Why do you call me, ‘Lord, Lord’, and do not do what I say?

Trouble-maker. That was my impression when I first heard of Rabbi Jesus. He swept into Capernaum as if he owned it. His presence drew the sick and downtrodden from as far as Tyre and Sidon into our once peaceful town. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the fervent Pharisees came too, their somber, superior presence sowing nothing but disquiet.

I’m an upright and reserved woman and I tell you honestly that I didn’t like the sound of this rabbi and the rabble following him. Had Simon brought him home on any other day, I would have given my son-in-law a good tongue-lashing and suggested the rabbi finds another town to disrupt.

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The Perfect Prompting

My fingers are stiff and cold as I tug at another slimy strand tangled in the net. “A whole night of fishing and all we catch is wretched seaweed,” I groan.

When my brother doesn’t even grunt in reply, I look up. Andrew’s hands have stilled on the net. He is looking down the shoreline, towards Capernaum. There seems to be some commotion there, for I hear distant voices and, shielding my eyes from the glare reflecting from the sea, I can make out a throng of people. Continue reading