Tomorrow, I die, and I would tell my tale while I have your ear. See that you remember. Let nothing be lost. Many call me James, some still call me Jacob. I was born Jacob ben Simeon in the town of Bethsaida on the east of Jordan. Having no other family after the death of my parents, I was sent to Capernaum, where I was adopted by distant cousins of my father. Joseph and Mary raised me with their own son, Yeshua. Yes, I was a brother to the Lord, but, most importantly, I and Yeshua were brothers in our love for the truth. I labored beside Yeshua in the family business and we picked splinters from our hands together. I played with our brothers and sisters. I became a beloved son of Joseph and Mary, a brother to Jude, Simon, Thomas, and Jose; a brother to Anna, Ruth, Rachel, and Lea.

While, for some time in our later years, we followed separate paths, our childhood together was precious. I would speak of those days. Joseph and Mary traveled to Ephraim to visit Elizabeth. Her husband, Zechariah, was ill so we brought herbs. Yeshua and I were allowed to accompany our parents while our siblings were kept in the care of family friends. We were eager to see Yohanan as he would soon leave for his induction. We were in the low hills, Yeshua to one side and I to the other of the mule on which our mother sat. Father spied a clearing among the Cyprus and made a place for Mother to rest from the sun.

I followed Yeshua to a flat rock. “Let's play a game,” he suggested.

I was skeptical, Yeshua was a know-it-all and often brought me into impossible situations to prove he knew more or better than I. Still, I was a youth who loved games. I knew I would have to watch him without blinking if I was to have any chance of spotting his tricks. He gathered a handful of small stones and dropped them on the rock between us. I saw three black stones and two white stones. Yeshua smiled as he arranged them. The black stones lay between the two white stones.

“This one is easy,” said he.

Yeshua always said that just before making me feel stupid. I narrowed my eyes, memorizing the placement of each stone. I was tense. I both hated and loved my brother's games. There was a fire that burned in my chest, a desperation to win at least one game, to show my brother I wasn't stupid.

“All you have to do is do exactly like I do.” I was infuriated that his smile prophesied another bitter loss. He cocked his head to one side and asked, “Are you ready?”

With my nod, he began. Picking up the white stone near me, he placed it over the first black stone and paused. Then he moved the stone between the final black stone and his white stone. I memorized the moves – one black stone, then, two black stones. He scratched his forehead.

“Oh, wait,” he said.

Yeshua took the stone and returned it to its original position. He took it up again and jumped it over the first two black stones, then the last black stone. He brought the white stone back to its original position by jumping each stone one at a time. I saw the trick. I actually saw it that time. He thought I would follow his corrected moves and forget that he had first jumped one, then two. I looked up into his eyes with determination. He folded his arms to await my move.

I took up the white stone and jumped the first black. After a pause, I jumped the last two. Then I returned the white stone, jumped the first two, followed by the last. I had it. I returned the white stone by jumping over each stone one by one. I had him. I was sure. I smiled up into his calm gaze with the strength of triumph, daring him to say I had lost.

“You didn't do everything as I showed you,” he said, shaking his head.

“What!?” I shouted. “I did everything.”

He said, “You did not scratch your forehead and say, Oh, wait.”

I was furious. I wanted to hit him but I dared not. I would be punished. I gave him a mean look and turned away to pout. I was about to tell him just what I thought when Father called for us to leave.

The sun commanded a bright cloudless sky as Ramathaim-zophim came into sight. I saw it and pointed. Mother smiled. To a boy of ten, a mother's smile is like the affirmation of angels. As we came close, Yohanan ran from the house and embraced us. We danced around in our own little world, oblivious to our parents until Father called loudly. We stood still, wondering what we had done wrong. He called for us to stand by him as Elizabeth brought Zechariah from the house and seated him in the sun. He placed his shawl in his lap and stretched out his arms to us. Yeshua immediately went to him and they embraced. The old man laid his hand on my brother's head and blessed him. Yohanan stuck his head between them and Zechariah laughed. The old man ran his gnarled fingers through my cousin's tousled black hair and pushed him aside. Then he reached out his arms for me.

I hesitated. I stood in place and stared wide-eyed at the old man with bony fingers. He had been a high priest; he had actually been inside the Holy of Holies. I was afraid. Father assured me with a gentle push. I walked stiffly forward and let myself be hugged. He smelled sour, and I wanted to step back. I was glad when he let go of me and placed his hand on my head. For one so old, Zechariah's voice had the strength of my father's voice. He spoke with authority, and I could not move except to tremble.

He said, “You will supplant. Justice will be your name. You will stand in the presence of the Lord.”

That was it. It was over before I could blink. His hands trembled as he took mine with a gentle pat and smiled. Then Mother had her hands on my shoulders and I turned. I was allowed to go with Yohanan and Yeshua. I was warned to be back by the supper meal, and I was happy as I ran behind the house to catch up with my brother. The sun was warm, the wind refreshed. Birds sang happy tunes as we walked quietly on a rocky, uneven path. As the path turned uphill, the flowers we passed smelled sweet, attracting bees.

I called to Yeshua, who turned to me. “Watch this,” I said.

A bee flew up from a bush, and as it came close, I clapped my hands together. Stunned, the creature fell to the ground and spun in circles. I looked to my older brother with a smile he did not return. Instead, Yeshua walked back to me and placed a hand on my shoulder. I knew I was about to be reproved.

“Don't do that,” said Yeshua. Yohanan walked over, and suddenly I felt ashamed. My brother did not scold but spoke quietly. “If you kill the bees, the flowers will die and the grain will not grow. If the grain does not grow, mother cannot bake bread.”

I looked down at my sandals and kicked the small stones. Then, my brother stooped and took the bee into his hand. “You'll get stung,” warned our cousin.

We knew what it felt like to be stung, then stung a second time when our elders laughed at us. I held my breath as Yeshua stood holding the bee in the palm of his hand. He smiled at the thing. He stroked the creature and let it walk around in his hand. Then, we watched as it walked to the end of his fingers and flew away.

“You were taking a chance,” said Yohanan.

Yeshua threw his arms around our shoulders and hugged us. He smiled at both of us and said, “All souls respond to kindness.”

Further up the path, we got hot and threw off our coats. Yeshua and I listened as Yohanan told us what he expected in his induction. I could not imagine being trained to be a Pharisee. They were old and smelly. They frowned a lot, and I always hid behind mother when they came around. They aren't mean, she would tell me, but I would not come out. They were mean, I knew it. Yeshua expected to follow Yohanan the following year. Their talk made me sad.

“Don't go,” I blurted out.