“I had heard of your talents,” he said. “And I was not disappointed. You do, however, need to learn the art and not just the craft.”
“The art?”
“When I begin listing the items and the tax and the percentages, what is your charge, your task, your responsibility?”
“To record it as quickly and accurately as possible.”
“No!”
“No?”
“Do you not see that we are all in this together? Do you not want your education paid for and to add a little to your pouch as well?”
“Well, yes, sure.”
“Do you not understand that these men know exactly how much they are bringing to market?”
“I assume they know.”
“Then when I say they are to pay a tax on four head of oxen and two wagons and eight wheels and four axles, they would have cause to charge us if we listed that incorrectly, wouldn’t they?”
Levi nodded.
“But what are they to say if I announce eight bushels of wheat, sixteen gallons of oil, and so forth, and when your list is tallied, it shows more than that?”
“I don’t suppose they could argue.”
“You don’t suppose. Of course they can argue! But will they? Do they want to call me—or you—a liar? How might their transactions go the next time they come through here? I am old and an expert. I read off the amounts, you record them, and they pay what we say. Understand?”
“I do.”
“Prove it tomorrow.”
LEVI HAD PROVEN it not only the next day, but the next and the next and the next, soon becoming the most outstanding student the publican training facility had ever seen. He became, he knew, an object of jealous and angry ridicule on the part of his fellow students, but nothing stopped him.
Levi was out of the school and quickly pressed into work before he was even seventeen years old, just as he had boasted. Soon after he was awarded the breastplate and stick, he became known as one of the fiercest and most feared tax collectors in Judea. Levi was assigned to apprentice under an aging publican in Capernaum on the northern shore of the Sea of Galilee, and there he began to make his fortune.
It was then that he finally found the time to venture back to Cana to visit his family for the first time. He had sent word that he was prospering and had heard back that they were all fine. But Levi also expected a scolding for not having maintained more frequent contact.
While first his mother and then his father heartily embraced him and the young James shyly shook his hand, it became quickly clear that his mother bore an offense. She neither smiled nor maintained eye contact with him, and Levi’s father seemed to chatter to cover the tension. Levi found himself watching James at play, but his brother appeared to have little curiosity about Levi or any interest in interacting with him.
“I’ve missed you, Mother,” Levi said.
“I doubt that,” she said.
“How can you say that? Every man misses his mother when he moves away.”
“Is that so? How would I have known? Had it not been for the occasional report from someone who happened to visit Capernaum, I would barely have known you were still alive. And I don’t suppose you have returned to the temple.”
Levi glanced at his father, who quickly left the room and busied himself with James. “I have not, nor do I plan to. I know this pains you, so why do you raise the subject?”
“A mother can hope and pray.”
“And a man can make his own decisions.”
“A man. To me you seem barely of age.”
Levi pulled a pouch from his sack and plopped it on the table, the mass of coins rattling. “Is this the gift from a child?”
“Gift?”
“It’s yours. I have not forgotten or abandoned you or Father. With this he could take a year off from his work or at least reduce his load and take things easier for a while.”
Levi’s father reentered. “What are you talking about? I do not work merely for money, and I am not at all looking to quit or take things easier.”
Levi opened the pouch and upended it, quickly corralling rolling coins. “You will notice,” he said, “that while much of this is Roman currency bearing the Caesar’s own image, I had some denarii changed into zuzim.”
This brought both his parents closer to the table, where they bent to peer at the silver coins struck by the Phoenician bankers at Tyre. “Now that was thoughtful,” his father said softly. “The temple leaders prefer the offering come in these kinds of coins, but we rarely see them.”
“This is not our money,” Levi’s mother said. “I will not make an offering of profits swindled from our own countrymen, no matter what form of coin it is in.”
“Not so fast,” her husband said. “Neither will I accept such a gift from a tax collector—”
“Can I not, just for today, be only your son?”
“Our son?” Levi’s mother said. “Coming to us with such a gift? No.”
“—but I would gladly present the zuzim at temple, Mary,” Alphaeus said.
“Even this?” she said.
“Even this. But, Levi, change out the rest as well, or keep it.”
“So you can give it all to the temple?” he said, gathering the coins and returning them to his pouch. “Forget I made the gesture.”
“Gladly,” his mother said.
When Levi bade his farewell, he bore the ominous feeling that he might never see his parents—or his little brother—again.
NINE
Despite all the claims and promises of Chaklai and Divri, it was not until Levi found himself in Capernaum that he really learned how one went about securing one’s own territory.
Once he had endeared himself to Ziya, the chief tax collector, it became clear that Levi had shot past his new colleagues as the favorite to succeed his superior when he finally retired. Suddenly the normal camaraderie among the publicans—which always included sarcasm and ribald teasing anyway—turned openly hostile. Levi was at first shunned, then loudly ridiculed by anyone within earshot.
It was one thing to be hated by the citizenry. That was to be expected and was considered evidence of efficiency. The most despised tax collectors were generally the toughest and most profitable. But the collectors counted on their colleagues as the only ones who understood them. While they suspected one another and were jealous of anyone who made more money, they often socialized and traded what they considered the privilege of hosting feasts for all.
But now Levi, besides being the youngest tax collector in Capernaum, had found favor in the boss’s eyes and was vigorously ostracized by the others.
Late one evening, the wizened chief collector asked to see him after dark. They strolled deserted streets in the coolness near the shores of the Sea of Galilee.
“You must decide,” the old man said, his left hand bearing a constant tremor, “whether you care more about the esteem of your coworkers or your personal fortune. You realize that if you succeed me, you may hire whom you want and fire whom you want.”
“I can?”
“Of course!” Ziya said. “If I tell Rome that you should be the first considered to buy this territory, all you will need is enough capital to pay. Leave the collection of the direct taxes—on property and holdings and such—to agents of the royal treasury. The money, the margin, is in the indirect taxes we concern ourselves with.”
Levi was well aware what was meant by indirect taxes. He had collected them at bridges, crossroads, town borders, and markets. What he wanted was to be the farmer-general, the one who reported to the Roman knight who served as financial procurator. To do that, according to Ziya—his own farmer-general—he would have to sign a five-year contract with Rome and agree to pay a fixed amount for the right to collect all the indirect taxes.
“I’m not sure I have enough yet,” Levi told his boss.
“Find it. It will be worth it to you. Then you can fire your enemies and surround yourself with friends. Maybe a few of them can be your
partners, but the sooner you buy out their interests, the better it will go for you.”
Levi stopped and warmed his hands over a public grill. “The problem, sir, is that I have no friends. And I don’t want any of my current colleagues as partners.”
“I don’t blame you. Tell me, which student did you most dislike at training?”
“I don’t even have to think about that,” Levi said. “It was my own roommate, Efah.”
“I’ve heard of him. What was your problem with him?”
“His attitude. Sarcastic. Condescending.”
“People here say the same about you.”
Levi chuckled. “And they are right.”
“Did he perform better than you?”
“Sometimes. Not often. But he was among the best, that is certain.”
“Might he have enough resources to become your partner someday?”
“If it were only a matter of money, probably yes.”
“Such profit all coming from Bethany?” Ziya said. “That is saying something, my friend.”
Levi followed as the man began strolling again. “I’m not sure I could trust him, sir.”
“That’s wise,” the old man said. “You know no one trusts a tax collector.”
They both laughed.
“But yet you are recommending offering a partnership to such a man . . .”
“Only if you can afford to be the majority holder. Before long you buy him out, and if he has been profitable to you, you decide whether to keep him on.”
ON HIS NEXT OFF DAY, Levi made the trek to Bethany to seek out Efah. From the moment Efah saw him, he was clearly wary.
“Why me?” he said after hearing the proposal.
“First, I need you and your share. But also, competing against each other made us both better. Anyway, you need to get out of this hamlet and come to where the great trade routes intersect. We collect taxes from every direction, including the sea.”
“Do you think I want to report to someone so much younger than I?”
“I think you want to work in a fertile field. I’ll tell you what: You may bring with you the number of publicans that matches the percentage of your investment. You supervise them directly and take the larger share of the commission.”
Levi knew when he saw a flash in Efah’s eyes that the man would go for the deal. Levi was not altogether at peace about it, but he almost immediately began dreaming about being the youngest farmer-general in the history of Judea. With his and Efah’s own people in place, it would be only a matter of time before he became a very wealthy man. Let Efah profit for a while. It would be only temporary. Levi would have the majority of the staff and would get a portion of everyone’s take. Soon he would be the sole owner of the territory.
Riches were only part of the appeal for Levi, of course. He would use every trick and tool of the trade to not only maximize his profits but also exploit Rome as much as he took advantage of the citizens. He was no friend of Rome. He wondered only how much he could take from the pockets of the sponsors of Herod the Great to make up for the loss he had suffered at the evil king’s hand.
Twenty-three years later
NOW in his forties, Levi was one of the wealthiest men in all of Judea. Of all the men Efah had brought to his tax office from Bethany, only a few remained, the others having moved on to other areas. Efah and Levi had becomes friends of sorts, conspiring to benefit each other by getting along, even long after Levi had bought out Efah’s share of the partnership.
Efah became, in essence, Levi’s right-hand man, supervising the rest of the staff while Levi—the owner—enjoyed most of the spoils. Levi owned a palatial estate, to which he added bordering plots of land as they became available and on which he built more and more barns and banquet halls, along with guest residences he decorated elaborately but rarely used.
He had never married, which became another issue between him and Efah. The older man had married and enjoyed a houseful of children now coming of age. This had seemed to take the edge off Efah’s temper and attitude, though he was still a ruthless and thus effective publican. He and Levi often entertained the rest of the staff, spreading lavish feasts of meat and bread and wine, some of which lasted for days—to the merriment of the employees.
Levi’s relationship with his younger brother James was an awkward affair punctuated by mostly bad or mixed news. The last two times Levi had seen James had been at the funerals of first their aged father Alphaeus and then, three years later, their mother Mary.
Levi had sat at these somber affairs fully aware of the spiteful looks and the cold shoulders of his parents’ friends. He had dreaded the events and wondered whether some modicum of regret or remorse would invade his spirit. He found himself melancholy and full of memories, but he did not come to regret his painful decision to part ways with them to the point where he rejected their faith and religion.
Levi did find himself reminiscing for days after each memorial. But the seed of bitterness that had taken root in his soul the night his baby brother was murdered had become a carefully tilled thicket over the years.
Ironically, but as expected, James had become a priest and even, for many years, sang in the Levite choir at the temple in Jerusalem. Following their mother’s burial, James had prevailed upon Levi to promise to visit sometime and hear him sing and witness him perform his duties. Against his better judgment and wondering what had come over him, Levi had agreed. He had business in Jerusalem a few months later and so fulfilled his promise.
The ceremonies brought back poignant memories, and while he was cordial and even congratulatory to his brother, still he would not allow any regrets or second thoughts to penetrate his conscience. Once, when a council meeting of priests was held in the synagogue at Capernaum, James timidly sent word asking if he might be privileged to visit his older brother.
Levi let the request sit for several days before finally replying that he not only welcomed James to his home, but also invited him to stay for the length of his meetings. His brother gratefully accepted, and when the time came, the reunion began pleasantly, if awkwardly. Levi instructed his household staff to withhold nothing from James, lavishing on him a beautiful guest’s robe, and serving him bountiful quantities of the types of foods he would not likely usually enjoy. Levi also invited his entire staff to a two-day feast in his brother’s honor, but being that he was a man of God, the usual bawdy entertainment and excess wine were replaced with self-conscious soberness and decorum.
James expressed deep appreciation for every consideration, but Levi was much relieved when his brother was gone. He later heard that James was called before the Sanhedrin and counseled to be careful about associating with tax collectors and sinners and escaped censure only because Levi was his brother.
LEVI’S CHIEF ROLE became to work with Efah at teaching the rest of his staff how to exact the absolute most out of every transaction. A couple of times a week he ventured out from his tax office to watch his charges do their work. Nothing pleased him more than stepping in with his own stick and taking over, showing the younger men—or even the older Efah—how it should be done.
He had become a lonely, bitter man, and his simmering fury was unleashed on his fellow Jews—not to mention his staff—when transactions stalled. His goal in life remained to get the best of everyone, chiefly Rome. As long as they received the basic taxes, they looked the other way when it became obvious that he was squeezing the citizens for every possible shekel.
The day came, however, when Levi was brought up short by a family dressed in mourning clothes. He was watching Efah and another collector dig through their wagon and was about to step in and make things worse for the couple when the husband began desperately pleading with Efah.
“Have mercy, sir! We are not trying to avoid any tax, but we have just buried our daughter and wish to simply pay and then be on our way.”
“That is none of my concern,” Efah railed. “Now unload your entire wagon so I can see what you have hidd
en—”
“Let me take this,” Levi said.
“I’ve got it, chief,” Efah said, peeling back the tarpaulin with his stick.
“I said I will take it!” Levi said, making Efah’s face redden as he backed away.
Levi counted the bushels and barrels and whispered to the man, “All seems in order. How old was your daughter?”
“Three years, sir, and as you can imagine, we are most devastated.”
“Of course. And how did she die?”
“An accident in our fields. Trampled by oxen.”
“How awful. I am sorry.”
“Wealthy farmers,” Efah spat. “They should not be trading during their mourning period anyway!”
Levi remembered his father having to make the buying trip to Jerusalem the day Chavivi was buried.
“Keep out of this, Efah.”
He turned back to the man and announced the tax, which was exactly what Rome required and not a farthing more.
“Don’t forget our margin!” Efah called out, and Levi leveled a look at him that finally shut him up.
“Thank you, sir!” the farmer whispered, then spoke earnestly to his wife, who looked up at Levi with such a look of gratitude that he had to look away.
As Levi and Efah made their way back to the tax office, Efah held his silence for a long time. But finally he shook his head and said, “You’re losing your edge. What got into you?”
“Speak no more of it,” Levi said.
“But I have seen you—”
“Not another word, Efah.”
TEN
Levi found himself somber and lonely at sundown one Friday, and naturally most of Capernaum was silent as the Jewish population observed Shabbat. He was finishing his ciphering by lamplight as Efah and some of his staff stopped in at the tax office on their way home from their various stations throughout the region.
As the others left, Levi’s subordinate leaned against the door frame and watched as he recorded the last bits of income from the day—asking Efah to rehearse how the transactions had gone. As Efah spoke and Levi quickly wrote, his longtime associate shook his head.