Twelve

The next day, they began forming themselves into a semi-nomadic company, with provisions for cooking their own food and tents for shelter outside. It seemed that this was to be their normal condition from now on, rather than imposing constantly on the hospitality of those in Capernaum. They would need all this, of course, on the trip to Jerusalem, which they planned to take along the valley of the Jordan river this time, rather than going directly through Samaria.

Several others had joined them also, including a number of women, who occupied themselves with the material needs of the group. Ezra became a kind of liaison between the men and the women, since he had taken care of the domestic duties with Nathanael when they had lived together in the "cottage" beside his father's mansion.

As they walked down the green shore of the Jordan river with, farther south to Beit Shean and beyond, the mountains on either side turning into nothing but huge mounds of brownish-gray dirt, Andrew began drawing apart from the rest and musing on what had happened so far, and speculating on what was to happen next. First of all, there was the catch of fish--which one might think was coincidence, if one had not been warned by the voice of the thunder--and if it had not been immediately followed by the cure of Zebedee, and the apparent "arrangement" of events so that he would suddenly be at death's door. That, when one thought about it, was probably more frightening than the cure! It definitely implied that he had control of things--of everything!--and was "arranging" things according to some plan he had.

On the other hand, it meant that he was in charge, and if one coupled that with the fact that he was treating these insects he had asked to follow him as if they were friends, it was supremely reassuring, was it not? Andrew, who was given to worrying, now realized that he had nothing whatever to worry about. Of course, it was easy to say that. Now he had the fact that he was in the company of the Supreme Being who seemed to be just a man. How did one deal with it?

Certainly his mother had learned not to worry. Consider what happened at the feast. The interesting thing was that, though the miracle was in itself a spectacular feat--it is simply not possible for water to turn into wine--Jesus made it happen with no fuss or fanfare, not even commanding the water to do anything. After his mother had done nothing but present him with a challenge (he stroked his beard for a few moments), he simply told the servers to fill the jars with water and take it out, and it had become superb wine. Anyone who was not paying particular attention would not even realize that there was anything unusual (except perhaps storing the wine in the jars that people normally washed in)--which was consistent with Jesus's statement to his mother that it was "not his time yet." It was all perfectly "arranged," even if it was something he had presumably not planned beforehand.

And it proved rather conclusively in Andrew's mind that he was the Son of Thunder, the beloved in whom his father was well pleased--whatever that would turn out to mean, ultimately. Who else could have done it? Even Elijah would have had to go through a whole rigamarole imploring the Master to change the water, as he done when he asked to bring fire down from the sky on the sacrifice.

And it also showed that his mother was perfectly aware of what he was--as how could she not be, if he had been born from her? What must it have been like for her and Joseph, rearing him? Giving orders to the Almighty--or to what was all but the same thing as the Almighty, whatever that meant! And knowing that that was what one was doing! It boggled the mind! Yet on the surface she and her son were simply ordinary people. Andrew wondered how his townsfolk in Nazareth would react to his suddenly showing himself to be a wonder-worker. He had said that he was going to begin removing his disguise, or some such words; so evidently he had not shown his true self as yet.

And what would things be like when his time did come? If he could turn water into wine, why could he not transform tigers into animals that ate hay and cavorted with rabbits? And destroy death and sickness and suffering? If what Andrew had seen up to now had actually happened, it was certainly possible. Anything was possible! And Andrew was to be a part of it, however little prepared he was for doing anything of the sort!

He did not know whether his heart was beating so fast from excited anticipation or from fear.

Eventually, south of Jericho, they began climbing up and up the desert mountains of bare dirt, and finally topped them to the west, and found vegetation once again, punctuated by those exclamation points of cypress trees that seemed to say, "See what the Lord up there can do!" Andrew all but heard them shout. What indeed would the Lord up there--and down here--do?

At the gate entering Jerusalem, Jesus encountered a number of sick and lame beggars, whom, in lieu of supplying with money, he cured with as little fanfare as he had cured Zebedee and transformed the wine, simply by touching them. They gasped in astonishment and glee, and ran off--literally, in some cases, especially those who had been crippled--to announce their good fortune to all and sundry.

The result, of course, was predictable: As soon as the people heard of this, he was inundated with the sick, whom he touched and healed. They all shook their heads in wonderment, not only at the cures themselves, but even more at the casual way in which they were done, as if Jesus regarded this as simply the equivalent of giving alms. Andrew wondered, however, if it were that simple. Was he curing them because they needed to be cured, or was this part of another "arrangement"? Well, he would see.

Before long, they went into the immense Temple, with its vast courtyards teeming with people, full of the noise of their conversation and of the bleating of sheep and the lowing of calves to be sold to those who wished to make a sacrifice.

Jesus stopped, all but shaking off those who were pressing around him hoping for a cure--his look made it clear that he wished to be undisturbed, at least for a while. He looked around at the vendors and at the money-changers, stroked his beard as if thinking, and suddenly came to a decision. He undid the cord that bound his waist. "John, lend me your cincture, would you?" he said, with fire in his eyes. The ends of the cords were tied into knots to keep them from fraying, and he doubled the ropes over in his hands into what was a kind of whip with four tails, which he began swinging before him.

"Out! Out!" he shouted, beating the animals on their rumps, making them bellow and run off. "Out!" He came to the money-changers' tables, where Roman denarii were converted into shekels to pay for the sacrifices, and suddenly kicked them over. "It is written," he cried, "'My house will be called a house of prayer,' and you have made it a den of thieves!" The money-changers screamed at him as they dashed to pick up the coins that were flying and bouncing all over the pavement.

"Take those out of here!" he cried to the pigeon-vendors, "You are not to make my Father's house a market!" The vendors fled from their tables, grabbing their cages of pigeons, grateful that they had escaped his wrath without having the birds fly off away from them. The sellers of the other animals meanwhile were chasing their cattle, trying to round them up and take them out of the Temple as quickly as they could. Confusion was everywhere, animals braying, bleating, and bellowing, people yelling, the sick pleading, pigeons flapping their wings explosively in their cages, hooves clattering on the tiles, coins jingling still on the pavement, and vendors scurrying everywhere.

So even though Jesus seemed to be reacting to the scandalous situation, perhaps it was part of the "arrangement." He had prepared the people that he was more than just another person by his miraculous cures of so many of them, and now he was showing them that this was "my Father's house." The thunder had said, "This is my beloved son," and now he was saying that the Temple of the Master was "my Father's house," and showing in no uncertain terms that he would not tolerate its desecration.

What better way to show who he was?

And it was interesting that he did not open the pigeon-vendors' cages and let the birds fly off, because the vendors would not be able to retrieve them as the sellers of cattle and sheep and the money-changers could, even if with difficulty. He was rebuking them, but not destroying them, despite their sin. Even in his wrath, he was gentle. It gave one hope, did it not?

Eventually, things quieted down somewhat, as the animals left the Temple and the money-changers had retrieved most of their coins (not without considerable argument among them about whose was what). Everyone had been cowed by Jesus's forcefulness, but some began to gather round him to protest.

"Where is your authorization to do something like this?" a man shouted from the crowd, which kept a respectful distance away from Jesus's whip. It was a legitimate question, thought Andrew; and it deserved an answer.

Jesus, panting from his exertion, looked round at them with scorn. He switched the whip to his left hand, and then with his right, beat his breast with his fingers, "Destroy this temple," he shouted, and flung out the hand in front of him with three fingers raised. "and in three days I will rebuild it!"

No one said anything for a few moments; his reply was so far from an answer that they were stunned, trying to fathom it. Finally someone laughed mockingly and said, "This temple has take forty-six years to build, and you will build it in three days?"

Jesus gave no further answer, however, and looked around at them, still full of wrath. Finally, he walked across the courtyard, now cleared of animals and money-changers, and went from the Courtyard of the Gentiles into that of the Judeans, the Temple proper, where he stood silently for a while to pray. The students followed. But the people themselves gave him a wide berth.

"Who is he?" they were saying among themselves. "Who does he think he is? Is he pretending to be the Prince?" Some answered, "Had you not heard? He is the one who was curing all sorts of diseases, merely by touching people." "And so?" was the reply. "And so, perhaps he is the Prince. He certainly acts as if he is!"

So Jesus had made his point. Who but the Prince--who but the Son of the Almighty?--had the authority to cleanse the Temple thus? And the people recognized it, in an inchoate way. It was an unconventional method of showing who he was, but it had the proper effect, if one was to believe the reaction of the crowd.

But Jesus gave no indication that he put any trust in the faith of those who were positively disposed; it was too early, and too little had happened, and besides, no one knew what his plans were if he really was the Prince. Everyone was already buzzing about an overthrow of the Romans, which Simon the Revolutionary was busy to suggest. But Jesus himself made no further step.

Andrew wondered what Judas's reaction would be. This was hardly the diplomatic way that Judas had counseled; if anything, it would antagonize the people in authority--the very people who should have kept the Temple clean of buying and selling, and who doubtless knew they should, but who profited by the scandal, probably justifying it in some convoluted way, as Pharisees were trained to do. That was probably why John, the soul of honesty, was not favorably disposed toward them.

But no, Judas would not be pleased, and probably would not have noticed that Jesus had established himself in the minds of ordinary people as not only a miracle-worker, but one who had concern over "my Father's house." It was but a start, but it was a start. It was, when one thought on it, brilliantly "arranged," for all its apparent spontaneity.

The others in Jesus's group, of course, were discussing among themselves what had happened, but apart from Jesus so as not to disturb his prayer. Andrew payed little attention, lost in his own thoughts, but then they began speculating about what Jesus meant by "Destroy this Temple and in three days I will rebuild it," and what they were saying entered his consciousness vaguely, because he too did not understand it.

He gathered that they seemed to reach the conclusion that the Temple he was referring to was his body, not the place he was in, but that seemed to mean that if they killed him, he would come back to life in three days.

Andrew, as he thought, seemed inclined to agree that this was the most likely interpretation of what Jesus meant. He saw that what he was doing would raise opposition, and opposition from the most powerful among the Judeans; and they would have no compunction about killing any upstart who got in their way.

Jesus was not predicting, by any means, that this would happen, but he was warning anyone who had in mind getting rid of him that if they tried, they would not ultimately be successful. Even if they killed him, he would return, is what he seemed to be saying.

But could he not prevent himself from being killed? Perhaps if it were the will of the people as a whole through their representatives, he would not choose to do so. If they did not accept him as the Prince, then this would be a crime they would probably have to answer for. And it might, it just might, involve killing him.

But if they did, he was telling them, he would "rebuild the Temple" in three days. Just as Jonah was apparently dead in the fish for three days and then returned? Still, it was a severe worry for Andrew, who laughed to himself when he remembered that in the company of Jesus he had nothing to worry about. But if Jesus were killed? . . .

But perhaps he was making too much of this. It may have had a more literal meaning connected with the Temple itself. Presumably, as time went on, things would become clearer, including the meaning of this enigma.

It was toward evening when Jesus emerged from his meditation, and he gathered them and said, "We will spend the nights here in a place I know of across the Valley of the Kidron Brook, on the Mount of Olives." and they started down the hill toward the east, when a man came up to Jesus and said that Nicodemus, a member of the Sanhedrin, would like to see him that evening.

"Indeed?" said Jesus. "This is not an arrest for my audacity, I trust." So they had caught the implication in Jesus's calling the Temple "my Father's house." And clearly Jesus had expected something like this.

The messenger was saying, "--merely would like to see what you have to say."

"Simon," Jesus said to Andrew's brother, "Do you remember the garden where we stayed once when we were in Jerusalem? That is where we will be going. I will come to you later, after I have had a talk with this Nicodemus. --And it might be as well,"

he added, "if we kept this destination to ourselves. We might need a place later on to go where no one could find us. Do you understand?"

"I do, Master," said Simon, who was as much in the dark about what he meant as everyone else.

Jesus then followed the messenger, and Simon led them to the east, up the hill from the Kidron Valley, as the sun began to sink over the Great Sea, finally becoming a huge red half-sun on the horizon, turning the sky orange and green, with a few clouds red and purple around it.

So there was someone in authority who "merely would like to see what you have to say." There was at least one open mind there, and so Jesus had not alienated all of the important people.

Andrew, with few comments, went into the garden with Simon, who had also been made unusually quiet by what had happened, and they walked among the old, gnarled olive trees and found a fairly comfortable spot, where they lay down, covered by their cloaks against the cold, and slept.

The full Passover moon had risen and brightened the little grove when Jesus appeared among them and lay down next to Simon and Andrew. "The seed, it appears," he whispered to Simon, "has been planted. It is not what I would have planned, but it will do; it will do." So even what he had not planned was somehow "arranged."

After celebrating the Passover the next evening at the house of a friend of Jesus in Jerusalem, they went to the banks of the Jordan, where Jesus instructed them to bathe the people who were coming to him.

"Do you know that John is still bathing people, over at Aenon?" asked Andrew. "Someone I bathed just told me. He said he wanted to come here also."

"It is well," said Jesus. "We are not rivals."

But others who came reported that the Pharisees were beginning to notice that Jesus's followers, who were, of course, more numerous, were bathing more people than John was, and that Jesus was becoming more prominent, because in addition to bathing people, Jesus was curing various diseases among them.

"You are making them nervous," said Judas Iscariot. "And it might not be wise, think you not, not to make them nervous at this early stage?"

"I agree," said Jesus. "We should return to Galilee and there begin seriously announcing the advent of the Kingdom."

Next