PART I

First section of my multi-part short story, "Light of the World: The Memoir of Alexander Bar-Simon, of Cyrene"

I have seen and done much in my 56 years of life in this world. I have been closely associated with men and women more brilliant than most could ever hope to meet. I have witnessed things that defy the wildest dreams of even the most eccentric of men. But most importantly, I have known the greatest man to have ever, or will ever, live. Now, in the face of my imminent death, I feel that it is finally time to give an account of my life, lest it be lost to the ages.

 

I suppose that you could say it all began for me in my hometown, Cyrene, across the great sea. Of course, I do not remember much of my youngest years, although I do remember sitting with my brother, and listening to my mother’s brother tell me how his grandfather had attempted to gain equal rights for our people, and was killed by the Romans for all the listening they did. Admittedly, the children of Abraham have never been known to willingly accept oppression. I suppose that it is just in our hearts that as the chosen people of the LORD, we should not be subject to the gentiles.

 

After my eighth birthday, my mother became pregnant again. This time, it was a little girl, named Sara. It was during this time that father decided to leave our home, and return to our ancestral lands in Judaea. There was much talk among the leaders of a King like David, and many wished to return before he took the throne. My grandfather’s brother had already returned with his barren wife many years before, and had established a nice vineyard at Cana, in Galilee.

 

Three days after my tenth birthday, I said goodbye to my friends, hugged my mother’s brothers and sisters (and their wives and husbands), my father’s sisters (and their husbands) and Father obtained our passage on a ship bound for Ptolemais, and from there, we walked to Cana. We had to rest often, because Sara (being only two years old) was yet to be weaned, needed to nurse at mother’s breast. Upon our arrival in Cana, my uncle showed us around the village, located in the shadow of Mt. Tabor. After settling in pastoral life, my Uncle began teaching me how to run a vineyard. He made it plain that, with no child of his own, he intended me to be his heir, as the oldest grandson of his only brother. Every day was busy, filled with dressing the vines, crushing grapes, or making wine. I grew strong, and my skin darkened even more. All the while, Rufus grew, and after two years in Cana, he was ready to enter into our uncle’s apprenticeship as well.

The timing could not have been better. Uncle, who had become the most prominent vine-dresser in Cana by this time, sold a large amount to a man who would soon be married. I can still remember hearing Uncle and Father joking about the small amount the bridegroom purchased. We worked all day and most of the night for seven months to get the bridegroom’s order completed in time. Finally, the day of the wedding came, which of course means the celebration. Because Uncle was the vinedresser who made the wine, he was invited to come to the celebration. Several day’s later, Uncle came home, and I overheard him talking to Father about the feasting.

On the third day of feasting, Uncle said, they ran out of wine, which was no surprise to any of us. But he also told Father of the strangest occurrence. He was speaking with a charismatic man from Nazareth (a town just to our south) who was attending the party with a local nobleman named Nathanael (also known as Bartholomew) and a few other men. The group of men, according to Uncle, were a strange assortment: Nathanael the local nobleman, and four hard wearing fishermen, two of whom were young men with awful tempers. But when the wine ran out, the mother of the young Nazarene pulled him aside. Uncle said that the man’s mother told him that all the wine was gone, and he responded,

“Woman, what does this have to do with me? My hour has not yet come,” and he walked away. A short while later, some servants brought a small amount of wine to the master of the feast, who Uncle was conversing with. The master of the feast tasted the wine, and turned to the bridegroom, and asked,

“Where did this come from? Everyone serves the good wine first, and when people have drunk freely, then the poor wine. But you have kept the good wine til now!” Uncle, being the most prominent vinedresser in the village took offense to this remark, until the master of the feast turned and said to him, “This is the best wine, I have ever drunk! You are clearly the best vinedresser in all of Galilee!”

Uncle took the compliment gladly, even though he did not know where the new wine came from. When he asked someone where the charismatic young Nazarene was, it was said that he had returned to his hometown. This was just a few weeks before Passover. Uncle never caught his name at the wedding, and it appeared that Nathanael had left town to travel with him.

The next time I heard anything about the charismatic Nazarene was a few weeks later, during the Passover celebrations. Father wanted to take Mother, Rufus, Sara, and I to Jerusalem for the celebrations, and we were to stay at an inn within the city walls. We arrived the day before the Sabbath started, four days before to the first day of Passover.

On the second day of the week, which was the first day of Passover, we went to the temple, to make sacrifice, but upon arrival, there was a circle of people looking at a man, holding a whip in his right hand, was rebuking the money changers and those that sold animals for sacrifice. I asked another boy what had happened, and he said,

“I think he must be mad! He made that whip out of cords, and drove the money changers out of the temple!”

“What is his name?” I asked.

“Jesus! Jesus of Nazareth!” I tried to move closer, so as to hear what he was saying, and I just caught the last of what he said,

“Take these things away! Do not make my Father’s house a house of trade!”

Just then, the Pharisees arrived, and one asked him, “What sign do you show us for doing these things?”

Jesus answered, saying, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.”

“It has taken forty-six years to build this temple, and will you raise it up in three days?” The Nazarene didn’t answer, but instead walked away, followed by many men. I turned to Father and asked,

“Is that the Nazarene that Uncle met at the wedding a few weeks ago?”

“I have no way of knowing, my son,” Father replied, “but we should follow and hear what he has to say. We listened to him teach everyday for the remainer of the Passover celebrations, and what he said caused us all to have great hope. Could it really be true that this man, Jesus of Nazareth, could really be the son of David, who would take our land back from the Romans, and restore the kingdom?

Author's Note

I recognize that this is a very rough draft, but I am most interested in opinions on the clarity and flow of this story. If you write a review, please limit it to these criteria. If you leave a link to some of your writing, I will gladly return the favor. Thank you in advance.