Eighteen

In the next few days, Jesus began giving his students instructions on how to behave as his "emissaries," without spelling out what he meant by his sermon, and without answering the myriad questions that they had. He simply assumed that, whether they understood him or not, they were still on his side, and that the advent of the Kingdom would explain all. Andrew fervently hoped so.

Andrew, of course, was paired with Simon, who professed not to have a problem with what Jesus had said--which confirmed Andrew in his suspicion--his certainty!--that Simon was anything but a paragon of intelligence, for all his "tongue," and ability to handle lawyers.

Jesus gave them some pointers on what to do if people rejected their preaching. And it seemed that they also were to have the miraculous powers--at least some of them--that Jesus had, and this was a terrifying prospect. Andrew did not relish the thought of confronting someone who had a demon. Suppose he drove it out, and it entered him! Of course, Jesus would be watch over them.

He hoped. No, of course, he would.

If he was what Andrew thought he was.

But of course he was.

Was he not?

Shortly afterwards, they began their mission, haltingly explaining to people that God was about to begin his reign, and that this would involve a new way of thinking, and to show that life would be different, they cured diseases themselves "in the name of Jesus of Nazareth."

Simon, who had the tongue, did most of the talking, and Andrew made confirmatory remarks every now and then, and just stood by, huge and reassuring. At any rate, people, who had heard about Jesus, were ready and even eager to listen to them, and had, of course, thousands of questions, most of which were fairly easy to answer, since they were of the type, "Did he really do X, Y, and Z? Did you actually see it?"

And then there were the cures. The two became very popular once it was discovered that they too could perform miraculous cures. And then there was the demon. Andrew was the one they brought the man to, and he placed his hand on the head of the man who roared at him, and told the demon to leave in the name of Jesus of Nazareth.

The man stopped, and looked up at him for a moment, and said, "You two are a pair, you are! See how they love one another!" and he laughed a demonic laugh while he threw the man down to the ground, leaving him unconscious for a moment or two. But when he woke, he was in his right mind, and had no memory of what he had done.

"What was that all about?" said Simon later.

Andrew reddened. "I know not. They are sons of the Father of lies, are they not? They are trying to drive a wedge between us."

Simon looked at him with, for a moment, a touch of skepticism, and then said. "You must be right. You do not have a problem with me, do you? If so, tell me, and I will try to do what I can to help."

"Fear not, Simon. Nothing you do bothers me." This was true. It was what he was, the older but less capable brother, that bothered Andrew. And the solution to this problem probably had something to do with what Jesus said on the mountain, about turning the other cheek and so on. But Andrew had not yet divined how to change his thinking into conformity with it.

If he ever would. But it was not Simon's fault.

And he did have the tongue.

At evening, they would return to the group, and report what they had done and said, receiving Jesus' commendation, and advice how to deal with this or that difficulty some of them encountered. Simon mentioned the demon, and what he had said, and that Andrew's answer was that he was in league with the father of lies.

"He is indeed," answered Jesus. "Remember, they are totally helpless before you--and me--and they know it, and are losing their power over their victim; and they resent it bitterly. But since they can do nothing but obey you, they will try to turn the tables on you verbally. You must keep in mind that the truth is something they care nothing for, and you should put no credence in anything they say."

Unfortunately, thought Andrew, there was a certain truth in the lie they told, though Simon was not really astute enough to catch it. But what could he do about it? He did not wish Simon any ill, exactly; only that he himself would be able to shine as he knew he could shine, and not be constantly in the shadow of his brother. What was wrong with that?

And yet the demon seemed to think there was something there, something that he could use. And it was something, because it did drive a wedge between them. If Simon were not his brother, and were not usurping, as it were, the place he could have based on his talents, then Andrew would not resent him, would he? He would wish him well, and hope that he became more skilled in what he was doing.

And did he not do this? He tried to tell himself he did, but could not make a convincing case for it, because what Simon did always seemed to reflect somehow on him; his success seemed to lessen Andrew somehow, he knew not how.

The problem was in there, somewhere; but he did not clearly see what it was, let alone how to solve it, if it was a problem.

Bah! The demon was a liar, that was all.

Was it not?

One day, before they set out, the whole group was together, when a young man, dressed in even finer linen than Nathanael was accustomed to wearing (and which he still wore, though now it was not so well kept), understated in only the way that those accustomed to great wealth could do, came up and knelt before Jesus. "Good teacher," he said, "What should I do to gain eternal life?"

"Why are you calling me 'good'?" said Jesus. "No one is good except the one God." This was almost a rebuke. Strange.

Jesus was continuing, "--keep the commandments: You are not to kill, you are not to commit adultery, you are not to testify falsely, you are not to defraud; honor your father and mother."

The boy answered, "Teacher, I have done all this from the time I was very young."

Jesus now looked fondly at him, and said, "Then there is one thing left for you to do. If you want to be perfect, then go, sell what you have and give the money to the poor, and this will open for you an account in heaven's bank; and then come and follow me."

Andrew immediately glanced over at Matthew, who had been struggling with this very problem. Matthew saw that the episode applied to him, and it concerned him immensely, based on the look on his face.

The boy's face also fell. He looked down at his clothes, and surveyed the others around Jesus (even Matthew had taken to wearing quite ordinary clothing, not to stand out), and after a long pause, turned and walked off. Though interestingly, thought Andrew, now that he had seen Nathanael and this man, Matthew's clothes beforehand, while elegant, were nowhere near what Nathanael or this man wore--probably because he did not want to seem too rich as he fleeced the people.

Jesus gazed after him, wistfully, and said, "How hard it is for a rich man to put himself under God's rule! It is harder for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to subject himself to God!"

Matthew gasped in shock. And Thomas, who had caught a different nuance from the episode, had his hand over wineskin he had "hidden," which everyone knew about. Could he give it up?

If you want to be perfect, give up what you held dear. Did that mean that Andrew was to give up the relation he had developed with Simon? He supposed he would do it gladly, but how? And what was it that had to be given up? All he wanted was simple justice, was it not?

Was it?

If not, what was it?

At this point, Simon blurted, "But then who can be saved?"

"With men, it is impossible," answered Jesus. "But everything is possible with God." Andrew thought, Well, it is certainly impossible for me, since I know not even what is wrong, if anything. Which means that I must leave it to God--which is to say, Jesus.

Simon replied to what Jesus said, "Yes it is! Look at us! We have left everything and followed you!" Why did statements like that make Andrew cringe?

"Amen I tell you," said Jesus, taking no offense, but treating Simon as if he were serious, "that those of you who have followed me, when everything is reborn, when the Son of Man assumes the throne of his glory, will yourselves be seated on twelve thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel! And everyone who has left his house or his brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or property for my sake will receive a hundred times as much in this age--along with persecution--and in the next age will enjoy eternal life! And yet" he added, looking around, "many of those who are now in the first place will be last, and many of the last will be first."

Andrew notice that Thomas now looked worried--sharing his own worry--and Matthew now had a look of resignation--fear, but resignation. He went up to Jesus shortly afterward, and after a short conversation, left the group. Thomas had not yet the courage to get rid of the wineskin; he apparently still needed it just in case things became desperate. Well, Jesus knew of it, he was certain, and had not told Thomas he must get rid of it; it was not really the same as wealth. Doubtless his time would come. Andrew, too, did not yet have to give up what was holding him back from perfection--partly because he was not sure what it was. It was all very confusing.

They were headed north, for some reason, toward Philip's Caesarea (as distinguished from the Caesarea on the coast of the Mediterranean Sea, where Herod had his palace, and where Pontius Pilate lived when he was not in Jerusalem in that fortress they called the "Antonia."). As they walked along, Jesus asked, as if casually, "Tell me; who do people say that I am?"

The Emissaries, of course, had heard much in their missions, and so some answered, "A prophet," others, "The prophet foretold by Scripture," and of course others, "The Prince."

"And who do you say that I am?" asked Jesus, looking at them intently, as if their answer would be crucial. At this Andrew's brother Simon blurted--again, "The Prince, the Son of the living God!"

Everyone was taken aback, not least Jesus. It was apparently the answer he was waiting for, but the source seemed to surprise him. He stroked his beard, and said, "Good for you, Simon Bar-Jona! Flesh and blood have not revealed this to you; it was my heavenly Father!"

Andrew was convinced that Simon had hit on this formulation by pure accident, but it was the one that Jesus was waiting for--or if he was not expecting it as such, he recognized it as inspired by "my heavenly Father" as soon as he heard it. Simon! Why could it not have been someone--anyone!--else?

"--are Rock," Jesus was saying. Rock? "and on this rock I will build my community! And the gates of the world below will not close down upon it! And I will give you the keys of the Kingdom of God, and whatever you lock on earth will be locked in heaven, and whatever you unlock on earth will be unlocked in heaven!"

Great heaven! Apparently, the one who hit upon the right way to say who Jesus was was to be the head of all of them! The one with "the keys of the Kingdom of God," so that whatever he locked on earth would be locked in heaven! He! And did not Jesus have some inkling of this right at the beginning? As soon as he caught sight of Simon with Andrew, did he not say, "You are Simon, son of John; you will be called Kephas, 'rock!'"

Apparently, he knew something back then, but something vague, which prompted him to use this peculiar term. He knew he was to be singled out somehow, but did not yet have an explicit notion of how and for what. Now he recognized it. Simon was to be the head of them all, and to control heaven as well as earth!

God save us all!, thought Andrew. But of course, God had done this! What was there about Simon, of all people, that would qualify him to be their chieftain--or rather, the second-in-command, behind Jesus. Even Jesus was taken aback when he heard it!

In the back of his mind during all of this, there was the unspoken thought that Andrew was in so many ways much more qualified than Simon to be the proxy for Jesus whenever Jesus was not present--as he had in fact acted, and competently so, already! But he did not quite dare to articulate this even to himself; it was but a feeling, a new kind of resentment at his situation in relation to Simon.

What he did consciously think was that now, he would have to work hard at subordinating himself to this--this substandard "leader," and probably help him to make the right decisions as he had helped him to be more skillful as a fisherman. And he would get the credit, while Andrew, who worked in the background, would fade into nothingness before him!

He could not bear it! He would not bear it!

He would bear it, he knew; he would have to.

He was beginning to see what his problem was--if there was a problem. Why should he resent it if Simon were Rock, and Andrew a mere pebble? How did Simon's elevation diminish him? He was what he had always been. True, what he had always been, always in the shadow of his brother! It was not that Simon's elevation made him less than he was; it was--it was that it made him appear less than he really was.

But he was still what he was, whether people recognized it or not, was he not? But it rankled that people would not recognize it.

Well, what is is what it is. Even Jesus was surprised by it and doubtless was devising ways in which he could bring it about that Simon would be able to be the foundation-stone on which he built his community. It would take some doing to make it a firm foundation, and not something like shale, ready to fall apart at the least blow! Still, that was Jesus's problem

And not Andrew's? He knew in many ways how to handle Simon. He would have to be instrumental in building him up and not letting him make a fool of himself, without taking over himself or letting it be known that he was behind Simon's wise moves.

Gall and wormwood! If only it had been Philip instead, so that he did not have any responsibility toward him!

But now what was happening?

Jesus was saying "Be aware that the Son of Man must one day go to Jerusalem and suffer a great deal there at the hands of the priests and Scripture scholars, and be put to death, but will come to life on the third day afterwards."

Everyone gasped with shock. Suffer! Put to death! And what could "come to life on the third day" mean? Would he really be killed and return to life? "Destroy this Temple, and in three days, I will rebuild it!"

Had the one "my Father in heaven" inspired to say what Jesus really was shown Jesus that his quest for the transformation of the world--at least as he had envisioned it--was doomed to failure? God forbid! But God was hinting that he would permit it! It could not be. It could not!

But he was terrified that it was. What would they do? What good was the Rock if Jesus was to be killed? How good a foundation could he possibly be if what made him stone was gone?

And of course, this newly-named "Rock," feeling his authority, went up to him and said, "God forbid, Master! This will never happen to you!"

Jesus turned to him half in disgust and half in resignation, and said, "Get behind me, Satan! You are an obstacle in my path! You think as men do, not as God thinks!"

The Rock moved to the back of the group, and if ever a man had his tail between his legs, he had. Andrew was glad, but at the same time embarrassed for his brother. Clearly, what he was trying to "unlock" on earth was not going to be unlocked in heaven.

Everyone else also was struck dumb. No one, including Andrew, could make head or tail of the whole incident. It could not mean what it sounded as if it meant.

But it did, Andrew was convinced. He was going to be killed. And he could not escape the inference that it had something to do with Simon's being the one that made the correct answer. "My Father in heaven" was telling everyone, Jesus included, that picking this--this incompetent, let us face it!--meant that the Great Proposal of redeeming the world by restoring the state before Adam's fall was doomed.

Then was the world itself doomed? But God did nothing in vain. Some other way would be found to redeem the world--presumably some way that would be not as spectacular, and perhaps more painful--Perhaps! He was going to be killed! The whole thing was going to be a failure! But he would "return to life on the third day," whatever that meant.

But it sounded as if the world would not be destroyed because it rejected Jesus as King. But it would be punished somehow, as Adam and his offspring were punished. But it was conceivable, at least, that the state Jesus came to establish--or something like it--would still come to pass, somehow, after the punishment. Perhaps the world had to "die" also and then come back to life afterward. That phrase, "return to life on the third day" was a message of hope. Either Jesus would literally die and literally come back among them, or what he said was a metaphor for his Kingdom's death and restoration, or some such thing.

It was not hopeless, then; it was merely terrifying.

James, nearby, came into his consciousness as he was shaking his head, saying to John. "I understand less and less as the days go on! This I cannot even bear to think about! --But going back to what you were saying about preparation to clarify 'son of the living God,' I know that you and Andrew have been giving it much thought."

"You have no idea, I think." he answered. "But we should leave that to him. He seems to be going about it gradually, and as events unfold, it will become clearer. It is incredible, if we are right; I still cannot really--I do not wish to say 'believe' it, because I believe it and I do not believe it. It seems impossible, and yet who are we to say what the Infinite God cannot do?"

"You mean that you think that he is God? The infinite God, who has a name we dare not pronounce?"

"He told me as much in the beginning, James, when he also told me things he could not have known otherwise."

"I know that he is far greater than any prophet, even Moses. Moses never said anything on his own authority, as he did on the mountain there. 'You have heard it said,' as it was in the Law, 'but I tell you.' Remember that?"

"Indeed I do. I think it is because the whole world is--was--going to be transformed into what Isaiah predicted."

"And you believe that that was not simply poetry?"

"Put it this way: I would not be surprised if it were not."

"You are talking about a new creation!"

"Well, what are we witnessing? Look at what we ourselves can do!"

"You know, you have been making explicit things that have been in the back of my mind that I have not dared really think upon. There is so much I dare not think upon!"

"I imagine all of us will be forced to do so--and soon, if things progress as they have been. But I really wish that it had been Andrew who had said what the Rock said! But, as I know from my own case, and can guess from what I know of others--Thomas, for instance--he does not choose people on the basis of their qualifications, but as we have discussed, on their needs. He can do anything with anybody."

"I fondly hope so," said James. "You have no idea how much I hope so!" John looked at him.

There was a pause. Andrew glowed with the praise John had heaped upon him. But following what John was saying, he thought, He can do anything with anybody--who cooperates. But what of those who do not?

John went on, "If he can bring the dead back to life, then I suppose he can make Simon into a Rock to build his community upon. One would never have been able to imagine it, but presumably he created Simon in the first place." Simon would certainly try to cooperate, especially now after this rebuke. Presumably, a lapse or two did not destroy things.

"He what?" said James, astonished.

"This is one of the implications Andrew and I have been toying with."

"Good heavens!" He was silent at the implication that Jesus in a sense existed before Simon (who was a year older than he), and actually caused Simon to exist. Finally, he said, "Then it is certainly true that much more preparation is required!"

"Well, we shall see. Perhaps one day he will even explicitly say that he was in existence before he was born. That will establish that Andrew and I were on the right track."

Well, at least it seemed, thought Andrew, as John and James parted, that John and he were headed in the right direction--whatever that meant. It seemed now that the "right direction" was the direction toward total disaster--with something afterward. It was all totally confusing and dispiriting.

Anyhow, a little thing like being subordinate in people's opinion to Simon was overwhelmed by the tremendous implication in Jesus's prediction that he would be killed, confirmed by his rebuke to Simon, who had equivalently said, "Ah, Master, you are simply making metaphors again. Explain yourself!"

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