Eleven
The conversation up to this point, insofar as it had any definite topic, had centered around asking Jesus when they would begin the announcement of the start of what Jesus called the "reign of God," and how they would go about it.
Jesus now answered that it would not happen until after they had attended the Passover the next week, and that he had in mind some events that would prepare for it. "I plan to give a speech somewhere around here stating what the new reign of God is going to be like--probably up the mountain over there, where there is that plateau halfway up where people could gather and hear well. But we will see how things develop. I expect it would be unwise to begin in Judea."
This caused some discussion, since Judea seemed to some the logical place to begin, while others thought that it would be better to have the movement established before confronting the Judeans, who might not like the idea of their authority being, if not trampled on, diminished. Jesus held himself aloof from actually joining in the conversation, but seemed to be listening intently, gauging the readiness of his followers to accept his lead.
Judas Iscariot figured heavily in this discussion, since, as a priest himself, he had a fairly good finger on the pulse of the establishment in Judea. His opinion seemed to coincide with that of Jesus, since he said that if one were to try to make the Judean priesthood change their way of thinking, one would have to do it gradually and very diplomatically, somehow convincing them that they were the authors of the change, rather than that a Galilean upstart was telling them that he was right and they were wrong.
"What is wrong with being a Galilean?" asked John, his face immediately flushed with anger, and some others murmured agreement.
"Nothing at all. You are as good Judeans in the generic sense as the people living in Judea. But you know that they do not think so. The idea of a prophet coming from Galilee is laughable to them."
"Well, they will have to become used to it!"
"Granted. But since they think that they are the only true Judeans, it will take considerable diplomacy to make them give up the idea."
"Either that," broke in Simon the Revolutionary, "or a movement so strong that they will have no power against it, especially if here in Galilee we show how we can shake off the Roman chains."
Several of them opined that that would be a miracle beyond anything they had so far seen, to which Simon responded, "Exactly. But who can say if it will not happen?" Jesus looked a bit bemused. John had by this time cooled back down.
Andrew did not have a great deal of stomach for such speculation. The Master knew more than all of them combined, and the opinions of each were nothing but ignorance parading itself. The real question was how they would go about announcing the reign of God, and what it meant, and whether they would themselves perform miracles to prove that they were not simply like the fanatics one saw at Passover, announcing new interpretations of Daniel and Ezekiel--people no one bothered to listen to.
And if they were to perform miracles, would they involve things like casting out demons? Andrew shuddered at the thought; he wanted nothing to do with demons; but Jesus already had confronted a couple, whom he had ordered out of people.
In any case, the day passed, without anyone's actually becoming enraged at anyone else, though there were a few instances in which John and--less often--James made a remark or two that could be construed as intemperate. But they had both been trying hard to quell their hot tempers, and quickly cooled down, especially when others agreed with their main point, and only added caveats and qualifications.
Andrew happened to overhear John say to Ezra, "So you think he deliberately insulted you?" He wondered who he was referring to. Not himself, he hoped, thinking of the episode of thanking Nathanael for Ezra's loan of his clothes.
"No, I would not exactly say that. I think he thought that I was insulting him by approaching him on my own to speak to him. Slaves do not do such things." So it was someone else. Who?
"But you are not a slave."
"John, John, to some people, once a slave, always a slave. And I suspect, especially if one is black."
"Well, I think--at least I hope--that you are misinterpreting him. Perhaps he was preoccupied at the moment."
"Perhaps. But I think I will not make a second attempt. If he wishes to speak to me, he may approach me. I will receive him with the utmost cordiality, you may be sure." Now came the dazzling smile.
"I would imagine that you received many slights when you were a slave."
"More than I could count. People would speak of me--with me standing right there beside them--as if I were some kind of statue they were appraising. And the way they discussed my 'strange color!' There were times I almost screamed. And of course, I was not something to be spoken to, except to order to do this or that. But one learns after years of putting up with it that it does not matter. One is what one is, and the fact that one is enslaved--or looks different--is not a reflection on one's person, but on the conditions under which one happens to be--and what others think reflects on them more than it does on oneself.
"One either learns that or is repeatedly beaten, and dies trying to run away. Because, of course, the arrangement is such that one never can earn enough money to buy one's freedom. Why would an owner allow such a thing? He would only have to train a new slave. And, of course, one learns to respond politely to the severest insult, as if nothing had happened."
Andrew thought how intolerable it must be to be a slave, especially one so foreign-looking as Ezra. To be thought of as a--thing, as one thinks of a cart that one uses to haul things, or one's boat. True, fishermen sometimes personalized their boats and even talked to them, but everyone knew that that was playing games. When one talked to a slave, he understood what one was saying and resented not being considered as something that could give an intelligent reply. Andrew could not have borne that for even a day.
"But are you going to be one of us?" John asked Ezra. "Jesus has not exactly said you are, and has not said you are not."
"I think he would accept me. But as to myself, I rather think I would prefer to be a kind of observer rather than an active member of whatever he is going to do. I perhaps, because of my color more than anything else, would be too much of a curiosity to do much good. Perhaps I can learn from him and go back to spread his doctrine in Ethiopia. We shall see."
The trouble, of course, was that no one really knew what Jesus was really up to; they only had, each of them, some experience of his remarkable powers, but what this Reign of God would mean was a complete mystery. Would he try to reinstate the Judges of old, without a king, letting the Master be king, speaking though prophets, or would Jesus be a kind of spokesman himself for the Master? But then what?
But it again drew toward evening, and John invited Thomas and Nathanael and Ezra to stay with Philip at his house there in Capernaum, so that they would not have to face the trek they had made the previous night and morning.
While they were discussing this, Andrew and Simon went next door to their own house, (where Jesus and his mother were staying). Andrew still rejoiced at having his own room, and took his time undressing as he looked out at the lake reflecting the moon, and distorting it into a trail of pallid light.
The next day, after a rather festive breakfast, made more festive by the presence of Mary, who joined them for only a short time before she mounted her donkey to go up the hill to help with the celebration proper, they donned their wedding garments and joined the others at their customary meeting-place. Andrew found Ezra's tunic a little confining, as Ezra had predicted, and was practicing how to move without seeming to look as if he was about to split the seams on the back. It demanded almost military posture, and Andrew contented himself, as he walked about rather gingerly, that it was good for him, and would help get rid of the stoop that he was acquiring from rowing the boat.
Andrew looked over at Thomas, talking with Jesus, and was amused when he saw him stroke what was obviously a small wineskin of some sort that he kept concealed under his cloak. The problem was that his hands went to it so often that he advertised that it was there, and he might just as well have carried it out in the open. But people have their little self-deceptions. Andrew supposed that he kept it because he could not bear not to have it available, in case his thirst became intolerable; and, he supposed, the mere fact that it was there kept the thirst from ever becoming intolerable. It was a little like befriending someone one was hopelessly in love with; one could not stay away, and contented himself with thinking all he was doing was keeping up a platonic friendship.
A dangerous ploy, thought Andrew, and probably what Thomas was consulting Jesus about. And it seemed that Jesus went along with what he was saying, since he did not take out the wineskin and throw it away then and there. Perhaps some day, he would be strong enough to do without it. Andrew wished him well--with, it must be said, a bit of a condescending attitude. Eventually, they made the trek up the hill, and greeted the groom and his new bride, and mingled with the other guests. Andrew was not much good at this; he spent practically all his time in silence in the boat, lest the fish be frightened, and had learned to be around others without saying a word for hours. Answering others with nothing more than a laconic remark, which tended to close down conversations in short order, was the best he seemed able to offer at the moment, and he gradually found himself more or less alone, though surrounded with people who talked around him, with his cup of wine in his hand, merely observing everyone ("as if they were fish," he thought to himself), and looking and occasionally nodding--he hoped--intelligently when they made a remark in his direction.
About halfway through the festivities, when Andrew was beginning to wonder when the first guests would leave and he could follow suit and be free (and free of the stiffness of his clothes), he happened to be behind Mary and Jesus, and he heard her say, "They have no wine." Interestingly, Ezra had come over, obviously intending to eavesdrop.
Jesus turned to look at her, with some consternation, and said, "What is that to you, Madam, or to me? My moment has not come yet."
She looked back, saying nothing with her mouth, but everything with her eyes, and apparently received, if not an answer, at least a kind of permission, and then turned to the servers, who happened to be standing by. "Do whatever he tells you," she said.
Jesus stroked his beard, and looked around, pondering what he could do, and then spotted six stone water-jars standing by the wall, fully waist high. He turned to the waiters and said, "Fill the jars with water."
They looked at each other, and then shrugged in a "Well, why not?" kind of way, and three of them fetched pitchers of water--rather large ones--and went out back to the stream, filled them and after a short time, the water-jars were full to the brim.
"Draw it out now," said Jesus, "and take it to the one in charge."
Once again they shrugged, and then their eyes widened as they smelled the "water" they were now taking out of the jars. They brought it over, and when the one overseeing the feast tasted the wine, He asked where they had got it, and when they gestured toward the water-jars, he said, "And he kept it there? This?" and immediately beckoned to the groom, who had a look of humiliation on his face. When he came over, he whispered, "Everyone serves his good wine first, and then when people have begun to feel the effects, he uses the poorer quality. But you have kept the good wine until now!" The groom was completely bewildered, and the steward said, "Well, taste it," and gave him a cup of the wine that the servers had brought over. Now it was the groom's eyes that widened, and when the steward said, "How much of this do you have?" he looked helplessly at the servers, who answered, "Oh, we have enough, never fear!" and added under their breath with glee, "Enough to supply an army!"
"Well, serve it!" said the steward, and they returned to the water-jars and began filling cups and handing them around. John and Ezra looked at each other.
As the servers began serving the new wine, there arose murmurs of delight among the recipients, who evidently had not yet drunk enough not to be able to tell the difference between what they had been drinking and what they had just been served.
Amazing! Incredible! Fantastic! Impossible! It obviously was water, and now was--apparently excellent--wine. He took a cup just to prove it to himself, and it was superb! Of course, what else would it be if it was miraculous?
Andrew wandered off, saying to himself, "But consider the influence that woman has!" It was "not his time," but at her mere suggestion that there was a problem, she knew that he would do something--because she wished it!--and he performed this spectacular miracle! And at the same time, how inconspicuous it was! Who but the servers really knew of it? True, the rumor was spreading, but most people only knew that a new supply of very, very fine wine had been opened. If it was "not his time," he had preserved his anonymity. Andrew mused that anyone who heard that he had transformed water into wine would look incredulously at the one who told him, which presumably at this point, was just what Jesus wanted, as he evidently did with Zebedee, whose accident and cure were little remarked.
And here was the spectacular miracle he had all but predicted! He had not really believed that something would happen, and now mere water had become wine! Impossible! And at the least suggestion of his mother--or not even a suggestion, merely stating a problem--well, and by that suggesting that Jesus supply a solution of some sort. She knew he could do something, and she knew him. Of course, if he was somehow the Son of the Supreme Being, then she had also to be the wife of the Supreme Being, and must know the Supreme Being as no one else on earth did.
And the Supreme Being did her bidding! The creature asked her Creator, and the Creator all but obeyed her! No. Took the hint she gave. And neither of them thought that there was anything unusual about it! Even though he apparently had other plans!
Obviously, if one wanted something of Jesus, the one to ask was Mary.
Andrew at this point turned and heard John say, "But behold Thomas." Here was a new problem, for at that moment, the groom himself came over with a couple of cups of wine, and said, "But you have nothing to drink. We cannot have that. Take this, and I will fetch another one for my--wife." And he handed it to Thomas, who took it, wondering where Jesus was. From his inconspicuous place, Andrew watched intently. Well, he had told him that he could take it if refusing it meant being insulting. But what was he to do with it?
John said with some alarm, "He looks as if he is going to taste it! Where is Jesus?" And then they both spotted him, almost at the same moment Thomas did; and he was looking straight at Thomas.
Thomas held out the cup a bit, and looked a question.
Jesus nodded, and took a sip of his own wine, which certainly seemed to be permission to drink. He looked a question at him again, and Jesus again nodded.
"He is actually telling him to drink it!" exclaimed John.
"Something strange is going on," said Ezra, and began to move in Thomas's direction. But not before Nathanael had reached him after he had taken a sip and then looked up with the strangest expression on his face, in which surprise, profound disappointment, and relief were mingled.
Nathanael seemed to utter a reproach, not having seen Jesus give permission, when Thomas handed him the cup and said, "Taste it."
"Oh," said Nathanael, who blushed and left. Ezra was right behind Nathanael. He said nothing, of course, but merely made himself visible at the edge of Thomas's sight. Thomas also handed the cup to him, and he too said, "Oh," and, stifling laughter, faded into the place he had chosen next to John.
"What is it?" asked John.
"What we should have expected. That cup was nothing but water." Another miracle!
"And now what?" said Ezra, as he looked over at Mary approaching Thomas. "I think you must excuse me, John, but it looks as if there is something else that I would not like to miss."
"It rather looks as if they wish to be private, Ezra."
"They will not mind me. No one minds that a slave is standing by." And he followed them. John looked as if he were going to remonstrate, but after all, Ezra was a free man. And presumably, he could keep a secret; he had plenty of practice as a slave in doing so; and Andrew suspected that if he was not to overhear, either Mary or Jesus would be aware of what was going on, and would prevent it. But what could Mary have to say to Thomas? Well, it was their business.
Andrew then noticed that John seemed to be growing very nervous, and sure enough, he went out. Andrew followed, wondering whether he was going to follow Ezra, who was following Mary and Thomas; but no, he simply found a bench by himself, and sat and contemplated the sky and the very beautiful garden, with insects buzzing around the flowers. It kept him spellbound for a considerable time. Andrew was fascinated, and, with nothing else to do (he hated these chitchats one had to engage in, and supposed John was the same) he stood there looking at him until James found him, and said, "You are all right? I have been looking for you, wondering what happened to you."
"Oh, I am fine--now," said John. "You know how I cannot stand these gatherings. It simply became too much for me, and I found a place where I could be by myself."
"I was hoping that was what it was. But you know how you are. Either you go away and deflate, as it were, or you become more and more frantic and are apt to start a fistfight."
"I know. I did not want that to happen. Especially after everything else had worked out so favorably."
"Then all is well?" And John briefly explained what he had seen. James did not know of it. Toward the end, aware that John still needed time by himself, he remarked, "I expect people will be taking their leave soon."
"I will join you shortly. I am almost back to my normal self."
"Very well." And he left.
That was interesting. Apparently John was worse than most people who kept to themselves; the very fact of being in a social group seemed to overwhelm him. Andrew made a mental note of this, to help John withdraw in the future if he needed to. Of course, James was likely to spot it first.
But, thank the Master, it was time to go. Andrew waited until several people had taken their leave, so that he would not seem to be rushing away--and besides, the wine was excellent--and then went up to the groom and bride and congratulated them once again, and then excused himself and walked out, rather stiffly because of the tunic, starting down the hill to his house, where he could change his clothes! back to something comfortable. Simon, he knew, would be one of the last to leave, so he did not even look to see him for another hour or two.