Thanks for this, Martha. Appreciated reading about your experiences. They resonate with life here in Bunia even though the place and time are different.

Bridget

From: Martha [Martha@bethany.net.pa] Sent: 3 Nisan AD 65 06:04

Subject: Hospitality: My Experience

How my bones ache these days and how little I can get out of the house. Life is quiet - too quiet - here in Bethany. There's not much activity these days. Ah! How good life used to be - full of colour and noise and swirl. Ah, but it's easy to deceive oneself. I didn't always think that at the time. People don't come this way too often with Lazarus gone and Mary mistress of her own household. I'm left here with just Leah and old Zach to help out.

We were the ones the Rabbi loved - the privileged ones, the centre of village life and hospitality. Lazarus, the brother whom the Rabbi brought back from the dead; Mary, the sister who sat at the Rabbi's feet and anointed him with her expensive dowry ointment; and me, Martha. Martha, the sister who didn't get it right, who was busy about the wrong things. But how is one to know what the true values are? I wanted everything nice for the Rabbi: nice food, nice accommodation, flowers. It came at a price, too. Rising early and retiring late. It was no easy matter lodging him and his twelve men, even with our relatively spacious house. I still had to farm out a few with friendly neighbours. Good ol' Simon the Leper always obliged.

We didn't ever have much notice that there would be a crowd for supper. Maybe they sent a runner, and of course news always travelled fast when the Rabbi was on the road. Nothing was done in secret. Thirteen tired, hungry men with dirty feet, all disputing and discussing, debating and disagreeing. What an exhausting bunch! Leah never finished getting water even when it was too dark to see at the well. Always the concern about water: clean water, hot water, enough water. And I had to keep my eye on those village girls who came over to help out. Even the most pious of them took it into her head to flirt and flicker her eyelashes.

We thought they would arrive by sundown but sometimes they got caught at the barriers and the military insisted that they carry their packs. And the Rabbi - of course - encouraged his men to go double the distance which made them late. Then we'd get the food ready and keep back enough lentils for the latecomers only to find out that they had already eaten with 'a brother'. It drove me crazy! All that work.

And it wasn't just the Rabbi and his men. There was a whole rabble of beggars and the sick and scabied wanting medical care in the yard. Never mind my flower garden! All trampled down. And the village boys took advantage of the commotion and stripped the fruit trees. Never mind waiting for the fruit to be ripe.

There were a few perks, I have to admit. The men were great at fixing things. Our Laz wasn't much good with his hands, always being so sickly. And sometimes there was a packet of smoked Galilee tilapia left in the kitchen to add to the lentils. I suspect it was Andrew who left it; he was thoughtful. But he never said.

How I wish I'd gotten my values right then. The Rabbi's here no longer. I didn't think it would come to an end so quickly. I took him and all the action for granted. I guess he was right about being concerned with the things that matter. But maybe someone will learn from my mistakes and they won't have been in vain. I hope Peter isn't thinking about me when he tells all those new followers of the Rabbi "offer hospitality to one another without grumbling". Ah, hospitality! It's more than cooking the lentils.

Blessings,

Bridget