Sixteen

But night was falling apace, and Jesus was still somewhere on the hill--or nowhere, or perhaps already in Capernaum. "What shall we do?" the students asked each other. "He told us we were to be in Capernaum tomorrow. Shall we wait, or get into the boat now?"

"There is only the one boat," said Simon Rock, "and"--looking at Mary--"there are more of us now than when we came over. Will we all fit in?"

"Do not concern yourself," said Thomas. "It is a fine night, though it looks as if there might be a wind later. You go ahead in the boat if you think you want to risk it, in case he has somehow gone ahead of us. I will walk, and see you there probably around noon." He asked if anyone wanted to accompany him, and Simon the Revolutionary, who was not very interested in chitchat, volunteered, as did Mary and a few others, including women who were driving donkeys with bundles of the group's nomadic provisions.

John and James took two of the oars, with the Rock and Andrew behind them (that is, toward the bow). At first, we flew over the water (ordinarily, only two manned the oars), toward the middle of the "sea," which was the direct route to where we were going.

After a while, the conversation among those riding died down, as people looked up at the sky and saw the stars disappear. Nathanael, of course, was sweating and trying not to panic. Then one of those sudden squalls all the fishermen feared began to blow up. The four oarsmen dug in with all their might as the waves rose, and everyone silently pulled with them mentally, as they struggled harder and harder. In a short while, Philip took over John's oar, and "little James" the one of "big James," while I, as someone strong, though a bit inexperienced, spelled Andrew, and Thaddeus, of all people, took over from the Rock, who came to the stern beside Matthew, where Thaddeus had been sitting, and looked out, panting.

Suddenly, he straightened. "Behold!"

"What is it?" came from several voices. We oarsmen were too busy trying to hold the boat on course.

"It looks like the Master!" John looked out. There was a man walking toward them. Walking!

"The Master? What boat could he be in? Ours was the only one."

"He is not in a boat! He is walking over the water!"

"What?" "Where?" "You are out of your mind!"

"Look there astern! See for yourselves!"

"It is the Master!" It certainly looked like him. "It is a ghost! They have killed him!" "Who is out of his mind now?" "How can anyone walk on top of the water? You are all seeing things!" But I suspected not. The miracles were becoming more spectacular, and this one was obviously directed at us. Something serious in the way of revelation was going to happen: that statement that only a madman would accept, I ventured to guess. I prepared my mind.

"No, it is truly the Master!" shouted the Rock over the roar of the storm. "Master, if it is you, tell me to come to you over the water!" Typical.

"Come!" came the voice--clearly, Jesus's voice.

The Rock stepped out of the boat and took a few steps toward Jesus--and then made the mistake of looking down. Immediately, he sank. "Master! Help!" Typical, I thought again. Jesus was suddenly up to him, reached out his hand, and lifted him up. "You skeptic!" he said, in an amused, not unkindly tone. "Why did you doubt?" He brought the Rock up to the boat, and both climbed in.

--And suddenly, the wind and rain stopped, and we found that we were on the shore we had been trying to reach. It was well. I am by no means a weakling, but I was not practiced in rowing, and it was beginning to sap my strength.

As it happened, we were at the place where Simon's boat (which we were in) was moored, and we tied it up and waded ashore. No one said a word, all awed by what they had witnessed. Not only food, but even the winds and the sea were his slaves, and did his bidding at not even a word, but a mere nod of his head.

--But of course. The Force that animated him was the Force that animated the whole universe.

I saw Matthew glance over at me, as overwhelmed as all the rest. But it all fit in, did it not? It was when one experienced it and lived it, it knocked one off one's feet, and one had to struggle to see how it made sense.

We found a sheltered, dry spot and caught a blessed couple of hours of sleep, and then proceeded to the synagogue in Capernaum in silence, everyone too tired to talk--and, it must be said, too overwhelmed with the miraculous bread and the command Jesus had over the elements to think of anything to say.

Outside the synagogue, Jesus again found himself surrounded by a crowd, many of whom had come round already by land, or perhaps in other boats that went by, from where they had been staying. They had informed the rest of the miraculous multiplication of the loaves and fishes, and the whole crowd was abuzz. Jesus, however, did not speak with anyone until they were in the synagogue, and everyone had settled down a bit because they were in a holy place.

Finally, he sat down and looked at them. "Rabbi, when did you get here?" someone asked before he could begin speaking. They had seen the students go alone into the boat, and there were no other boats there.

"Amen amen I tell you," said Jesus solemnly, "you are not looking for me because you saw evidence; you are here because you had a meal and filled yourselves with the bread. Do not be bothering about food that spoils; pay attention to food that stays fresh for eternal life: food that the Son of Man will give you, because this is the task the Father has assigned to him." I thought as much. The bread was a sign--reinforced for our sake by his walking on the water and stilling the storm.--and now he was going to tell us something we must believe. I braced myself.

The people missed what he was driving at--obviously, because they were interested in how they could have Jesus repeat what he had done for them."But what are we supposed to do," they asked "if we are to concern ourselves with what God wants of us?"

"God's task for you," answered Jesus, "is for you to believe in the one he sent." As I predicted. It meant belief.

"Very well," they answered, "but how do you go about proving that you are the one we are to believe in? What is this task God has given you? Our ancestors ate manna in the desert, after all, as it says in Scripture, 'He gave them bread from heaven to eat.'" The unspoken implication seemed to be, "but all you have done is multiplied ordinary bread."

"Amen amen I tell you," Jesus answered, "Moses did not give you bread from heaven." He emphasized the word as his questioner had done, "but my Father will give you bread that really does come from heaven. God's bread is the one who comes down from heaven and gives life to the world." There it was. He was the bread, somehow. Faith in him meant, I suppose, spiritual food. This was nothing startling, actually. Why the huge buildup for it?

"Ah! Then give us this bread, Master, all the time!" they exclaimed.

"I am the bread that comes down from heaven." said Jesus. "A person who comes to me will never be hungry, and one who believes in me will never feel thirst."

The people, however, began to say to each other, "You see? It was nothing but 'listen to me' all over again. Bread from heaven indeed! One could eat the manna!"

"I told you," he answered; "you saw the evidence just now, and yet you still do not believe me. But everyone my Father gave me comes to me, and I will not turn my back on anyone who comes to me, because I came down from heaven to do the will of the one who sent me, not what I please."

So we had an advance here; he said he came down from heaven, and was evidently sent by God, whose will he was fulfilling. Dangerous, but there were ways of interpreting this. So far, nothing to overly antagonize the Pharisees.

At this point, Mary came into the synagogue; I could not avoid seeing her; she was a lodestone for my eyes. And--of course--Matthew went over to her immediately. The incident distracted me for a few moments from what Jesus was saying.

Whatever it was, it did not sit well with the congregation. They were grumbling to themselves more and more loudly, saying things like, "Is this not the Jesus that is Joseph's son?" Another answered, "It is. We know his father and mother. How can he claim that he 'came down from heaven'?"

"What are you complaining about?" said Jesus. "No one can come to me unless he is drawn by the Father who sent me--and then I will bring him to life on the last day. There is a prophesy, 'They will all be instructed by God.' Everyone who has listened to the Father and learned from him comes to me; no one has seen the Father except the one who is at God's side. He has seen the Father."

This was closer to blasphemy. So now he was saying not only that he had come from the Father, but that he "is" at God's side, and "has seen" the Father. The Pharisees doubtless would make much of this. But it was still open to innocent interpretation. In effect, he was saying that he had intimate contact with the Father, which was true if the Father's spirit was inside him.

"--has eternal life." he was saying. "I am bread for life. Your ancestors ate manna in the desert and died; but this is bread that comes down from heaven for people to eat and not die. I am living bread that comes down from heaven, and if anyone eats this bread, he will live forever." He paused, seemed to be inspired by an idea, stroking his beard in his characteristic way, and then continued, "And the bread I am to give you is the meat of my body, for the life of the world."

There it was. That was what I had been expecting--not exactly that, but something as outrageous. The meat of his body was bread that presumably we were to eat!

And the people caught it. "How can this man give us the meat of his body to eat?" said the people to each other. They had been less favorably disposed already, and this tipped the scales. I saw Mary cover her eyes with her hands.

And then followed the demand that we accept what he had said, with no conditions. Instead of explaining himself, Jesus went on, "Amen amen I tell you that if you do not eat the meat which is the Son of Man's body--and drink his blood!--" The congregation gasped once again, "--you will not have life in you!" Jesus seemed more intense now than he had ever been--exactly like a madman who had finally given in to the Force within him. For him, this was the acid test. He would either find believers, or he had sealed his doom, and he obviously knew it, because he was looking more around at the Twelve than at everyone else. Matthew stared at him open-mouthed, and Mary was about to weep. I myself could not look up, and took to examining the tiles in the floor.

"--for the meat which is my body is real food, and my blood is real drink. Anyone who eats the meat of my body and drinks my blood lives in me and I in him. Just as my living Father sent me and I live through the Father, anyone who eats me will live through me. This is the bread that comes down from heaven. Not what your ancestors ate. They died. Anyone who eats this bread will live forever!"

People were now saying, "That is disgusting! How can anyone listen to it?" I was more than inclined to agree with them. Unless he found some allegorical interpretation that explained it.

Jesus looked around at all of them, as they murmured to one another in their outrage. But no explanation was forthcoming; it was as I thought. People would have to accept what he said as true, no matter how obnoxious.

And in fact, he was going on, "You find that difficult to accept, do you not? What if you were to see the Son of Man rise up to where he was before? Spirit is what gives life; matter is of no use at all; and what I have told you is spirit and life, and there are some of you who do not believe it!"

There was no one who believed it--except perhaps Philip, who would believe black is white if Jesus said it was. I could see that a few--John, for instance--were trying, but even they were obviously still hoping against hope that Jesus would explain himself somehow.

"--why I said that no one can come to me unless he is given the power to do it by my Father."

But Jesus was now talking to the backs of the congregation, who were streaming out the doors saying that he might be able to cure the sick, but he was mad, and anyone who listened to him was as mad as he.

Finally, there were left merely we Twelve and one or two others. Jesus looked at us, as we gazed expectantly at him, all of us hoping--praying--for an explanation, such as those he would give them privately about his stories. But Jesus said, with infinite sorrow, "Do you wish to go away too?"

There was a dead silence, and a few shuffled their feet. One or two--not of the Twelve--did leave, shaking their heads in disillusionment. I stayed. What could I do?, but I could not look up off the floor. I was almost ashamed. It was so predictable, and so unnecessary, had he been more vigilant. But he had condemned himself to crucifixion; the Romans would hear from some of the Pharisees in Jerusalem, who would trump up a charge he would not deign to answer, and it would be all over. It was horrible!

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Simon Rock spoke up, with tears in his voice. "Master, to whom would we go? We know that what you say is eternal life, and--and we have believed that you are the Holy One of God. We--we know this."

Jesus smiled poignantly at the masterful effort. "Did I not choose you twelve?" he said. Then his eyes lifted themselves to the mountains on the other side of the lake and beyond them to the infinity he had just said he had come from, and added, "And one of you is a devil!"

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