yelled, barely able to hear myself over the shouts of congratulations from our assembled guests. “Where did you find so many?”

  He cast a wicked glance over his shoulder and squeezed my hand. “With all your friends in Cana, and all mine in Nazareth, plus the brothers and sisters in Jerusalem—did you think it would be a small feast?”

  “But how will we ever feed so many?”

  He stopped in the center of the courtyard, turned me to face him, and lifted my veil. His steady gaze bored into me in silent expectation, and before his appealing smile my anxieties melted away.

  “Wife,” he said, “have you any idea how long I’ve loved you? I began to love you the hour I found you snooping around the cistern, looking for hidden barrels of wine.”

  “Husband”—my heart hammered in my ears—“when I saw you searching, I knew you were no ordinary man.”

  And then, before my brother, my aunt, my boy, and all our assembled guests, Jude gathered me into his arms and kissed me well.

  Jude never got around to building me a house. After Yeshua ascended to heaven, we married and went to Jerusalem. We tarried there until Pentecost, when the Helper Yeshua promised arrived to baptize us in His Spirit. Filled with the Spirit and power, we began to travel as the Spirit led us, sharing the gospel of Jesus Christ with everyone we met. My humble husband routinely introduced himself as “the brother of James,” purposely choosing not to identify himself as Yeshua’s half-sibling.