Matthew's Story: From Sinner to Saint by Tim LaHaye
But while Levi enjoyed looking at them and sometimes talking with one or two, he also viewed them with suspicion. If one seemed to like him, he tended to ignore her. Though the attention was flattering, a relationship with one would lead to marriage and a family—and that he could not countenance.
Levi could be kind enough to his little brother, and it often fell to him to keep track of the child. But their relationship was not at all what his and Chavivi’s had been. That baby had brought Levi no end of delight and humor. Cute as James could be, Levi saw him as a re - sponsibility.
Simply, Levi had gone from being a happy, smiling child engaged with life and learning, to a quiet, sullen young man near his coming of age. He was anything but lazy and did all his chores. But he could be insolent, short-tempered, and sarcastic. More than once his father had to punish him, and while Levi took it, never did he apologize.
His deportment and attitude became a deep concern for both the rabbi and the hazzan—the schoolmaster. It was not uncommon for one or the other to visit Levi’s home or invite Alphaeus to the synagogue for a discussion about the lad.
Just before Levi’s bar mitzvah, both parents and child were asked to come to the temple for such a meeting. A synagogue aide entertained three-year-old James outside.
“We have a very interesting situation here,” the rabbi began. “Levi is our brightest, most accomplished student by far. That is a most valuable trait in a future priest, because, as you know, if you have knowledge, you have everything. If you do not possess knowledge, you possess nothing.”
Levi’s mother spoke quietly. “He certainly seems to possess knowledge.”
“Oh, without question,” the rabbi said. “The problem I see here is that Levi has no passion for what he is pursuing. Rare is the day when the schoolmaster or I see a smile on his face, and when we do, it is usually at the expense of one of his classmates. His tongue is sharp, his attitude haughty. He is aware of his place above the others in his mastery of the languages and the Torah. When the hazzan calls upon him to recite, Levi does it perfectly but without enthusiasm.”
“Is he respectful of the hazzan, whom we know is to be treated as the messenger of the Almighty?”
The rabbi seemed to hesitate. “I have no reports of outright insolence, but as I say, we’re looking for enthusiasm—which we do not see. I have no doubt that he will fulfill all the requirements of his bar mitzvah , but I have to wonder if he really has interest in continuing on his educational path toward becoming a priest.”
“Of course he does,” Alphaeus said. “Don’t you, Levi?”
So there it was. It was one thing to harbor his secret resentment of God and his resolve to run as far from his parents’ religion as he could when the time was right. It was quite another to admit it aloud, knowing the turmoil it would cause.
“Father, it is said that a child ought to be fattened with the Torah as an ox is fattened in the stall. Well, I feel fat as an ox.”
This elicited smiles all around, but Levi’s father continued to press. “That doesn’t answer the question, son. Our hope and prayer—which we assumed was yours as well—was that you would go beyond your bar mitzvah and begin the perfecting of your knowledge. To become a priest you must go to Jerusalem and join one of the beth ha-midrash and be taught by the elite doctors of the Law.”
In truth, Levi had wanted to wait a couple of years to reveal to his parents his own plans. His plan was to continue his studies, yes in Jerusalem, but certainly not with the aim his parents assumed. He wanted all the education and training the religious studies offered, but not to make him a religious man—it was for his own gain. He would not change his mind about that, but the longer he protected his mother and father from what they would see as an awful truth, the more he would honor them—wouldn’t he?
He respected them, even admired them. He loved them. He even loved his little brother, although he could never replace Chavivi. His plans had nothing to do with dishonoring them or hurting them or getting back at them for anything. The devastation of their family was in no way their fault—though Levi would have loved to see his father follow through on his early threats against Herod. Even more fulfilling than hearing of the king’s final days would have been the knowledge that one of the parents of the innocents had had the honor of beheading him.
But that was not his father’s way. Alphaeus left such things to God.
And now the man had put to Levi the question he had hoped not to have to answer for several more years. Even now he could not bring himself to tell the whole truth, because he did not wish to inflict that much pain on his parents. It would be bad enough for them to learn that he had decided on a future that in no way included or even resembled the priesthood.
“We need to know, son,” his mother said, as he sat there wondering how to phrase his answer. “We gave you to God, dedicated you and your future to Him, and we believe He would have you become a priest. Everything about your life and training has prepared you for this. Is the rabbi right? Is the hazzan right? Do you need to recapture your passion and enthusiasm for it?”
Levi sighed and looked at the floor. They really wanted to know, did they? “They are right,” he said at last. “I am not interested in the priesthood.”
“Levi!” his mother blurted, her hand to her throat. “What are you saying?”
“I cannot be more clear, Mother. If I have learned anything from all this training, it is to be direct. A priest must love the Lord with all his heart and soul and mind and treat his neighbor as himself. He must love God’s Word and God’s ways.”
“Yes!” his mother said. “And that describes you perfectly, does it not?”
“It does not.”
“Levi!” she said again, but Alphaeus laid a hand on hers.
“Son,” he said, “you will be bar mitzvahed, no?”
“I will. I recognize that I must fulfill certain requirements so that I can go on and finish my education.”
His mother said, “But you said—”
“I said I do not want to study for the priesthood.”
“You will serve God another way?”
Why would she not let up? He knew she didn’t want to hear this devastating news. “Mother, I do not plan to serve God.”
This elicited a gasp even from the rabbi. “Tread carefully, young man. You are sitting in the very house of God.”
“It isn’t that I don’t respect you, Rabbi, or my parents. They know I do. But if you must know, I do not love God. I do not love His Word or His ways. I go with my father twice a year to trade in the markets, and we visit the temple in Jerusalem for the feasts and holy days. They have been diligent in teaching me everything I must know. They have not, however, succeeded in explaining why God allowed what happened to our family.”
The rabbi began to speak, but Alphaeus interrupted. “I do not believe that is something we are to know in this life.”
“I agree. I will never understand it. But I do not accept it. It would be easier, believe me, if I simply stopped believing in God. I could have decided that an all-powerful God would not have allowed such crimes, and thus He doesn’t exist. Somehow I have not been able to accomplish this in my mind. I do believe in Him. I just don’t agree with Him, don’t like Him, and will not serve Him.”
With that the rabbi stood and began bowing and praying, beseeching the Lord’s forgiveness for allowing such blasphemy in His temple.
Levi’s mother, her eyes filling, stared at her son, appearing eager to speak but plainly waiting for the prayer to end. As soon as the rabbi finished, she said, “My son, I have failed you. I did not know you still harbored bitterness over our loss. I shared your anger and grief at first, you know I did. But the Lord became my portion, my comfort. Forgive me for not realizing that you had not come to the same place of acceptance. Had I only known, I would have—”
“You would have what? Somehow persuaded me that this was part of some plan? Mother, I saw you get over this.”
??
“How could you indeed? Somehow you were able to set it aside, live with it, get on with your life. Maybe I should be proud of you for that. I don’t resent you for it. Maybe I wish I could have come to the same place. But I couldn’t, and I don’t want to.”
“I don’t understand! Why have you been so diligent in your studies? What do you want for yourself?”
“Do you really want to know? Do you really want me to say, when the news of my rejecting the priesthood is already so hard for you to take?”
“Yes! I want to know.”
“But,” the rabbi said, “I need to know whether you plan to blaspheme the name of the Lord again. If you do, I must ask that we continue this discussion outside.”
Levi ran his hands through his hair. “I believe I can express myself without defiling the temple, Rabbi. Forgive me.”
“Carry on.”
Levi wasn’t sure he wanted to carry on. In fact, he was pretty sure he didn’t want to. But he owed his parents this much, didn’t he? After having opened this door, he could not retreat now. They deserved to hear it all.
Levi’s father said, “We are heartbroken, son. But your mother is right. We want to know. I want to know. What will become of you if you turn your back on your God?”
“On your God, you mean.”
“He is your God too, Levi, whether you acknowledge Him or not.”
“Are you implying He will make me pay for this decision?”
“We pray not,” his mother said. “We will pray that He will draw you back to Himself. We would dread your becoming an object of God’s wrath.”
“Chavivi was an object of someone’s wrath, and what did he ever do to deserve that?”
Now Levi realized he had gone too far. He had heaped pain upon pain, and although he was too far into this to back out now, he wished he could touch his mother, apologize to her, put her mind at ease. He knew she had not really ever gotten over her loss, nor would she. And he had to admire that she somehow remained devoted to God.
But that wasn’t for him. “I’d rather not say more just now,” he said, haltingly.
“You must!” his mother said. “The only thing that would make this worse is for you to force us to learn more—the worst of it—over time.”
“Yes,” Alphaeus said. “You’ve begun this, now finish it. What do you want to do with your life, if not serve the Lord?”
Levi knew there was no way out of it, but still he stalled. He gazed at the ceiling, then the floor, then out the window. He looked at the rabbi, who looked as if his own son had told him similar news. Levi rubbed his eyes, then scratched his chest.
“Father, do you want to know what impressed me most on all those trips to buy raw goods?”
“The traders? You envy their wealth? You know that they are pagans who—”
“It was not the traders, Father. Who really profits from all the trade?”
Levi let the question hang in the air until he saw the looks of recognition on every face.
“Oh, Levi!” his father moaned. “The publicans? Tax gatherers? They are lower than pagans! They are despised by all but their own, and with good reason! They lie, they cheat, they steal! Not only do they not serve the one true God, they serve Rome! Surely, you’re not saying—”
“Then why do you pay them, Father? You pay for the horses, the wagon, the axles, the road, the goods.”
“I have no choice! Distasteful as it is, it is part of our life. It is a cost of doing business, a business that puts bread on our table, bread in your mouth.”
“So this evil, as you call it, is accepted. It’s simply the way things are.”
“Sadly, yes.”
“Then it will make me a wealthy man.”
Levi’s mother stood. “My son,” she said flatly. “Not a priest. Not even a man of God. No longer a Jew. You would be a servant of Rome, a cheat, a user of your own people?”
“Worse,” Alphaeus said, tugging at her sleeve until she sat again. “He would use the very education our faith allowed to give him the skills for this odious work.”
“You wanted the truth,” Levi said, but later he wept bitterly recalling the pain on their faces caused by his words.
SEVEN
By the time of Levi’s bar mitzvah, the word had blazed through Bet Guvrin of his abandonment of the faith. He was banned from the temple and not allowed to study at the religious institutions in Jerusalem. Witnessing the shame his parents bore—very nearly as devastating to them as the grief over the slaughter of their baby five years before—turned Levi’s heart cold as stone. Seeing people treat them that way, when his actions were entirely his own, made Levi all the more determined to leave as soon as he was of age.
He knew he had caused this, destroyed his family’s reputation, even damaged his father’s business. And though he wasn’t there to witness it, his friends told him his parents were all but shunned at the synagogue. It fell to them to raise a son in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. And Alphaeus and Mary had failed.
To their credit, they did not lay at Levi’s feet the sharp decline in his father’s business. But Levi soon wearied of the tears, the lectures, the prayers, the pleading that he return to the Lord. All he wanted was to get out on his own, to study the languages more, to learn the trade of the publican, including tachygraphy, the special sort of abbreviated writing that would allow him to quickly record all transactions—even conversations.
In an attempt to escape the disgrace, the family migrated to Cana, north of Jerusalem and just west of the Sea of Galilee. There were plenty of tanners already plying their trade, so Alphaeus tried his hand at pottery, only to realize he had no aptitude for it. With no other choice, he returned to tanning, apprenticing under a man much younger than himself. Though he would eventually become known as a master craftsman in the new town, he never again saw the success he enjoyed in Bet Guvrin.
While the humiliation from their hometown did not follow them to Cana—at least with such intensity—Levi was aware that it quickly became known in the area that they were the family with the wayward son. He had asked around, asked a thousand questions, and as soon as he turned fifteen, he would be off to Jerusalem to study for his eventual profession. Levi would study and live at a school designed to train tax collectors. It was housed not far from Herod’s palace—now occupied by his son, Herod Antipas. Jews in the area avoided the building the way they would a house of ill repute or a palace that bore statuary lauding Greek or Roman gods.
Levi knew that people assumed he wanted to become a publican just to get rich. That was all right. Riches would serve him just fine. He could trust money, and if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that he could trust no man. Besides, serving as a publican was as far from serving God as he could imagine.
Informing his parents of his plan had not been easy. The day he packed to leave, his mother bore that pale, faraway look he remembered so intensely from the days after the slaughter of his little brother. She did not cry in front of him, but it was obvious she had been weeping in private.
The arguing and the pleading were past now. Levi’s father merely reminded him that they would be praying for him, particularly that God would somehow bring him back to Himself without having to punish Levi too severely.
Knowing his parents were devout and true was the only thing that gave Levi pause. Though he had turned against God, he could find no fault in them. He would miss James, of course, but he had hardened himself against drawing too close to the lad. James was a good enough child and could be most engaging, but Levi would not allow himself to be so wounded again. If something were to happen to another member of his family . . . well, he didn’t know what he would do. But he could certainly force himself not to become so enamored of a baby brother again.
“You know,” Alphaeus told his son as he helped gather his things for the journey, “while our people are repelled by the school itself, they save their most vehement wrath
“I know, Father, and as I have told you, that is something I simply don’t care about.”
Levi knew himself well enough to know that few people anywhere could like him. He didn’t want to be liked. He wanted to exact revenge against a king long dead, and short of that, revenge against the evil Roman government who sanctioned such a ruler. He understood deep inside that there was no vengeance possible against the God of his forefathers, who had allowed the tragedy. Perhaps turning his back on his faith and religion and family was all he could do. It would have to be enough.
“You have no need to be liked by anyone?” his father pressed. “The Romans will use you gladly, but they will neither like you nor will they trust you.”
“That will be mutual.”
“Then what is this all about, Levi? Will you merely live off the Jews and the Romans for your own gain for the rest of your days? That will be your life?”
“What if it is?”
“That is no life worth living.”
“You should know.”
Alphaeus sighed but did not speak, causing Levi to regret his words, at least for a moment. There was no sense in further hurting his father. In fact, once he made a name for himself in his chosen profession, Levi would help out his parents. He would see how dead set against riches they would be then.