Men Called Him Master | Page 5

off the coals and laid them on a smooth rock. When they were cool
enough, he picked them up. "Breakfast is ready," he said. The men rose
and bowed their heads, while the older man prayed.

"Praise ye the Lord. I will give thanks unto the Lord with my whole
heart, In the council of the upright, and in the congregation. He hath
given food unto them that fear him: He will ever be mindful of his
promise. Holy and reverend is his name. Amen."
While they ate, James asked, "Father, who is in the other boat this
morning?" Zebedee hired men to work for him.
"Old Gideon the farmer, with our new man, a gentile from Sidon."
"Why in the world did you hire a gentile, father?" asked John sharply.
"Well, son, he is young and strong. He is willing to work for us." He
paused. "But I couldn't help wondering where he came from."
"Did you ask him?"
"No. He wouldn't answer questions about himself. But he knew
fishing." John shook his head.
"I don't like it, father. Jews have no business working with gentiles.
And besides, if he is a runaway slave, we might get into trouble."
"Now look, son. Half the people in Galilee are gentiles. Every day we
see them. What harm is there in working with them?"
"Here comes the other boat," said Simon. The sun was driving away the
mist; Simon pointed to a fishing boat drawing closer to the shore.
"Did you do any better than we did, Gideon?" called Zebedee.
As the old farmer came toward them, the men could tell that his body
was rugged in spite of stooped shoulders. "No better; maybe worse. It's
getting as hard to make a living on the lake as by plowing the land."
The newcomers sat down and hungrily ate the fish that Simon handed
them.
"Zebedee says there may be riots if the wheat is poor," said Simon.

"What do you think of the crop, Gideon?"
Gideon squinted toward the hills as though looking at the fields that lay
beyond them. "My guess is that there will be enough." He frowned.
"Enough, that is, if the landlords don't grab it all."
James glanced at Simon, concealing a smile. Old Gideon never got
tired of scolding the big landowners.
"Before I was forced off my farm we had plenty to eat, even in dry
weather." He shook his finger. "And mind you, I had only five acres!
Now look what has happened!" He pounded his knee. "A man can
hardly feed his family with ten acres. Why? Taxes and more taxes!" He
counted on his fingers. "First, Herod takes one fourth of all our grain.
That goes into the bellies of the Romans. Then there is the tithe. That
takes enough to feed a hired man! Then we pay the Temple tax to feed
the priests. They get the first-born of all the sheep too. When a man's
first son is born, he must make a big gift to the synagogue. Farmers
have to give part of the wool at sheep-shearing; part of the wood at
woodcutting; and the best of the fruit at harvest." He looked around and
spat on the ground. "On top of that we pay for the schools and
synagogues! Is it any wonder we have hardly enough left to feed
ourselves?"
"But religious taxes are paid for the sake of God, Gideon!" protested
James.
"Yes, yes ... I know." Gideon couldn't argue the point; for a moment he
was silent. Then he looked sharply at James and snapped: "Do the
landlords pay religious taxes? No!" His voice was bitter. "That
tax-gatherer who bought me out knew ways to get out of paying the
Temple tax!"
"Was it when you sold your farm that you became a fisherman,
Gideon?" asked James.
"Yes. I almost had to serve a term of bondage."

The gentile jerked up his head and said, "Were you a slave?"
"No, but my brother bound himself for twelve years," answered Gideon,
looking at the gentile curiously.
"Do the bondslaves make much trouble here?" he asked.
Zebedee looked at him very closely. "In Galilee the slaves do not cause
riots. The Jews do."
James explained. "In Palestine there are more free men than slaves.
Hunger causes most riots. But in a way, our whole nation is a slave to
Rome." His eyes challenged the gentile and no one missed his meaning
when he spoke again. "A nation can't run away from its master the way
a slave can."
The gentile started. He glanced swiftly around the group. The men were
looking at him suspiciously.
"Are you a runaway slave?" demanded Zebedee point-blank.
The man flushed and spoke shamefacedly. "Yes," he admitted.
After a moment's silence, Andrew said: "The Romans treat