Simon: Servant Siblings, #6

…And there arose on that day a great persecution against the church in Jerusalem, and they were all scattered throughout the regions of Judea and Samaria, except the apostles.

-Acts 8:1

1

33 A.D., Jerusalem

Simon watched James leave the potter’s house heading for Emmaus. His older brother had left orders to continue with repairs to their host’s home while he went to invite Lazarus and his sisters to join them in a caravan back to Nazareth. The heat of political persecution and rumors about Jesus had proved too much for the newly appointed patriarch.

In the weeks since they’d come to Jerusalem, Simon had lost his oldest brother to a Roman cross and seen their family friend beaten in the streets for being wakened from the dead. Now, with authority heaved onto his shoulders, James’ first orders were to flee.

The idea of running from Rome caused Simon’s stomach to flop. Was everyone in his family truly as weak as everyone claimed Nazarenes to be?

Jude passed him with an arm full of supplies. Coming?

Simon lifted a curious brow at his brother. Where?

Naomi’s. Jude flicked his chin toward the neighboring house. James said we’re to make repairs to her place as well.

Simon let out a disgruntled noise. It’s not enough we’ve slaved on the potter’s house. Now James has peddled us out as indentured servants for the midwife, too?

We owe a great debt. Jude adjusted the items in his hands. Benjamin has provided for our needs well beyond what was expected of him. He’s a poor potter.

Poor. The word sent heat through Simon’s veins. He, and everyone else, are made only poorer by the taxations of Rome.

Not this again. Jude hung his head. When are you going to release Rome from the blame for all your troubles?

Simon’s jaw clenched. He’d despised Rome and her soldiers from the time he was a young man, having witnessed their cruelty firsthand. I will release them when they release our people from their control.

Simon, when are you going to understand? People are the casualties of this war; they’re not our enemy.

Didn’t the prophet Isaiah say, ‘They will take captive those who were their captors, and rule over those who oppressed them’?

Isaiah also said, ‘For the Lord is a God of justice; blessed are all those who wait for him.’

I’m tired of waiting. Simon tightened his hands into fists at his sides. There have been too many Messiahs and all of them have come to naught. Jesus claimed to be Messiah and didn’t stick around long enough to make any actual changes. In three years, all he accomplished was a lot of talk and a collection of worthless followers. Then he went and got himself killed by Rome and now lays rotting in a borrowed tomb while we’re still under their hobnailed sandals.

Rome doesn’t care about us. Jude’s face pinched inward. They’re blood-drenched peacocks bent on keeping peace and expanding their territory. The true persecution of our people comes from our own.

The council? Simon’s brow lowered. You know they’re controlled by Rome, too.

Jude groaned and turned away.

It’s true. Simon stepped forward. Every one of them has bought their way in by filling the money pouches of Roman authorities.

We don’t have time to argue about this, he called over his shoulder. James said⁠—

I don’t care what James said. Feeling heat rise on the sides of his neck, Simon turned back toward the potter’s house. He wasn’t going to lose another verbal battle with his scroll-smart brother. You can break your back repairing the midwife’s house, but you’ll do it without me. He stomped his way inside.

Chatter of women bounced around the open area of the simple home as the scent of grains and spices filled Simon’s flaring nostrils. His three sisters and the potter’s daughter were hard at work, but their endless jawing ground on his frayed nerves.

He'd grown sick of being ordered around by his brothers and even sicker of being confined to the potter’s dwelling. If James was preparing for them to return to Nazareth, then he was going to soak in as much freedom as he could before the trip.

Climbing the ladder to the upper room, he searched through his brother’s belongings. James was as predictable as the rising sun. It was easy to find his money pouch and even easier to lighten it by a few coins. A small deposit for all Simon had endured.

Setting things back to their proper order, he donned his gray cloak and left the house without a word to anyone.

Wandering the Lower City, Simon filled his lungs with fresh air. His leg muscles found new life while he explored street after street. He couldn’t recall the last day he’d been allowed to order his own steps.

For hours, Simon traveled the dusty roads of Jerusalem, unsure of where to go or what to do. All he knew was that he wasn’t ready to return to Nazareth. He was not yet ready to go back to the small town where everyone knew his name and his family’s business. Not yet ready to tuck his tail and run away as James seemed happy to do. Not yet ready to return to the quarry with little plans for the future.

The buildings around him grew in stature. Lively sounds from an inn called to him.

He paused at its open door and bathed in the oil lamp light. It had been years since he stepped foot inside an inn. Memories of the last time sent icy waves down his back.

Sounds of merriment and the smell of a promise of a warm meal beckoned him. He knew if he returned to the potter’s house there would be an equally warm meal waiting, but there would be no revelry.

Reaching inside his tunic, he produced the coins he’d taken and twisted them around in his hand. A meal without the judgmental glances of his siblings would be a welcome change, and maybe a strong drink to wash it down.

Pushing his memories back into submission, he stepped inside the large building.

Exchanging two mites to the Innkeeper, he accepted a bowl of warm stew and a cup of strong wine and found a place to sit among the collection of travelers. Pillows of all shapes and colors were strewn about the room, offering a better place than the packed earth for weary backsides. The chunky broth heated his insides while the wine soothed his tensions.

Jerusalem never lacked for variety. Simon saw people of varying lands scattered around the open space of the simple inn like stars decorating the night sky. Languages he’d never heard mixed with the ones his tongue and ears knew.

Above the hum of life, the song of a large man reached Simon. He recognized the words as a song of David. Adjusting on his cushion, he located the source. A group of three men bantered back and forth while raising cup after cup to their lips.

Simon could tell they were Jews from the blue and white tassels that hung from the hems of their garments, but they didn’t act like the docile men he’d grown up around in Galilee. These men were loud, unashamed, and boisterous. He drew closer to them like a moth to a flame, edging as close as he dared.

One man raised his cup above his head and sang, Contend, O Lord, with those who contend with me; fight against those who fight against me! He lowered his cup and stuck it out toward the man to his left. Take hold of shield and buckler and rise for my help! Draw the spear and javelin against my pursuers! Say to my soul, ‘I am your salvation!’ Let them be put to shame and dishonor who seek after my life! He leaned on the man to his right. Let them be turned back and disappointed who devise evil against me!

The man pushed him off.

But the first continued undeterred, Let them be like chaff before the wind, with the angel of the Lord driving them away! Let their way be dark and slippery, with the angel of the Lord pursuing them! For without cause they hid their net for me; without cause they dug a pit for my life. Let destruction come upon him when he does not know it! And let the net that he hid ensnare him; let him fall into it—to his destruction!

The other two laughed, cheering on the first man’s display.

Over the edge of his cup, the man who shouted David’s song peered at Simon. Problem?

Simon glanced over his shoulder.

Yeah, you.

Simon shook his head. I was simply listening to your melody.

The man next to the singer elbowed him. And a lovely voice you have, Dan.

Stuff it, Levi. Dan shoved him with his elbow.

Simon lifted his cup to his lips and took a small sip. The wine was doing much to steady his courage. I was curious as to the reason for your celebration.

Reason? Dan leaned closer to him. Why, we’re reveling in the downfall of our enemy. He raised his cup and chugged the rest of its contents.

Levi and the other man cheered.

Simon twisted the empty cup in his hand, wishing it would refill itself. Who’s your enemy?

Dan squared his intense gaze. Rome.

Simon fought the twitch at the corner of his mouth before it turned into a grin. He couldn’t believe his fortune to find men who seem to share his opinion on Rome. And who has declared Rome your enemy?

Torah! Dan slammed his stone cup to the ground.

Torah! Levi and the other man repeated.

It is Torah that teaches us three things. Dan counted each out on his fingers. Adonai is the only king we should acknowledge. We should establish His reign by rooting out any form of paganism and throwing off the yoke of our tyrants. And, finally, Adonai has made us separate from the Gentiles. Which means, as Adonai’s chosen people, we’re promised victory over our foes.

Victory! his two companions shouted in unison.

Dan pointed his finger in Simon’s face. That means our sovereignty is a divine right given to us by Adonai. No foreign power has any right to rule us. He shook his finger and waved it away. And anyone who compromises or forms an alliance with Rome is equally guilty and should be treated with no less restraint. He lifted his hand toward the ceiling. Adonai is our only Ruler and Lord.

Simon allowed his lips to slide into slight smile. I’m in agreement with you.

So says your words. Dan sneered and leaned back. What have your actions to say about it?

Simon let his gaze drop.

Thought so. Dan squinted at him. What’s your name?

Simon ben Joseph.

Dan’s left eyebrow rose. And your trade?

Masonry mostly. Simon lifted his shoulders. Though I’ve been trained to work with wood and other materials as well.

Dan rose from his pillow and circled behind Simon. He gripped the back of Simon’s arm. Strong. I’ll give you that. But your strength might be wasted on stone.

Simon lifted his gaze to stare at Dan. I assure you; it has been.

Dan chuckled. Some fire. I like that. He rubbed his bearded chin. How would you like to wager your zeal?

Simon rose to his feet. How?

First your zeal must be tested. Dan gripped his shoulder. We’ll see if your fire burns as hot as you claim.

I’m willing to do anything to prove myself.

2

Simon stared at Dan, waiting with held breath for the man to acknowledge his vow.

Dan kept his focused gaze for a long moment. If your word is true, then follow us. He motioned to the others with a tilt of his head and moved toward the door.

Now? Simon’s chest tensed as the men passed him.

Dan turned. Do you need someone’s permission?

The verbal blow hit its mark in Simon’s cracked resolve. He lifted his chin. Lead on.

Simon followed the three men out of the inn, through the twisted streets of Jerusalem, and into the heart of the Lower City. Evening had come and gone while inside the inn and the night’s shadows now blanketed the city.

Working his inner cheek, Simon glanced in the direction of the potter’s house. His family and their hosts would have completed their meal and began preparations for sleep. Would they have noticed his absence among them?

Dan hesitated and put a hand on Simon’s chest, halting his steps. Better wait here. He flicked his chin. Come on, Levi.

Obeying, Simon stood still in the nearly empty street. A few men tucked into a nearby building and a small group of others walked around a corner. Simon turned toward the man Dan had left with him. I didn’t catch your name.

The third man swayed like a