רֵיקָא
Fool
One day Peter and John were going up to the temple at the hour of prayer, at three o’clock in the afternoon. And a man lame from birth was being carried in … When he saw Peter and John about to go into the temple, he asked them for alms. Peter looked intently at him, as did John, and said, ‘Look at us.’ And he fixed his attention on them, expecting to receive something from them. But Peter … took him by the right hand and raised him up; and immediately his feet and ankles were made strong. Jumping up, he stood and began to walk …
While he clung to Peter and John, all the people ran together to them in the portico called Solomon’s Porch, utterly astonished. When Peter saw it, he addressed the people, ‘You Israelites, why do you wonder at this, or why do you stare at us, as though by our own power or piety we had made him walk? The God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, the God of our ancestors has glorified his servant Jesus, whom you handed over and rejected in the presence of Pilate, though he had decided to release him. But you rejected the Holy and Righteous One and asked to have a murderer given to you, and you killed the Author of life, whom God raised from the dead. To this we are witnesses.’
(Acts 3:1-2a, 4a, 7-8a, 11-15)
Where are Peter and John? Anina wondered. She had arrived with her brother at the temple well in advance of daily prayer, to make sure there was room for them in in the outer court.
Stupid! Just because we want to stay together, we have to sit outside in the Gentiles’ place.
Peter and John usually worshipped in the temple proper, leaving their women behind and strolling past the believers who were gathered outside in family groups.
Where are they? The service was about to begin.
Are they not coming today? That would be highly unusual.
Suddenly Thomas nudged her.
“Do you hear that?”
From the area of Solomon’s Porch. A disturbance.
“You Israelites! You pissed upon the Righteous One! You shat upon the Holy One! You’d rather put a murderer back on the street!”
Aghast, she recognized the voice immediately. Simon Peter. Surrounded by so many people who had followed him there, he spoke from the colonnade, sounding weirdly eloquent. But far too provocative.
How did he get up there?
“Sinners! Hypocrites! You killed the author of life! Ha! He came back from the dead!”
Oh no. No, Jesus, no. Don’t let this be happening.
In her mind, she saw the porch bulge and strain under the weight of the crowd, and then …
Back to reality.
The entire courtyard was now filled with astonished people whose prayers had been interrupted. They streamed out of the temple courts toward Peter, whose fiery sermon was being delivered from the crowded portico where he stood.
I didn’t think he was that tall. Hmm.
Now there was a commotion from the opposite side of the courtyard. The priests, the Sadducees, and their guard captain were moving through the crowd to confront the upstart preacher who had emptied their afternoon prayer service.
They knew him.
“May you be swallowed by the earth, Simon! What do you think you’re doing?”
“You ignorant Zanah! You don’t know the writings well enough to hear the prophets. You need to repent more than all of Israel.”
“Raca!” The words departed her lips as a whisper, but Thomas picked them up.
“Ahot! The teacher would be horrified.”
She turned, grimly staring at her brother’s face. She knew what he meant. How well she remembered.
The Teacher spoke quietly.
“Anyone who says to a brother or sister, ‘Raca,’ is answerable to the court,” Jesus said, “as if for murder. What children of hell are you, to call anyone a fool?”
Thomas lightly grabbed her shoulder. “You must not say that word.”
She was thankful to not be a tiny woman. Her height matched that of her twin.
Still looking directly into her brother’s eyes, she spoke.
“I know. I know, Thomas. I know. But look at what’s happening. If Simon isn’t a fool, then I don’t know what that word means.”
“Oh. Look.”
She turned to look. There were now several large men trying to restrain Peter.
“I remember how the Lord described you religious leaders. He called you ‘a vipers’ brood’.”
The guard captain had called for reinforcements. John and a still-animated Simon Peter were being escorted through the crowd. Removed to who-knows-what.
“Empty-headed Simon.”
“Anina …”
“Don’t you get it? He’s stirring up the priesthood against us.”
“Anina, look again.”
She saw him. She had noticed him earlier, begging at the beautiful gate. A paralyzed man. But now he was running, trying to keep up with Peter and John as the soldiers carried them away.
She knew him well. So did Thomas. They had seen him there every time they came to the temple. From birth, he could not walk. It was no act. It was as real as his twisted legs.
The poor man, she thought. From his first breath, unwanted. His mother even named him ‘Claudio’.
His limbs were not twisted now. As he stood at swordpoint while the two apostles were bundled into a cart, his legs were firm and strong.
“Thomas. Thomas. Thomas.”
“Anina?”
“Thomas, Thomas, Thomas. Thomas. What happened here?”
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid. Anina! Anina!”
She stumbled. He caught her.
She knew they wouldn’t be able to shut Peter up. If they released him, he’d be back at it in a minute.
What does this mean for the rest of us?
She looked upon Claudio.
There is a man of stature, she thought.