Twenty-Eight

That night he lay in his place, tossing and turning. He slept, more or less, but by fits and starts, waking constantly with his remark to Andrew ringing in his ears, and saying to himself, "I must do something! I must say something to him! But what? What can I say that will not make it worse?"

Finally, the next morning, without any plan, he went, whispering to himself, "Master, help me!" to see Andrew, who looked at him with puzzlement not unmixed with scorn, and 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. "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.

"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 now put his huge arm on John's shoulder as before. John warmed at the touch. "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. He had no idea how glorious it made John feel.

"Thank you."

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

"You are a great man, Andrew."

"Nonsense! If you knew!"

John had a suspicion he did know at least something, which was confirmed by Andrew's scarlet face at his remark the preceding night--which did not mean that he was not a great man; just the opposite. And of course, there was a good deal about himself that he hoped Andrew would never find out. They parted amicably, John breathing a sigh of relief when he was by himself. He hoped Andrew meant what he had said.

At this point, Jesus, followed by Mary Magdalene, came to the group. He motioned to her, and she went toward them, somewhat irresolute; Matthew, interestingly, beckoned to her, and shyly and gratefully, she took a seat beside him. There was something going on there.

"I told you that there was something I wished to say," he 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. John was too caught up in his own concerns to pay any attention, though it did seem that the point was that they were to welcome Mary--something that a good many in the group were extremely reluctant to do.

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. This was taking a turn that he did not think he approved of.

"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?" said John, skeptically. He was convinced that Jesus was not too other-worldly for anything, and that if there were to be a kingdom with various offices, he himself would appoint them, or the Father would, as he appointed Simon Rock. (Secretly, he hoped that he would be one of the main ones.) But John's opinion was that he would govern, if any governing was needed, by himself. After all, if he was God, then managing a kingdom and everyone in it was child's play.

"--no disparagement of him, far from it--" James was saying, "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," said John's brother. John thought that this was by no means the only problem. "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 left with Jairus and his servant, and when they arrived at the house, there was wailing and gnashing of teeth, the neighbors mourning the loss of the little girl.

"Go away!" said Jesus, quietly but menacingly. "The girl is asleep, not dead, and should not be disturbed." They laughed at him.

On the other hand, his tone and his actions commanded obedience, and so only the Rock, James, and John entered the house with the frantic parents. There was the girl, obviously a corpse, stretched out already for burial. John thought of David being carried out to the grave, and could have predicted what was going to happen.

Jesus went up to her, took her hand and said, "Talitha, kum," "Stand up, my child," and she stood up in perfect health, looking about in astonishment at the condition she found herself in. "Give her something to eat" said Jesus; "she is hungry," and as the parents bustled about getting the shroud off the girl and fetching some bread, fish, and water, Jesus turned to the three and said, "Let us go," and then turned back to the parents and told them, "Do not advertise this; it is too early. Say that she was very ill--as indeed she was--but now is well."

"Thank you, Master! How can we thank you enough?"

"You can do so," he answered, by keeping quiet about what actually happened until--well, you will know when to reveal it. The authorities are not well-disposed toward me, and I have too much to do before I put myself into serious danger."

The parents could not make head of tail of this, and the girl did not even try. When she found out that she had indeed been dead, she all but leaped around for joy.

They escaped and went back to the encampment. John vowed he would keep silence, but James and Simon evidently thought the prohibition did not apply to them, and freely told the whole incident to those in the group who would listen. Everyone who heard it was agog.

John was sure that the parents would not be able to keep the news to themselves, especially under the cross-examination of those who had witnessed the girl dead--and indeed, in short order the whole story became a matter of common knowledge.

John speculated again about why he, James, and the Rock were the ones to be witness to this, as they had been to what happened on Tabor. He surmised that something momentous was to happen to them, and they would need a spate of reminders of Jesus's divinity to see them through whatever ordeal Jesus saw coming toward them. John prayed, "Do not lead us into trouble, Master, and keep us from harm!" Ever since Jesus had taught them that prayer, John had said it three or four times a day. It soothed him.

Shortly thereafter, John happened to be walking at the back of the group, with Ezra. Thomas was ahead of him with Judas, interestingly enough. Suddenly, Thomas, who had just taken a deep draught from--evidently Judas's canteen, paused with an "Oh-my-God-what-am-I-to-do-now" look on his face, and finally, with a great effort of will spat out--a red liquid--onto the ground. He turned to Judas in fury.

"What are you trying to do?" he shrieked. "Kill me?"

"What?" said Judas. "Oh, Thomas, I am sorry! I thought it was the canteen of water! Here! Drink this!" and he handed him the other one. Thomas took a mouthful--of water, this time--and tried to rinse away the taste. He spat it out and then took a long, long drink.

Ezra looked at John, "That was deliberate,"

"No!" said John.

"But yes," he answered. "David and I have been watching him. He does not make mistakes thus; I am certain of it."

"But why would he do such a thing?"

"--am dreadfully sorry, Thomas," Judas was saying. "I cannot think! I was sure that one was the water!"

"You see?" said John.

"We are not done yet," said Ezra.

"It is of no consequence," said Thomas to Judas.

"I am happy to think that you suffered no ill effects," he said. "Very happy." He smiled a rather rueful smile, and they walked on together in silence.

"There you have it," said Ezra. That was no accident. He wanted to test Thomas--and if he passed the test, perhaps plant in him the idea that all was well, and he could drink like a normal person again."

"But he cannot!" said John. "Samuel told me--" He let it hang in the air.

"I know it also from Bartholomew's mother. Many and many a time, she has given up drinking 'for good,' and then just had 'one little drink,' and found herself almost as far gone as Thomas. It cannot be done. Fortunately, from Thomas's own experience, he knows this. He also has tried and failed in the past. No, the whole thing was deliberate."

"But why would he do it?"

"Perhaps Judas does not know. But again, perhaps he does."

"Ezra, do you realize that you are making him out to be--to be the devil himself?"

"I know not about that. I suspect the devil is cleverer than what we just saw. But I know what I have seen. Were you aware that he has a mansion in Jerusalem? One that makes Matthew's house look like a barn, not to mention Bartholomew's."

"Well, what of that? He must have been rich before he joined us."

"Then where is the 'sell what you have and give to the poor?' And besides, I have looked into it. He was not rich before he met Jesus--he was not poor either, by any means, but--no, the house and what is in it was furnished by contributions to Jesus for all of us."

A shock went though John. "Can you prove this?"

"Not yet, but David and I are on the way."

"I would have to see clear evidence if I were to believe it."

"I know. That is why I have said nothing as yet. But the reason I tell you is that he seems to be attacking the weaknesses of those he sees. I would hate to have you fall into his grasp. I go for the moment to Thomas, to give him a bit of a warning also."

He and Thomas spoke for a while in undertones, and finally Thomas said, "Fear not, Ezra, I will try no experiments," and shortly afterward, Thomas went to Jesus and had a long talk with him. John was glad, especially when he heard Jesus say, "You did well, Thomas."

"But I am afraid that it might lead me to--" He let the rest hang there, a plea.

"Do not rely on yourself. Trust in me, and do not worry."

"I will try, Master."

"Fear not, Thomas." John thought that he overheard because he was meant to overhear. In any case, he resolved to take the lesson and try to trust harder in Jesus. "What do I have to fear? What can any mere human do to me," he recalled from the psalm.

The next day, as they were near Capernaum, John happened to be at the edge of a clearing, with Mary on the opposite side, the sun glinting off her shining black hair. She did not seem to see him, and so he studied her. Clearly she was beautiful, with a beauty that somehow radiated innocence, almost, John thought, like Jesus's mother, "Who is also Mary. Interesting." But in the mother's case--how hard it was to think of her as a mother; she was like a little girl in so many ways, except wisdom--it was innocence not in not knowing what sin is, but in never, it seemed, committing it. With Mary Magdalene, it was an art acquired by long practice, and now second nature to her. Only a very close look revealed the difference, and John was trying to see if he could discover it.

And also to learn why her appearance did not drive him crazy. Obviously, Matthew was already smitten. He could certainly appreciate her beauty, as one appreciates a beautiful sculpture, or a perfect landscape; but she did not arouse him. This worried him a great deal.

She saw him looking at her, and for just an instant, gave a pleading look--a kind of "Only you can save me" look, which John saw through instantly--as did she. She immediately turned red, and bowed her head to the ground in shame.

And then Judas walked though the clearing between them, and John's heart leaped.

A few moments later, Ezra walked by and said to the air in front of him, "As I told you. Beware!" He gave no hint that he was aware that John was beside him and could hear, and walked on.

John, shaking his head, walked back to the encampment.

The next morning, he and James went home briefly, and greeted his mother and father. His mother said to James, "I have been thinking. I am going to see Jesus and ask that you and John have second and third place in the Kingdom that Jesus is going to--"

"Oh, please, Mother! No!" cried James, his face scarlet with embarrassment.

"Nonsense!" she countered. "You know as well as I that the Kingdom is almost upon us. And you know as well as I that he has known you for years, and appreciates your virtues--both of you. What harm could there be in putting in a word?"

"A great deal, Mother. Jesus does not operate in that way. He--"

"Not in that way? He is human, is he not?"

James was as certain as John that he was not merely human. And they had just had a rebuke on this subject. "Really, Mother, please! I wish you would not!"

"He is just down the road a bit. I see no harm in it. Come!"

What could they do. With scarlet faces, they followed her. She came up to Jesus, knelt before him and said, "I would ask a favor of you, Master."

He looked at her, and then with an amused smile at James and John, who immediately began studying the rocks in the path. "What would you like?" he asked, as much to them as to her. They were, of course, silent.

"Tell me that these two sons of mine will have second and third place when you become King," she said.

He waited, and James and John had to look up at him from their contemplation of the ground. "You people," he said, "do not know what you are asking. Can you drink out of the cup I am to drink from?"

There was another pause. John thought of what Jesus had predicted of himself. But when it came to that, he was ready to endure it, if necessary. He and James said at the same time, "We can."

Jesus looked at both of them fondly. "Yes, you will drink from my cup," he said with infinite sorrow and pity. "But second and third place in my Kingdom is not for me to give; it is for those my Father has prepared it for." He patted both of them on the shoulder with an "I understand" gesture, and bowed to the mother, who turned and, in some pique, went back to their house. The two did not follow, and managed to slink off.

Someone had overheard this, however, and there was angry discussion about it. Jesus once again intervened, and said, "You have heard that Gentile authorities act like masters of slaves, and the nobles let the ordinary people feel their power. That is not how it is to be with you. If anyone wants to be of the upper class, he is to become your servant, and the one who wants the top rank is to be your slave. In the same way, the Son of Man did not come to be waited on; he came to serve--" and he paused and looked out at the horizon--"and to give up his life as a ransom for many, many others."

John went to bed that night with the realization that he himself would probably be giving up his life as a ransom for many also. Could he drink the cup? In truth?

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