By Elizabeth Jane Shelton

The market was usually the loudest place in Tabgha, full of fishmongers waving their latest catches, servants haggling over the price of oxen for their masters, and preachers on street corners trumpeting the end of all things. Yosef didn’t mind. The louder and more chaotic the market, the less chance someone would notice a small hand sneaking a few olives from the back of a barrel.

Today, however, was different. Today, Yosef could take whatever he wanted because today the market was inexplicably empty.

Yosef sauntered down the dusty street, something he’d never dared to do before. Every single merchant had left their spoils free for the rats and birds.

And one very hungry young thief.

Yosef skipped from stall to stall, a smile splitting his face. He stuffed dates and olives into his mouth, even taking a few bits of succulent cheese. But eventually, practicality kicked in. If one of the merchants came back suddenly and caught Yosef with a carafe of Egyptian wine, he’d lose a hand.

Yosef spotted a table with small loaves of seed-filled bread. He fit as many into his pouch as he could, then slid in a couple small fish. Maybe the good food would improve Mother’s condition.

Inordinately pleased, Yosef turned to go when he heard his name. He froze, sure he’d been caught, but it was only old Eliezer, the lame beggar, running toward him.

Running? 

Yosef watched, mouth agape. The old man hadn’t walked since before Yosef was alive. “Eliezer? What is this?”

“It’s that man!” Eliezer took Yosef by the hands and spun him around, laughing. “That crazy teacher everyone’s been talking about! He healed me!” Eliezer pointed to the gate. “Go and see! By the lake, you can’t miss it. I bet half of Galilee turned up! There must be thousands of people!”

A crazy teacher? Yosef took off through the gate, careful to keep his pouch tucked close to his body.

True to Eliezer’s word, the crowd near the lake boasted more people than Yosef had ever seen in one place. Most were seated, but a single man stood and spoke to the crowd. Was he the teacher? He didn’t look crazy. Or notable at all, really.

Distracted, Yosef didn’t notice a man coming toward him until it was too late. “You there! Do you have anything to eat?” Yosef froze, but the man put up his hands. “Peace, lad. I’m Andreas, a follower of the teacher. You’re not in trouble. But we haven’t eaten in days.”

The man did look hungry, and Yosef knew how miserable it was to be hungry.

Yosef sighed, reaching into his bag and withdrawing one of the loaves. “Here. You can have this.”

A smile peeked through Andreas’s unkempt beard. “Perfect! Come with me.”

Resigned, Yosef followed Andreas to the front of the crowd.

Andreas paused a stone’s throw from the teacher, gesturing for Yosef to wait. Yosef plopped down on the ground cross-legged, wondering if he’d finally learn what was so special about this teacher.

The man spoke of God as if he knew the deity personally. He told stories—stories that captured Yosef’s imagination. And he taught, too. He said to love your enemies. Who did that? Should Yosef love the landowner whose poor working conditions killed Yosef’s father? The soldiers who would dispose of Yosef without a second thought? What did he mean by this love?

And he spoke of the ancient texts. Yosef swallowed as he remembered a particular passage: Thou shalt not steal. Was his guilt written on his face?

Yosef sat entranced after the teacher concluded his sermon, almost missing Andreas beckoning Yosef forward. He followed Andreas to the teacher, who was speaking with another bearded man.

“—more than half a year’s wages!”

“Yes, thank you, Philippos.” The teacher sounded tired.

“Yeshua. I found this boy.” Andreas pulled Yosef closer. “He offered us what he has.”

Yeshua looked at Yosef, and the man’s eyes bore straight through Yosef’s being. “What is your name?”

“Y-Yosef.”

Yeshua smiled. “That was my father’s name. What do you have for us?”

Yosef held out his pouch with trembling fingers. “Five loaves, sir. And two fishes.”

Philippos looked doubtful, but Yeshua accepted the bag gratefully. “This is perfect. Thank you, Yosef.”

Yeshua held up the pouch. “Father, thank you for this food that you have provided us. May it nourish our bodies.” With that, he removed a loaf from the pouch and handed it to Yosef. “Take as much as you need and pass the rest around.” Yeshua did the same with the other loaves and fishes.

Yosef frowned. How far could the meager food stretch with such a hungry crowd?

But the loaves kept breaking into pieces. And kept breaking. And kept breaking. Yosef watched, amazed, as the food satisfied the crowd of thousands, even the people in the very back.

After some time, Yeshua returned to Yosef with a basket as tall as Yosef’s waist. “This is for you, to bring home to your mother. Thank you, again, for sharing your food with us.”

Yosef opened the basket and fell to his knees. It was full of bread, more than Yosef could have stolen in a whole year from the market.

Yosef looked up, tears in his eyes, but the teacher had disappeared into the dispersing crowd.

It took Yosef hours to lug the basket home, careful not to lose a single morsel. When he opened the door, he was immediately wrapped in a hug.

“Mother?” Yosef couldn’t believe his eyes. Mother had been bedridden for over a year.

She laughed, the sound warming Yosef from his toes to his ears. “A man just left. He said you were a generous boy, and he wanted to give you a gift. And now I’m better.”

Yosef shook his head, his soul overflowing with emotion. He would remember today forever, and he knew one thing for sure.

He would never steal again.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Elizabeth Jane Shelton has loved stories of every kind since she was young, although fantasy is her favorite. She strives to write stories that are both entertaining and meaningful, and she hopes to impact others and honor her Creator with her writing. If she’s not working on a story, it’s probably because she’s writing code at her job as a software engineer.

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