Sixteen

'I would that you had been there, Andrew," returned Simon.

"No, it is as well I stayed," he said. "You have the tongue, and my appearance there would only have emphasized what they were losing."

John had turned to Ezra and asked in a low voice, "What do you think, Ezra? Will we be able to survive the wedding-feast?" Thomas was right beside him, and, though he was lost in thought, John did not want to mention his name.

"That is the question, is it not, youngster,"he answered, having caught his drift. "Everyone says Jesus knows what he is doing, and all the evidence is that they are correct. In that case, we have nothing to worry about."

"If I could but make myself believe that."

"Well, we can also keep our eyes open."

Thomas turned to John, and asked, "Which of the two is the older, Simon or Andrew?" he asked.

"Simon, of course."

"Ah, then that explains it."

"What?"

"Why it was that Simon did the talking. One would have thought, just from looking at them, that Andrew would have done a better job."

John laughed. "Muscles do not necessarily mean diplomatic skills."

"No, what I meant was that Andrew seems--how shall I say it?--in control of things." That was true. John knew that, though Andrew did think of Simon as a better spokesman, he had a certain resentment about the fact that Simon, in his impulsiveness, always took the lead. Andrew, who was slower, but perhaps more thoughtful, perhaps felt rebuffed at this.

He said, "Oh, he is. But it is true, Simon has the tongue. Sometimes a bit too much of it. But it seems to have been adequate to the task this time at least."

Ezra remarked, "It is difficult not to judge on first appearances, but the problem is that is difficult to judge correctly on first appearances. Or on appearances at all." That was true. Certainly, there was more to Ezra than his color and physical condition.

"That is true," said John aloud, "and it means that I will have to get to know you better. There is much beneath your appearance." John then thought, "Well, the fact that he--let us face it, attracts--me is not a reason why I should avoid him." Or was it?

"There is much beneath it," answered Ezra, with one of his brilliant smiles, "that I myself know not." John wondered what he meant by this. It seemed somehow directed at John, but he could not fathom any hidden communication, if there was one.

"I hope that is true of me also," said Thomas. "All of you seem to detect something in me that I have never been able to discover."

"That, if I may say so," replied Ezra, "is because you have also been a slave right up to this very morning, whether you realized it or not."

Thomas thought for a moment. "A different kind of slave," he admitted, "but I see your point. I was a slave, obeying the orders of drink. It is a new way of looking at it."

"I suspect that most people are slaves to something or other, and only think they are free, when they are actually led on by this or that. I was lucky, in that sense. It was obvious I was a slave; but when one is enslaved by something inside oneself, one probably thinks of oneself as free." Ah, perhaps that is what it was. Had he detected that John was struggling not to succumb to being a slave to something inside himself--or perhaps suspected that he was indeed a slave, and a slave to what Ezra himself had within him? But that was preposterous. He was letting wishful thinking direct his thoughts.

Or something.

Thomas was saying"--my vice was making me do things, and ruining my life and the lives of those around me. If I could but undo it!"

"And Bartholomew wishes the same thing," said Ezra.

John nodded, "And so do I, indeed." If Ezra had been thinking what John had speculated, would he take this as a reply?

Thomas laughed. "Perhaps we have all been chosen because we were all slaves to something, and Jesus wished to set us free."

"There may be something in that," said John. Thomas was obviously quite astute. "And as to that, if there ever was a free man, it is the Master--and possibly Judas Iscariot."

"Think you?"

"Why, do you see something in him?"

"No, not really."

"I think," said Ezra, "what Thomas is referring to is what I have noticed from what I have seen of him. Judas is too perfect. He is exceedingly handsome, and brilliant--he is a priest, you know, Thomas."

"No, indeed?"

"Indeed. So in addition to being intelligent, he is very learned. And he is graceful, and apparently strong, and almost anything else you can name--and humble, in the sense that he makes no boasts of his qualities, though he does not deny them. And yet . . . And yet I feel as you do. With the Master, it is different. He is all that Judas is--of course, less strikingly beautiful as a man--but it sits well on him. He is above us, and he knows it, but--how shall I say it?--it does not please him, particularly; it is but a fact. With Judas, it is a fact, and he is quite happy about it."

"Come now, Ezra, you are being unjust," said John.

"Am I? Thomas feels it. Is this not what you feel?" he asked Thomas.

"I have barely seen him, so I could not say. Perhaps we are being unjust, but the vague impression I got was something along the lines you were saying."

"Perhaps we are unjust. But I have had much and much time to study people. I may be mistaken, but I think not."

"Well, the Master chose him, and as everyone says, he knows what he is doing."

"I wonder. Did the Master choose him--as he clearly chose you and Bartholomew--and me--or did he choose the Master?"

"As to that," said Andrew, who had heard the tail end of the conversation and come over to join them, "I was there when John was bathing everyone, and Judas came up to be bathed, just after Jesus. We all thought that it had thundered, and some heard a voice, and there was the bird that John mentioned afterward, which was the sign he had been told to look for--though I hear that he actually knew Jesus before; he was his cousin, or something--and Judas immediately spotted who it was, and after he dried off, asked if he could become a follower of Jesus. Jesus looked at him and said that if he went to Galilee, by the shore of the Sea of Tiberias, he would find him in a month or two. It was only after that that John pointed Jesus out to John and me, and we followed him ourselves." So Andrew had actually heard what Jesus, and, yes, it was Judas, had said to each other just after his bath.

"Interesting," said Ezra. John then realized that Judas had admitted--no, not 'admitted,' mentioned--that very thing to him, and in a quite satisfactory way. Why, as a Pharisee who did not see eye to eye with the others, would he not do as he did?

"But the Master does know what he is doing," said Andrew, "and he would not permit himself to be 'chosen' by anyone if he did not wish him to be among us." Exactly, thought John.

"I suppose you are right," said Ezra. You must be right, of course. No one manipulates the Master."

"Well I think you are all being hard on Judas for no reason," said John. "I see nothing wrong with him. I like him."

Thomas said, "Oh, we see nothing wrong with him. Just the opposite. Ezra was saying that his problem was that there was too much right with him."

"That sounds to me like nothing but simple jealousy."

"And so it may be, youngster," said Ezra. "Our problem seems to be that we really have nothing much to talk about at the moment except each other--and that inevitably means finding fault with each other." He laughed, and the others joined in.

Unless of course, thought John, the Master saw that Judas also was in some kind of severe danger. There might be something about Judas at that, if his theory of how people were chosen was true.

Nonsense!

Jesus suddenly broke in, (to forestall pursuing this further? wondered John) "We are almost, but not quite, ready to start announcing that the reign of God is just about to begin, and to prepare people to change the way they think about things. Another few days, I expect. But I think we had best be thinking now about something more practical: where each of us intends to spend the night--and to see to it that each has a wedding-garment ready on the morrow for the day after.

John looked at Thomas at the same instant Nathanael did, both evidently realizing that Thomas no longer had any decent clothes of his own. John supposed that what he was wearing was something Nathanael loaned to him--certainly neither he nor Samuel had had anything that expensive previously. And anything he himself had would not have been cared for, and doubtless was fit for nothing but the fire. This was confirmed by the look on Thomas's face. Nathanael came over to him and said, "Fear not, Thomas. What you are wearing at the moment will do very nicely. I dare say even that it will surpass many of the others, who, after all, were fishers like you."

John realized that, unlike perhaps Simon and Andrew, he had some clothes that would be acceptable, as did James. He saw, in fact, Simon and Andrew speaking together about it. James, who was about Simon's size, offered to help, but no one came anywhere near having anything that would fit Andrew. Judas quite generously let three or four of them borrow some of his clothes. Judas was very well dressed. Perhaps he too was rich.

Ezra, who was looking on in a detached way, finally stepped over to Andrew and said, "I think I have something that you might be able to use, Andrew, if you do not mind putting on what used to be the livery of a slave. Of course, Bartholomew was always discreet and tasteful, and so it will not look like livery when you are wearing it. It will be a little tight on you, but I think you could get into it."

Andrew looked at him, at first skeptically and then with some confidence at his size. "Why thank you, Ezra, if you think Bartholomew would not mind."

"They are my clothes, Andrew. They only were his." John thought, it is not easy to forget that Ezra was a slave--or rather, it was easy to forget that he was no longer a slave.

Andrew flushed. "Of course. I was not thinking. Excuse me."

"Apology accepted." Ezra smiled, and so did Nathanael, but Nathanael's smile was a bit rueful. John suspected that Nathanael too had just now realized that Ezra's clothes belonged to Ezra and no longer to him, and was ashamed not to have thought of this. How could Nathanael have set him free and yet claimed his very clothes? There doubtless would be several more little contretemps like this one.

Ezra said, "I will fetch them tonight. I expect that Bartholomew and I will be sleeping in Cana. The wedding itself is in Cana, is it not?" He looked over at Nathanael, who nodded.

"I do not think it worth while to go around to Bethsaida," said Philip. "If one of you can find room for me, I will stay here in Capernaum. In that way, we can be back here early enough tomorrow."

John immediately offered him his house, which had a spare room, and he accepted gladly.

Nathanael looked up at the sky, and said, "But the sun is about to set, and perhaps we had best be started. The hill is a rather long climb, and a bit rough at night. Would you join us, Thomas?"

Thomas noticed that John was coming over as if to invite him also to his own house, but when John heard Nathanael, he turned to make a random remark to Simon, leaving Thomas free, and Thomas said, "Thank you, Nathanael," and went after them as they turned to climb the rather steep ascent. John was a bit disappointed, but after all, Thomas and Nathanael had been friends, and John was only the friend of the appearance of Thomas. But for that very reason, he wished he could get to know him better, and not see him as Samuel-who-was-not-really-Samuel, but as a person in his own right.

The next morning, they breakfasted more or less in silence; it seemed that Philip was not a "morning" person, and did not become his usual outspoken self until nearly noon--for which John, for one, was grateful. All Philip said was, "I forgot. I should have gone home last night. I must go over to Bethsaida some time today, to fetch my clothes for the morrow." The others made noises that they had heard him.

After eating, they wandered back to the shore, where the group was gathering. Jesus was there, but as usual not saying much, and rather listening to them than leading the conversation. John found these purely social meetings particularly distressing, since he did not really know how to interact with others, and it made life easier when there was something definite to talk about, and definite people with whom to talk. But he managed by putting on a face of interest, and nodding as if he understood what the others were saying, while he actually retreated into his own private world; and the time passed reasonably well. Philip made excuses and disappeared for a couple of hours, returning with his clothes on his arm.

Eventually Thomas and Nathanael also appeared, with Ezra carrying a load of clothes. He had not completely shed his role as the slave, it appeared--but then John remembered that he was the one who had offered clothes to Andrew, and they were his clothes.

Ezra went up to Andrew and showed him the clothes, and Andrew tried on the cloak, which was the most important of the garments, and, to his joy, it almost fit him. "I had no idea you were that big, Ezra," he said.

"Actually, we selected this one because it is a little large for me; I used to use it when I had some task that would require moving around a great deal. But if you do not try fishing in it, it seems as if it will serve very nicely."

"And you have a tunic also. That is well. My tunic looks rather--forlorn--inside it."

"I expect you will be able to get into that also, though you might have a bit more trouble moving once you put it on. But it is only for the wedding and the reception, where you have nothing to do, except congratulate the bride and groom and drink wine."

At this, John saw Andrew cast a glance in Thomas's direction, which Thomas pretended not to notice.

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. Judas had not meant anything except to state what was obviously a fact. But it was a worrying fact, and the Master would have to see how to handle it--presumably without turning them into an army.

It looked as if it was going to be an exciting future, if not positively a dangerous one.

And so 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 learning to quell their hot tempers, and quickly cooled down, especially when others agreed with their main point, and only added caveats and qualifications.

At one point, John became curious about just how much Ezra actually knew about Judas, and went over to him as he was standing by himself--a common occurrence with him--and said, "I was wondering, Ezra. Have you had any extended conversations with Judas?"

"He has not exchanged a word with me."

"Indeed? You sound as if you think it is deliberate."

"Well, to test my theory--you remember, I had the idea that he was quite contented with being perfect--I went over and extended my hand, as if to introduce myself. He looked at it, and then for the first time looked up at me, and turned away; it was as if he was afraid that some of the soot would rub off on him. I was half tempted to tell his back that my color was not contagious."

"Really, Ezra!"

"Ah, John, but you did not see the look on his face! It was not difficult to interpret, believe me."

"I do not understand. He was all cordiality with me."

"Well of course. You, though merely a fisherman, which in this group he has at least to tolerate, were thinking of studying to be a rabbi, and you can read, and, if you will permit my saying it, you are quite cute, with all your muscles and your curly hair." John half expected a smile à la Daniel, but he stated it as a simple fact, and so John let the moment pass, and said, "So you think he deliberately insulted you?"

"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."

"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 inanimate object they were appraising. 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 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."

"I have sometimes wondered how slaves felt; but of course I never really knew anyone who could afford one, so I had no real experience of them."

"It is not an enviable situation. But one learns how to make the best of it."

"Apparently that was what you were saying to Thomas, when the two of you were laughing yesterday."

"Something along those lines."

"But are you going to be one of us? 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?

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