Tuesday, February 23, 2016

Before Winter (3)

One: Ephesus (Part Two)
Looking at the sun, which was now sinking in the west, Timothy quickened his pace, heading towards the Jewish section of town. Demetrius had been right, there was not time to visit both Jason and Martha. The old woman needed his attention more, now that she could not gather with the believers but must wait for them to come to her, so he decided to go to her house today, and  wait to speak with Jason until they met at Simon’s house. 

It was strange, being half-Jew, half-Greek. To the Romans, he was a Jew, to be mocked for his dark complexion and his nation’s customs, while his own people were suspicious of his Greek face and mannerisms. Still, they did accept his right of birth, and allowed him in their synagogues as one of themselves. He could go into Martha’s house without the entire household needing to ritually purge the uncleanness afterward, as they would be required by law if a Gentile entered. Many Christian Jews no longer followed these ceremonial laws, receiving their Gentile brothers with gladness, but Martha’s son-in-law, who was taking care of her, was not yet a believer, and Timothy knew how he would react to an unclean Gentile visiting her. 

“Shalom, Timothy.” 

“Peace to you.” Timothy responded automatically, before even registering who had greeted him. “Simon!” The two men clasped hands warmly. 

“What brings you to this part of the city, brother?” Simon asked, as he turned to walk alongside Timothy.

“I go to see our sister Martha. Levi tells me she is failing fast, and I thought it might be of comfort to pray with her.” 

“A worthy errand. See that you get back to your lodging before dark. The city is none too safe at night.”

“So Demetrius cautioned me when I set out.” Timothy chuckled. “Is it everyone’s duty to make sure I am safe?”

“We must all look out for each other in these dangerous times, Timothy.” 

“Then I must hurry, to follow your wise advice. Christ go with you!” 

“And with you, my friend.” 

Simon turned to resume his walk, and Timothy knocked on the door of Martha’s house. It was an older building, and tall, with a gloomy and stale interior. Several families lived there, sharing the faint breath of fresh air that could be caught on the roof at dusk, among the few green plants that Miriam, Martha’s daughter, had coaxed into life. 

The door creaked open, revealing the suspicious eyes and copious beard of Miriam’s husband. “Timothy.” he stood in the doorway, waiting.

“Shalom, Joseph. I come to see your mother-in-law, having heard she is not well.” 

“Enter then.” The man took a reluctant step back. “She’s in there.” He motioned towards the back room.

Silently, Timothy stepped past him, moving through the semi-darkness in the direction indicated, with his hands stretched out to prevent bumping into the walls. 

As he came into the room, Martha turned her face toward him, hearing the sound of movement. A small oil lamp illuminated her worn features, and cast a flickering shadow on the opposite wall. Glancing at her face, Timothy saw that she was closer to death than he had expected. He did not know whether she was even conscious of his presence, but he sat down on the wooden stool that stood next to her cot, and laid his hand on her shoulder. 

Miriam slipped into the room, holding a bowl of broth and a towel. “She is very weak,” she whispered, “I do not think she will see the sun rise.” She bent over to pour a little of the broth into the old woman’s mouth, wiping her chin between each spoonful with careful love. “There is so little I can do for her now, I hate to leave her alone even for a few minutes. Joseph helps all he can, but he has his trade, and the children need me too.”

“Let me watch for a few hours,” Timothy suggested in a low voice. “I came to pray with her, and I will also stay to see her received into glory with our Saviour. You should rest, to have the strength for the others in your family as well. God will bless you for the love and respect you show your mother.” 

“Thank you, Timothy. Call for me if anything changes, please.” Miriam gathered up the bowl of half-eaten soup, and crept out of the room. 

With a sigh, Timothy leaned back against the wall. 


New life and death, both in a single day, he mused. So the world had always been, since sin entered it. Closing his eyes, he began to pray. For Martha, her family, Damaris and her baby, Simon, Demetrius—one after another he lifted them up, asking the Father to watch over them, to fill them with His Spirit. Through the night he watched and prayed, in rhythm with the shallow breath of a dying body. 

1 comment:

  1. A day in the life of this pastor illuminates the contrast between partaking in joyous and sorrowful occasions sometimes back to back. Nice elaboration!

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