Chapter 13

Nobody could have tortured this confession out of him, but Simon wished he were a little better satisfied with the Master’s recent activities and attitudes. There was his carpentry, for example. Simon had thought it would be just the right thing for Jesus to engage in some gainful employment during the brief winter. The little carpenter-shop was indeed a happy thought. Maybe the influential Jairus would hear of it and approve. Jairus might even call, some day, and bring a chair to be mended; and remain to chat a while.

But it hadn’t turned out very well. Who could foresee that Jesus would consent to work on the interior of old Ben-Sholem’s house? Not only was he giving his full time to it every day, but he seemed infatuated with the job of installing the fine-grained olive-wood panelling on the walls and ceiling of the Rabbi’s library, panelling so perfectly matched and mortised that its symmetrical pattern appeared to have been chiselled from one great tree.

Simon hadn’t wanted him to do it at all. Surely Jesus was under no obligation to do a favour for the Rabbi. Moreover the wages were niggardly. The contractor had had the impudence to say that any man should consider it a privilege to work on ‘a holy house,’ even if he were paid nothing at all. That’s the way it was with the synagogues: they had a bad habit of imposing on people in this manner, asking skilled craftsmen to donate their time. Why was the Rabbi a mendicant? He had his share of the tithes, hadn’t he?

And that wasn’t the whole cause of Simon’s petulance. There was Ben-Sholem’s contemptuous attitude toward Jesus, even while the Master was working for him! One afternoon Simon had dropped in to watch the progress of Jesus’ labours. Presently the Rabbi brought Jairus in to show him what was going on. Sighting Simon, he testily inquired of the contractor, ‘Is this man employed here?’ And when the contractor shook his head, the Rabbi scowled and said, ‘Then perhaps he should be on his way.’

Flushed with humiliation, Simon had left the house. It seemed to him that Jesus might have said something in defence of his friend. Had Simon been in Jesus’ place he would have thrown down his tools and walked off the job. And then let the detestable old man try to find another carpenter capable of finishing that beautiful room!

Simon earnestly wished that Jesus were made of tougher stuff! With all that miraculous power at his disposal, why didn’t he use some of it to defend himself and his cause; yes, and his friends, too, who were giving up everything for his sake?

He recalled what the servants at the palace had said about a strange, bug-eating hermit who had been jailed for predicting the advent of an Avenger. There was one coming who would put down the mighty from their seats and exalt men of low degree. He would carry an axe and a flail! The unjust would be cut down! Threshed! Abolished! It was clear enough now that Jesus had no such intentions. Perhaps there was another Anointed One coming.

That night Simon stealthily approached the unguarded prison by a circuitous route through the Tetrarch’s vineyards; and, at the window-bars, talked long and seriously with the emaciated prisoner. It was true, as the servant-girls had reported: this John was confident that stern judgment was at hand for evil-doers in high places. The whole world would be shaken! Not only High Priests and Prefects would be punished: Caesar himself would feel the sting of that lash!