Twenty-Three

But sleep after their dinner, which Mary and Matthew finally attended, came late and fitful; and much of it was occupied, interestingly, not with Mary, but John. Andrew had been convinced that John admired him, and the tone in which he said, "I did not hear the Master call you Andrew Rock" was a sword that pierced him to the heart. He almost cried when he remembered it. It sounded almost as if John hated him. Well, if it came to that, he could reciprocate. But it was such a pity!

But then, when morning finally came, John actually sought him out. Andrew, who did not know what to make of this, looked at him with puzzlement not unmixed with scorn, but after some hesitation, John said, "Andrew, I wanted to tell you how--how well you handled the situation last night. I admire your self-command, the more especially since I completely lost mine."

Andrew looked down at him, somewhat more fondly. Perhaps all was not lost. He replied, "Well, of course, I had not just been slapped on both cheeks by that--what did you call him?--'pig's droppings.'" He actually laughed, and John also laughed in embarrassment.

John hurried on, anxious to say what he wanted to say. "But what I said to you was inexcusable, and I want to tell you that it was the very opposite of what I think--and many others also. I have heard several of the group say that they wish you had given the answer Simon did." Andrew felt like crying again, for relief and joy.

He put his huge arm on John's shoulder as before. John warmed at the touch, and Andrew felt it. "Well, when we are in such a situation, and cannot fight back--and I must say you showed restraint in not retaliating. I know not if I would have had what you called the 'self command' you showed in that. Small wonder that you lashed out at someone else."

"I really hope you understand, or at least forgive me."

"Think nothing of it, youngster. We all make mistakes." And he pulled John toward him in a kind of sideways hug. John responded with something of a sigh of delight.

"Thank you."

"Forget it. We are the partners we always were."

"You are a great man, Andrew."

"Nonsense! If you knew!" If he could see inside me! How I needed this! I was half ready to give everything up and--and what? He knew not.

At this point, Jesus, followed by Mary Magdalene, came up to the group. He had gone to see her, and rescued her from Chusa's Joanna, who had befriended her the previous night, and then discovered who she was--which doubtless produced a considerable change of attitude toward her. Chusa's Joanna was the female counterpart of Lazarus: rich (the wife of Herod's steward) and a snob, who constantly protested how she was "just one of us." But what was worst about her is that her speech was one continuous sentence from morning to night.

She emerged before Jesus and Mary, with a face indicating that Jesus had performed the miracle of silencing her. Doubtless from now on she would elaborate on how broad-minded she was. Andrew could not stand her, and kept away from her as much as possible.

Jesus motioned to Mary, and she went toward them, somewhat irresolute; Matthew--of course--beckoned to her, and shyly and gratefully, (Shyly and gratefully! Mary of Magdala!) she took a seat beside him. Matthew had been swallowed whole; but the interesting thing was that she did not seem to realize it.

"I told you that there was something I wished to say," Jesus began. "There was a man who had two sons--" and he launched into a long story that had something to do with one of the sons going away and spending all his money and then repenting and coming back, and the father welcoming him, and the other son being angry at it, or some such thing. Andrew could see that it was about what their attitude should be to Mary, the "son" who had spent all his inheritance on prostitutes. They were not to act like the loyal son, who wanted to have nothing to do with him when he returned. The father said something like, "This brother of yours was lost and has been found. We had to celebrate."

According to Jesus, then, this sister of theirs had been lost (Lost! Dead!) and been found, and was as worthy of welcome as Matthew (Was the fact that Matthew was an outcast what attracted him to her?) or Thomas or any of the others. We would have to become used to seeing a person as he now is, and not as the self he had repudiated.

Always supposing that she could give up the self she had repudiated.

But of course, Jesus was there. None of the students could succeed by himself; but with Jesus, anything was possible. Jesus was God, after all.

Was he not?

Jesus then beckoned Mary to him once again, and said, "We will be leaving here soon; it would be good if you would wash quickly. But remember, I would speak privately with you for a few moments afterwards, if you could arrange it."

As they headed down the road which would pass Magdala, continuing by the huge lake to Capernaum on the northeast shore, Jesus told them to walk on ahead, and he would come up with them later.

John's brother James took the opportunity of the group's being alone for a while, and said, "Aside from what just happened, however it turns out, things are becoming serious, He is coming closer and closer to a showdown with the Pharisees, and that is bound to mean that the Reign of God has all but started. Agreed?"

"Well, either it starts soon, or he and we are all destroyed," answered Thomas. "I have seen the looks on their faces."

"I agree," chimed in the other James. "It seems (hem) clear that they cannot allow him to continue much longer or (ha) the whole world will go after him and they will be left with (hem) nothing."

"And so?" said John, in a voice of skepticism. It seemed that he did not approve of the direction they were taking.

"Well," answered his brother, "the Master seems too other-worldly to recognize that a Kingdom will have to have some kind of organization and structure. Someone will have to be in charge of its finances--and we have Judas for that--but someone will have to take care of order and seeing to it that the Master's decrees are enforced, and of protecting the Kingdom from outside threats, such as Rome, for instance. And someone will have to take care of diplomatic relations with other nations, and so on."

"And so?" repeated John in the same tone of voice.

"And so if the Master is above naming people for these positions--I mean no disparagement of him, far from it--then should not we, as more down-to-earth, undertake to decide who should be in charge of what in this new Kingdom?

John was about to reply, when the other James said, "I know not whether we should. Do you not think the Master might (hem) resent or take unkindly to our (ha) usurpation, as it were, of his prerogative?"

"Better that he should reprimand us," broke in Simon the Revolutionary, "than that we suddenly find ourselves confronted with a Kingdom with no practical means of governance."

"I am not so (hem) certain of that," replied James.

Thomas said, "And he has already begun the process himself. Clearly the Rock is intended to be a kind of Prime Minister, if he has the 'keys of the Kingdom,' whatever that means. But lesser offices have never been mentioned."

"The problem is how we decide on who is to receive the offices. All of this will be subject to the Master's approval, of course. I have some ideas of my own, but you may not all agree."

"We probably will not," said Thomas. "Certainly not all of us."

"Exactly."

"No one has mentioned Andrew as yet, for instance--'

"No one has actually mentioned anyone, if it comes to that," said James.

"True," continued Thomas, "and I doubt if anyone will have the temerity to put himself forward--though I suspect that each of us has his own ideas on that score."

"So what do we do? Do we draw lots?"

"Why not leave it up to the Master?" said Andrew.

"I would think that you of all people would be able to answer that question." said Thomas. "He picked your brother Simon as second-in-command, did he not?"

Andrew reddened. "And what if he did?"

"Come, come, Andrew, be honest. Even your brother would have to admit how much better you would be at being leader of us all."

"Actually, I agree," said the Rock. The others looked over at him in embarrassment, not realizing that he was there. "I have no idea why he picked me. I thought at first it was one of his jokes, but he seems to be serious."

"It does seem to me," said James, "that it argues to whether he is so spiritual that mundane practical considerations are best left to someone else. He might even admit this if one asked him."

"Oh yes?" said Thomas. "I can see someone going up to him and saying, 'Master, I admire your holiness and spirituality, but do you not think that someone else would be better suited to choosing who is actually to govern this Kingdom of yours--or of God's, I mean.' I dare anyone to try!"

"What is it you were discussing as you walked along?" came Jesus' voice. He had come up behind them.

There was a dead silence.

There was a little boy on the edge of the crowd. Jesus beckoned him over, sat on a rock beside the road, stood him beside him, and put his arm around him. He looked at them. "Amen I tell you," he said, "if you do not turn back and become like children, you will not enter the Kingdom of God. Whoever lowers himself and becomes like this child is the one who has a higher position in the Kingdom of God, and" he looked at the little boy, "whoever accepts one child like this in my name accepts me. One who accepts you is accepting me, and one who accepts me is accepting the One who sent me. Now let us have no more of this. Thank you, my son," and he sent him back to his mother.

At this point, Jairus, the head of the local synagogue, came up to Jesus and said something to him. The people of Magdala had come out with Jairus, and the crowd around Jesus was now oppressive in its mass.

Jesus listened and then started out, with Jairus leading the way, when he suddenly stopped and looked around. Mary, who had come up close behind him, shrank back, expecting a rebuke at her presumption.

"Who touched me?" he asked.

The look on his face did not encourage anyone to volunteer, and those next to him hastily denied it. Simon Rock blurted, "Master, with a crowd around like this, you get bumped into. What do you mean, who touched me?"

"No, no, someone touched me," said Jesus. "I felt power go out of me." And he kept looking around at the people, and finally an old woman came cringing forward and said, "It was I, good Master, I think."

Jesus looked at her. "Forgive me, my good Master," she went on. "I meant no harm; it is just that I had had this trouble for such a long time, and my daughter Judith told me--you see, the doctors had eaten up my whole savings and almost everything my daughter could earn--I have not been able to work for years and years, though I once was known as a seamstress inferior to none--"

Mary, now that she knew that Jesus was not rebuking her, looked over at the woman, and suddenly seemed to recognize her. That was interesting. Where could she have met such a person?

"--harm could it do, she told me," the woman was continuing, "and she said I should go and ask you, and I said that we had no money to pay you, and so I felt I had no right to bother you; but it occurred to me that if I merely touched the tassel of your robe, that would be enough, and--you see, it is not that we would not pay you, it is just that we have no money, and I had no idea that it would cause you any distress, and . . ." She trailed off under Jesus's gaze.

"Just what is this trouble you have had?" he asked.

"Bleeding, Master. Twelve years I have been bleeding, every day, not as wom--but always, you understand. Sometimes enough to fill a drinking-cup. You may ask my Judith; she has taken care of me these many years, she is such a wonderful daughter, and has worked also to keep us both alive." There was a young girl, about David's age, hovering at the back of the group, presumably Judith.

"And you spent all your money on doctors."

"Whenever we could scrape any together, Master. Every mite went to them; everything we have left from food and the barest necessities. But nothing helped. Nothing. I was at my wits' end, especially since my daughter had lost her work, and--" Her voice trailed off once again.

"And so you believed that merely by touching my robe, you could be cured," Jesus was saying. The woman started once again to protest that she would pay when she could, and Jesus held up a hand. "You were correct. It was your belief that cured you; you may go in peace."

As the woman held her hand up over her heart in incredulous relief and joy, Jairus, who had been growing more and more impatient at the interruption of his quest by this insignificant woman, but who did not dare remonstrate, managed to put himself in Jesus's line of sight once again, and Jesus turned anew to follow him, when someone came up to Jairus and whispered in his ear. His face fell, and he looked over at Judith's mother with fury.

His head then dropped in despair. He stood there for a moment, unable to move, and finally began to turn away, when Jesus laid a hand on his shoulder and said, "Do not be afraid. You believe also, and all will be well with her. Rock, I wish only you and John and James to come with me; have the others remain here. There must not be a mob around the house; the girl is very sick." The four of them then left with Jairus and his servant.

Andrew, who was looking at the woman, happened to notice that Mary was now looking around for someone else. The daughter, perhaps? But how would she--

"I knew that I would find you here!" said a young girl, around David's age, behind Mary. So Mary did know both the mother and the daughter!

When the girl saw Mary's expression almost of guilt caught red-handed, she blurted in confusion, "Oh, I am sorry, Miss! Forgive me!"

"Forgive you? For what?" said Mary in an annoyed tone, as one speaks to a recalcitrant servant.

"I know not, Miss. I am sorry." She had resumed her hang-dog attitude.

"In the name of all that is holy, will you stop saying that you are sorry!"

She gave a quick little curtsey, and said, "Yes, Miss. I am sor--" and put her hand to her mouth with a little giggle. "I cannot help it!"

Mary resumed her gruff manner. "So your mother is cured," she said.

"Is it not wonderful! I am so overjoyed! And it is all thanks to you!"

"To me?" The astonishment on her face was a sight to behold.

"Well, to him, of course. But you were the one--Mother! Here is she, as I said! I told you that she would be here and the first thing she would do would be to speak for you!" And, without thinking of the liberty she was taking, she tugged Mary by the arm to her mother, who was still surrounded by the multitude. At the sight of Mary, there were whispers, and the crowd immediately thinned.

The mother already looked twenty years younger than she had when first she saw Jesus. She was in a decent robe, of a bluish white, and had her thinning hair combed into respectability around the narrow, sharp face, with its Judean nose pointing like an arrow before her.

"It is so good to see you here!" said the woman. "Judith was always telling me how good you were, and I believed her, but," she added with a look, whether of apology or collusion one could not tell "you know the stories. Or perhaps you do not."

Good God! thought Andrew. I will wager there were stories! So this Judith was Mary's servant, and her mother allowed it, despite the "stories!" She was either depraved or as desperate as she had represented herself to Jesus.

"--been stories," Mary was saying. "I told you so when I saw you, you will remember."

"Oh, yes, I suppose you did. It seems so long ago now. Yesterday seems so long ago now. Well, I did hear the stories, even from my very kindly neighbors" this in a tone of bitter irony "who kept after me for years, for her good, of course, to stop sending her to you. I finally told them, 'Even if she is as you say she is, who else can she work for? I do not notice you taking her in to help us out!' Well, that kept them quiet; but you know how a mother is, she worries. And in spite of the fact that I trust Judith more than I trust myself, I worried, every now and then." With reason, thought Andrew. Was Mary grooming her to take her place when she became too old? No. No, not that girl. She obviously either had no idea of what Mary was doing, or was blinding herself to it because it was the only way she could earn money for her mother.

Incredible! Here was the notorious sinner, who had cultivated the air of being a naive innocent, and she had as her personal servant someone who was a naive innocent. Andrew surmised that she learned her wiles from studying this girl.

Mary simply said, "Judith always did exactly what I told her."

"I am confident she did," said the mother with pride.

"But when I left you last night," said Judith, still bursting with joy, and you said you had seen the prophet--"

"I did not say that I had seen him."

"Well, no, but you did not say you had not, and you would have if you had not. And when I heard that they were saying that he had driven seven devils out of a woman on the road the night before, and when I saw how changed you were--"

"Changed? How do you mean, 'changed'?"

"Oh, Miss, if you could have seen yourself! You seemed terribly afraid of something, but there was--I know not how to say it--hope or something in your face. You looked as if you were going to live!"

"As if seven devils had gone out of me."

Andrew could not help it. He let out a "Haw! Haw!" when he saw the look on Judith's face. Fortunately, no one heard him.

Judith held her hand to her mouth and drew in her breath as the implication of what she had said dawned on her.

"You know what tongues these people have," broke in the mother. "Judith had told me that you were not well, and that this Jesus of Nazareth had cured you. Imagine! From Nazareth!"

Judith chimed in, "And when I went up to the house this morning and you were not there, I knew you would be with him, especially after--" and she broke off in horror at the new faux pas she was about to make. The mother continued, possibly trying to cover the mistake, "And she told me how you had been cured, and how kind a man he was--Nazareth! Imagine!--and--well, she persuaded me that if he could cure you, then I would be a fool not to try him myself--and so I did. And for the first time in years I can walk without pain!"

"And it was all your doing!" said Judith. "I would never have been able to get her out of the house if it had not been for you!"

Mary looked at her. The girl actually did not realize that it was her own blind faith that had persuaded both Mary and her mother to meet with Jesus in the first place.

Another thought seemed to occur to Mary. "Oh, Judith," she said, "I am glad I saw you. I wish you to do something for me." She looked at the mother. "Would you excuse us for a moment?"

Andrew decided that that was enough. He wandered off by himself to think. He had a problem of his own that bothered him greatly.

Jesus had told a story that Andrew could not make head or tail of, and it troubled him greatly. It was about a man who hired workers in the morning, and paid them a normal day's wage: a denarius. Then later in the morning, he hired others, and then around noon still others, and also in the middle of the afternoon, and even a few an hour before sunset. And then when they were paid, each one in each group received a denarius.

How could this be just? And when the ones who had worked the whole day complained, the owner told them that that was what they had agreed on, and why should they be envious because he was generous? But Andrew thought that they had every right to be "envious." It was not a question of envy, but of simple justice! Those who work more should be paid more! Or if you will, those who work less than the just wage should be paid less! How could it be anything but unjust to pay those who worked twelve hours the same as those who worked only an hour? It made no sense at all!

Andrew shook the story in his mind as a puppy shakes a sandal, but nothing fell out of it; and eventually he simply gave up. Presumably, Jesus knew what he was saying, and there was a solution there, but it was not a solution Andrew could fathom.

But it occurred to him that the solution to this problem was the solution to his problem. He would have to ask Jesus about it.

But Jesus was off--no he was returning, and the whole group was buzzing that he had brought Jairus's daughter back to life!

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