Three

I had assumed, with considerable misgivings, that the people I saw was going to be the heart of what Jesus was planning to do, and it seemed I would have my work cut out for me to weed out the misfits and populate his entourage with competent people--and apparently he was not finished.

I had met John and spoken to him, and thought that he, of anyone in the group, would be the one Jesus would use for his purposes, but I was taken aback when he took Philip, of all people, aside, and said that he had a task for him; he was to find one Nathanael and bring him to join them. Philip demurred, saying that he had not seen Nathanael since a person named Thomas disappeared after he had killed his brother Samuel in an accident (another pair of fishermen).

One received the impression that finding Nathanael would lead to a rescue of Thomas, who, I learned, was a drunk who apparently was in a cave somewhere trying to drink himself to death. His rescue was, I suppose, a humanitarian gesture, but it looked as if he might be joining the group, which boded less favorably, as far as I could see, for the value of the group itself.

I tried diplomatically to bring this up, and Jesus simply looked at me incredulous and said, "The man will die unless he is rescued. He will be a great man, Judas, but even if he were not to be, should we not do something for him if we can?"

What could I say? His rescue might help him, but what would it do for us, or for Jesus himself? A drunk among the very entourage of Jesus--even if, perhaps, an ex-drunk! I tried to lead up to this, but when I mentioned that it might not advance Jesus or his cause, he absolutely could not understand what I was alluding to. One would have thought that he was either completely ignorant of his mighty mission, whatever it was, or that he was deliberately choosing misfits to show his own great power as he led them to do things impossible for such blockheads.

In any case, when Nathanael appeared, Jesus remarked that he was a true Israelite, with nothing devious about him, and when Nathanael said, "Where have you ever met me?" he completely shocked him by saying, "Before Philip called you, I saw you--under the fig tree." Apparently something happened to Nathanael as he sat under the fig tree, something that implied that Jesus knew of him there and because of that was willing to help him, however impossible it appeared.

Nathanael seemed to confirm this by blurting, "Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!" at which Jesus laughed, and said, "Do you believe because I said I saw you under the fig tree? You will see greater things than that. Amen amen I tell you, you will see the sky open up, and God's angels going up and coming down upon the Son of Man!"

A fascinating statement. He had just been called the Son of God, as the thunder had called him (most people would interpret the Force creating the universe and a kind of person they called God, who had the Name no one pronounces), and now he called himself the "Son of man," just as if he were some kind of god, who found it amusing to see himself in human skin. But he had to know better than this.

But also, he now claimed to be a new version of the ladder Jacob had seen at what he named the House of God, Bethel, reaching from earth to heaven, with angels ascending and descending on it, where God said he was with Jacob and his offspring and would bring them blessings. That is, obviously, that Jesus was to be the bridge or mediator between the Creator of the universe and earth, upon which his forces would bring miracles upon earth, and upon which the prayers and wishes of mankind--at least those in his favor--would be answered.

So if he was not God, he might as well be, because God was in him somehow, and acted through him. All this, I realized, was consistent with the One of Plotinus or the Good of Plato: the single Director of everything that happened in the world. But Jesus was claiming to be, from now on, the Channel through which all this occurred.

So perhaps he did not need anyone special to do what he wanted done; what he needed, however, I began to see, was someone who could--should I say, suggest?--to him how he might direct this infinite power, so that it would not destroy him, and the rest of us in the bargain, and accomplish nothing lasting on the earth. That, I took it, was my mission, if I could be clever enough to fulfill it. And I was confident that, at least with practice, I would be clever enough. It was daunting, but I felt I ought at least to try; no one else seemed anywhere near capable of it. All were too awestruck with Jesus's power, and could not conceive that it might be misdirected by him--or by him as human, whatever that might mean.

He then entered into a discussion with Nathanael about the rescue of this Thomas, and Nathanael kept saying that he could not do it, and Jesus returned that he would do it because Jesus, though not present, would be with him--another fascinating statement. At one point, Nathanael almost shouted,

"Master, Iam nothing but fear! I can do nothing! It was from fear that I did nothing and let Samuel die!" Apparently, then, Nathanael was in some way responsible for the death of the twin of Thomas, and thus Jesus wanted him to participate in his rescue, in spite of the fact that even he admitted that he was a coward. Not a promising figure to have around one, unless one were to show his power to overcome overwhelming obstacles--because fear is, perhaps, the most overwhelming of all obstacles.

In any case, Jesus succeeded in persuading him (as one would expect), and he and a black slave of his whom he had just freed went off in search of Thomas, and Jesus himself left for the house of Simon bar-Jona (the fisherman Simon), where he had something to do. The rest of us stood about discussing what had happened; and no one had the slightest inkling of anything except me, and even I could not see clearly what was to come of this.

We were all agreed, however, that Nathanael would return with Thomas, and after a considerable time, he did--with a Thomas who had obviously been starving himself, but who showed no sign of drunkenness, nor of the filth he had doubtless been wallowing in. From the look on the ex-slave Ezra's face, I took it that he had had the unenviable task of cleaning him. It would have been interesting to see how Nathanael had persuaded him, since he could no longer command him; but Ezra's self-satisfied smile made it clear who was responsible.

Philip the Fool went up and remarked "I never knew it was you, before you came to me yourself, after you k-" and finally it came to him what he was about to say, and he caught himself. "After the accident. Before, I thought it was Nathanael."

Thomas, who looked as if he might punch him in the face, took in a deep breath, and answered, "Well, that was part of the deception that I was practicing. I find, though, that I was deceiving myself even more than anyone else. Samuel--and my poor father--knew all about me, though I thought I was being so clever."

"You had me completely fooled," blurted Philip--a simple enough task.

"Not completely," said Thomas,"I remember once you told me I looked as if I was drunk."

Philip returned, "I was merely joking."

"No doubt I did look as if I was drunk, because I was. I did not realize how drunk I was, and was convinced no one would notice, but you made me drink less, as I remember, for a while. But it caught up with me again. It is insidious."

Philip looked thoughtful. "How is it that most people can drink and nothing happens, but others become drunks? You would think they would see what was happening and stop

before it became too serious."

"It is not that simple, Philip. I told you it is insidious. At first, I suppose, one can stop, but at that point there is no

reason to stop. Everyone else drinks wine, and one thinks that

one is not drinking any more than anyone else. But one does

not notice that one drinks more and more as time goes on, and

still believes that perhaps it is a bit more than others, but not unusual--and one believes that he can stop any time he chooses. But he finds no occasion to choose, even as life becomes more and more difficult. And then when the crisis comes, he cannot stop, and he even fights when--" he could not go on, and doubled over in sobs.

As everyone looked on in horror and pity, Philip ran up to him and placed his hand on his back, while the others stood

round in embarrassment, "I am so sorry, Thomas! I know you

could not help it! But the Master has saved you from it, has he

not? It is over!"

Thomas gradually recovered control of himself. He straightened up and looked Philip in the eye, and said, "Oh, no, Philip, it is not 'over.' I suppose it never will be 'over.'"

Evidently, Thomas was astute enough to know what had happened and was likely to happen with him. He sounded, actually, like a reasonably intelligent person--and one with a sense of humor. Referring to hallucinations Jesus had rescued him from, he said, "At least I no longer see things that are not there." He looked around. "You all are here, are you not?"

Something could be done with Thomas, perhaps, if he stayed sober; and it was likely he would do so, if the Master was by him. So perhaps the selection of Jesus's followers was not simply random--indeed, the Force that inspired him would preclude that, I supposed. There was hope.

Interestingly, at this point someone remarked that there was to be a wedding in Cana in a couple of days, and that Jesus had gone to Simon's house to see if his followers would be invited. This would provide a severe test for Thomas, who of course, would be expected to at least take a cup of wine to celebrate the marriage. Would he be able not to drink from it? How would Jesus handle it?

The first hurdle to be jumped, however, in this invitation was to find decent clothes for everyone. They were, most of them, workers, and looked at what they had on with dismay. I decided to lend some of my clothes to those who could get into them, and some swapped with others, leaving everyone except the giant Andrew taken care of.

He looked about in despair until the black slave--ex-slave--Ezra came up to him and said that he had some garments that might fit him, though possibly they would be a little tight. And it did seem that he was right, when one looked closely at him; in himself, he was a magnificent specimen, tall and well-muscled, though the whole effect was spoiled, of course, because he was as black as polished ebony.

Andrew inadvertently uttered a gaucherie by saying, "Why, thank you Ezra, if you think that Bartholomew (a name Nathanael had adopted) would not mind," and Ezra smiled and said, "They are my clothes, Andrew; they only were his," and Andrew muttered apologies for still thinking of him as a slave. It is difficult to think of a freedman as not "really" a slave; I have done so myself.

In any case, in two days, we were all at the wedding feast, and a crisis arose about a third of the way in. The chief steward nervously looked at the supply of wine, and Jesus's mother went up to him and said something, at which he at first demurred and then stroked his beard and looked around pensively. (That stroking of the beard, as I mentioned, seemed to be a sign that either an inspiration from the Force had occurred, or that he was anticipating one.) His eyes lit upon the water-jars people used for washing, and he told the servers to fill them with water from the stream outside the house; and when they did so, he told them to draw it out and take it to the chief steward.

It had become wine--and superb wine, I tasted it--and there was enough there to keep a small army supplied for a month. A magnificent gesture, and a perfectly impossible feat. He clearly had the Creator of the universe at his beck and call--as his mother had him at hers. Though she was but a woman, I resolved to cultivate her, and went over to engage her in conversation, but, like a woman, she had apparently conceived an irrational antipathy for me, and with a few polite remarks, she withdrew and, I saw, went off to converse at great length with Thomas! There is no accounting for tastes.

Speaking of Thomas, shortly after the water became wine, the groom himself had noticed Thomas standing there without a cup, and he gave him one he had been bringing to his new wife. Thomas took it nervously and held it for a while, wondering what to do with it. He looked at Jesus, who nodded that he should take a drink. Astonished, he took a sip, and then his face showed a comical mixture of being at once astounded and profoundly disappointed. Nathanael came up to him to suggest that what he was doing was not wise, and he told him to taste some--at which Nathanael was astonished also. Word spread discreetly that Thomas's cup held nothing but water.

This, it turned out as one learned about Jesus, was typical of him. He seemed fond of playing little jokes upon people, but always, it seemed, gentle ones, giving them unexpected pleasant surprises.

One other incident occurred about this time. Nathanael--who preferred to call himself by his patronymic Bartholomew--had sent his black slave--ex-slave--Ezra to his father to tell him that he had joined Jesus, and to ask for money for the group. Ezra returned, and showed the money (a considerable sum) to Jesus, who stroked his beard and said, "Take it to Judas. He has a house somewhere in Jerusalem, and will know how to keep it safe." This raised an eyebrow of Ezra, but he brought it over, and showed it to me, and I remarked, "And what am I to do with all this?"

I should remark here that, before the wedding, Ezra had the presumption to come up to me apparently to start a conversation, and actually extended his hand as if he expected me to shake it! I, of course, simply turned away; there are proprieties, after all.

But of course, this gave Ezra an opportunity to talk to me, because Jesus had all but commanded it, and so I could not ignore him, much as I wished. He said, "It is a gift from Bartholomew's father, and Jesus said that you would know how to give it safekeeping."

"Oh, so apparently I am to be our treasurer."

"It rather looks that way."

"One thinks he could have come and appointed me himself." I continued, as if to myself, because one does not really engage in conversations with a slave, even a freed slave, "But no, I suppose that is like him. He simply knows that I would be glad to undertake the duty--though I know next to nothing about how to keep accounts. But I suppose he is not really concerned about money. Not if he can make wine out of water." I said this with a glance at Nathanael. "In fact, I suspect he wants to have nothing to do with it himself." I turned back to Ezra. "Very well, I will undertake the task. You can put the money in that saddlebag over there, and I will see that it is safe. I will count it later, when we get to Jerusalem."

I resolved, however, that this was not to be an opening for Ezra to act as if he could become my equal, still less my friend. I chose from then on to ignore him completely.

And as to my "office," I was never, in fact, officially appointed treasurer, though that is what I was in practice. But my attitude was that if Jesus cared little about money, I was not going to bother myself with keeping records of each shekel either. I assumed that if we ever needed money, Jesus would either persuade someone like Nathanael's father to give us a good deal, or could make it appear out of thin air.

And in fact, as time went on, more and more people began to give us gifts of gratitude for the cures they had received. Jesus simply referred them to me (politely, of course), and I took the money and stored it in a safe place in my house.

Eventually, as it happened, my house became inadequate for the purpose, and I purchased another, rather more elaborate, one, I will admit, and in the course of time, I decided that I could keep a good deal of the money available by spending it on furnishings for the house, and on clothes that I could sell if ever we needed to do so. If I was to be treasurer, I felt that it would be wise to let it be known that we were not beggars.

And it worked out rather well. Whenever anyone needed or wanted anything, he came to me, and I gave it to him, no questions asked, and no accounting tricks to keep track of what went out--because there was always a good deal more coming in than going out.

So in fact, I spent very little time keeping track of the finances of our little group; after all, there were but twelve of us even at the peak of our--I suppose one could call it "ministry." No one complained, at any rate, or lacked for any comfort that he wished. Though I must say that none of them seemed to wish for any particular comfort.

In any case, shortly after the wedding, Jesus gathered us and told us to prepare for a trip to Judea for the Passover. I was wondering whether he would do this, and what would happen there, if anything. We had been speaking of how to begin preparing people for the advent of the Reign of God; and I pointed out in Jesus's hearing that it might be politic to begin in Judea, and also to be diplomatic about it, since the Judeans, and especially the Pharisees, regarded Galileans as almost Gentiles, and would not react kindly to some upstart telling them what to do. Jesus nodded when he heard this, and smiled.

So we prepared tents and food supplies (there were a number of women who had joined us by this time) and made the journey down the Arabah by the Jordan river.

As Jesus entered Jerusalem, rumors of miraculous cures he had performed in Galilee began to spread, and quite a crowd of sick, lame, and possessed people began to form around him, creating quite a disgusting sight, not to mention the noise they made to attract his attention. He looked as if he had been expecting this, and touched all those within reach, and they were immediately cured, and added to the din by shouting "Hallelujah!" and showing everyone how they were now whole.

They were not the only ones, of course, who were creating a commotion, since at the time there were many vendors of sheep, calves, pigeons, and other animals for sacrifice there in the Temple (something everyone regarded as a scandal), as well as money-changers, to convert the Roman denarii into Hebrew shekels, since only the latter could be used to purchase the sacrifices.

When the crowd around Jesus had thinned a bit from the fact that most had been cured, he heard the lowing of the cattle and the bleating of sheep, and looked around at all of the business transactions in the very Temple itself. He stopped, and shook off those who were still importuning him for help, and with a face that made it clear that he did not wish to be disturbed, he stroked his beard.

Suddenly, he took off the rope that he had tied at his waist (which had knots at the ends to keep it from fraying) and asked John to lend him his cincture also, and with the two of them made a rather formidable whip, which he began slapping against his hand. He went up to the animals and beat them on the rump, yelling "My house is called a house of prayer, and you have made it a den of thieves!" The animals bellowed and ran off, their owners chasing them; and when he reached the money-changers' tables, he simply kicked them over, to the screams of their owners, and sent the coins flying all over the pavement. I noticed, however, that when he came to the pigeon-vendors, he did not overturn their cages (which would have set the pigeons free to fly away), but simply shouted, pointing, "Take those out of here!" You are not to make my Father's house a market!"

Well!

I had not been swift enough, it seemed, in insinuating the best course into Jesus's mind, and the Force had inspired him to do immediately what everyone knew needed to be done at some time. But some Pharisees had begun to gather, and one had the temerity to shout (Jesus's aspect did not encourage debate, to say the least) "Who gave you authorization to do this sort of thing?"

Jesus looked at him with fire in his eyes, shifted his whip to his left hand--at which the man backed off--and beat his chest with three fingers of his right hand. "Destroy this Temple (or this temple? His body?)" he shouted, "and in three days I will rebuild it!" Anything but conciliatory, not to mention that it made no sense--except perhaps to him. It was even unclear, as I hinted above, whether he was referring to the Temple he was in or the temple which he was--in which case, he seemed to be saying, "Kill me and I will return to life in three days." But that, if anything made less sense. He probably could rebuild the Temple, however, doubtless aided by a legion of angels.

The person in the audience, in any case, was cowed into silence, as were all the other bystanders, because no one could understand what he could possibly mean.

But one intrepid soul scoffed, "This Temple has been under construction for forty-six years, and you will rebuild it in three days?" No one laughed or seconded him, however, because, based on what he had done in curing people before he drove out the buyers and sellers, they thought him might just be able to do what he said.

But after a time, matters gradually quieted down, and the animals and money-changing tables were removed from the premises; and Jesus and we went into the Courtyard of the Judeans to pray.

I was devastated. I could not believe that Jesus had gained any followers by his gesture--except perhaps from the rabble, who counted for nothing--and I spent my time there, trying to discern how to undo the damage, and not really finding a way to do so. Jesus was still not in a mood to be approached with anything that had the slightest odor of advice, so I thought the most prudent course of action was to leave matters alone for now.

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