Yes, I am that man but if you've come to speak of my shame, stand aside. I am wholly unworthy and I must face myself every morning. Yet, I am reconciled. Instead, let us speak of the Rabbi. I remember our first meeting as if it was yesterday. The afternoon was balmy. The smell of the lake was strong on the wind. I sat in the shade of my house after lunch and waved to passing neighbors as they hailed me. My belly was full and I felt only joy. I could barely keep my eyes open. The noises of Capernaum anchored me. I was almost lost when Andrew, my brother, fell on his knees before me. I looked up into his happy face. His eyes were wide with excitement and he was breathing heavily.

He put his hands on my knees and wheezed loudly, “Simon, brother. We have found him.”

I allowed myself to be dragged away to meet a man Andrew called the Messiah. Now, I am a practical man. There was much discontented talk about rebellion against the Romans. I avoided that nonsense as most reasonable men did. There was also much desire for our redeemer's return and while I followed such matters on the Sabbath, I had a family to feed. With a frail wife ashamed for her inability to give me a son and a mother who seemed always to be ill, I had quite enough to deal with. Yet, I permitted myself to be led uphill to the Synagogue. I could see its tiled roof reflecting sunlight, but it was not to the Synagogue that Andrew pulled me with his excited chatter. It was to the house of Zebedee and his sons James and John.

As we entered the courtyard, Andrew said, “On the roof,” and raced up the steps like a happy child.

Zebedee's wife and daughters greeted me from the ovens. I paused to ask after Zebedee's health which, they assured me, was on the mend. I walked to the north wall and ascended the steps to the roof. It was bright and warm. The roof was small, pressed between the upper rooms, but it gave an excellent view of the Synagogue just across the street. There were two benches on the roof and the man Andrew wished me to meet sat with his back to me. John sat on one side of the man while his older brother sat on the other side of him. Andrew sat on the facing bench. He stood at my approach and beckoned.

“Simon, come,” he called. “Meet Jesus.”

I was pulled to the seat facing the man and saw that a young Rabbi sat before me. His hair was a bit long for the season and his skin was darkened from days in the sun. His Tefillin rested on a clean striped coat that was folded in his lap. His seamless coat was clean and white. I had not seen one of its like and I was instantly curious. A modest armband was wrapped about his arm, held in place by a rolled leather tube with the parchment sewn inside. It was also tied with delicate black strips that hung below as five slender tassels. His face was open and his eyes were bright. He was not a local. I noted his hair was not as dark brown as mine and his eyes were, of all things, a grayish green.

The Rabbi smiled and said, “I hear good things of you, Simon.”

I returned his smile and said, “If it is Andrew you hear, he knows to say only the good parts.”

He looked toward the Synagogue with a leading gesture. “I am to be your new Rabbi.”

I said, “You look a bit ragged for a Rabbi. Your signs,” I mentioned with a glance toward his Netifot, “are new to me.”

“I made them myself,” was his answer.

Into the hushed pause, I elbowed my brother and charged in. “Andrew tells me you're the Messiah. Got any proof?”

Jesus answered with an easy smile. “Men who seek proofs are never satisfied when their ears hear. You, Simon, must see with your own eyes and judge with your own heart.”

I stood and stretched. The others had been respectful during my exchange with Jesus. I turned my attention to James, John, and Andrew. “I have nets to mend. Our new partners are not pleased. I've gone out on a limb to put you three on the crew. Be on time tonight and try to pull your weight. This is no time to be children. More work, fewer games.”

The excited chatter of my brother and his friends took over the roof then. I excused myself, accepting the young Rabbi's invitation to speak with him later. It must be known that my first impression of the Rabbi was less than hopeful. He seemed to me a person whose attitude was too free and loose to command the fear of the Lord. I thought his misuse of the holy signs would fly in the face of our community. I really did not think he would make it in such a revered office. I stopped in the courtyard to bid farewell to the women and left with a sigh.

I laid aside my sewing needle and folded the end of the net in place. As the night approached, a wind from the west set about the lake. I was concerned a storm might delay our venture. Zacharias and his crew were over in Bethsaida. We were to join them and fish near the inlet returning in the early morning to drop our nets just off the reeds below my city. Our promise to the sellers had not been met and we really needed to fill our nets this time. I was worried. The choppy waters rocked my boat. It brought comfort and ease but not enough. I felt the pressure of meeting demands. Dried fish for the caravans fed our families. The income would take us through the winter months. I wondered if I had bought enough salt from Magdala. As I stared at my hands, rough and scarred, I recalled the purchase and how I had struck hands with Lazarus. That is when I remembered. This Jesus and Lazarus were friends.

Of course, the whole business rattled around in my head. How was this mild-mannered young man supposed to replace Zebedee? Zebedee had renown. He was widely known and had the devotion of most. He certainly had mine. Men from as far away as Jerusalem came to hear his thunderous message of righteousness. He was old, yes, but I expected him to read the holy word forever. Then, of course, he fell ill and we had no one to preach in our Synagogue. I guess it was only a matter of time for him to be replaced but I doubted the soft-spoken new Rabbi was the man for the job. I became lost in a reverie of loud fiery sermons by the grizzled old Rabbi we all loved. We called Zebedee the Voice of God and rightly so. My labors for Capernaum seemed harder without the direction of my Rabbi.

It was quite dark when I heard my brother Andrew approach with James and John. I was relieved to note the winds had calmed. The moon gave little light. Young Matthew and Levi could be heard as they raced up the street. My crew had come together but I had my doubts. James and John had no experience and I put them on my crew for love of their father. Levi was diligent, Matthew worked hard, and Andrew, with the most experience of the lot, still had the playful mind of a child. Times were hard. On the very night I needed seasoned fishermen, I found myself with a crew that could barely swim.

Andrew called to me, “Brother, it's night.”

“Hell take the night,” I said in a tone too harsh for worry. “Trim your lamps and board. I've no time to waste.”

We fished through the night. My shoulders ached. My mood became more foul with each empty net. I had barked orders in my heated temper. I had snapped at James and John because of their inexperience but it was not the fault of the boys. The devil had fished the lake before we got there. Near dawn, we returned to Capernaum, and Zacharias anchored south of us. In the dark, I could not see his ship but his lamp came and went like the twinkling of a star. I separated the boys and we dropped our nets.

Andrew whispered to me, “I'm tired, Simon. Let's go home.”