How is it
that
this man
has learning,
when he
has never
studied?
[John 7:15]
***************************
The early morning sunlight
was filtering through the
wooden beams,
of the small roof
of the synagogue.
Philip bar Michael sat,
impatiently,
in the front row,
waiting for the reading
to start. The familiar smell
of the old scrolls
and thick curtains
filled the musty air.
Philip sighed again, with
impatience. When was
the reading going to begin?
Whomever was going to speak
this morning, hopefully:
he would be brief..!
Philip stifled a yawn;
he nodded curtly to one
of the townspeople:
a lowly farmer. As a scribe,
Philip was a respected man
of the town; he was educated,
and held good position with
the congregation.
The poor townsfolk
always greeted him first,
and only then...
did he acknowledge them.
Along with the other leaders
of the synagogue, Philip
always sat in the
front row; his wife and
sons sat in the back
of the room with the other
women and children. He
paid no attention to them;
it was expected of him to
look solemn and severe
during time of worship,
and Philip enjoyed always
being seated in the first
row. It kept him apart
from the lower-class, and
other people who might
not be as holy....
and righteous.
Philip looked up, as one
of the other town elders
sat down beside him.
The two men nodded,
a bit more warmly, to one
another. They began to
speak, in hushed tones.
______________________________
"Good SHABBAS,
Philip!"
"Ah! Good SHABBAS!
How are YOU, this
morning, JOSEPH?"
"Good....GOOD. Is
it YOUR time, to
READ this MORNING?"
(Philip shook his head.)
"No.....thank God!"
(He smiled thinly.)
"You KNOW....how I
dispise getting up in front
of the CONGREGATION...
to waste my years of
studying....on,
all of these FARMERS!"
(Joseph nodded deeply.)
"YES.......I KNOW.."
(Sigh.)
"It is SO much BETTER..."
(Joseph paused for a moment,
to nod briefly to
the young scroll attendant.
Then, he went on murmuring
to his friend
and equal.)
"....when, we are just having
a MINION*..."
"Yes.......yes!
WELL....?"
(Philip looked around,
only slightly. He didn't
wish to appear overly
curious.)
"Who IS it, then...?"
(Joseph shrugged.)
"Hm.......perhaps it is
Miz'rah, today.
Dear GOD!
Let us pray, that it is not.....!"
(He sighed, and lowered
his voice, in a tone
of jest.)
".....one of the TOWNSPEOPLE!"
(Philip gave a low moan.)
"Oh.....LORD!"
(Joseph put his hand
up to his mouth, to hid
a small chuckle.)
"PLEASE! Not....TODAY!
I don't think my STOMACH....
...could BEAR IT!"
(Philip kept his eyes
straight ahead; he smiled
thinly again, and simply
nodded. In front of them,
the young scroll
attendant was bowing
and gesturing to himself,
in prayer. Soon the
reading would begin.)
(Suddenly, Joseph
put a hand on his friend's
sleeve, and whispered.)
"LOOK!"
(Philip looked up; his lips
curled with disdain, and
he let out a short laugh.)
"What is HE standing up,
FOR? He isn't the
one.. who is going to READ,
this morning......
IS HE?"
(Joseph chuckled:
keeping his head bent
toward his friend, in an
air of mutual comaradarie.)
"I didn't even know he
could READ....!
Isn't he one of the SONS..
of that CARPENTER....
from down the ROAD?"
(Philip opened his mouth,
in shock. Then, he murmured.)
"Hm.....YES. I can't
remember his NAME....?
He's the eldest....ISN'T
HE? I believe the father
died, just a few years back..?
He must have taken over...
his father's BUSINESS.."
(Joseph nodded. His
stomach was churning;
he could feel the acid
coming up in his throat.)
"YES..... he made the TABLE.....
for my niece's
new HOUSE......for her
wedding....last YEAR!
Good CARPENTER..!"
(Nod.)
(Shrug.)
".....HONEST fellow.....
though, awfully QUIET.
Hmph! I didn't think he
could even read, or
WRITE.....!"
(Philip shifted, uncomfortably.
He hated surprises; didn't the
lower class know their
rightful PLACE...anymore?)
"Hmph! WELL!
It is time for us to
STAND.....my friend!
He is going to... READ!"
(The two friends watched,
as the carpenter walked up
to the young scroll attendant,
and held out his hands for
the Torah. His fingers were
roughened and calloused,
obviously from many
long hours working
in his carpenter's shed.)
(A few seconds of silence filled
the crowded room. Everyone
seemed to be waiting for
something special to happen.)
(Joseph gave another
low chuckle.)
"Perhaps, we are RIGHT..
and he CAN'T READ,
after all!"
(Philip narrowed his
eyes: with both
suspicion,
and grudging
curiosity.)
"What do you MEAN?"
(Joseph shrugged.)
"Perhaps......."
(Shrug.)
".....He is just SAYING
it.....from MEMORY!"
(Philip snorted softly.)
"WHO would have
TAUGHT..
him..?"
(Joseph shrugged again.
He glanced at his friend,
and whispered back.)
".....his FATHER?"
************************
So Jesus
answered
them,
'My teaching
is not
Mine.
But,
His who
sent
Me.'
[John 7:16]
_________________________
*Usually a small group
of men, of ten or so,
gathered together for
a morning worship service
at the synagogue.
In memory:
my grandfather,
Philip Michaelson.
If you died today, are you absolutely certain that you would go to heaven? You can be! TRUST JESUS NOW
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